Podcasts about Ndebele

Before my wife traveled to Zimbabwe recently, we sat at the dinner table one night chatting, and she said she felt some type of way about going home. Not dread exactly. Not simple excitement either. Something more tangled. Love and distance sitting next to each other, both equally true, both equally present.I understood exactly what she meant. That mix of longing and apprehension. Wanting to go and wanting to have already left. Missing home while wanting to keep the distance.We talked for a long time that evening, circling around something we both knew but struggled to name. The conversation kept returning to the same uncomfortable truth: home doesn't feel the same anymore. Not really. Not in the way we used to fit there, effortlessly, without thinking about it.We love the place we come from: Bulawayo. I miss it in ways that surprise me, in the middle of ordinary days when I'm doing something completely unrelated and suddenly the longing hits like a physical thing in my chest. But loving a place and fitting in it aren't the same thing. We're learning that the hard way.Maybe you know this feeling too. That pull toward home that sits alongside a quiet dread. The way you count down to a visit with genuine excitement and genuine anxiety living in the same breath. The strange guilt of missing a place while simultaneously knowing you can't stay there long. If you've felt this, if you've tried to explain it to someone and watched your words fail to capture the complexity, this is for you. Not to fix the tension but to name it. To give you language for what you already know inside but can't quite say out loud.I love reading fantasy. Right now I'm working through The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan. It's a long series. Fourteen books. Epic in every sense of the word. While on a walk yesterday, I finished Book Five (I was listening to the audiobook) and as I was reflecting on what I had just experienced, that conversation with my wife came back to me and wouldn't leave because I'd found something that explains the feelings we were having.The story of the Wheel of Time follows a group of young people from a farming region called the Two Rivers. Small, quiet place. Everyone knows everyone. But they're forced to leave the Two Rivers to go on an epic adventure. One of them, Rand, discovers he's the prophesied Dragon Reborn. By Book Five, he's learned to channel immense power that could level cities if he loses control. He's seen wonders and horrors that no one from the Two Rivers could imagine. He's made choices that ripple across nations, decisions that affect the lives of thousands of people he'll never meet. He carries the weight of the world now. Literally.As I reflected on the ending of book five, the thought that was stuck on my mind is that there's no way Rand could go back to the Two Rivers and fit in anymore. He's become too big for it. The shape of his life has changed so fundamentally that the old mould can't hold him anymore.While I haven't quite gone on an epic adventure of world-changing proportions, I know that feeling. I live in it.There's a saying in isiNdebele. ‘Ukuhamba kuzal' inkosi,' which translates to ‘Traveling gives birth to kings.' When I was a boy, I thought it meant wealth and status. Kings as men with big houses and German cars that never break down and people who never stand in line at the bank. Now I know it means something quieter and heavier and harder to explain to someone who hasn't felt it. Travel enlarges you. It stretches the borders of who you are and what you can see and how you understand the world. And once you expand like that, you can't shrink back to your old size. Not without incurring a cost, anyway. The box that used to hold you comfortably now feels too small.Bulawayo raised me well. The city gave me a lot I needed to become who I am. It was a good childhood. A happy one. I have many fond memories.During the week after school, I rode bikes with friends. We were a small gang of boys, and we ruled our little corner of the world with the absolute certainty of children who don't know yet how small their kingdom is. We wandered the suburbs exploring. Down streets we weren't supposed to go down. Into yards we weren't supposed to enter. We walked kilometers and kilometers without thinking about it, without getting tired, just moving for the sake of moving and seeing what was around the next corner. Then we had to rush back to be home by six. That was the rule. Six o'clock before parents returned from work. We came back with dust up to our knees. Thick white dust that got into everything. You had to wash your legs before getting into the house. Rinse off all that evidence of your adventures before you were allowed to sit on the sofas or walk on the clean floors.If I was hanging out at a friend's house around mealtime, I'd be counted in automatically. No one asked if you'd eaten or if you were hungry. You were there so you were fed. The same isitshwala and mbida at every table, part of the shared life.Back then, every adult was your parent. In theory and in practice. If you were doing something you shouldn't be doing, any adult could correct you, and you accepted it because that was just how things worked. You knew all your neighbors. Not just their names but their business, their struggles, their joys.It was a small world. Homogeneous in ways I didn't realise then. We were all black. Almost all Ndebele. We all went to the same types of schools and the same types of churches. Our parents were teachers or nurses or clerks or government workers. Solid middle class or aspiring to it. We had the same references, the same jokes, the same understanding of how the world worked. Everyone fit the same basic mold with only minor variations.But it was the whole world. It was all I knew, and all I needed to know. The edges of that world felt far away, theoretical, not something I'd ever actually reach.Then I left.School finished. I worked for a few years. Opportunities appeared. I went to South Africa first. Then eventually moved to London. Each move feeling necessary at the time, practical, the obvious next step.But those moves weren't just geographic. They weren't just about changing addresses or learning new streets. They changed something fundamental to how I saw the world and my place in it.South Africa was the first crack in the homogeneity. Suddenly I was surrounded by people who weren't like me. They spoke different languages, practiced different religions, came from different economic realities entirely. I met some who grew up so poor that my middle-class Bulawayo childhood looked like luxury to them. I met others who grew up so wealthy they genuinely didn't understand what it meant to worry about money.I remember the first time I met someone who'd never been to church, who hadn't grown up with any religion at all. It broke something in my brain in a necessary way. In Bulawayo, you could assume everyone was Christian. Even people who didn't go to church regularly, even people who weren't particularly devout, still operated within a Christian framework. They knew the stories, the references, the basic moral architecture. But here was someone who didn't. Who saw the world through a completely different lens. Who'd built their ethics and their understanding of meaning from completely different materials.And there were people. A whole community of people who became our people for that season. We found a group of friends in South Africa who felt like our tribe. Like the kind of connection that happens once in a lifetime and surely lasts forever. We took trips together. Long road trips filled with singing and food and getting lost, but it didn't matter because getting lost was part of the adventure. We sang together at different churches, our voices finding harmonies that felt like something bigger than any of us individually. Sunday afternoons that stretched into evenings, having a braai at someone's house, talking about everything and nothing.It felt permanent. That's something you come to discover about these seasons. They feel permanent while you're in them. You can't imagine a version of your life where these people aren't central to it. This is our community. These are our people. This beautiful thing we've built together, it's going to last.It didn't. When we visit South Africa now, we sometimes see them. The friends from that season. We meet for coffee or dinner, and the warmth is real. The love is still there. But something has shifted. They've moved on to new things, new communities, new versions of themselves. We have too. We talk about the old days with affection and nostalgia, but we can't recreate them. Those people still exist, but that community doesn't. It served its purpose for that time and then it dissolved, the way morning mist dissolves when the sun gets high enough.That dissolution used to hurt more than it does now. The first time I really felt a community come apart, I fought it. I thought if we just tried harder, stayed more connected, made more effort, we could keep it alive. But communities aren't just about effort. They're about season