Aerial Odyssey

It finally happened in late 1974.

I was already flying extensively around the whole of Rhodesia as a Corporate Pilot, and although there had been a number flights to and from the Republic of South Africa, Mozambique, Zambia and Malawi, I had never had the opportunity to fly into what had been called Portuguese West Africa, but was more recently becoming better known as Angola. So, when David Ashton, a work colleague, suggested that we get together a deep-sea fishing team and travel to Luanda to take part in an International Fishing Competition, I was as keen as mustard.

In the event, I took leave, and we made the trip in a large, single-engined and turbo-charged Cessna Station wagon of 300-odd horsepower with reasonably long-range tanks and good cargo capacity. This machine had the advantage of being rugged and reliable and, apart from anything else, was an ideal `Bush’ aeroplane. I had already flown the particular aircraft on a considerable number of occasions doing Cloud-Seeding work for Hunting Air-Surveys, so I knew its quirks and capabilities. Keen to make the trip in addition to David and myself, Rod was both a respected `buddy’ from the Police Air Wing and a prominent Lowveld rancher, and Skip was David’s `mate’ from the Meikles Long Bar days in Salisbury. Our `team’ of four was duly registered for the Competition.

From Salisbury to Luanda is about twelve hundred nautical miles as the crow flies. The trouble was, there were already any number of `bush-wars’, insurgencies and uncontrolled `bandit’ groups operating in the vast and often featureless areas in between, and the relationships between neighbouring states was often less than cordial. As a result, and particularly in Angola where the Portuguese Overseas Administration was already under serious internal terrorist pressure from insurgents of the NPLA and UNITA, getting clearances for non-scheduled flights into the Country took time – and often money. In the assumption that we’d get `clearance’ we would, in any event, be required to fly around – rather than across – Zambia, because of the Commonwealth Sanctions which had been in force against rebel Rhodesia since the mid-‘Sixties. The net result would mean flying some eighteen hundred nautical miles with little or no `control’ or normal civil aviation support, and we would certainly have to arrange suitable `alternates’ – in case of emergencies – and refuelling `stops’ en route.

Flight planning was necessarily constrained by the dates of the fishing Competition, and there were certainly `moments’ when I, for one, felt we wouldn’t make it. In the end, I was able to pull in a few favours amongst the Regional Air-Traffic Control staff, and we were given permission to make the trip from Salisbury to the Victoria Falls, then out, due West, along the Caprivi Strip and up the eastern Boundary of Zambia to land at a place then called Vila Luso – a junction on the Benguela Railway Line – for fuel. Thereafter, we’d turn and track directly to Luanda on the Coast. The return route was to be exactly the reverse.

Lima Alpha was a big and rugged aeroplane, and was reasonably well equipped with radios and avionics. Once we left Victoria Falls, however, the number of ground navigational aids en route to Vila Luso were low-powered and few and far between, and we’d have to rely on dead-reckoning and careful `tracking’, at least to begin with. The main point however, was that we had reasonable space for all the baggage and fishing gear, and I have to admit to being astonished – not to say dismayed – at the size, shape and weight of the equipment we were being asked to carry! I had to be careful, however; I was a complete novice in the deep-sea fishing game, and I was never left in any doubt that my buddies were serious experts. ( But, hey, it would be my `neck’ as well as theirs in the event that any `irresponsible’ loading took place! )

Eventually, the great day arrived. All the clutter of ordinary living was put aside, and, when I went to the Airport that morning to pre-flight the aircraft, it was for a journey which had some of the `into-the-great-unknown’ feel about it. A mild flutter in the bootstraps, you might say. I checked the actual and predicted weather along the route for the two days it would take, with particular reference to upper-air winds around twelve thousand feet, at which height I hoped to fly for a large part of the journey between Victoria Falls and Vila Luso. My buddies in `Met” were optimistic, There was little sign of anything adverse in the prognosis. I had the aircraft towed out and went over it with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. No bugs there, either. Rod and the other fishermen arrived, and we spent a careful hour stowing luggage and equipment.

As far as I was concerned, the first `leg’ of the trip to Victoria Falls was a mere `walk in the park’. I flew this route many times a year and knew all the landmarks like the back of my hand. So, after a light lunch at the Mashonaland Flying Club, we departed at about 2.pm, and arrived at Victoria Falls Airport shortly after 4.15. The aircraft had performed faultlessly. We refuelled, parked it in a secured zone, and took a taxi into the Town.

We stayed at the Sprayview Motel. After a few drinks and a pleasant meal, we walked around the tables in the Casino, and then I went to bed. We had an early start – I’d planned to be airborne by no later than 0730.

The weather was fine, the taxi arrived on time and, after a pot of coffee and croissants at the Airport, we took off at 0723 at climbed steadily into the morning haze, with the Zambezi River – and hundreds of wild animals – all around below us. The Caprivi Strip (named after the Graf von Kaprivi), stretched ahead of us into the distance, and the rising sun directly behind. We sat entranced as the River flood plain above the Falls gave way to the broken country around Shesheke and then Katima Mulilo. We ran out of radio contact with Victoria Falls Control at about that time, and droned on over the never-ending African bush. Then, picking up the impressive Cuando River, we turned northwest, following the Angola Border with Zambia towards Vila Luso, still a good three and a half hours ahead. We were at our planned Flight-Level, now, and the land below us had faded into a brown haze with occasional flashes of water in the river systems. No sign of humanity or of civilisation; no villages, no roads. Game, still, certainly, but no sign of Mankind. And, then after a while, just as we were beginning to feel totally divorced from reality, the needle on our ADF began to show some signs of active interest in the direction ahead in which the Vila Luso radio-beacon should hopefully be. We were above cloud, now – a layer of stratus about two-thousand feet below us – and, although there was no voice communication or contact whatsoever, I was certain we were more-or-less on track. Great stuff. Relax, chaps, we’ll get there. I tuned the VHF frequency for Luso and gave them a call. Nothing. A little later, I tried again. We were now about fifteen minutes out by my reckoning, and there should be some contact. Suddenly I got a response in broken English – a very Portuguese voice – and I understood him to say that they were in the middle of an “Attack by the enemy!’” and there could be no question of any civilian landing at Luso, because they were under heavy mortar fire.

Almost as we heard these words we broke clear of the cloud-cover, and Luso lay just ahead of and a long way below us. I started a long, slow orbiting descent to save our now dwindling fuel supply as we tried to assess the situation. I had an alternative Field at Henrique de Carvalho some 25 minutes away to the northeast, but, apart from the fuel requirement, I was uncertain of the facilities there. It was vital that we uplift fuel, of course, but there had been no response whatever from the ADF Beacon at H de C, and I had been warned that facilities there were doubtful. As we slowly lost altitude, I could see the white puffs of mortar-bombs landing in and around the cluster of housing at the end of the airstrip. But, they were sporadic, and I could also see that the whole length of the Strip itself appeared to be screened by a sand embankment and blast wall. Great! That was where we were going chaps!

There was a brief argument in English/Portuguese with the man on the end of the radio at Luso: – To land was impossible! – No, we were running out of fuel – We would fall out of the air, just now! – We must land!. . And we did. Fast, and on the run, to the building at the far end. We were aware of a brief crackle of small-arms fire, but no apparent hits, and then, we were there. We switched off, got out, and ran for the shelter of the buildings.

