iSibindi Zulu Lodge is situated in a private game reserve in the ruggedly beautiful Zululand. An architectural celebration of the Zulu nation, the lodge is a peaceful bushveld retreat which also offers a host of activities for our guests wanting to experience a combination of luxurious accommodation, gameviewing, battlefields and Zulu cultural experiences.

This 12 bed luxury lodge is a stone's throw away from the historically momentous Anglo-Zulu battlefields of Rorke's Drift and Isandlwana where Zulu and British clashed in a devestating battle which had enormous consequences for the Zulu people. The lodge also offers a choice of authentic Zulu cultural experiences. We also pride ourselves on continuing to receive numerous accolades on our cuisine!

Isibindi Game Reserve

iSibindi Zulu Lodge is situated within the 4000 acre Isibindi Eco-Reserve which offers diverse habitats ranging from montane grassland and valley thornveld to riverine forests. The reserve is home to abundant indigenous game, morning and evening game drives are offered and there is excellent bird watching. It is also quite safe to walk or take a picnic along one of the meandering river beds and view Giraffe, Zebra,Wildebeest, etc.

Battlefield tours

iSibindi Zulu Lodge offers guided tours of the Anglo-Zulu battlefields. Tours must be pre-booked so that arrangements can be made with our preferred guides to take the tours. The chilling accounts of the battles of Rorke's Drift and Isandlwana present a deeper insight of the rich history in the area. Presented alongside the military narrative, a complete picture of the impact of the Anglo-Zulu campaign on both the Zulu and British nations is formed.

Zulu Culture and History

Isibindi Zulu Lodge offers the rare opportunity of learning about the Zulu culture and traditions as they remain in Zululand today. A Zulu Boma Dinner/Cultural Evening begins just as the sun starts setting, casting our hills in soft golden light. Guests are led down a narrow path to the beat of drums. As one emerges into a clearing comming across a historical Zulu umuzi (homestead) the dancing bodies of Zulu children make for a profound experience. The traditional dances and their role in Zulu history and culture is explained amid the energetic displays. A Zulu Homestead Visit gives guests a rare chance to experience the life of a rural Zulu family which has remained largely unchanged over the past hundred years since Shaka Zulu forged this mighty nation.

Accommodation at Isibindi Zulu Lodge

Bedrooms

Architecturally inspired by the traditional Zulu beehive shape, the beehive suites offer panoramic views of the game reserve and its diverse habitats ranging from montane grassland to riverine forests.

Each Beehive suite has its own viewing deck overlooking the game reserve and the surrounding hills like Rorke's Drift. All rooms are en-suite with separate bath and spacious shower.

The Honeymoon suite, comanding views of a particularly game rich area of the reserve, has a romantic sunken stone bath. The rooms are individually set along the ridge ensuring ones privacy in this tranquil environment.

Main Lodge

The main lodge set amongst huge Buffalo Thorn Trees and dolorite boulders boasts a homely lounge with a large fireplace, a library, a unique bar carved out of a Wait-a-Bit Thorn Tree, a swimming pool with a view and spacious verandah. The privately set swimming pool has breathtaking views over the game reserve. Guests gather around the bar in the evenings to recall the days safari on the Anglo-Zulu Battlefields or a game walk on the game reserve. Isibindi Zulu Lodge takes pride in its cuisine and has developed a reputation for its unique presentation of South African Fair. Breakfasts and lunches are either served al fresco at the swimming pool or on the verandah.

Activities at Isibindi Zulu Lodge

Battlefield tours

The battlefield tour starts at approximately 8h30 when guests head for Isandlwana, where the greatest defeat in British colonial history took place. Your historian describes the dramatic events of Isandlwana and surrounding area. After lunch, guests travel to Rorke's Drift where a picnic lunch is enjoyed.

The events of Rorke's Drift (the battle proceeded from Isandlwana to Rorke's Drift later in the day) are described, as well as a short tour of the museum. At Rorke's Drift the men are rewarded for their bravery with no less than 11 Victoria Crosses, the most number of Victoria Crosses evr to be one in a single battle. As the dramatic events of the day unfold, guests begin to envisage the tragedy and the bravery of these extraordinary battles that took place in this remote corner of Zululand. Guest return to the lodge at approximately 16h00.

Zulu Boma Dinner/Cultural Evening

Starts at approximately 16h30 when guests walk down to the uMuzi (traditional village) situated some 500m from the lodge. A short tour of the village accustoms guest to the layout and traditional aspects of a homestead. This is followed by traditional dancing, throughout which the different dances and their symbolism is explained by a Zulu interpreter. At approximately 18h30 guests will be invited into one of the beehives to enjoy a meal of traditional foods and drinks. At approximately 19h30 guests return to the lodge for tea and cake.

Zulu Homestead Visit

The Buffalo border is the Western boundary of the game reserve, across this boundary is traditional "Zululand". Guests are rowed across the river and then walked to a traditional homestead, largely unchanged for centuries, where a sangoma (Zulu witchdoctor) lives. A tour of the homestead is conducted by the sangoma who can also be encouraged to 'throw the bones', which is an ancient Zulu art of fortune telling and rain wishing.

Guest can enjoy early morning and evening game drives and safaris on the private game reserve. The numerous rivers that cut through the reserve and surrounding mountains make for some wonderfull scenery. Stop and ponder over the length of a giraffes neck or the twist in the magnificent Kudu's horns. Guests are also encouraged to do game walks, because there are none of the Big Five on the reserve making it quite safe to travel on foot.

River Rafting & Abseiling

The Buffalo River offers some of the most exciting whitewater rafting available in South Africa.  Grade’s 2, 3 and 4 rapids are offered.  Qualified, well trained and professional guides accompany you at all times and no previous experience is required.  A full and fun day in the sun, viewing some of the most beautiful gorges in KwaZulu-Natal.  You can also challenge yourself to some abseiling.  A 45m drop means you don’t have to be experienced to have a go!

The Zulu Nation - A Brief History

The Zulu are a proud tribe native to the KwaZuluNatal province of South Africa. Historically the Zulu were a mighty warrior nation and are believed to be descendants of the patriarch Zulu, the son of a Nguni chief in the Congo basin in central Africa. Apartheid textbooks taught that South Africa was virtually empty of human habitation when colonised by the Dutch in 1652. The reality is that the Zulu people began to migrate towards their present location in Natal during the 16th century.