and proximity and shared purpose and a thousand other factors that shift whether you want them to or not. Some relationships endure beyond the community. Those ones you carry with you, fold into the next chapter, hold on to across distance and time. But the community itself, that specific configuration of people in that specific place at that specific time, it has a lifespan.Then London. London has been something else entirely. A city so large and so diverse that you could live here for years and still only scratch the surface of it. On the Tube, you could hear ten different languages from five different countries between Baker Street and Paddington. At work, I collaborate with people from every continent, every background you can imagine. People who pray five times a day. People who have never prayed in their lives. People whose parents own businesses that span countries. People whose childhoods included winters that got to -40 degrees Celsius.Each of these encounters did something to me. Stretched me. Challenged assumptions I didn't know I was making. Showed me that the way I grew up wasn't the only way, wasn't the default, was just one option among infinite possibilities.And once you see that, once you really internalize it, you can't go back to thinking your small corner is the whole world. The box expands. The borders move. You become larger than you were.And here too, in London, we found people. Different people. A new community. We're part of something now that feels good and right and like it might last forever. Except we've been here before. We know how this goes. We can feel it already, the subtle shift. Not everyone at the same pace. Some people moving toward different things. The community is still beautiful, still real, but we're not at the apex anymore. We're on the other side of the hill. The slow, inevitable drift has begun. Now I'm learning to hold these dissolutions with more grace. To honor what was without demanding it last forever. To let the community be beautiful for its season and then let it go when the season ends. To trust that the next place will have its own people, its own version of belonging, its own sweet spot before it too shifts into something else.When I visit Bulawayo now, I aim for a sweet spot. Two weeks maximum. Week one is pure delight. Landing at the airport and stepping out into that heat that hits you like a wall. The heat in London is never like that. It's never this specific, this thick, this full of dust and sun and something else I can't name but would recognize anywhere. The air smells different. Feels different on your skin.People light up when they see you. Literally, like you're returning from war. Someone will say you look darker or lighter depending on their mood and the light. Someone will inspect you closely and declare you've gained weight or lost weight, both said with the same mix of concern and approval.You greet everyone. That's important. You have to get it right, or the elders will talk about how you've lost your manners overseas.The first morning you wake up early. Not because you set an alarm but because your body hasn't adjusted to the time and also because the sounds are different. Birds are singing in the trees at five in the morning. A rooster somewhere in the distance, because even in the city people rear their own chickens. The neighborhood waking up with its own particular rhythm.You take the long way to buy bread. You don't need to, but you do it anyway because you want to pass that corner where you used to meet up. You want to see if the tree's still there, if the wall still has that crack in it, if the world has stayed the same in your absence. Mostly it has.Friends come by. Friends you haven't seen in years but who fall back into conversation with you like no time has passed. You laugh from the belly about stupid things you did as kids. Remember that time when. Remember when we. The stories get better each time you tell them, embellished with time and distance and affection.For those first few days, it's all warmth. All belonging. You fit into the spaces you left behind like a hand sliding into a familiar glove. You belong to this place, and this place belongs to you. You could live here again. Of course, you could. How did you ever leave?Week two rolls in. There's no clear boundary, no moment when you can point and say here, this is where it shifted. It creeps in at the edges.At first, it's just a small tug. A quiet discomfort you can't quite name. The streets feel narrower somehow. Conversations start to loop back on themselves. The government, and power cuts, and the same stories about the same old people making the same choices. You've heard these stories before. You'll hear them again tomorrow. You still love the food. The braai meat, isitshwala, the texture of it in your fingers, the way it fills you differently than anything you eat in London. Smoke in your eyes. It's perfect. It's home.But by midweek, something else is present too. You can feel the box. The box has walls. The walls are closer than they used to be. Topics you can't discuss because they're too far outside the shared frame of reference. Questions you don't ask because you know the answer will just confirm the gap. You start to notice all the ways you've changed and they haven't, or they've changed and you haven't, or you've both changed but in different directions and now you're standing on opposite sides of a distance that love can't fully bridge.You start counting days. Six more. Five more. By the weekend, the sweetness is gone entirely. If you stay longer, nostalgia curdles into something else. Ache. Then impatience. Then a version of yourself you don't like. Complaining about everything. Feeling trapped in a place you're choosing to be.I've learned to leave before I sour. Before I start resenting the place I love. Before the people who love me start to see that restless part of me that can't settle.This is the pattern we've learned. Most times when that longing for home hits us, we go as far as South Africa instead of all the way to Zimbabwe. Not to meet family necessarily. That's not the main driver. We go to satisfy the ache without fully committing. To dip our toes in the water of home without diving all the way in.Because South Africa occupies this interesting middle space for us. It was the first place that loosened the homogeneity we grew up with. The first place where difference sat next to you on the taxi without anyone making a scene about it. People from everywhere. Accents from all over the continent and beyond stacking on top of each other. The people at the mall looking like a map of the world. Languages switching mid-sentence. Different ways of being existing side by side.It's bigger than Bulawayo. It breathes. It has room for multiplicity, for variation, for people who don't fit the standard mold. We can taste home there, catch the flavor of it in the accents and the food and the mannerisms, without feeling the walls close in quite as fast. We can last longer. Three weeks. Sometimes a month. Before the sweet spot ends and the confinement begins again.This is the part I struggle to explain to people back home. From their perspective, it can look like pride. Like we think we're better because we live overseas now. You think you're too good for us. That's the unspoken accusation, sometimes the spoken one.But it's not that. I wish it were that simple because then I could just correct my attitude and everything would be fine. It's not about better or worse. It's about geometry. About shape and fit. The shape of my life has changed. The container that used to hold it comfortably can't hold it anymore. Not because the container is bad or small or insufficient. Because I'm different. I've been poured into a larger mold and set there, and now I've hardened into a new shape.How do you explain that to someone who hasn't experienced it? There's a song by Sara Groves called “Painting Pictures of Egypt.” She sings: “And the places I long for the most are the places where I've been. They are calling out to me like a long-lost friend.”I feel that deeply. The places I long for most are the places where I've been. Bulawayo calls to me. South Africa calls to me. Not as they are now but as they were when I fit in them, when I belonged without question. Not just the places but the people. The communities that formed and felt permanent and then dissolved like they were never supposed to last at all.The song goes on: “And I want to go back, but the places they used to fit me cannot hold the things I've learned.”And there it is. The whole ache in two lines. I want to go back. The longing is real and deep and constant. But the places that used to fit me can't hold the things I've learned. Can't contain what I've seen. Can't accommodate who I've become. And the communities that once held me can't reform because we've all become different shapes, traveling different roads, even if we still carry affection for what we once had together.And then this line, the one that really gets me: “I am caught between the promise and the things I know.”Between the past and what's coming. Between what