The rest was anti-climax. The `enemy’ apparently decided to have lunch at that point in the battle, and so did we. We drank coffee and ate the sandwiches we had with us as we refuelled the aircraft from a mobile fuel cart. The majority of the men in the Army Post were Portuguese Conscripts, many of them appeared to be students from Coimbra University, and they were decidedly disinterested in showing any serious opposition to the MPLA men who were enfilading the Town. They were sullen and uncooperative when I refused, as diplomatically as I knew how, to pay the equivalent of 800 US Dollars for a `Landing and Servicing Fee’. In the end, and after only 35 minutes on the ground, we escaped with the payment of a mere 3000 Escudos, which was then the equivalent of about Five Pounds, Sterling. The receipt given to me indicated the money was for ‘ Meteorological Services’ rendered. Or something.

We anticipated trouble on Take-Off, but none was apparent. We fled westward, climbing only after about twenty minutes at low-level in case any of the opposition groups were equipped with surface-to-air missiles. It felt marvellous to be airborne again, and once more en route to our destination. We were now more-or-less following the impressive course of the lengthy and substantial River Cuanza on its journey to the Atlantic Ocean. The Land below had become lush and fertile, and the riverine forests were impressive. Our next landmark was the little town of Dondo, where there was a medium-powered ADF Beacon to guide us, and just before we arrived there, we passed the apparently world-famous Duc de Braganza Falls, situated on a parallel tributary of the Cuanza. Very impressive, and appearing similar in size and spread if not height to the Victoria Falls now a long way behind us, they poured over a wide rock-fault and several cascades, curtained in mist. It looked for all the world like a fan-shaped cauldron from where we sat high overhead.

Our flight time from Luso to Dondo was about three-and-a-half hours, and with just one hour remaining before we arrived in Luanda, I began to hear plenty of radio traffic on the VHF frequencies allocated to the Capital City. Still no real signs of any civilisation below us, though, nor roads or villages of any great size.

Eventually, with beautiful deep red dolerite soils now below us, we emerged above the Coastal Plain in a hazy late afternoon, and got a positive response from Luanda Control. To my embarrassed surprise, we were greeted with totally abnormal courtesy and effusion, and by name! . .The explanation for this, apparently, was that David’s wife, Gay, was the daughter of a recently-retired Portuguese Governor General of the Province, and `strings’ had been pulled. Whatever the circumstances, my discomfort got worse; we were given clearance to Land on the Main Runway, with a `First-Proving-Flight-to-Africa’ British Concorde Aircraft `held’, snorting from four huge jet-engines, on the Taxi-way until we had `cleared’ back to the Terminal. We were escorted by a yellow `Follow-me’ car – an honour usually reserved for Visiting Heads of State. Unheard of! I could only imagine the language on the flight deck of the Concorde as our small Cessna took the honours.

Anyway, we had arrived safely. Total flight time for the out-bound leg had been ten hours-fifteen minutes. And, suddenly, we were back in bustling civilisation; huge Airport, crowds of people – most of whom had come to see the Concorde – and a welcoming party of David’s Portuguese relatives, who were very kind and hospitable. I was constantly accorded every courtesy, the aircraft was locked in its own hangar, and we were escorted everywhere like VIP’s.

Discomfiting, really. Particularly, when I discovered that the real reason for the Concorde being given the `Pariah’ treatment was because the Captain had made the mistake of flying the pennant of the MPLA terrorists, instead of Portuguese West Africa, when he had earlier landed to refuel, prior to completing a `Timed-flight’ to Johannesburg for `Hot-and-high” trials of his still experimental aeroplane.

The fishing competition was great fun. And, as it happened, we were successful. Rod Styles and I teamed up to become the Rhodesian No.2 Team, I caught the only Sailfish of any size that weekend, and we won the Trophy and the Individual Cup. As it happened, the Portuguese tend to do things like that in some style, and the Trophy was too big to bring back in the aircraft we sent it back to Salisbury on the Portuguese Airline TAP.

The Competition was based at the Luanda Yacht Club, and we used a boat skippered by Louis Dailacourt, (From Fort Victoria – he ran the Dairy there – but a native of Angola) and we were housed on Massullo Island, which is adjacent to the beach opposite the Yacht Club. The name of the Island derived from the Massullo Trees which provided shade for the Cabins there, and we Rhodesians were kept awake at night by the fruits clanging onto the corrugated roofs; they sounded for all the world like grenades exploding around us. I guess we were pretty sensitive to that kind of sudden noise at the time, thanks to the terrorist situation in our own Country.

The rest, as they say, is history; we made the return trip without incident, and the fishermen amongst us were well pleased with their experience. As far as I was concerned, I had not expected to take part in the Competition, but had thoroughly enjoyed it. I would have to say that the thrill of having had an 87kg Sailfish on the end of my line for the forty-five-odd minutes it took to land it was something I’ll never forget. . . Or how quickly the glorious iridescent colours on its eight-foot length `died’ into dull grey after it had been brought aboard. In truth, I would have to be pretty hungry to repeat the experience.

But, the flying was marvellous!

——————–

Note: Ricky Flint gave me a copy of Brian Trubshaw”s “Concorde – The Inside Story” to read in early 2004. Trubshaw refers to the incident at Luanda when the Concorde incurred the wrath of the Portuguese West African controllers at Luanda Airport as I have described above – what a coincidence! He relates how – “..I took 002 to Johannesburg for hot and high performance trials routing Las Palmas, Robertsfield and Luanda. It had become normal practice to fly the country’s national flag on arrival but unfortunately our sales organisation had made a gross misjudgement because we flew the rebel flag at Luanda. The authorities were not pleased and threatened jail for the crew. They eventually understood that the mistake was genuine but were even more put out when the correct flag was not displayed for take-off. Well, of course no flags on departure was our normal practice because the flag required the direct vision window to be opened. We were held initially, and then soldiers with `pop-guns’ surrounded us at the take-off point and we were obliged to return to the terminal where further and lengthy explanations were necessary before our departure was permitted. Heaven knows what a small landing aircraft must have thought to be given priority! “

Brian Trubshaw”s “Concorde – The Inside Story” as well as many other books by the same author can be found on Amazon in the UK and USA:

Brian Trubshaw on Amazon.co.uk

Brian Trubshaw books on Amazon.com

Tales From The Bundu

• Index & Acknowledgements

Other Related Books

For Readers in the USA
On Amazon.com: Britain’s Rebel Air Force: War from the Air in Rhodesia, 1965-80

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• Tales from the Bundu - Index & Acknowledgements
• The Last Stand of the Shangani Patrol
• John Traicos: Zimbabwean Cricketer
• Zimbabwean History - April 1900

The story below was contributed by Hamish Harvey, ex member of the British South Africa Police of Southern Rhodesia (Force No. 4617.)

Hamish Harvey was born and educated in Scotland and attested in the Force in 1950, serving until 1970 and rising to the rank of Superintendent. Between 1970 and 1982 he served as a volunteer Reservist in the Police Air Wing, retiring as Deputy Unit Commander and Flight Commander of the Salops Flight.

A member of the District Branch of the Force during his regular service, he rose through the ranks from Constable to Inspector and was Member in Charge of five District Stations in the Umtali, Salisbury and Victoria Districts of what was then Rhodesia, before being commissioned in 1967. He served as Staff Officer (Liaison and Recruiting) to the Commissioner at Police Headquarters prior to his retirement in 1970.