A crucial turning point in Zulu history occurred during the reign of Shaka as king of the Zulu’s from 1816 to 1828. Prior to his rule the Zulu’s consisted of numerous clans that were related but disorganised. Shaka was a mighty and fearsome warrior and united the clans into a single powerful tribe. He introduced a new system of military organisation and revolutionised his army’s weaponry and military tactics. He introduced new battle formations that left his enemies outflanked and confused. He was a strict and brutal disciplinarian, soldiers were required to remain celibate and a violation of this rule was punishable by death. Shaka increased the power of his tribe. Conquered clans and tribes were incorporated into the Zulu nation and in eleven years he increased their number from 1500 people to 50 000 warriors alone.

From the time of Shaka onwards, the Zulu's fought many wars to keep from being dominated by the British settlers. The final Zulu uprising before succumbing to the British was lead by Chief Bambatha in 1906. From then on the tribe that had once been master of much of the eastern coastal regions and interior of South Africa, was subjected to an increasingly harsh series of racist laws that led to poverty and disempowerment.

Shaka, King of the Zulus

Long ago, in 1789, in the rolling green hills of Zululand, a Zulu woman called Nandi gave birth to an unwanted and illegitimate child. The child’s father, Senzangakona, from the clan of Zulu, wanted nothing to do with them and the tribal elders sent a message to Nandi saying “the girl has a beetle (shaka) in her belly”. Nandi was relegated to the lowly position of third wife. When Shaka was six years old he allowed a dog to kill one of Senzangakona’s sheep and from that day forth, Shaka and Nandi were cast out by the Zulu clan.

In shame, they were forced to return to the clan of Nandi’s family. Shaka hated living with his mother's family, they were treated as outcasts and he continuously suffered the cruel, taunting of the other children who referred to him as “the fatherless one.” The family were forced to move around from clan to clan until they found a degree of acceptance by the Mtetwa tribe. Shaka grew to young manhood herding sheep and cattle. He showed extraordinary bravery in protecting the animals under his care, and one day killed a leopard single handedly using two throwing spears and a club.

At the age of twenty-one, Shaka became a soldier and distinguished himself in battle under the Mtetwa chieftain Dingiswayo. Shaka proved to be an excellent military strategist and introduced changes in battle methods that were to be a great success. Dingiswayo was a good leader of his people, and under his protection, Shaka grew into a rich and important person. One day Senzangakona came to pay homage to Dingiswayo and was gratified to find that his son had become a great man. He promised Shaka the chieftainship of the Zulu clan after his death. However Senzangakona bowed to the pressure of his wives, and after his death, Shaka's young half-brother, Sugujana became chief. When Shaka heard the news he broke into a great rage and killed the new chief in battle. Shaka dressed up in his glorious and fearsome battle costume of blue monkey fur and genet tails, and with his own Mtetwa regiment by his side, became king of the Zulu’s.

Shaka set to building a mighty new kraal, it was called Bulawayo, “the place of killing.” Nandi was brought to live there in a sumptuous royal kraal of her own. A great feast was held in honour of the new capital and the hills rang out with the roar of the royal salute, “Bayete, Nkosi! Bayete Nkosi!” Shaka marched in revenge on his mother's Mlangeni clan who had treated them so cruelly in his youth. Victory came easily and Shaka developed a taste for the power of battle.

Shaka continued to revolutionise the Zulu army. He introduced new weapons, new regimental structures and battle formations. He was a cruel and strict disciplinarian. Soldiers caught disobeying his rules were immediately put to death. He forced his regiments to run barefoot over fields of thorns so that their feet became hardened and they could move more quickly in battle. Shaka scored victory after victory. Each clan that was conquered was assimilated into his tribe and the Zulu’s became a great and powerful nation ruling over vast tracts of land in the southern coastal and interior regions of what is today known as KwaZulu Natal.

In 1825 the British arrived at Port Natal. Shaka invited the two British commanders, Fynn and Farewell, to his kraal where he entertained them with a majestic display of his power. Shaka granted the British full possession of Port Natal, and in return the British plied him with gifts of brass bars, beads and blankets. The British at that time were forced to respect the power of the Zulu and there was no trouble in Shaka’s lifetime.

After the death of his mother Nandi in 1827, Shaka became increasingly paranoid and unpredictable. Ironically, unbeknown to him, members of his inner family circle were hatching a plot to destroy him. In September 1828, Shaka was assassinated by his half-brothers Dingaan and Mhlangana who stabbed him to death with their spears. He was buried the following day together with personal possessions and Dingaan become king.

From then on the Zulu Nation began its decline. Shaka may have been an unpredictable and bloodthirsty tyrant but he increased the power and glory of his tribe and will always hold an important place in the history of both the Zulu's and South Africa.

The Battle of Isandlwana

“Wet With Yesterday’s Blood” by Ian Knight

Towards the end of the first week of January, 1879, in the sprawling military camp which had recently sprung up on the windy Helpmekaar ridge, overlooking the border between the British colony of Natal, in southern Africa, and the independent Zulu kingdom, the officers of the 1st Battalion of the 24th Regiment invited the officers of the 2nd Battalion of the same regiment to lunch. Both were part of a British army which was being assembled to Zululand; the border, the Mzinyathi river (‘the waters of buffalo’), meandered through a broad valley at the foot of the heights.

Pics: Isandlwana re-inactment; Isibindi historian at Isandlwana

It was unusual for two battalions of the same regiment to be serving together in the field, for in the British military system of the 1870s those regiments which were made up of more than one battalion were supposed to rotate their service, so that one battalion remained in the depot at home while the other served overseas. In practice, however, the army was stretched too thin to police Britain's growing empire, and at any given time more troops were posted overseas than the system theoretically allowed. The two battalions of the 24th had come to South Africa separately, and although both had seen action in the closing stages of the 9th Cape Frontier War (‘The War of Ngcayecibi’, 1877/78), against the amaXhosa people, they had not fought side by side before. Now, for the first time in the regiment's history, they would face the coming Zulu campaign together. That little dinner in the mess - which itself was improvised from packing cases, slung across with tarpaulin - was to celebrate the fact. Moreover, the anniversary of one of the 24th’s most significant actions was looming; on 13th January 1849, thirty years before, the regiment had fought a disastrous battle against the Sikh army at Chillianwallah, in India. The 24th had been ordered to charge a Sikh artillery battery at bayonet point, and had been shot to pieces, loosing over 500 officers and men killed and wounded.