was and what might be. Between the comfort of the known and the pull of the unknown. Between the place I came from and the person I'm becoming. Between the communities that were and the ones that might yet be.That's where I live now. In that caught-between space.London is not home. Not yet. Maybe not ever in the way Bulawayo was home when I was a boy, and home meant the place where you belonged without having to think about it.Some days it feels like it might become home. Days when the city reveals some new corner, some unexpected beauty. Other days, it feels completely foreign. Like you're an actor playing a role, always slightly outside yourself.I have small rituals that stitch a sense of belonging in it. A particular bench in a park where the light falls a certain way in the afternoon and I sit and listen to my book. The Turkish restaurant where I order the same thing every time. A church where the singing rises in a way that feels like worship, even if it's not the four-part harmony I'm used to.So, I pack Bulawayo into my pockets and carry it with me. A proverb that surfaces when I need it. A recipe I recreate in a kitchen thousands of miles away that never quite tastes right, but it's close enough. The cadence that returns to my voice when I'm tired, the way I spoke when I was young, slipping through. I carry South Africa in my stride. That wider breath, that willingness to occupy space without apologizing. And I carry the people from there who still reach across distance, who check in, who remember. Not the whole community, but the threads that endured.I'm learning to be in many places at once without being torn apart by it. To hold multiple identities without having them collapse. To accept that communities form and dissolve and that's not failure, that's just the rhythm of a life lived across many places. It's exhausting. The constant negotiation, the code-switching, always standing at the border between worlds. Always saying goodbye to communities that felt permanent, always starting over with new people, always carrying the grief of what dissolved and the hope that this next thing might last. But it's also rich. I see things people who've only lived in one place can't see. I understand multiplicity in a way that only comes from living it.Frodo saves the Shire in The Lord of the Rings. He endures everything to protect it, to make it possible for hobbits to keep living their simple comfortable lives. He succeeds. He returns. The Shire is saved.But he can't live there anymore. The hearth is warm, but he feels cold in a way that no fire can touch. His friends celebrate and feast and marry and settle into peace, and he can't join them. Not really. He can be physically present, but he's not there the way he used to be there. The journey has marked him too deeply. It has changed him in ways that can't be undone.So eventually he leaves. Gets on a ship and sails away to a place where the changed and the marked and the unbelonging go. It's not defeat exactly. It's just honesty. An acknowledgment that some transformations are irreversible.I think about that a lot. About irreversible transformations. About the ways we save the places we love by becoming people who can no longer fully inhabit them. About how we form communities that feel eternal and then watch them dissolve, not because anyone did anything wrong but because that's what communities do when the season changes.This hits especially close to home for so many people I know. My friends who left Zimbabwe. My friends here in London. Most of us didn't leave for adventure or curiosity. We left for survival. For opportunity. To earn enough to support families back home. To pay the black tax. The responsibility to send money home.But here's the cruel irony: the places that pay you enough to save home are the same places that change you so fundamentally you can't fit back home anymore. You see different ways of life, meet people with different values, and form new reference points. Your frame of reference expands. Your assumptions shift. The way you think about time, about work, about what's possible - it all changes. Until one day you go back and realise you can no longer inhabit the place you're saving.The tax isn't just the money you send back. It's the piece of belonging you trade away to earn that money. You can't have both. If traveling makes kings, it also makes exiles. That's the part the proverb doesn't say out loud, but it's there in the subtext if you know how to look.The crown is vision. The ability to see farther, to connect dots across greater distances, to understand complexity and multiplicity and nuance. That's the gift. That's what you gain.The exile is the cost. You belong less easily. Home becomes complicated. The borders that used to feel solid and protecting now feel like walls that are too close, too rigid, too confining. Communities that felt permanent reveal themselves to be temporary. Relationships that seemed unshakeable shift when distance enters the equation. You can't unknow what you know. You can't unsee what you've seen. You can't shrink back down to fit in the space that used to hold you perfectly.That's freedom in one sense. You're not limited to one way of being, one way of seeing. The world is larger for you than it is for people who never left. It's also grief. Deep and ongoing grief for the simpler version of yourself who fit so neatly, for the belonging you can never quite reclaim, for the communities that dissolved, leaving only the sweetness of memory.I'm learning to let the freedom expand me and let the grief soften me and somehow keep both happening at the same time. It's not easy. Some days I do it better than others.I don't aim to fit perfectly anywhere now. I think I'm done with that as a goal.Could I go back if I had to? Yes. Humans are adaptable. Some people I know found middle grounds I didn't - stayed closer to home while still expanding, or settled in nearer countries where the distance isn't quite so far. Given enough time and necessity, I could reform myself to fit the old mould. But I'd have to make myself smaller. I'd have to let go of all those other places I've seen, those other ways of being or carry them silently, never speaking about them, living in permanent longing. Before circumstances force me to shrink back down, I'm choosing to honor the new shape I've become. To carry multiple homes instead of fitting completely in one.Perfection was an illusion anyway. It only felt perfect because my world was small enough that I couldn't see beyond its edges.Now I want something different. I want to carry this expanded world faithfully. To let it make me kinder because I've met people unlike me and learned they're still deserving of dignity. To make me more curious because every person might have a completely different map of reality. To make me less certain that my way is the only road. I want to keep space at my table for someone whose map looks nothing like mine, whose journey led them to conclusions I don't understand. To listen more than I defend.I want to honor the communities that form without demanding they last forever. To leave before I sour and return before I forget. To know my limits and respect them.Home is not a single address for me anymore. It's not a dot on a map. It's a constellation. Multiple points spread across distance, all connected by invisible lines, all part of the same larger map.Bulawayo lives in me, the dust on my legs after a long walk, kombis rattling past with bass thumping from speakers bigger than they should have, that comfortable embrace of familiarity. South Africa taught me difference doesn't have to mean distance, that multiplicity is just reality when you zoom out far enough, that beautiful communities can form and then end and that's fine. London is teaching me to be many things at once without apologizing, to build home from scratch in a place that doesn't know my childhood and forces me to be myself in the present tense. To start over again, with new people in a new place, knowing it might not last but showing up anyway.The constellation moves when I move. I carry it with me. Every place where I've stopped long enough to become a slightly different version of myself. Every person who walked alongside me for a time. Places and people. Enduring connections rather than permanent communities. Many ways of belonging rather than one.The work is simple in concept, difficult in execution. One star at a time. One small ritual. One phone call. One visit before I sour. One return before I forget. One season with people who matter. One graceful goodbye when the season ends.That's the work I'm learning. And if you're reading this, maybe it's your work too. Find your sweet spot. Honor it. Respect it. Return before you forget. Leave before you sour.And know that you're not alone in this strange expanded world. Some of us are walking this too. Carrying constellations. Learning to belong partially in many places rather than completely in one. Building homes that move when we move.Thanks for reading Just Reflections! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit justreflections.bhekani.com