Although the Force was proudly responsible for Law and Order throughout the country from the time of Colonial self-government in 1922, and also during the Ian Smith era of political ‘independence’, it remained completely apolitical and loyal to Britain and her Majesty the Queen Mother, and was, without doubt, one of the finest Police units in the world until being disbanded at the time of Zimbabwe’s Independence.

The majority of its command elements were drawn from twenty-year contract men recruited in the United Kingdom and trained in Salisbury (Harare). A substantial proportion of these men have retired and still live in Zimbabwe or in neighbouring South Africa.
His by-lines are ‘Overheard in the Bar’ and ‘Before I Forget.’

Overheard in the Bar. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .By 4617

“A Funny Thing happened…”

“Twenty-four Down” was the Night Mail Train from Umtali to Salisbury in those days. I had been in the Force for a little over a year when I finally won a transfer to District Branch, and I was a passenger on Twenty-Four Down when it steamed out of the Umtali Railway Station just after three-o‘-clock on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, hauled by a huge Beyer-Garrett locomotive.

I had been posted to a little village called Headlands, which stood astride the main Strip Road to Salisbury about the half-way mark, and if the Train was on time, we should arrive somewhere around Midnight.

The last twelve months of my then nineteen-year-old life had been a marvellous, kaleidoscopic experience involving continental travel, a totally different culture, many new faces and places, a helluva lot of discipline, training and new life-skills and, above all, lots of sunshine. As you can imagine, the impact had been hugely beneficial, and I had even learned to enjoy Castle Beer with the best of them.

Headlands was hardly impressive at that time of a very dark night – no platform, just Station offices and sheds, a few empty trucks and a lot of stored agricultural goods and equipment. I was met by a formidable figure in semi-mufti, who introduced himself as “Taff Morgan, Hi!” as he hefted one of my bags, and led the way to a newish green Ford Pilot Pick-up standing in the Station Yard.

As soon as we hit the main Salisbury Road, Taff turned the vehicle towards Macheke and announced: “there’s only us two and the Member-in-Charge, so we’re going to join him and his wife at a party – at a place called Eagles Nest, just along the road a bit.” Hey, it was New Year’s Eve, 1950. Where I came from I’d have been wearing a kilt and sampling Malt Whisky by this time, and I’d already had a couple of hours sleep on the train. This sounded good. . .

And so it proved. The `celebration’ involved a large and diverse contingent of the local farming community at a farm where two brothers `did’ maize and cattle. The Clough brothers lived with their wives in a single building – which was really two houses joined by a connecting hallway – and, from all immediate appearances there was absolutely no need for a master-of-ceremonies. The place was `jumping’.

My impressions of “Taff” improved by the minute. Nothing fazed him, and he was obviously held in high esteem by the locals. Where necessary – and where the individuals concerned were sober enough to realise what was going on around them – I was very civilly introduced. I met my Member-in-Charge, for example, as he lay entwined – a mite too closely, I thought – with some lassie behind a couch. He was good enough to acknowledge my presence, although I had the distinct impression that he was more interested in ensuring that our `meeting’ would not attract any undue attention from his wife, who was apparently sitting close by. A `wild’ Colonial, obviously.

The whole atmosphere was `cordial’ – perhaps even leaning towards `boisterous’ – and conversational noise-levels were high, as you can imagine. However, within half-an-hour or so, I found myself standing next to “Taff” in the bar, which was in the narrow hallway between the two houses. This was, I thought, fairly `safe’ territory, being populated by the serious drinking fraternity, most of whom were still on their feet and maintaining a reasonable semblance of civilised and interesting conversation – but I could have been wrong.

But now we get to the interesting bit. I have said that Morgan had impressed me as a redoubtable individual much respected and not easily fazed. Hey!, he had been in the Air Force during the War, and had obviously seen a thing or two. The important thing in his life was not to allow yourself to be distracted or diverted from the things that really mattered. Like drinking beer. Or being respected as a policeman. Now that, to me, was impressive – perhaps, even, to be emulated. This was fascinating stuff. But, more was to come. . .

Most of the crowd in the `bar’ area were men, and the conversations were of masculine affairs; like growing tobacco, playing rugby and the quality of the beer. Suddenly, I became aware of a female voice and turned to see the wife of one of the brothers who owned the farm, making her way towards us.

Now, up to this point my youthful hormones had been quietly hibernating, relaxed in the generally pleasant atmosphere and spirit of bonhomie which prevailed. Not even the sudden “blip” of meeting with my erstwhile Member-in-Charge otherwise engaged at floor-level had disturbed their equilibrium. Suddenly, however, the sight of our obviously “well-stacked” hostess naked to the waist and weaving towards our small group challenged my otherwise well-mannered sensibilities to the utmost. As it happened, I had been warned that this lady was apparently well-endowed with a capacity to shock – and obviously much else besides – but her sudden appearance, deshabille, had me staring open-mouthed. On the closer inspection made possible by her almost immediate proximity she was, clearly, suffering from incipient inebriation, but otherwise in superb form I thought. . . However, any further mental speculation I might have entertained was interrupted as she proffered a very shapely left mammary towards Taffy and said, quite clearly and with obvious provocation: “Have a drink, Taff! ”. Now what? For crying out loud!

Morgan didn’t even turn the proverbial hair; looking past her at the wall clock, he barely interrupted what he had been saying, glanced at his watch, and said loudly:
“No thanks, Pat, I never touch the stuff.”

No that was what I call cool !

Like I said, the in-service training we acquired in the BSA Police was absolutely second-to-none. That little episode has stood me in good stead, I can tell you . . .‘

Tales From The Bundu

• Index & Acknowledgements

Photo Credit
The Main image of the train was taken from the cover of the excellent book called Thundering Smoke: A Comprehensive Review of the Locomotives of Rhodesia Railways and National Railways of Zimbabwe

It can be found on Amazon in the UK and USA:

Thundering Smoke on Amazon.co.uk

Thundering Smoke on Amazon.com

Related Posts

• Tales from the Bundu - Index & Acknowledgements
• Tales from the Bundu – Aerial Odyssey

• A funny thing happened
• … more to follow soon

Acknowledgements
The stories in this anthology have been published with permission by Brian Parnaby. They have been supplied by ex members of the now defunct British South Africa Police of Southern Rhodesia and below are a few of his words:

I am indebted to the following comrades for their contributions, to which I have added some of my own experiences whilst serving in both the Town and District (Rural) branches of the Force.

Hamish Harvey
Tim Potter

Thanks are also due to:

Richard Seward of Harare, Zimbabwe. I am indebted to Richard for granting permission for me to reproduce extracts from the memoirs of his late Father, Colonel H.G. Seward. Col. Seward enlisted in the B.S.A. Police shortly after the Great War of 1914-1918 and thus had experiences of life in the then very raw and unspoiled rural Rhodesia, much of which a later generation did not experience. In that era modern forms of transportation were scarce (in any event the most of the basic roads were inaccessible to motorised transport for more than a few miles from any Township or Police post) and the horse and pack-mule were standard means of conveyance.