The Colours - the focus of regimental pride and symbol of their allegiance to the Queen - were lost on the battlefield. The imminent anniversary was a spur to the officers gathered at Helpmekaar, and they cheerfully drunk a toast to its memory - “To Chillianwallah - and that we may not get into such a mess again this time”. Within a fortnight of that toast, not one of the officers of the 1/24th who drank it was still alive; they lay dead in the whispering grass at the foot of a distinctive rocky outcrop, just a few miles across the border in Zululand, known as Isandlwana. Alongside them lay five officers of the 2/24th, and over 1300 British and allied troops, together with a thousand Zulus, and the carcasses of hundreds of slaughtered oxen, horses, mules and dogs. As one Zulu veteran commented years afterwards, “the green grass was red with the running blood and the veld was slippery, for it was covered with the brains and entrails of the killed”.

The battle of Isandlwana was one of the worst defeats suffered by the British army during the Victorian era; it was also a defining moment in the history of the Zulu kingdom. The part-time soldiers and herdsmen of a little-known African kingdom were suddenly transformed around the world into a powerful and enduring stereotype, alien, savage, and incomprehensible, which colours our understanding of Zulu history and culture, even today. At the same time, Isandlwana ensured the destruction of the Zulu kingdom in its original form, and defeat was born of victory, for the British Empire was hardly inclined to make peace without first restoring its honour on the battlefield.

Like most historical calamities, the British defeat came about not through any single great error of judgement, but rather through a combination of misunderstanding, miscalculation, and sheer bad luck. The Zulu victory, on the other hand, was won by sound tactical judgement, by aggressive spirit, and by raw courage and endurance in the face of an awesome and destructive enemy weapon technology.

The senior British commander in southern Africa, Lieutenant-General Lord Chelmsford, had decided to invade Zululand with three offensive columns, with two more in support. His political brief, framed by the High Commissioner, Sir Henry Bartle Frere, was to break up the Zulu political and military system as quickly as possible. Frere was the spearhead of a new British forward policy in southern Africa; called Confederation, it was designed to bring the region's disparate British possessions, Boer republics and African kingdoms under one central authority - British, of course - to facilitate its political and economic development. Frere had become convinced that the Zulu kingdom was a block on the road to Confederation, and he wanted it removed as part of a broader programme of suppressing African resistance. Seizing on a number of border violations and a long-standing boundary dispute with the Transvaal - which Britain had recently annexed as part of the same programme - Frere had presented the Zulu king, Cetshwayo kaMpande, with an ultimatum in December 1878. The ultimatum demanded that Cetshwayo disband the system by which the king exacted tribute from his young men through military and social service, and that he hand over practical authority to a British resident. It was a demand that no self-respecting independent ruler could accept, which was precisely what Frere intended; on 11th January 1879 the ultimatum expired at Chelmsford’s troops crossed into Zululand.

Invariably, British armies embarked on colonial campaigns with far too few troops for the purpose, and so it was with Chelmsford. His three offensive columns had no more than two battalions of regular infantry apiece - a battalion consisted of 800 men at full strength, which few ever were in the field - a battery of artillery, and a hastily raised force of African auxiliaries, recruited in Natal from groups hostile to the Zulu kingdom. All three also included white Volunteer and Irregular forces, raised from the settler community in Natal, or on the Cape Frontier. Chelmsford himself commanded the Centre Column, which descended the Helpmekaar heights in the first week of January, and crossed unopposed into Zululand at Rorke’s Drift when the ultimatum expired.

Lord Chelmsford was an experienced professional soldier in his 50s, a quiet man with a gentlemanly manner, and certainly no fool. He had recently brought the messy little war on the Cape frontier to a successful conclusion, but in many ways this was to prove his undoing. Although his intelligence department had made a careful assessment of Zulu fighting capabilities, he could not quite bring himself to believe that they were any different from the Xhosa. The Xhosa had waged a guerrilla war, preferring hit-and-run tactics, launched from secure bases in mountainous bush-country, to a direct challenge in open fight. Lord Chelmsford - and most of the men under his command, including the officers of the 24th - suspected that the Zulus would respond in the same way. His whole strategy, that of three separate columns converging on King Cetshwayo’s principle homestead at oNdini (Ulundi), revealed his preoccupation that he would have to “drive the Zulus into a corner, and make them fight”.

The invasion went well enough at first. On 12th January Chelmsford took part of his command and attacked the homesteads of Chief Sihayo kaXongo in the Batshe valley, which lay ahead of his line of advance. Sihayo’s followers had been involved in one of the border incidents cited in the British ultimatum; they fought stubbornly, but were no match for Chelmsford's troops. The incident proved disastrous for the British in two respects, however; firstly because it encouraged a dangerous complacency in the British camp, and secondly because it shaped King Cetshwayo's response to the British invasion.

The king and his councillors had largely been paralysed by the British ultimatum. They had not sought a confrontation with the British, and realised that the British had a hidden agenda which they could not comprehend; yet they could not accede to the most important British demands. The king prevaricated, waiting for the British to move first, and it was not until the attack on Sihayo's homestead that the royal council reached a decision. The amabutho - the age-grade regiments which constituted the nation's army - were called up, and underwent the ceremonies necessary to prepare them for war. Chelmsford’s attack on Sihayo marked him down in Zulu eyes as the most dangerous of the three invading columns, and the majority of the amabutho, a total of perhaps 23,000 men, were sent out from oNdini on 17th January to attack him.

In fact, Chelmsford’s advance was painfully slow in the aftermath of that first skirmish. He was following an old traders’ track which ran from Rorke’s Drift towards oNdini, but it was scarcely adequate for his supply train of over 300 ox-drawn wagons. What's more, the weather was against him; after several seasons of drought, the summer rains had returned with a vengeance. Hot, stifling days ended in fierce thunderstorms in the late afternoon, and alternated with steady down-pours or days of raw, chilling drizzle. The track soon turned to mud; it took days for work-parties to clear the road as far as his next objective. It was not until 20th January that he was able to advance the few miles that separated Rorke's Drift from Isandlwana.