Det är dags för en ny skolvecka i Kylskåpsskolan, som Åsskar plötsligt bytt namn till. Han har nämligen bestämt sig för att hjälpa lyssnarna med sina studier genom att ha en MAT-ematiklektion. Gabriel påstår dock att Åsskar bara skapar problem eftersom han förklarar allting helt fel... Istället går dom vidare med geografi och ger sig ut på en resa till dagens land: ZIMBABWE! Dom pratar om Mosi-oa-Tunya (Victoriafallen) och lär sig om landets populäraste maträtter och duktigaste idrottare. Åsskar tränar på språken Shona och Ndebele och Gabriel berättar om historiens värsta inflation. Dom pratar även om vad namnet Åsskar betyder och vem Oscar I var. Dessutom blir det massor av skämt och Åsskar slår världsrekord i höjdhopp! Typ... Dagens ord: inflation www.kylskåpsradion.se Produceras av Frälsningsarmén

Na ruim 40 jaar begint vandaag een reeks hoorzittingen over massamoorden die in de jaren ‘80 plaatsvonden in Zimbabwe. Het is een belangrijke gebeurtenis voor het Ndebele-volk, die hopen op financiële compensatie, maar misschien nog wel belangrijker: erkenning. Er werden duizenden Zimbabwanen vermoord door het regeringsleger. De daders werden nooit berecht en ook kwamen er nooit officiële excuses, maar nu is er dan toch een proces gestart. Waarom heeft dit zo lang geduurd? En waarom vinden die hoorzittingen juist nu tóch plaats? Te gast: journalist Marnix de Bruyne, gespecialiseerd in Afrika.

AMAHLANGOTHI WEKULUMOPIKISWANO !NSA Wits Branch NSA UJ BranchELIVUMAKO: Wits UniversityKufanele bona ilutjha liye eendaweni zotjwalaELIPHIKISAKO: University of JohannesburgAkukafaneli bona ilutjha liye eendaweni zotjwala