Richard’s cousin, John Seward now living in Perth, Western Australia, was instrumental in creating contact between Richard and myself and also with Hamish. John was my District Sergeant during the period I served at Bindura, Salisbury District, and we maintained contact after I was posted further ‘up the line’ to the remote Township of Mount Darwin, a Township accessible from all points of the compass only by dirt roads, parts of which were impassable by vehicles during the rainy season, even by four-wheel drive LandRovers with which the Force were later supplied for use in rural areas. Rivers in flood were the greatest problem and could sever physical connection with the outside world for days at a time.

I use the word ‘Township’ in its most generous senses as there were few modern amenities; no electricity or water-borne sanitation at the Police Station. However, being perched atop a hill, Mount Darwin possessed one of the most delightful toilets in the country, with a wonderful view over the valley below from the ‘chimbudzi’ (thunderbox) toilet.

I must mention another Old Comrade, Kerry Hoadley, now also living in Western Australia. He joined the Force at the same time as myself. In fact we were part of a group of young men who travelled from Southampton to Cape Town aboard the Athlone Castle and then by train to Salisbury (now Harare.) I had the happy experience of renewing personal contact with both John and Kerry on a visit to Australia in 2005. Thanks to the arrival of emails we had in fact been in frequent communication for some time prior to my visit, partly in connection with this book and also generally ‘keeping in touch.’

Tim Potter and I were stationed together at Rhodesville Peri-Urban Station, Salisbury, in 1956, prior to us going our separate ways into District (Bush) service. As Tim is also now resident in the United Kingdom, we are in frequent contact and have exchanged visits, as well as having explored World War I Battlefields, where Tim’s Father was one of the ‘Old Contemptibles.’

Richard Hamley, ex-B.S.A. Police, Author of ‘The Regiment’ (a history and the uniforms of the B.S.A. Police), now living in Perth, Western Australia, very kindly gave me permission to use some of his excellent illustrations from his book and these are reproduced throughout the text. My thanks are profound as I do not possess his skill in illustrating to such a high degree, or to any degree whatsoever..

My thanks also to the Publishers of two previous books about the British South Africa Police, namely ‘Blue and Old Gold’ and ‘The Outpost.’ I have taken the liberty of using some of their non-copyright material, including photographs, but have not been able to trace the authors in order to obtain formal permission to use the illustrations.. These books are not available in the United Kingdom and are apparently now out of print. Regrettably, much of the Force’s memorabilia was destroyed by the incoming Power following the granting of independence to Robert Mugabe’s Zanu-PF Party.

The Author and contributors hope the reader will enjoy these unusual tales of Policing, predominantly in an African setting,

Brian Parnaby (ex B.S.A.P. 5310)
2 Marron Farm Courtyard
Ullock
Workington
Cumbria
CA14 TP
ENGLAND
Copyright © Brian Parnaby
email: mauriceparnaby [at] btinternet [dot] com

Related Posts

• Tales from the Bundu - A funny thing happened
• Tales from the Bundu – Aerial Odyssey

This is a true story from the days of an Empire on which the sun never set. It unashamedly extols the bravery of a small band of men, fighting a battle impossible to win, to the last man. Their bravery has never been truly recognised outside their own country – the then little heard of Southern Rhodesia; now Zimbabwe.

In 1889 the British South Africa Company, under the control of Cecil John Rhodes, an English-born entrepreneur and South African Statesman, entered and exercised control over that part of Southern Africa which was to become the separate colonies of Southern Rhodesia, Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland. At that time the predominant tribes of the Southernmost region were the Ndebele (also known as the Matabele in that part of Southern Africa) – an offshoot of the warlike Zulu tribe), who inhabited the southern part of (Southern) Rhodesia, bordering the Limpopo River which separated it from South Africa. The Northern part of that country was, in the main, the preserve of the Mashona tribe, more agrarian and much less warlike than the Ndebele. The latter tribe frequently entered Mashonaland to slaughter the Shona menfolk, and carry off their women, as well as stealing their cattle. To say that the area was quite unstable until the arrival of the White men would be to understate the matter. However, these intruders were not welcomed by any of the indigenous tribes, especially so by the Ndebele, who had become used to lording it over all other tribes in the region. Rhodes’ B.S.A. Company’s Police (the forerunners of the British South Africa Police of Southern Rhodesia), then began their efforts to stabilise the country and subjugate – or at least, pacify – the Ndebele, who resisted fiercely.

In the skirmishes between the White intruders determined to settle on their land, the Ndebele more often than not came off the worse, despite their usual superiority in numbers. Their shortage of, and unfamiliarity with the handling of, modern weapons, almost always ensured that they would be the losers in any confrontation involving modern weaponry. Undoubted bravery allied mainly with primitive assegais (broad-bladed stabbing spears, effective at close quarters) were no match for modern repeating rifles in the hands of expert shottists. Subterfuge, strategy and sheer weight of numbers were the Ndebeles’ sole allies; however, one must add to these the fact that they did not fear death in battle.

Towards the end of 1893, whilst the B.S.A. Company was conducting initial exploration of what is now Zimbabwe, following its virtual annexation of the territory in the name of Queen Victoria, they encountered renewed fierce resistance from the Ndebele tribe under their Chief, King Lobengula (‘He who drives like the wind’ in Sindebele), who had thousands of belligerent warriors under his command and control, despite the many pursuit and pacification operations conducted by the B.S.A. Company – all hard riders and tough, uncompromising men.

This story is concerned only with one small, but fierce, confrontation between the White intruders and several impis (a Zulu word for Regiment) of Ndebele warriors at the Shangani River, in Matabeleland, in December 1893. The band of White men was led by one Major Allan Wilson.

In December 1893 the First Matabele War was raging and the few White men in that part of the country were formed into armed patrols, effectively militias, under structured military commands. One of these units was the Victoria Volunteers (from Fort Victoria – now Masvingo), placed under the command of its most senior officer, Allan Wilson, in the rank of Major. Wilson was an experienced ex-Army Sergeant who had fought in both the Zulu War and the First Boer War.

The main town in the area was Bulawayo (the ‘Place of Slaughter’ in Sindebele) and harassment from the local Ndebele warriors was so severe that town was temporarily abandoned at one time. Doctor Leander Starr Jameson (later to achieve notoriety as the leader of the ill-fated Jameson Raid against the Boers in South Africa), a close friend and colleague of Cecil Rhodes, and a senior B.S.A. Company member, gave orders for the capture of Lobengula, to force the hand of the Ndebele nation. The Company wanted to conclude an agreement, with Lobengula’s consent – implied or otherwise – giving the White Men the rights, mineral resources included,* to the whole of the country, which was to be named Rhodesia after Cecil John Rhodes. Whilst this annexation may seem grossly unfair and brutal to present generations (and indeed it was), few such qualms were evident ‘back home’ in Britain, where the Empire was expanding steadily. It is unrealistic to even attempt to adapt present-day viewpoints to events which occurred over one hundred years ago. Peoples’ perceptions of events are so far apart that comparisons would be odious

(* there were huge deposits of gold, emeralds, beryl, copper, tin and a range of materials vital to the burgeoning economy of Great Britain, lying under the fertile soil of the Rhodesias.)