Isandlwana is a brooding and mysterious place, even today. It is a sandstone outcrop rising 300 feet from the plain, cut off by aeons of wind and rain from the iNyoni hills which frame it to the north. Its moods dramatically reflect shifting patterns of light; on hot days it lies still and squat, its face in shadow, its rocky crags suggestive of some ancient and incomprehensible mystery. In the evening, the purple light which warns of a summer storm provides a sinister backdrop to its peak, while the sudden rush of wind ripples through the grass at its foot. In bad weather in hangs, grey and mysterious, amidst the lowering clouds, a dark smudge apparently suspended, somehow, just above the horizon. All in all, it is the perfect place for the terrible human drama played out beneath it.

Chelmsford established his camp on the forward slope of the mountain, a good location which commanded a view of several miles of open country towards oNdini. Already, by the time he arrived there, reports had reached him that the Zulu army was on its way to attack him. Although he felt secure about his left flank and front, he was concerned about a range of hills - Hlazakazi and Malakatha - which shut in his view on the right. Beyond these hills the country fell into row after row of undulating ridges and steep valleys; if a Zulu army moved into them unopposed, Chelmsford feared that it might slip passed him and cross into Natal downstream of Rorke's Drift. The following day - the 21st - he sent most of his African auxiliaries and most of his mounted men out to scour the hills. That night, at the far end of the range, overlooking the spectacular Mangeni falls, they ran into a strong Zulu force. Unable to determine the Zulu strength or intentions in the dusk, they sent word back to Chelmsford.

The message reached him about 2 o’clock on the morning of the 23rd. To Chelmsford, it must have seemed that everything his suspected was coming to pass; here were the Zulus, exactly where he thought they would be, and, like the Xhosa before them, apparently trying to avoid a direct confrontation and fight instead in terrain that the British would find most difficult. Chelmsford decided to deny them the chance; he ordered about half his command - most of the 2/24th and four of his six guns - to make ready to march out of camp immediately. His intention was to move out and surprise the Zulus at dawn, before they could get away; he left the 1/24th to guard the camp, and on the spur of the moment ordered one of the two support columns up from Rorke’s Drift. The camp was left under the command of Lt. Col. Henry Pulleine of the 24th, who was presumably selected for his record as a good administrator, since he was an experienced soldier who had none-the-less never commanded a force in action before. Everyone, from Chelmsford himself down, expected that it would be the General who would be fighting the battle later that day.

The support column arrived at Isandlwana at about 10.30 on the morning of the 22nd. It was commanded by one of the most intriguing personalities of the war, Brevet Colonel Anthony Durnford, a Royal Engineer who had been involved in Natal’s affairs for several years, and who had lost the use of his left arm in a skirmish in 1873. Durnford was anxious to dispel doubts about his judgement which still lingered from that occasion, and he was keen to prove himself now. He was concerned to find that, after Chelmsford's departure, large numbers of Zulus had shown themselves on the iNyoni ridge, to the left of the camp - altogether the opposite direction from where Chelmsford was searching for them. They had retired from view, leaving Pulleine and Durnford to ponder their intentions. In the absence of any firm instructions from Chelmsford, Durnford decided to take his own command out from the camp, and scout the iNyoni heights. His column consisted of about 500 men, almost entirely African auxiliaries, about half of them mounted. Pulleine agreed to support Durnford's actions so long as they did not compromise the defence of the camp.

Durnford rode out of the camp at about 11.30. He divided his force, sending one part, two troops of cavalry under Lieutenants Roberts and Raw, up onto the heights, while he led the remainder around the bottom of the escarpment. The idea was to catch any Zulus in a pincer movement, and drive them away from both the camp and Lord Chelmsford. The undulating surface of the heights was not visible to Durnford, but Raw and Roberts could see small groups of warriors in the distance, all apparently moving rapidly away from them. They gave chase, and Raw's troop in particular almost caught up with a party of herdsmen who were trying to hurry away their cattle. The herdsmen crested a stony rise, known as Mabaso, and dropped out of sight beyond. Raw's men, pursuing them, reined in short; below them the ground dropped away into the open valley of the Ngwebeni stream. Sitting in the bottom of the valley, looking up at them in surprise, was the main Zulu army.

The Zulus had effectively outmaneuvered Lord Chelmsford’s force. They had advanced slowly from oNdini to Isandlwana - it had taken them four days to cover forty or fifty miles - and had masked their approach behind the Siphezi mountain, which marked the limit of British visibility at Isandlwana. This was not far from the spot where Chelmsford's probe had had its encounter on the evening of the 21st; indeed, the British patrols had run into the retainers of local chiefs, who were making their way to join the main army. By that time, however, the main army had already slipped closer to the camp, and while Chelmsford searched for them on his right front, they had effectively outflanked him, and lay concealed five miles away from the camp to its left front. This seems to have been due to luck, and the Zulu army's habitual skill at concealment, rather than a deliberate strategy to divide Chelmsford’s command, for there are suggestions that the Zulu commanders - Ntshingwayo kaMahole Khoza, one of the king's most trusted advisers, and Mavumengwana kaNdlela Ntuli - were unsure how to proceed. King Cetshwayo, hoping to stave off a confrontation until the last minute, had urged them to make one last effort to negotiate with the British before attacking, while in any case the coming night (22/23rd) was the night of the new moon - a time when dark spiritual forces lurked close to the world of the living, and could wreak havoc among the enterprise of men. The army had lain in the Ngwebeni the previous night, resting quietly, and lighting no cooking fires. At one point, on the 22nd, the sound of distant skirmishing from Lord Chelmsford's encounter at Mangeni had brought one of the amabutho out onto the heights and close to the camp; this was the movement spotted by Pulleine. Finding that the battle had not yet begun, however, the regiment returned to the valley. As soon as Raw’s men appeared silhouetted against the skyline on the crest of Mabaso, however, it was immediately apparent to every ordinary warrior that there could be no more waiting. The regiment at the foot of the heights, the uKhandempemvu, rose up and rushed towards Raw's men, and the excitement infected the regiments camped alongside of them. There was no time to undergo the last-minute preparatory rituals necessary to ensure the warriors' success, nor was there time for the commanders to give instructions. The best Ntshingwayo could do was hold back the regiments associated with the royal homestead at oNdini - the uThulwana and its incorporated amabutho - which had been camped furthest from the British incursion, and form them into a reserve.