Relebogile Mabotja speaks with Gugu Ndebele, Executive Director at the Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy for Girls (OWLAG), about her career journey, passion for advocacy and education, and the valuable lessons she has learned through failure. 702 Afternoons with Relebogile Mabotja is broadcast live on Johannesburg based talk radio station 702 every weekday afternoon. Relebogile brings a lighter touch to some of the issues of the day as well as a mix of lifestyle topics and a peak into the worlds of entertainment and leisure. Thank you for listening to a 702 Afternoons with Relebogile Mabotja podcast. Listen live on Primedia+ weekdays from 13:00 to 15:00 (SA Time) to Afternoons with Relebogile Mabotja broadcast on 702 https://buff.ly/gk3y0Kj For more from the show go to https://buff.ly/2qKsEfu or find all the catch-up podcasts here https://buff.ly/DTykncj Subscribe to the 702 Daily and Weekly Newsletters https://buff.ly/v5mfetc Follow us on social media: 702 on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/TalkRadio702 702 on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@talkradio702 702 on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/talkradio702/ 702 on X: https://x.com/Radio702 702 on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@radio702 See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Episode 171 of the ByoPodcast Ingxoxo99-------------------------------------------------------------Host: Kbrizzy Cohost: Maforty / Ralph Video & Lighting : RalphContent Producer: Mgcini Sound: Ralph Post production: RalphVenue : Cotton Lounge ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Join our membership to support the channel :https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrJFvubYBiqw7cPQ63wgbOw/join

Tyger kan bära på känslor. Karolina Jeppson funderar över klädernas språk i konst och litteratur och hur en rutig skjorta kan förkroppsliga minnet. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. ESSÄ: Detta är en text där skribenten reflekterar över ett ämne eller ett verk. Åsikter som uttrycks är skribentens egna.Jag drar åt min orange- och svartrutiga skjorta i blåsten. Den är ett arv från min pappa. Hans många skjortor hängde länge kvar i det lilla rummet med fönsterkupan på övervåningen. Smårutiga bomullsskjortor, flanellskjortor med större rutor i grönt och svart, blått och svart, orange och svart. Att gå in i rummet som förr brukade vara mitt – men som sedan lång tid kantades av hans kläder på ett oändligt antal klädhängare med hans doft – kändes hemma. Den första natten, efter att han aldrig vaknat mer, sov jag på en uppfällbar säng där inne bland skjortorna.För många av oss är det vi bär på kroppen något vi valt utifrån stil, färg och mönster. Men att klädesplagg och doft kan påminna om en älskad människa till den grad att det förkroppsligar minnet, blir påtagligt nu, när pappa inte finns mer. Våra kroppar och rörelser formas av klädernas materiella egenskaper, som ibland uppfattas som en andra hud, beskriver etnologen Magdalena Petersson McIntyre. Hon skriver om hur tygets snitt och skärningar inte bara skapas efter mode, utan även efter vilka människor som förväntas bära kläderna, och hur de ska brukas. Det finns också en betydelse i färger och vad de kommunicerar. En annan etnolog, Maja Jacobsson, studerar klädfärgers betydelser över tid och vad de signalerar, till exempel hur de i olika kulturer använts för att symboliskt förstärka ceremonier. Jag slås ofta av det språk som kläder och tyg förmedlar, inte minst i litteratur och konst.Under en vistelse i Zimbabwe 2024 mötte jag mamman till en av landets största författare: Yvonne Vera. Ericah Gwetai är en mor som har överlevt sin dotter och vänt på ordningen: Hon har skrivit en biografi om sitt barn. Något inte många föräldrar gör, och för Ericah Gwetai var det ett sorgearbete. När hon öppnade grinden till sin trädgård för mig, bar hon en orange och röd turban och den svepande klänningen i samma tyg prasslade. Hon gav intryck av att vara en kvinna som visste vad hon ville. Ericah Gwetai syr sina kläder själv, liksom hennes dotter gjorde. Först efter dotterns död började hon själv att skriva och några år därefter utkom biografin ”Petal Thoughts - Yvonne Vera”, om ett säreget författarskap som känns igen på sitt poetiska och symboliska språk.Yvonne Vera skrev om kvinnors liv, ofta i relation till befrielsekriget och det folkmord som skedde därefter på folkgruppen Ndebele i södra Zimbabwe. Befrielsekriget pågick under Yvonne Veras uppväxt och tonårstid, i dåvarande Rhodesia, från tidigt 60-tal till Zimbabwes självständighet 1980. Det berättas i biografin att Yvonne Veras första jobb var att som åttaåring plocka bomull på fälten utanför staden Chegutu. Hon lärde sig förstå jordens betydelse och vad den kan producera, men också att jorden inte kan ägas, att den bör vördas eftersom den tillhörde förfäderna som brukat den och begravts i den. Kan det möjligen varit det handfasta arbetet med bomullen som växte ur jorden, som bidrog till Yvonne Veras uppmärksamhet på kläder och tyger? I en intervju i The Financial Gazette, berättade hon, hur hon i sjätte klass fick en sax som pris för att hon kunde sy så skickligt med nål och tråd. När hon såg en annan människa, försökte hon förstå vad deras kläder och material signalerade, eftersom hon ansåg att tyger och textilier länge varit människans mest använda språk för att uttrycka känslor som vördnad, vila, firande och sorg.I Yvonne Veras roman ”Without a name”, bär den kvinnliga huvudpersonen sitt döda barn på ryggen genom delar av berättelsen. Kvinnan köper ett förkläde på marknaden, av ett stärkt vitt bomullstyg med kraftiga stygn. Det virar hon om kroppen, och bär barnet på ryggen med förklädes-banden hårt knutna runt bröst och midja, så att de skär in i huden. Som om tyget håller ihop hennes liv på flera sätt, och kompenserar vad den egna kroppen inte förmår. I en annan av hennes romaner – ”Under tungan” - väver den kvinnliga huvudpersonen mattor. Genom vävandet skapas en trygg rytm och ett tydligt mönster, i en miljö som präglas av oro och dysfunktionella familjeförhållanden. Textilforskaren Jessica Hemmings ser hur tyget och plaggen som bärs, vävs, stickas eller virkas, får unika betydelser i Yvonne Veras romaner. Att sy med nål och tråd däremot, skriver Hemmings, handlar om att länka samman och laga. Det kan ses som att återställa eller rekonstruera en ny verklighet.Konstnären Lenke Rothman gestaltar mänskligt liv genom olika sorters tyg. Stygnen är inte så regelbundna i Rothmans verk, utan ser ut att vara sydda av nödvändighet, hastigt men ändå målmedvetet, som att hon syr ihop öppna sår, eller kanske syr ett spår, en utväg eller bara en riktning. Rothman som själv överlevde Auschwitz och Bergen-Belsen, visar hur tillvaron ibland behöver fästas ihop med säkerhetsnålar, eller med kraftiga stygn som bär. Det finns en svävande gräns mellan liv och död, liksom i Yvonne Veras böcker.I Rothmans utställning ”Liv som tyg” som visades på Malmö Konsthall hösten 2024, ser jag ett inramat vitt skrynkligt tyg med brända håligheter, kantade av mörkbruna värmefläckar. Ett rosaaktigt tyg är fäst intill med slarviga röda stygn, och liknar ett stycke kött, eller, sårbarheten i våra kroppar. Här finns också ”Den nyföddas skjorta” – liten, gråsmutsig och sliten, som om den hittats på en sophög, och här finns en liggande torso gestaltad i färgglada tyger, med en liten fågel intill skuldran. ”På väg hem” heter verket.Det är något förunderligt med tyg, hur det kan bäras, formas och öppna minnets väv till andra tider. Pappas orange-svarta flanellskjorta hänger nu i min garderob. Doften av eau de cologne märks endast när jag låtit den hänga ett tag och sedan tar fram den igen. Jag ser pappa framför mig i enkla, rörliga plagg. Jackan alltid uppknäppt, en aktiv människa som lätt blev varm. Mitt barndomshem där pappas kläder länge hängde kvar, tillhör nu någon annan. Många av skjortorna har getts vidare till second hand, men den orange behöll jag. Konstnären Kandinsky beskriver färgen som att den ger en känsla av ”en människa som litar till sina egna krafter.”I Yvonne Veras berättelse bär kvinnan sitt barn till den plats hon flytt från. Där kan hon veckla ut tyget och släppa loss sin sorg. I Rothmans installation ”Liv som tyg” syns en gul kraftig tråd lysa genom hela verket. Rothman sökte efter bortslängt material, och fick syn på denna gula tråd som nästan fick henne att ramla ner i en container. Hon beskriver den som en navelsträng som binder ihop verket.Uttrycket ”att klippa bandet” innebär att inviga, att öppna något nytt. Och ”att klippa navelsträngen” brukar det sägas om att bli självständig, kanske vuxen? Kanske fri från nära relationer som binder en vid gammalt. Men sorg kan inte klippas. Möjligen kan den sys ihop. Eller vecklas ut och släppas fri.Karolina Jeppsonfrilansjournalist och författareProducent: Ann Lingebrandt