Following the issuing of Jameson’s orders, a column of soldiers and B.S.A. Police, under the command of Major Patrick Forbes (including Wilson and his contingent), began its pursuit of Lobengula and, during reconnaissance, arrived at a point near the Shangani River, 130 miles or so North of Bulawayo and about 25 miles from the village of Lupani, in the late afternoon of the 3rd December 1893, where it laagered for the night, in heavy rain, the weather being normal for that time of year. Forbes then dispatched Wilson and a small party of twenty men across the river, to ascertain Lobengula’s exact location. In short order two men (Sgt. Maj.) Judge and (Cpl.) Ebbage, sent by Wilson, returned across the river and reported that they had located Lobengula in conditions which he, Wilson, judged to be ideal for his capture; he therefore intended to remain in situ near Lobengula and requested Forbes to send reinforcements for this purpose. Forbes concurred with this proposition but postponed any movement until the following day. (Possibly, this was to ensure that Wilson did not steal the all the glory.)

Major Allan Wilson (third from left) and some of the men of
his patrol

During the night, heavy rain continued to fall and further messengers arrived, sent by Wilson, These were Captain Napier and two Troopers who informed Forbes that Wilson’s patrol had succeeded in nearing the stockade (a bush enclosure normally constructed to keep out wild animals and ‘unwanted guests’) but their presence had been detected and they had been forced to retreat, to avoid being surrounded. Wilson’s party had then taken up a defensive position and were now waiting for the reinforcements from Forbes’s column. By then however, Forbes plan had changed as he had received a report that most of Lobengula’s warriors were planning to attack his (Forbe’s) column that night. One can already sense an impending catastrophe: Order, Counter-Order, Disorder! Wilson and his men were then left in limbo, anticipating the arrival of sufficient reinforcements to capture Lobengula. However, the only support he received from Forbes was a small party of twenty men under the command of Captain Henry Borrow.+ To be fair to Forbes, his intention was to send more men and some artillery across the river the following morning but this plan was aborted as the column was ambushed by the bulk of Lobengula’s warriors on that day.

(+ There is a street in Bulawayo named after Captain Borrow; the writer lived there for a while in the mid-1950s, whilst serving in the Bulawayo C.I.D.]

That morning, the 4th December, a large force of Ndebele warriors (possibly in excess of fifteen hundred men) attacked Wilson and his small force, now numbering only thirty-four men.++ The band was forced to retreat but this was a limited withdrawal only as the heavy rain had so swollen the Shangani River behind them that crossing to safety and re-joining Forbes’ column was impossible. Whilst in their new defensive position, Wilson asked his scouts, two Americans (Burnham and Ingram#) and an Australian named Gooding to risk their lives, cross the river, now in full spate, and attempt to reach Forbes with a message for help and, of course, reinforcements. After a great and heroic struggle, the three men managed to reach Forbes’ column but, to their dismay, they found the column involved in a pitched battle with hundreds, if not thousands, of Ndebele warriors; the melée as intense as Wilson’s. Burnham remarked to Forbes that he feared that he and his fellow scouts, Ingram and Gooding, would be the only survivors of Wilson’s party.

(++ It has been clearly established that a total of thirty-four men only were involved in this last stand at the Shangani River. The number of men who initially comprised Wilson’s patrol, given as himself and nineteen men, added to the reserve sent forward by Forbes {Captain Borrow and twenty men} give a total of forty-one souls which differs from the number of bodies later found – thirty-four. Nominal rolls exist, one of which lists twenty men including Wilson, on the patrol, but this can be assumed to be an initial, proposed, list of volunteers, and there must have been drop-outs and laggards during the patrol’s onward march; some men were also reported as having lost their way during the patrol. One must also take into account the ‘to-ing and fro-ing’ of messengers between the patrol and the column.)

(# Another Scout, Robert Bain, also an American, is also mentioned as a member of Wilson’s deputed patrol, but he appears not to have been involved as a ‘runner’ between the two groups, Wilson’s and Forbes’.)

Forbes and his men eventually managed to beat off the Ndebele attack but were unable to cross the Shangani to aid Wilson’s men; they would have been too late in any case.

Now, to return to Wilson’s plight and the last stand of the patrol.

Wilson and his men were now beleaguered with no hope of escape. With the flooded river at their backs and a pitiless enemy facing them, they had no choice but to fight and die as the Ndebele would not take prisoners. There are no White eyewitnesses to what transpired, but only the words of their enemy, which later came to light. It is a matter of historical record though that the White men fought until their ammunition was exhausted, the survivors then being slaughtered to the last man, Wilson, apparently, was the last man to die, when, with both arms broken and unable to aim and discharge his rifle, he strode from behind the barricade of dead and dying horses (and men’s bodies) towards the enemy and was quickly stabbed to death with an assegai by a young Ndebele warrior. Tradition amongst the Ndebele tribe (a practice inherited from their Zulu forebears), was for the dead foe to be mutilated by. disembowelment, thus releasing their spirits so they would not return to haunt their foe. This had been done at the Battle of Isandhlwana, in Natal, in January 1879, when the British forces under Lord Chelmsford had been massacred. The induna (Captain) in charge of the Ndebele impi) by name of M’jaan, forbade the practice on this occasion. His reported (perhaps apocryphal) words were . ‘Neither the bodies nor the possessions of these white warriors shall be touched. These were men of men; and their fathers were men before them! I say to you, beside these, the warriors of the Matabele are as timid girls.’ M’jaan then went on to say that the Matabele must do honour to the courage the warriors had witnessed in this place. As these White men had died in silence, so in silence now the Matabele must salute them. And the warriors, obedient as always, did just that, raising their spears to the sky##. M’jaan then dismissed them, to count their dead, of which there were an estimated four to five hundred, against thirty-four White men.

(##: They probably roared the exaltation ‘Bayete’, a traditional Zulu salute.)

Because of the dangers imposed by the presence of the Ndebele warriors in the area and the difficulty of crossing the dangerously flooded Shangani River, it was not possible for the B.S.A. Company troopers to recover the bodies until, the following February. They were initially buried where they had fallen; but later, on the instructions of Cecil Rhodes, were re-interred at World’s View in the Matopo Hills near Bulawayo, a site previously selected by Rhodes himself as his burial place and where both he and Jameson are buried. Also, at the request of Rhodes an impressive granite memorial to the Shangani Patrol was erected at the site of their deaths, with panels on each of the four sides depicting the members of the patrol in bas-relief.

A panel from the Shangani Memorial at World’s View in Zimbabwe, c1905

It was later said that the survivors of the Patrol, still resisting fiercely but awaiting certain and imminent death, were heard to sing what may have been either the National Anthem (God Save the Queen) or a hymn. This is of course apocryphal or mere conjecture, but is entirely appropriate to the spirit of Wilson and his men; hence the title of the novel by Alexander Fullerton, set around the Shangani Patrol – ‘The White Men Sang.’

It was not possible to award posthumous decorations to the men of the patrol as this was not in the B.S.A. Company’s gift; this lay with the Crown. As the B.S.A. Company was not representing the British Government in any formal sense – officially that is, but that is open to debate – it was out of the question that the Crown should involve itself in the Company’ activities. There is much humbug surrounding the matter, as there was in centuries past when the East India Company operated in India.

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Note: This tale has been told by someone who once served in the successors to the men of Major Allan Wilson’s Shangani Patrol – the British South Africa Police of Southern Rhodesia, a famous Police Force whose colours have now, sadly, been permanently laid up. All recruits in this Force were quickly apprised of the Shangani Patrol, its heroic resistance in the face of overwhelming odds, and its tragic outcome. The writer has extensive knowledge of the country and its history.