The army spilled out of the valley in some confusion, with individual regimental commanders seizing the initiative and trying to deploy them properly. Raw and Roberts fell back before them, stopping now and then to fire volleys in a futile attempt to stem the advance. In the time it took the army to cross the three or four miles to the lip of the iNyoni escarpment, the great army shook itself into its traditional “chest and horns” attack formation.

News of the attack was carried to both Pulleine and Durnford by riders galloping down from the heights. Both men reacted sceptically; it seemed unlikely that such a large force could have avoided Chelmsford’s probe, and the escarpment blocked their view of the events unfolding there. Durnford was about four miles out from the camp - and out of sight from it - when he was disillusioned. Suddenly a column of several thousand warriors - the left horn, consisting of the uVe and iNgobamakhosi amabutho - came into view ahead of him. Durnford deployed his men in a long line and began a fighting retreat towards the camp.

Pulleine, meanwhile, had sent one company of the 1/24th up onto the heights at about the time Durnford had ridden out. This, too, could not be seen from the camp, but the sound of firing indicated that it had come into action. Still doubting the full extent of the Zulu threat, Pulleine dispatched another company to support it. Only when the first elements of the Zulu chest - the uKhandempemvu and uMbonambi amabutho - began to appear along the sky-line did he realise that these companies were in danger of being cut off. He sent his artillery - just two light 7pdr guns - out to a low rise which commanded the forward slope of the heights, and deployed his infantry on either side. The companies on the heights were then recalled, together with Raw and Roberts' men, and brought into line. Pulleine's position therefore consisted of a long, straggling line, with the guns in the centre, with the regular 24th companies interspersed by auxiliary units who found themselves included almost be accident. There were, perhaps, 700 redcoats in the line altogether, and they were extended in open order, a yard between each man, kneeling down or crouching behind the boulders for cover. This was a deployment which had worked well enough on the Cape Frontier, and no-one in the British camp believed that the Zulus would have the nerve to withstand its fire. In between the 24th, the auxiliaries fought as best they could, though many were woefully short of firearms. When Durnford's men came into view, retreating across the plain towards Pulleine's right flank and with the left horn in pursuit, Pulleine extended his right and curved it back in an attempt to offer Durnford some support; at the height of the battle, the British line consisted of perhaps 1300 men, covering a distance of nearly two miles against a force which outnumbered them by more than 10:1.

Nevertheless, for a while this was enough to halt the Zulu attack. On the British right, Durnford’s men had reached a watercourse, and, dismounting, were defending it like a trench. The Zulu regiment facing them - the uVe, the youngest in the army - went to ground in the face of their intense fire, until supported by the older iNgobamakhosi. Nevertheless, the Zulu left could only advance by rising up and rushing forward for a few yards before throwing themselves down in the long grass. In the centre, where the uMbonambi and uKhandempemvu were suffering heavily from the artillery and the fire of the “old steady shots” of the 24th, the attack stalled. Above the din of battle, which seemed to reverberate off the face of Isandlwana and echo around the valleys, Zulu speakers in the British camp could hear the Zulu izinduna encouraging their men with references to their regimental honour, and the warriors responded by shouting the war-cries of their amabutho. “Moya!” - “wind!” - they cried derisively when the artillery fired shrapnel into them, and “Nqaka amatshe!” - “catch the hailstones” , treat the bullets with the contempt they deserve. Above it all, there were deep roars of the royalist war-cry - “uSuthu!”.

For twenty minutes, perhaps half an hour, this stalemate continued. In some places the Zulu attack seemed to be about to collapse, and Ntshingwayo sent down izinduna from the heights where he watched the battle to urge the warriors on. Then, over a period of just a few minutes, the British position suddenly collapsed. The trigger was Durnford; out on the right, his men were running low on ammunition, and there were simply too few of them to hold back the left horn, which was trying to outflank them on both sides. Durnford ordered his men to mount up and retire to the camp. One of the survivors met him as he rode in, looking for Pulleine; “he had, I think, already observed the state of affairs, for he was looking very serious”. Indeed, the rest of the British line was now hanging dangerously in the air, with nothing to hold back the left horn. The evidence suggests Durnford met Pulleine and they decided to try to pull back the whole line, to try to take up a tighter position closer to the camp. Zulu witnesses recalled bugles being sounded along the line, and the red-coats abandoning their positions and retiring towards the camp, stopping now and then to deliver a volley as they did so. Unfortunately, this move co-incided with a Zulu advance along the whole length of their line. One of Ntshingwayo’s messengers, Mkhosana kaMvundlana Biyela, an officer of the uKhandempemvu, had reached his men shortly before the British withdrawal, when they were pinned down under fire in a series of dongas at the foot of the escarpment. Dressed in all his ceremonial finery, Mkhosana strode among them, oblivious to the bullets striking around him, berating them for lying on their bellies. Making use of a phrase from King Cetshwayo's praises, he shouted out “The Little Branches of Leaves That Extinguished the Great Fire ... did not order you to do this!”. Shamed, the uKhandempemvu rose up and pressed forward, and as they did so Mkhosana fell, shot through the head. All along the line, the amabutho saw the uKhandempemvu's example, and rose up. Just then the British ceased firing and fell back.

The British position collapsed very quickly, like a wall of sand washed away by waves on the beach. The auxiliary units retired in some confusion and, with no-one to rally them, fell back through the camp, leaving gaps between the red-coat companies. The Zulus, rushing after them, pushed through the gaps, preventing the soldiers from reforming. The 24th were driven back through the camp, and tried to make a stand on the saddle below the peak of Isandlwana. By this point the battle was already raging hand-to-hand, and the Zulus were in among the tents, killing the camp personnel. No further retreat was possible, however, for as the first survivors tried to slip away, they found that the Zulu right horn was already in place in the valley of the Manzimnyama stream, behind the mountain, and had not only cut the road to Rorke’s Drift, but was streaming up to attack the camp in the rear.