    Relebogile Mabotja speaks to Mr. Zitha Skosana the Spokesperson of His Majesty King  Makhosonke the 2nd of the Ndebele Kingdom about the significance of the Ndebele blankets in the Ndebele culture.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Harare gode di uno dei migliori climi del mondo. Chi la visita può godere della splendida fauna selvatica del Paese e delle maestose Cascate Vittoria, una delle sette meraviglie del mondo naturale! Geografia e popoli Popolazione: 16.991.010. Su una mappa dell'Africa, lo Zimbabwe forma il disegno di una teiera appoggiata a nord del Sudafrica. Geografia Lo Zimbabwe è un Paese che rappresenta l'aspra bellezza africana. La sua variegata geografia è composta da montagne a est, savane calde a sud, sabbie del Kalahari, parte del Parco Nazionale di Hwange a ovest, e la valle del fiume Zambesi a nord. Tre grandi fiumi – il Gairezi, il Limpopo e il possente Zambesi – formano i confini del paese. Il fiume Zambesi sfocia nelle spettacolari Cascate Vittoria e alla fine nel lago Kariba, il più grande lago artificiale del mondo. Lo Zimbabwe è ricco di risorse minerarie, tra cui oro, diamanti, platino e litio. E, naturalmente, l'abbondante fauna selvatica è sbalorditiva e può essere vista nei numerosi parchi nazionali in tutto il paese. Lo Zimbabwe è la patria dei “Big Five” africani – il leone, l'elefante africano, il bufalo, il leopardo e il rinoceronte – e di molti altri animali, come il ghepardo, la iena, il licaone e la giraffa. Lo Zimbabwe ospita anche oltre 700 specie di uccelli. Clima Lo Zimbabwe è considerato un Paese subtropicale con un inverno secco e un'estate calda. Il clima comincia a riscaldarsi in agosto e settembre, con la stagione delle piogge che inizia fra ottobre e novembre. Nella capitale, Harare, la temperatura media massima ad agosto è di 25 gradi Celsius e la minima è di 9 gradi Celsius.È normale incontrare suonatori di Marimba Popolazione La popolazione dello Zimbabwe è diversificata, ed è composta principalmente dalle tribù Shona e Ndebele, insieme ad altre tribù più piccole. Gli zimbabwesi sono noti per la loro ospitalità e hanno un ricco patrimonio culturale che si riflette nella loro musica, nella loro danza e nelle loro arti tradizionali. Il cristianesimo è la religione dominante, ma anche le forme religiose indigene sono ampiamente praticate. La maggioranza degli zimbabwesi nutre profondo rispetto per la Bibbia. In generale, gli zimbabwesi sono industriosi, resilienti e mantengono un forte senso di comunità e famiglia. “Il leone, il più forte tra gli animali” (Proverbi 30:30) Lingue Ci sono 16 lingue ufficiali in Zimbabwe, ma le attività lavorative si conducono principalmente in inglese. Lo Shona e lo Ndebele sono le lingue più parlate. Cibo Prima di essere serviti a qualsiasi pasto, agli ospiti vengono spesso presentati una ciotola d'acqua e un asciugamano per lavarsi le mani. Questa tradizione non serve solo per pulirsi, ma ha anche un significato più profondo, legato al rispetto e all'ospitalità. Durante il tuo soggiorno, sarai probabilmente invitato a provare un po' di sadza o ugali (un denso porridge di farina di mais) e nyama (carne; di solito uno stufato veloce di manzo, pollo o maiale) serviti insieme a verdure a foglia verde leggermente saltate, un po' di olio, cipolle e pomodori. Per gli zimbabwesi, condividere questo pasto con i visitatori è emozionante ed è considerato un vero privilegio. Gli zimbabwesi apprezzano anche una varietà di frutta come mango, guaiave, papaya e meloni. Anche i frutti autoctoni preferiti come il mazhanje (mela candita, detta anche Uapaca kirkiana e mahobohobo), il matohwe (gomma da masticare africana) e il masau (giuggiola) sono gustati stagionalmente.  Un caloroso invito Sei pronto vivere l'esperienza di una vita? Tatenda! Siyabonga! Grazie!  

