Rorke’s Drift was a battle that Cetshwayo kaMpande did not want, because it took place on the western bank of the Mzinyathi or Buffalo River — inside Natal.

The British had been routed at Isandlwana by the main Zulu army, regiments who’s names are still venerated by oral historians today, the uKhandempemvu, uNokhenke, uDududu, iMbube, iSanqu, the uMbonambi, iNgobamakhosi. The men of the uThulwana, iNdlondlo, iNluyengwe, uDloko amabitho had headed northwest during the battle to cut off Chelmsford’s escape route while the main army went to work evicerating Durnford’s men.

The commanders of the main army, Ntswingwayo kaMahole and Mavumengwana kaNdlela turned back to oNdini - realising that they had both good and bad news. The good news - Chelmsford’s central column had been crushed at Isandlwana, the bad news - it had cost the Zulu main army dearly perhaps as many as 2000 warriors - along with number of his most venerated indunas and isinkhosi.

But things were not over in this corner of the British empire, because the reserve amabutho were itching to wash their spears. They had chased Isandlwana fugitives to the Mzinyathi, spearing them and shooting them down, and now the uTHulwana, iNdlondlo, iNdluyengwe and uDloko were going to ignore Cetshwayo’s orders and cross the river into Natal.

The Zulu king had spelled out his orders and stipulated in no uncertain terms that his men were to stay on the Zululand side of the border. He believed that when it came to negotiate peace, the fact that his men had not crossed the border would be in the Zulu’s favour. The Natal settlers and British bureaucrats had instigated this war out of fear of Zulu power. Cetshwayo understood that if he could demonstrate the Zulu Empire posed no real threat to British interests or colonial settlements, he might yet avoid total destruction. He grasped what many generals forget: war is fundamentally a political instrument. By confining all combat to Zulu territory—never crossing into British-held land—he could preserve the moral high ground. When the inevitable negotiations came, this restraint would be his strongest card, proof that the Zulus sought only to defend their sovereignty, not to conquer.
It was this reserve force of between 3000 and 4000 men who were to throw a spanner in the works. They were on the move in three separate contingents, with the younger men from the iNdluyengwe in the lead, marching in open order in advance of the others. They pursued the fugitives across Sothondose’s Drift, now renamed Fugitive’s drift. The other two contingents began a few pre-battle moves, first dividing, then wheeling about, then reforming, an impressive display of commander control.Cetshwayo’s aggressive half-brother Prince Dabulamanzi was in command of these reserve units. This was a break from decorum, because Dabulamanzi was not actually a general in Cetshwayo’s army appointed by the king, but his royal status meant he dominated proceedings. The other offices of the reserve deferred decision-making to him, despite their disquiet which would grow to alarm later in our story today.

Dabulamanzi was another of our interesting characters of South African history. He was notoriously unscrupulous, but quick of mind and flashing of eye, always taking great care in grooming his moustache and pointy beard. Settlers who knew him called him sophisticated, he dressed in fine European clothes, loved a gin and tonic, and was an extremely good shot with a rifle. Had he not been Zulu, you would have called him an excellent example of a well-rounded English rogue of the Victorian era.
Prince Dabulamanzi wanted to give the men a victory - they could hardly return home and become the laughing stock of the nation. Zibhebhu’s incapacitation provided him with a perfect moment. Later it was spun that this smallish group of reserve amabutho were actually on their way to Pietermarizburg and it was only the plucky Rorke’s Drift defenders who stood in their way.