For a while, the 24th put up a stubborn resistance on the saddle, and their firing was so fierce that the Zulus hung back. Gradually, however, their ammunition was exhausted, and there was no hope of obtaining fresh supplies. Still maintaining some semblance of company formation, the 24th stood back to back, holding the Zulus at bay with a bristling hedge of bayonets. At least one company was pushed over the saddle, and retired fighting down the Manzimnyama valley, only to be brought up short on the banks of the stream itself, nearly a mile from the camp. Another, Captain Younghusband’s company, tried to defend a shoulder of Isandlwana itself, until lack of ammunition forced them to try and join the others on the saddle below. Here, the Zulus gradually broke up the British formations, throwing spears at them until gaps appeared, then rushing in with their stabbing spears. In the last moment of the battle, the killing achieved levels of primeval savagery, as soldiers, unable to escape, fought on with clubbed rifles, fists, knives, and even stones. “Those red soldiers”, recalled one warrior, “how few they were, and how they fought; they fell like stones, each man in his place”. Amidst the noise, smoke and confusion, nature added an apocalyptic touch of her own; there was a partial eclipse of the sun, and an eerie half-light passed over the battlefield.

Little is known of the fate of individual British officers. Durnford made a stand with a group of Natal Volunteers, trying to hold back the Zulu left; after the battle, his body was spotted among a clump of corpses there. There are several stories concerning the death of Pulleine; the most likely is that he died in the middle of a strong stand of the 24th which was overwhelmed on the saddle, where the 24th memorial stands today. Of the rest, including those who had drunk the toast to the memory of Chillianwallah a few days before, only odd glimpses remain, and they died in anonymity, like their men.

There had been 1700 men in the camp on the British side when the battle began; over 1300 were killed. To the Zulu, the shedding of so much blood demanded a gruesome purification ritual, and they disembowelled the enemy dead to allow their spirits safe passage to the after-life. Every warrior who had killed a man was required to remove some clothing from the body, and wear it until he had undergone the necessary cleansing ceremonies. Perhaps a thousand Zulus were killed in the immediate confines of the camp, and hundreds more would die a lingering death over the following months from horrific injuries caused by shell-fire or heavy calibre bullets. In the adrenaline rush of combat, the Zulus killed everything they came across, and the bodies of hundreds of transport oxen, horses, mules and even dogs were mixed up with the human corpses. Isandlwana had become a charnel house.

The majority of the last stands were over by about 3.30, though here and there isolated knots or individuals held out until much later. Once the focus of the fight had shifted to the Manzimnyama valley and the pursuit of the fugitives, the Zulus who had fought in the camp turned their attention to the great prize they had won. They carried away anything of military value they could find, smashing open boxes and ripping sacks in their search for ammunition and supplies. They looted the camp of the many fascinating artefacts the British had carried with them, and pulled down the tents, cutting up the canvas into easy strips to take away. By late afternoon, the great army had begun to retire back towards the Ngwebeni valley, where they had started the day, carrying their loot and their wounded with them. Friends and relatives of the dead dragged many of the corpses into the dongas which flow below the present site of the St. Vincent’s mission, and covered them over. Other corpses were simply left with their shields covering their faces in token burial. It would be months before the British returned to bury their dead, covering the bones with piles of stones, the origins of the cairns which are a conspicuous feature of the site today.

And Lord Chelmsford? He had arrived at Mangeni shortly after dawn that morning to find that the Zulu force which he sought had evaporated. He spent an exasperating day skirmishing with small pockets of warriors in the hills towards Siphezi mountain. Curious reports reached him throughout the day that something was happening at Isandlwana, but the camp had looked peaceful, shimmering in the mid-day haze, twelve miles away, and some trick of acoustics had prevented the sound of battle from reaching his command.

It was not until early afternoon that he became convinced that something had gone seriously wrong; by the time he had collected his command and marched back to Isandlwana, it was dusk. The battle was long over, and the last Zulus could just be seen retiring over the iNyoni heights. Chelmsford’s men reoccupied the camp in the darkness, stumbling over bodies in the devastation. There was worse to come; from the saddle, Lord Chelmsford looked back into Natal, to see the hill above Rorke's Drift - from where he had started the invasion just eleven days before - silhouetted with flame. The Zulus had indeed got behind him, and the post he had left to guard the crossing at Rorke's Drift was under attack.

The Battle of Rorke’s Drift

22/23 JANUARY 1879 by Graeme Smythe

The men of “B” company 2/24th Regiment and others who had been ordered to stay behind at the Rorke’s Drift supply depot had reason for feeling left-out. Looking after stores and hospital patients was not what soldiering was about, whereas their comrades, including the entire 1st Battalion were marching into the Zulu Kingdom intent on destroying the capital at Ondini (Ulundi) and hoping to capture the first prize, King Cetshwayo Kampande. Life was mundane and by all accounts the force in Zululand was indeed seeing some action. Word had filtered through that there had been a successful raid on Sihayo Kaxongo, a local Zulu chieftain, and that the force was now encamped at the Sphinx-like Hill, Isandlwana. Brevet Major Henry Spalding (104th Regiment) was in overall command of the post. His responsibilities included keeping open lines of communication and making sure that supplies were moved forward to the main force in enemy territory. Wednesday, the 22nd January, was proving to be just another tedious day and Spalding, already anxious that two extra companies of the 24th Regiment had not arrived from the fort at Helpmekaar, decided to go and see if anything was amiss. After consulting his army list, he saw that Lt. John Rouse Merriot Chard (5th Company - Royal Engineers) was the next most senior officer. Spalding left camp with the immortal words: “You will be in charge, although, of course nothing will happen, and I shall be back again early this evening.”

The British force in Natal was in need of engineers and Chard had been called up to the border to primarily maintain the pontoons positioned on the Buffalo River. These pontoons which, due to the flooded state of the river were an essential part of the invasion plan, had taken a severe pounding due to the almost constant flow of military traffic into Zululand. Chard and a hand-full of men from 5th Company had arrived in Durban on the 5 January and were at the Drift by the 19th. Three days later he was in command of the garrison and although he had previously been on foreign service, he had never seen any action. He seemed to have been well liked amongst his fellow officers but as a company officer he was described as being “A plodding, dogged sort” and “Hopelessly slow and slack.”

The duty of second-in-command devolved to Lt. Gonville Bromhead who was in command of “B” Company 2/24th. An unassuming character, he was often called “The Deaf Duffer” and was once described as being “fearless but hopelessly stupid.” Some of the men under his command might even have blamed his condition for been one of the reasons why they had not been invited to join the advance column in Zululand.

