Episode 251 and the British Invasion of Zululand is into it’s first week.

King Cetshwayo kaMpande had prepared his people for war, and here it was, courtesy of Governor Sir Bartle Frere and led by Lord Chelmsford. After overrunning kwaSogetle the home of Sihayo he was on the move.

It was therefore a sort of rough justice then that Cetshwayo had decided to send the bulk of his army to operate in Sihayo’s district. The Zulu army had been ritually prepared for war, marching off towards Chelmsfords invading column on Friday 17th January 1879. The uNokhenke regiment in the front, the army marched ten kilometers in a great single column to bivouac in the emaKhosini Valley after crossing the white Mfolozi River.

If you recall last episode, I explained how Lieutenant Colonel Glynn had led the central British column until Lord Chelmsford arrived at their jump off point at Helmekaar - help each other. Lord Chelmsford just couldn’t help himself — he began to micro-manage the invasion and sidelined Glyn and his officers.

On the other side, the Zulu column also had two commanders, managing the regiments jointly — Chief Ntshingwayo kaMahole Khoza of the kwaGqikazi, and Chief Mavumengwana kaNdlela Ntuli of the uThulwana. Ntshingwayo was almost 70 years-old and being older, his voice would usually sway any decision. He may have been aged, but he was extremely powerful, short and thickset, like a modern rugby prop, with the great thighs of most of the male descendants of Senzangakhona. Not only was he a great warrior, he was also a wonderful orator, his speeches melifluous and motivational, he had the gift of the gab.

Chief Mavumengwana was the brother of isikhulu Godide of the Ntuli who was going to lead a separate column of Zulu warriors heading off to face the British Right Column crossing the Thukela. Mavumengwana and Godide’s father was Ndlela, Dingana’s chief induna, the family having a long relationship with Zulu royalty. Furthermore, Cetshwayo regarded Mavumengwana as a close friend — even though he was one of the chiefs who had preferred a policy of appeasement with the British than outright war. He had changed his mind by now, but it must be said that Zulu leadership was prepared to debate strategy — unlike the British. The officers in the English military establishment were supposed to seek points of view but as you’re going to hear, often the bewhiskered ego-riddled Victorian general failed to think logically and reacted like an outraged teen on Tiktok when their decisions were questioned.
The king had been meeting daily with his councillors and trusted advisors, gathering in the early morning cold. The chiefs wrapped themselves in grey trade blankets against the chill, and ordinary Zulu called these men amanqe—vultures—for the way they huddled together, their grey wings folded close, as if sheltering something precious or contemplating something grave.

The story about kwaSogekle had rippled down the length of the border and high up on the hills above the Middle Drift. Lieutenant Durnford’s men picked up a change in the mood of Zulu communities there, scanning the landscape through their field glasses from the other side of the Thukela.

The countryside suddenly emptied ominously. The elders, along with women and children, left their homesteads and retreated into the mountains or deep into the thick Zululand bush.
On the morning of 13th January Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Durnford received an ominous report a day after Chelmsford attack on kwaSogekle in the Batshe valley.
Durnford was leading number two column in the vicinity of Middle Drift along the Thukela Border near Kranskop, a force of mounted men, a rocket battery and three battalions of the Natal Native Contingent.