Our guests this week are Samantha Ndebele, healthcare senior account manager at Burson, and Lucy Somers, deputy group director of digital at PLMR and director of PLMR Genesis Digital.Ndebele entered the industry after gaining an MA in Public Relations and Corporate Communications from Kingston University, while Somers undertook at apprenticeship at PLMR.Beyond the Noise looks at some of the biggest communications and PR issues. A recent episode looked at the future of academic courses in PR, with news that just one BA PR course currently operates – two decades ago there were 20. This week we look at things from the perspective of two high-flying comms professionals who entered PR relatively recently.Speaking to PRWeek UK editor John Harrington and senior reporter Evie Barrett, Ndebele and Somers discuss their different paths in to the industry, looking at the advantages of taking an academic route and of apprenticeships.They also talk about elements of their roles that can only be learned ‘on the job', and Ndebele recounts her experience of being on a PR internship.The duo predict what we may start seeing in PR courses in the years ahead.Last but not least, they offer advice for any budding comms professional thinking about taking their first steps into the sector. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Svitsai Ndebele | OVC 24 | Freedom In Christ 

Svitsai Ndebele | OVC 24 | Devine Thinking 

Emmanuel Ndebele  | OVC 24 | Stewardship 

Kom luister na bietjie agtergrond oor Stefan se laatste voorlesing

Please hit subscribe/follow. And leave a positive comment. Click here to go to our Patreon Page. Click here to save on clothing and home goods. Click here to go to our website Click here for the YouTube video of the Children interview.   Ariel School UFO Incident On 16 September 1994, there was a UFO sighting outside Ruwa, Zimbabwe. Sixty-two pupils at the Ariel School aged between six and twelve said that they saw one or more silver craft descend from the sky and land on a field near their school. Some of the children claimed that one or more creatures dressed all in black then approached and telepathically communicated to them a message with an environmental theme, frightening them and causing them to cry. The Fortean writer Jerome Clark has called the incident the “most remarkable close encounter of the third kind of the 1990s”. Some skeptics have described the incident as one of mass hysteria. Not all the children at the school that day stated that they saw something. Several of those that did maintain that their account of the incident is true.   Background Ruwa is a small agricultural center located 22 kilometers (14 mi) south-east of the capital Harare. At the time of the incident, it was not a town but only a local place-name, "little more than a crossroads in an agricultural region". Ariel School was an expensive private school. Most of the pupils were from wealthy white families in Harare. Two days prior to the incident at Ariel there had been a number of UFO sightings throughout southern Africa. There had been numerous reports of a bright fireball passing through the sky at night. Many people answered ZBC Radio's request to call in and describe what they had seen. Although some witnesses interpreted the fireball as a comet or meteor, it resulted in a wave of UFO mania in Zimbabwe at the time. According to skeptic Brian Dunning, the fireball "had been the re-entry of the Zenit-2 rocket from the Cosmos 2290 satellite launch. The booster broke up into burning streaks as it moved silently across the sky, giving an impressive light show to millions of Africans. “Local UFO researcher Cynthia Hind recorded other alien sightings at this time, including a daylight sighting by a young boy and his mother and a report of alien beings on a road by a trucker.   Incident The sightings at Ariel occurred at 10am on 16 September 1994, when pupils were outside on mid-morning break. The adult faculty at the school were inside having a meeting at the time. The entire incident lasted about fifteen minutes. When the children returned to class, they told the teachers what they had seen but were dismissed. When they returned home, they told their parents. Many of those parents came to the school the next day to discuss what had happened with the faculty.[8] The sighting was reported on ZBC Radio, from where Cynthia Hind learned about it. The BBC's correspondent in Zimbabwe, Tim Leach, visited the school on 19 September to film interviews with pupils and staff. After investigating this incident, Leach stated "I could handle war zones, but I could not handle this". Hind visited the school on 20 September 1994. She interviewed some of the children and asked them to draw pictures of what they had seen. She reported that the children all told her the same story. That November, Harvard University professor of psychiatry and Pulitzer Prize winning author John Mack visited the Ariel school to interview witnesses. Throughout the 1990s Mack had investigated UFO sightings and the alien abduction phenomenon. According to the interviews of Hind, Leach and Mack, 62 children between the ages of six and twelve said that they had seen at least one UFO. One or more silver objects, usually described as discs, appeared in the sky. They then floated down to a field of brush and small trees just outside school property. Between one and four creatures with big eyes and dressed all in black, exited a craft and approached the children. At this point many of the children ran but some, mostly older pupils, stayed and watched the approach. According to Mack's interviews the creature or creatures then telepathically communicated to the children an environmental message, before returning to the craft and flying away. According to Dunning, this telepathic message aspect of the story was not included in Hind or Leach's reports, only Mack's, although Hind reported it later. In Mack's interviews one fifth-grader tells how he was warned "about something that's going to happen," and that "pollution mustn't be". An eleven-year-old girl told Mack "I think they want people to know that we're actually making harm on this world and we mustn't get too technologic." One child said that he was told that the world would end because they are not taking care of the planet. The children were adamant that they had not seen a plane. Hind noted that the different cultural background of the children gave rise to different interpretations of what they had seen and they did not all believe that they had seen extraterrestrials. She noted that some of the children thought the short little beings were tikoloshes, creatures of Shona and Ndebele folklore.