After Spalding’s departure, Chard went back down to the pontoons. It would appear that he was not taking the Zulu threat seriously and was not overly concerned when he heard the distant sound of rifle fire. Likewise, Bromhead and his party at the post had heard this fire coming from the direction of Isandlwana, but did not think much of it.

The Reverend Otto Witt (the incumbent missionary), the Reverend George Smith (acting chaplain to the central column), Surgeon Reynolds and a Private from "B" Company took it upon themselves to climb the Oscarsberg/Shiyane Hill behind the post to see what was happening to the advance party. One can imagine their horror when in the distance they recognised a strong Zulu force heading in the direction of Rorke's Drift.

By this stage, some of the Isandlwana survivors had reached the post and had given Bromhead the stark facts - that the camp at Isandlwana had been taken and barely a man had got out of the mess alive. Not surprisingly, none of these survivors stayed to defend the camp but rode off to Helpmekaar, ostensibly to warn the garrison stationed there. Bromhead quickly pencilled a note to be taken to Chard at the river. Chard had already been alerted by two survivors, Lieutenants Adendorff and Vane, who had taken the more direct route from Isandlwana and ended up at the drift.

Chard rode up from the river to find that Bromhead was in the process of organising the defences although several of the survivors mention that acting Assistant Commissary James Dalton, a veteran with 30 years service, was the moving force behind this brave move. Mealie (maize/corn) sacks, each weighing 200 lbs., were used to build a sturdy barricade and without the help of 250 men from the auxillary force, the Natal Native Contingent, it is unlikely that the defences would have been completed in time. Bromhead ordered that six Privates (Henry Hook, Robert Jones, William Jones, John Williams, Joseph Williams and Thomas Cole), should take over the defence of the hospital. There was no time to evacuate the patients and these men busied themselves barricading the doors and windows and knocking loopholes in the outside walls. As Hook succinctly puts it: “we were pinned like rats in a hole”.

The barricades were designed to link the hospital with the store house. Incorporated into this arrangement was a cattle kraal (pen) with dry stone walls approximately 4 feet high. Given that the garrison had a distinct height advantage, all in all, it was not a bad position to defend. The only problem was the Oscarsberg Hill, gently sloping up behind the post.

Chard puts the time at a little after 3.30 pm when a small party of the Natal Native Horse, who had survived Isandlwana, rode up to the post. Their officer asked for instructions and Chard ordered this force to go back round the Oscarsberg Hill to retard the Zulu advance. This was duly done, but at around 4.00 pm Chard noticed the same horsemen galloping off along the road to Helpmekaar. This was too much for the jittery men from the Natal Native Contingent and they abandoned the post to follow their fleeing comrades. Chard was immediately struck by the gravity of the situation. In his report he mentions that: “We seemed very few now all these people had gone.”

In fact there were now a mere 139 men to defend the depot and in what proved to be a magnificent tactical move, Chard ordered that a second line of defence be thrown up to bisect the area. A solid line of biscuit boxes was built from the corner of the Commissariat store down to the front defensive line. This gave the garrison another option. If the hospital and surrounding area was to fall into enemy hands, the men could always retreat to the small area in front of the store. Private Frederick Hitch had been posted as look out on the hospital roof and when quizzed by Bromhead about what he could see, he replied that between four to six thousand Zulus were advancing on the post.

Strictly speaking, the Zulus who attacked Rorke's Drift, had not been involved in the battle at Isandlwana. Although they were in the vicinity, they had been kept in reserve and were no doubt very displeased that they had missed out on the action. The young Indluyengwe Regiment had joined up with elements of the Zulu right horn and had pursued the fugitives up to the Buffalo River where they had paused before crossing. It was probably this force that the Natal Native Horse had encountered and it was certainly this force that made the initial attacks on the mission station.

It was about 4.30 pm when the first warriors from this Indluyengwe Regiment swept down from the Oscarsberg Hill to attack the back of the British position. Trooper Harry Lugg, a patient in the hospital, makes mention of the fact that he had "the satisfaction of seeing the first I fired at roll over at 350 (yards)" and goes on to say that it was some of the best shooting he had ever seen at that distance. Although the Zulus were running into this particularly galling fire, Chard was impressed that their pace did not slacken and this first suicidal rush was only checked when the warriors were within 50 yards of the barricades. Here the survivors took refuge behind the cook house and ovens.

Although the Zulus had been initially repulsed and the British position was looking impregnable, there was nevertheless a weakness. The section of the barricade in front of the hospital was poorly constructed and by taking cover in the thick bush at the bottom of the slope, the Zulus were able to get in close to the British line and with a concerted effort they were able to break through. Private Frederick Hitch, who had taken up a position on this part of the line claims that the Zulus pushed right up to the porch of the hospital before they were checked. However, the Zulus now had a much needed foot hold within the barricaded area and by torching the thatch roof they were now exerting a lot of pressure on the defenders.

While the front of the post was coming under attack, the older more experienced Zulu regiments, the Uthulwana, Indlondlo and Udloko started showing themselves on the slopes of the Oscarsberg Hill. Prince Dabulamanzi Kampande accompanied this second party and he assumed control of the Zulu force. Seeing that the back of the British position was heavily defended, he moved his men round the post to regroup with the Indluyengwe in the flat land in front of the hospital and the rocky ledge.

Meanwhile, a large number of Zulus with firearms had taken up positions on the bottom slopes of the Oscarsberg Hill. From there, they opened up with a heavy fusillade, hitting Corporal Scammell through the shoulder. When acting storekeeper - Louis Byrne - was in the process of giving Scammell a drink of water, a stray musket ball passed straight through his head, killing him instantly, while two men on the back barricade were also hit.

Corporal William Allen was struck in the arm and Corporal John Lyons in the neck.* Surgeon Reynolds had a narrow escape with a musket ball passing through his helmet. James Dalton was not as lucky and being in the thick of the fighting he was more exposed than most and was severely wounded.

Chard was becoming concerned. He could not afford to lose more men and he was also well aware that the hospital was on fire. One can almost assume that he had given up hope that any of his men in the hospital would survive the blaze and he retreated back to relative safety - to the area in front of the Commisseriat store, behind his second line of defence.