Perhaps the Ndebele induna (captain) who uttered the following words after the battle at the Shangani River, was only echoing the thoughts of his brave warriors who had met their match in Wilson’s men and had succeeded only by weight of numbers.

‘For they were men of men; and their fathers were men before them.’

There were later mutterings, some of which appeared in print, as to the veracity of the three survivors of the patrol having actually been sent back by Wilson; allegations of desertion were flung around but these were never substantiated and the men were publicly exonerated at later hearings.

One other unpleasant fact emerges from this incident. It later transpired that, Lobebgula, unwilling to embroil his people in a protracted war with the White men, had replied to a letter from Jameson offering terms, by sending an emissary with a bag of gold dust as a token of good faith, seeking peace terms. This emissary had been intercepted by two B.S.A. Company Troopers, Daniel and Wilson, who had confiscated the gold and suppressed the message. The men were later charged and convicted and received long terms of penal servitude, later quashed by a superior court, and reduced to nominal terms, as the Magistrate had exceeded his judicial powers.

It goes without saying that the Shangani Patrol entered Rhodesian history, in recognition of the bravery of Wilson and his comrades.

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NOMINAL ROLLS OF:
(1) MAJOR ALLAN WILSON’S PATROL, AND
(2) REINFORCEMENS SENT FORWARD BY MAJOR PATRICK FORBES

Major Allan Wilson; Chief of Scouts Frederick Russell Burnham (American); Scout Robert Bain (American);Capt. Freddie Fitzgerald; Capt. Harry Greenfield; Capt William Judd; Capt. Argent Blundell Kirton; Capt. Napier; Lt. Arend Hofmeyr; Lt.George Hughes; Sgt.Maj. S.C. Harding; Sgt. Maj. Judge; Sgt G. Bradburn;
Sgt. H.A.Brown; Cpl.F.C.Colquhoun; Cpl. Ebbage; Tpr.M.C. Dillon; Tpr. A. Hay-Robertson; Tpr. H.J.Heller; Tpr. J. Robertson; Tpr. E.E.Welby.
Capt. Henry Borrow; Scout Pearl ‘Pet’ Ingram (American); Sgt.H. Birkley; Sgt. H.D.W.M.Money; Cpl. H.G. Kinloch; Tpr. Abbot; Tpr. W. Bath; Tpr. W.H.Briton; Ptr. E.Brock; Tpr. P.W. de Vos; Tpr.L. Dowis; Tpr. W. Gooding (Australian); Tpr. Landsberg; Tpr. E.G. MacKenzie; Tpr.M. Meiklejohn; Tpr. Nesbit; Tpr. P.C.Nunn;
Tpr. W,A. Thompson; Tpr. H. St.J. Tuck; Tpr. F.L. Vogel; Tpr. H.G. Watson.

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Copyright©BrianParnaby 2010

This article was published with the permission of the writer, Brian Parnaby

Further Reading

• PURSUIT OF LOBENGULA by W.D. Gale (1958)
• The Pongo Memorial – The Second Matabele War
• Mzilikazi – King of the Matabele

Zimbabwean / Rhodesian Military History Books (before 1960):
	Sunshine and Storm in Rhodesia By Frederick Courteney Selous (Author) is a firsthand account of the Second Matabele War (also known as the First Chimurenga). An unabridged reprint of the the 1896 edition. Originalally published in 1896: Excerpt: CHAPTER III "Now this murder of a native policeman on the night of Friday, 20th March, was the first overt act of rebellion on the part of the Matabele against the Government of the British South Africa Company, and I will therefore relate exactly what occurred. On the evening of the aforementioned day, eight native policemen, acting on instructions of Mr. Jackson, arrived at the town of Umgorshlwini, situated in the hills near the Umzingwani river. Being accompanied by several boys carrying their blankets, etc., they formed quite a little party, and so camped outside the town. They were sitting talking over their fires after the evening meal, when a number of Matabele came up, and ranging themselves in a line in front of them, commenced to dance. These men all carried knob-kerries, and were led by a man named Umzobo, who had held a post of importance at Bulawayo in Lo Bengula’s time." Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com
	No Insignificant Part: The Rhodesia Native Regiment and the East African Campaign of the First World War The is the first history of the only primarily African military unit from Zimbabwe to fight in the First World War. Recruited from the migrant labour network, most African soldiers in the RNR were originally miners or farm workers from what are now Zimbabwe, Zambia, Mozambique, and Malawi. Like others across the world, they joined the army for a variety of reason, chief among them a desire to escape low pay and horrible working conditions. Written by Timothy J. Stapleton has been a post-doctoral fellow at Rhodes University, a senior lecturer in history at the University of Fort Hare, South Africa, and a research associate at the University of Zimbabwe. Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com
	The Matabele Campaign: 1896 By Robert Baden-Powell is his account of the Campaign in Suppressing the Matabele Rising in the Matabeleland and Mashonsland in 1896. Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com
	Zulus and Matabele: Warrior Nations Written by Glen Lyndon Dodds who grew up in Matabeleland and covers the rise and fall of the Zulus and Matabele nations. This account begins with the characters who spurred the people to greatness and nationhood, continues with the wars and battles which afflicted them and ends with an assessment of their role in the history of Southern Africa. Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com

Related Posts

• The Shangani Patrol
• The Pongo Memorial - The Second Matabele War
• Zimbabwean History - April 1900
• Zimbabwean Formula 1 Drivers
• Mzilikazi - King of the Matabele

Chirundu.com would like to wish Athanasios John Traicos a happy birthday. He was born today (17 May) in 1947 in Zagazig, Egypt.

A former Zimbabwean cricketer who played in Zimbabwe’s first test match and also represented South Africa at international level. He was primarily an off spin bowler, and is one of a small number of cricketers to have played at the highest level for more than one country.

Whilst Traicos was born in Egypt, he grew up in Rhodesia (Now Zimbabwe) and played when Rhodesia was regarded as a “province” within the South African domestic cricket setup.

His father Tryphon Traicos was born in Lemnos (Greece) in 1900 and at the age of 12 he was sent to Egypt to work in his uncle’s business. A year after John was born the Traicos family migrated to Fort Victoria (now Masvingo) in Southern Rhodesia in September 1948. This obviously produced a major shift in their cultural influence and it was out with the tavli and in with the cricket.

Traicos started playing cricket, inspired by his cousin Peter and coached by Neil Jardine, a former rugby international and then at Natal University by the great South African all-rounder Trevor Goddard.

His progress as an off-spinner was rapid. He was selected for the South African Universities tour of England in 1967 and then made his first-class debut for Rhodesia against Transvaal B in Salisbury the following year.

South African Test Player
John Traicos made his Test match debut for the South African cricket team against Australia at Durban in February 1970.

There are many people who know a thing or two about cricket say that the South African side which destroyed Australia 4-0 in the 1969/1970 series was one of the finest of all-time. Great players included Barry Richards, Graeme Pollock, Eddie Barlow, Ali Bacher, Peter Pollock, Lee Irvine and Mike Procter.

Unfortunately for John, not long after his debut, South Africa were banned from international cricket because of the apartheid regime and this meant the end of his international career until 1980 when Rhodesia became Zimbabwe.