The men stuck in the hospital were in a decidedly unenviable position. The building itself was a curious arrangement of little rooms with a central spine running most of the way through. Most of the rooms on the back side, facing the Oscarsberg hill, did not have interleading door ways, which made it extremely difficult for the defenders to communicate. Besides this, no one had counted on the Zulus setting fire to the thatch. Gunner Arthur Howard had abandoned his position earlier on and taken his chances by slipping through the Zulus and hiding amongst some dead horses and pigs that had been killed by the Zulus during an earlier thrust at the front barricade. He lived to tell the tale. Private Thomas Cole was less fortunate. Suffering from claustrophobia, he left the building through the front door and was immediately hit by a stray bullet which passed through his head and struck Private James Bushe on the bridge of his nose. Private Joseph Williams was defending a window when Zulus grabbed hold of his rifle, pulled him through, and hacked him to pieces. Two patients also fell to these Zulus. His fellow defender in that particular room, Private John Williams (Fielding),** was in a predicament. With the roof burning and Zulus at the window, he had no option but to break through the mud brick wall to join up with Henry Hook on the far side. Hook in a desperate attempt to hold his corner room had an amazing tale to tell.

While poking his rifle through a loophole to get a better shot at the Zulus, he claimed that the Zulus nearly wrenched it from his grasp. Fortunately for Hook he had a far better grip on the butt and he was able to slip in a spare cartridge and shoot a Zulu at point blank range. With one man to defend the existing hole, the other would break through the wall and by picking up both Robert and William Jones and some patients on route, the defenders were able to break through to a window looking onto the yard outside.

*The musket ball that hit Lyons came to rest, lodged between two vertebra and was only extracted three weeks later by a doctor in Ladysmith. He survived the ordeal and kept the musket ball as a memento. His descendants donated it to the royal regiment of Wales Museum where it is on display.**He had apparently taken the pseudonym “Williams” to prevent his parents from tracing him when he joined the military.

Chard and the remainder had by this stage regrouped in front of the store house. The Zulu fire from the hill had been negated, thanks to the building between the British and the Oscarsberg, but new problems were becoming apparent. The rocky ledge which is at its most prominent in front of the store house proved to both a blessing and a curse. Although it gave the defenders a distinct height advantage, this ledge created ideal cover for the Zulus who were using it to creep up close to the front barricade. There are several accounts of Zulus, armed with muskets, surprising the British and shooting them at almost point blank range. Fearing that this final defensive area might fall to the enemy, Chard ordered that Assistant Commissary Walter Dunne should supervise the building of the "Last Redoubt" - a makeshift stronghold created by using the excess Mealie bags that were not used to construct the original barricade.

As it became dark, the attackers seemed to gain confidence and renewed their attempts to break into the area in front of the store. Chard talks about being entirely surrounded with the Zulus taking out their frustrations on the camp of the 24th, which was outside the perimeter.

Chard became aware that there was some activity near the hospital and to his surprise he saw men clambering through a window set high up in the wall. Understanding their predicament, he asked for volunteers to help evacuate these defenders and patients. Two men came forward, Corporal William Allen and Private Fred Hitch. Some of the British behind the line of biscuit boxes were employing enfilading fire to keep the Zulus on the outside of the abandoned barricades, but the task was by no means easy. Allen and Hitch, so to speak, had to run the gauntlet of 30 yards to help pull the survivors from the burning building while the return journey was no less arduous.

Trooper Hunter’s luck ran out. In his bed clothes he was trying to get to safety, unassisted, when a Zulu vaulted the barricades and speared him between the shoulder blades. The defenders had the satisfaction of seeing this Zulu dropping dead before he could reach cover.

With all the men inside the small area lying in front of the store, the garrison settled in for the last grueling stage of the battle. The blazing hospital gave the British an eerie light to fight by and indeed helped them to a certain degree, as they could see from which direction the attacks were being launched. However, as the building burnt out, the inky blackness started to benefit the Zulus. Chard was never quite sure where the Zulus were to attack from and by taking up war cries from different areas, the Zulus kept the defenders constantly on the alert. Private John Jobbins from “B” company claims that the Reverend George Smith, in between handing out ammunition, was praying that the Zulus would go away and leave the garrison in peace. Eventually his prayers were answered, but not before the Zulus with a desperate effort had captured part of the cattle kraal. Bromhead, at about midnight, then gathered a group of men around him and with bayonets fixed they charged the Zulus, occupied the kraal, and routed them. By all accounts this gave the British the much needed psychological edge and the Zulu attacks began to peter out and fade away. The men were both physically and mentally spent and it was not until the daylight before they could fully ascertain the true horror of this engagement.

There was, however, a final scare. According to Chard, at about 7am on the morning of the 23rd a large party of Zulus could be seen massing on the Kwasinqindi Hill opposite the post. He was a worried man. Ammunition was low (down to a box and a half) and if the Zulus were to make one last attack, it is unlikely that the garrison could come up with much resistance. But a curious thing happened and the men were spared. The Zulus got up as one, did a wide detour around the front of the post and slipped over the Buffalo River into Zululand. From their position on the Kwasingqindi Hill they could see what Chard and the defenders couldn't - Chelmsford's force moving back into Natal from the direction of Isandlwana.

Chelmsford had spent an uneasy night at the base of the Isandlwana Hill. Behind the Oscarsberg Hill, his force had seen a dull glow, which they correctly assumed was part of the Rorke's Drift post burning. Chelmsford started moving back towards Rorke’s Drift before daylight in an attempt to spare his men from the gruesome sight of thousands of dead men, both Zulus and British. On route they passed a large party of Zulus who slipped passed, quite close to the British force. This did nothing to reassure Chelmsford and he was more convinced than ever that Rorke's Drift had been destroyed.

After arriving at the Buffalo River, Chelmsford sent some of the mounted infantry up to the post to investigate. Even from the Drift, his remaining men could hear the cheers of the garrison.

As Henry Hook recalls: “We broke into roar after roar of cheering, waving red coats and helmets, and we cheered again and again.” The battle had been won! For their efforts in saving the Rorke’s Drift post, a total of eleven men were awarded with the Victoria Cross, making this the highest number ever awarded for a single engagement in British Military History.