Zimbabwean Cricketer
Traicos continued to play for Zimbabwe after the country gained its independence, and appeared for them in the 1982, 1986 and 1990 ICC Trophy tournaments. He also represented Zimbabwe in the 1983 Cricket World Cup, and was an important part of the side which inflicted a shock defeat on Australia.

Zimbabwe were raised to Test status in 1992, and Traicos was selected for the country’s inaugural Test match which took place in Harare at the Harare Sports Club against India. So at the age of 45 years and 304 days, Traicos returned to Test cricket and he finished with great bowling figures of 5-86, his victims including Sachin Tendulkar, Mohammed Azharuddin and Kapil Dev.

The John Traicos File

• Born: 17 May 1947 in Zagazig, Egypt
• Tests: 7 in total,  3 for South Africa (1970) and 4 for Zimbabwe (1992-3)
• Bowling: 18 wickets (avge 42.72)
• Best: 5-86 v India, Harare 1993
• ODIs: 27 for Zimbabwe

Zimbabwe Cricket Books

Amazon, have a bunch of Zim related cricket books, including "Blood, Sweat And Treason" by Henry Olonga, “A History of the Rhodesia and Zimbabwe National Sides” by Jonty Winch who traces the history of cricket in this country (Zimbabwe) from the first recorded game played in 1890, through two World Wars and a guerilla war, to the comparative peace of post-independence and eventual world recognition in the 1980s when Zimbabwe was able to send a side to England to take part in the I.C.C. Trophy competition which it won.

There is also the Autobiography of another great Zimbabwean cricket coach Duncan Fletcher “Behind the Shades”

USA: Amazon.com

Zimbabwe Cricket on Amazon.com

At the moment Amazon UK don’t have as wide selection as the US site, but I have ordered books from the US and had them delivered to the UK with no problems.

UK: Amazon.co.uk
Zimbabwe Cricket on Amazon.co.uk

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• Zimbabwe pulls off record breaking win
• Zimbabwe v Bangladesh, 1st ODI, Harare
• Zimbabwe vs Bangladesh - Zim win by 130 runs
• Zimbabwe Return to Test Cricket at Home
• Zimbabwe vs Canada - Live World Cup Cricket Streaming

Chirundu.com would like to wish Iain Peter Butchart a happy birthday as he was born today (9 May) in 1960 in Bulawayo

Iain Butchart played one Test for Zimbabwe against Pakistan in Harare at the age of 35 and was one of the key figures in the years immediately before Zimbabwe gained Test status. He also played in 20 One Day Internationals spread over twelve years for Zimbabwe.

He was an all-round player, a right-handed batsman and an often used medium pacer where he bowled more than 13 overs a match during his first class career.

In the one-day internationals his best batting performance was 54 off 70 balls against New Zealand at the 1987 World Cup, which took Zimbabwe from 104 for 7 to 221 for 8 chasing a total of 243 to win. But with four to get and three balls remaining, Butchart was run out, and New Zealand won by 3 runs. His best bowling figures were 3 for 57 – Aamer Sohail for 114, Inzamam-ul-Haq for 14 and Javed Miandad for 89 in a 53-run loss to Pakistan at the 1992 World Cup.

He also played in 9 matches in the ICC Trophy for Zimbabwe where he made 57 runs without being dismissed and taking 14 wickets, including four for 33 against Netherlands in the 1986 final, which Zimbabwe won by 25 runs.

After his playing days were over, he went on to coach the Zimbabwe Under-19 side.

Facts:

• Full name Iain Peter Butchart
• Born May 9, 1960, Bulawayo
• Major teams Zimbabwe, Mashonaland Country Districts
• Batting style Right-hand bat
• Bowling style Right-arm medium
• Education Plumtree School

Zimbabwe Cricket Books

Amazon, have a bunch of Zim related cricket books, including "Blood, Sweat And Treason" by Henry Olonga, “A History of the Rhodesia and Zimbabwe National Sides” by Jonty Winch who traces the history of cricket in this country (Zimbabwe) from the first recorded game played in 1890, through two World Wars and a guerilla war, to the comparative peace of post-independence and eventual world recognition in the 1980s when Zimbabwe was able to send a side to England to take part in the I.C.C. Trophy competition which it won.

There is also the Autobiography of another great Zimbabwean cricket coach Duncan Fletcher “Behind the Shades”

USA: Amazon.com

Zimbabwe Cricket on Amazon.com

At the moment Amazon UK don’t have as wide selection as the US site, but I have ordered books from the US and had them delivered to the UK with no problems.

UK: Amazon.co.uk
Zimbabwe Cricket on Amazon.co.uk

Related Posts

• Zimbabwe pulls off record breaking win
• Zimbabwe v Bangladesh, 1st ODI, Harare
• Zimbabwe vs Bangladesh - Zim win by 130 runs
• Zimbabwe Return to Test Cricket at Home
• Zimbabwe vs Canada - Live World Cup Cricket Streaming

The Siege of Mafeking is probably the best known British action during the Second Boer War. It took place at the town of Mafeking (now Mafikeng) in South Africa, over a period of 217 days, from October 1899 to May 1900. But did you know that some forces involved in the siege were based in the new country of Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe).

The geography explains the situation as the Cape Colony and Natal were the main bases from which British troops could operate, but on the west of the two Boer Republics was Bechuanaland, and on the north, Matabeleland, in southern Rhodesia and it was of the greatest importance that these were well guarded.

Colonel Herbert Plumer
Colonel Baden-Powel put Colonel Herbert Plumer in command of one regiment to operate in Southern Rhodesia where he immediately set about raising and organizing the Rhodesian Regiment and there is little doubt that if he had not kept watch and ward at Tuli during the earlier stages of the Boer war, there might have been a dangerous incursion of the boers into Rhodesia. Even so, a Boer commando appeared on the banks of the Crocodile River and exchanged shots with Plumer’s patrols. Subsequently Plumer moved his camp to Gaberones which led to his coming in still closer touch with the Boers, and on several occasions he was sharply engaged.

It was towards the end of the siege in April 1900, when the Boers were on the defensive and in retreat, the British began a major effort to relieve Mafeking. Two columns would converge on the town: one would march northwards from the British lines on the Modder River, while a second would strike south from Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), in conjunction with the Rhodesian Field Force commanded by Colonel Herbert Plumer of the 2nd Battalion, the York and Lancaster Regiment and later to become Field-Marshal Lord Plumer, Baron of Messines and Bilton.

The Rhodesian Field Force that was to march on Mafeking required reinforcements, particularly in artillery, before it could proceed. Luckily, “C” Battery, Royal Canadian Field Artillery, had recently arrived from Canada and was in the Cape Town area. Getting to Mafeking was no easy task. On 14 April, the battery, along with a squadron of Australian mounted rifles, boarded a ship bound for Beira in Portuguese East Africa (now Mozambique). This was followed by a five-hundred-kilometre journey by train westward to Marandellas (now Marondera) in Rhodesia and another five-hundred-kilometre trek to Bulawayo. From there, the gunners, augmented by mules and with Black South African drivers to draw the guns and ammunition wagons, set off again by rail, arriving at Ootsi, only 100 kilometres north of Mafeking, on 11 May. (The important contributions of these Black South African drivers has gone largely unnoticed for nearly a century.)

As we now know the British were victorious and the lifting of the Siege of Mafeking was a decisive victory for them and a crushing defeat for the Boers. The siege also turned the British Military Commander Colonel Baden-Powell, who went on to found the Scouting Movement, into a national hero.

Zimbabwean / Rhodesian Military History Books (before 1960):
	Sunshine and Storm in Rhodesia By Frederick Courteney Selous (Author) is a firsthand account of the Second Matabele War (also known as the First Chimurenga). An unabridged reprint of the the 1896 edition. Originalally published in 1896: Excerpt: CHAPTER III "Now this murder of a native policeman on the night of Friday, 20th March, was the first overt act of rebellion on the part of the Matabele against the Government of the British South Africa Company, and I will therefore relate exactly what occurred. On the evening of the aforementioned day, eight native policemen, acting on instructions of Mr. Jackson, arrived at the town of Umgorshlwini, situated in the hills near the Umzingwani river. Being accompanied by several boys carrying their blankets, etc., they formed quite a little party, and so camped outside the town. They were sitting talking over their fires after the evening meal, when a number of Matabele came up, and ranging themselves in a line in front of them, commenced to dance. These men all carried knob-kerries, and were led by a man named Umzobo, who had held a post of importance at Bulawayo in Lo Bengula’s time." Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com
	No Insignificant Part: The Rhodesia Native Regiment and the East African Campaign of the First World War The is the first history of the only primarily African military unit from Zimbabwe to fight in the First World War. Recruited from the migrant labour network, most African soldiers in the RNR were originally miners or farm workers from what are now Zimbabwe, Zambia, Mozambique, and Malawi. Like others across the world, they joined the army for a variety of reason, chief among them a desire to escape low pay and horrible working conditions. Written by Timothy J. Stapleton has been a post-doctoral fellow at Rhodes University, a senior lecturer in history at the University of Fort Hare, South Africa, and a research associate at the University of Zimbabwe. Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com
	The Matabele Campaign: 1896 By Robert Baden-Powell is his account of the Campaign in Suppressing the Matabele Rising in the Matabeleland and Mashonsland in 1896. Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com
	Zulus and Matabele: Warrior Nations Written by Glen Lyndon Dodds who grew up in Matabeleland and covers the rise and fall of the Zulus and Matabele nations. This account begins with the characters who spurred the people to greatness and nationhood, continues with the wars and battles which afflicted them and ends with an assessment of their role in the history of Southern Africa. Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.com

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• The Shangani Patrol
• The Last Stand of the Shangani Patrol
• Zimbabwean Formula 1 Drivers
• How Karoi Began
• Imire Game Park - Two nights all-inclusive $280

This memorial commemorates a number of the settlers who were killed in the 1896 Matebele uprising in the Shangani Area [map]

Why this memorial is situated at this point and is given the name “Pongo” are mysteries. The Pongo river is not here but about 15km further west towards Bulawayo. Originally this river was called (in 1893) the Manzimyana, but an 1897 map clearly shows it renamed the Pongo river and this is where the Pongo Store was. One can but guess that perhaps the memorial was put here at the site adjacent to where the settlers had defeated the Matabele in 1893 rather than somewhere else which would have had no special significance.

Where did the name “Pongo” come from?

The dictionary defines Pongo as an early name for a large African ape, the Orang-outang, and it is also what the British sailors call British soldiers!

When was it erected?

Presumably after the coach road was changed to follow what is now the old strip road – but when was this?

The names on the memorial

Most names have been carved onto the stone, and metal plaques were added later and they contain some additional names. One name, Moonie, has a line carved through it and the story is that Moonie was thought to have been killed, but wasn’t and after returning some years later he cut the line through his name.

The list below displays the details of some of the names on the memorial.

Map of the Location of the Pogo Memorial near Shangani

I took these photos in March 2000, returning to Gweru from our trip to the Matopos so am not sure if the memorial still stands?

Posters & Books on Matabele History

Amazon have a bunch of really interesting posters and books relating to Matabeleland, Lobengula and the history of this area:

In the UK

In the USA

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• The Shangani Patrol
• The Last Stand of the Shangani Patrol
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• Tales from the Bundu – Aerial Odyssey
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He was later accepted by the London Missionary Society, and at the age of 21, he sailed for Cape Town, South Africa. The hardships and primitive conditions did not deter him as he pushed northward into the interior, where he won to Christ the most dangerous outlaw chief in that region.

Returning to Cape Town in 1819, he met his fiancée, arriving from England, and they were married. Together, they spent the next 51 years on the mission field, most of it in Kuruman experiencing the many hardships and sorrows of that primitive area. Three of their children died in infancy and youth. However, five of the remaining ones remained in Africa as missionaries. Mary, the oldest daughter, became the wife of David Livingstone.

The work of Moffat was, as it were, the stepping stones which others used in spreading the Gospel throughout the Dark Continent. He opened many mission stations and served as the pioneer missionary in an area of hundreds of square miles. He translated the Bible into the language of the Bechwanas, first having reduced the language to written characters.

In 1870, after 54 years in Africa, he and his wife returned to England, where one year later she died. Moffat continued to promote foreign missions the rest of his life. He raised funds for a seminary that was built at the Kuruman Station, where native students were prepared for missionary work among their own people. At his death in 1883 the London newspaper said, “Perhaps no more genuine soul ever breathed. He addressed the cultured audiences within the majestic halls of Westminster Abbey with the same simple manner in which he led the worship in the huts of the savages.”!

Related Posts

• Moffat Mission / Kuruman Mission
• David Livingstone (1813-73)
• Tales from the Bundu – Aerial Odyssey
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Before this, the Kuruman Mission was established by the London Missionary Society (LMS) in 1816 at Maruping near Kuruman where a town of about 10 000 Batswana were resident. Robert Moffat arrived in Kuruman from Scotland in 1820, and soon organised permission from Chief Mothibi to relocate it to the present position at Seodin in the valley of the Kuruman River. From here he preached Christianity to the local people. Today the Moffat Mission Station is now a museum and open to visitors.

Moffat (1795-1887) laboured at the mission for 50 years, and his period is considered the “golden age” of missionary work amongst the Batswana. He was a man of considerable talents and oversaw the building of staff houses, a school house, store rooms, and the “cathedral of the Kalahari”, the great Moffat Church (1838) which can seat 800 people.

Not content with this he was as the same time working on what would be his greatest legacy: the Setswana Bible. He taught himself Setswana, developed the orthography and (with a broader team) translated the Bible. Once this was done, he then proceeded to print it on a hand press – being the first entire Bible printed in Africa.

The mission is also well-known as the first African home of Dr. David Livingstone. He arrived as an LMS missionary in 1841, and remained in contact with the mission due to his marriage to Moffat’s eldest daughter Mary jr. The image of the tree are what remains of the famous wild almond tree under which David Livingstone proposed to Mary Moffat and can still be seen today.

The mission also witnessed the first ordination of a Motswana, Rev. Maphakela Lekalake who served the church to the ripe age of 97.

Thompson Avenue
P O Box 34, Kuruman, 8460
Tel (053) 7121352/7122645
Tel/fax: (053) 7121352
email: moffat@spg.co.za

Visiting hours:
Monday-Saturday: 08:00 – 17:00
Sunday and Public holidays: 15:00 -17:00

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