Zimbabwe's President Emerson Mnangagwa has announced public hearings into the mass killings of Zimbabwe's Ndebele people 40 years ago. The president says the hearings will be a mechanism to bring healing and national cohesion. But a survivor of the massacre of opposition supporters, tells us he does not trust the process.Also, why are major gas companies threatening to pull out of South Africa? And Zambia has spent millions of dollars on hiring new teachers and making primary and secondary education free, but the policy has also worsened class overcrowding.Presenter: Audrey Brown Producers: Bella Hassan, Rob Wilson and Joseph Keen in London. Charles Gitonga in Nairobi. Technical producer: Craig Kingham Senior Journalist: Paul Bakibinga Editors : Alice Muthengi and Andre Lombard.

Bantu Spaceship - "Bantu Cakes" from the 2023 album Bantu Spaceship on Nyami Nyami Harare, Zimbabwe-based duo Bantu Spaceship celebrates the music of their homeland with their Afro-futuristic self-titled debut album, out now via Nyami Nyami. Vocalist Ulenni Okandlovu incorporates Ndebele chants to the laid-back production work of his partner Joshua Madalitso Chiundiza. As they explain in an interview with 15questions.net, "The both of us were in search of unique alternative Zimbabwean sound, having grown up listening to Mbaqanga, Mbube, Zamrock, Sungura, Jit, and Chimurenga. We wanted to create something that borrowed from these influences, but merging those styles with synth-wave, electro, and hip-hop elements." Read the full story at KEXP.orgSupport the show: https://www.kexp.org/donateSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Things are getting wild.  What to do?  Join us at https://crisisInvesting.com Connect with us on Telegram:  https://t.me/dougcasey Chapters:  00:00 Intro Robert Mugabe and Malcolm X (00:00:15) Discussion of Mugabe's role in Rhodesia and the Shona and Ndebele tribes, and Malcolm X's libertarian views. Gideon Gono and the Zimbabwe Dollar (00:05:26) Gideon Gono's role in Zimbabwe's economic crisis and the printing of the $100 trillion bill. The Courage to Serve Act (00:12:13) Discussion of the bill to draft migrants into the military and its practical implications. Michelle Obama's Potential Replacement of Joe Biden (00:13:48) Speculation about the possibility of Michelle Obama replacing Joe Biden in the upcoming election. Dynastic Ambitions in American Politics (00:15:00) Exploration of the trend of political dynasties in American politics and examples of political families. Impact of Migrants in Denver (00:21:33) Stories of the impact of Venezuelan migrants in Denver, including housing, city budget, and social issues. The "Courage to Serve Act" (00:22:50) Critique of the act inviting foreigners to serve in the armed forces, concerns about foreign influence and cultural differences. National Guard in Schools (00:27:27) Discussion on the controversial request to deploy the National Guard in a high school to address student violence, skepticism about the effectiveness of such intervention. Migrant Influx and Potential Consequences (00:32:41) Concerns about the impact of migrant influx on urban black communities, speculation on the potential increase in numbers and the challenges of accommodating and integrating migrants. Housing Migrants in Private Homes (00:35:16) Exploration of the idea of individuals housing migrants in their homes, including the potential financial incentives and the implications of this arrangement. Consequences of Government Programs (00:40:44) Caution against accepting government offers and the potential long-term consequences, including the scrutiny and consequences faced by those who accepted government aid during the COVID-19 pandemic.

This is episode 158 and we're taking an epic regional tour into the along the Limpopo River to meet with the Venda and other groups of folks who hail from the province we now call Limpopo. Thanks to listener Mushe for the suggestion. By the mid-fifteenth century Shona-speaking immigrants from Zimbabwe settled across the Limpopo River and interacted with the local Sotho inhabitants. As a result of this interaction, Shona and Sotho led to what is now regarded as a common Venda identity by the mid-sixteenth century. Venda-speaking people live mainly in the Soutpansberg area and southern Zimbabwe, but they also once lived in south-western Mozambique and north-eastern Botswana. Venda grammar and phonology is similar to Shona, particularly western Shona and Venda vocabulary has its greatest equivalent in Sotho. Phonology is the branch of linguistics that deals with systems of sounds within a language or between different languages. According to most ethnographers it is not only the Venda language, but also certain customs, such as the domba pre-marital school, that distinguish them from surrounding Shona, Sotho-Tswana and Tsonga communities. First a quick refresh. We heard in one of earlier podcasts about the Mapungubwe kingdom which lasted until the 13th Century - following which Shona speaking people's moved southwards into the Soutpansberg region over the centuries. Archaeologists have established that by the fourteenth century, or the late Mapungubwe period and what is known as and the Moloko, the early post Mapungubwe kingdoms emerged in northern Transvaal. This is where the forebears of the Venda come in. Zimbabwean ceramics help a lot here, they were produced by Shona speakers and their fourteenth century distribution demarcated the Shona trading empire centred around Great Zimbabwe. The rulers at Great Zimbabwe controlled most of the country between the Limpopo and Zambezi rivers until smaller trading states broke away in the fifteenth century. I've covered this in great detail in Episodes 5, 6 and 7 if you want to refresh memories. We also know that trade between these early kingdoms and the east coast was established, goods like gold, ivory, and copper were traded with Arabic and Portuguese merchants. The Venda were directly impacted by this trade, along with another unique group called the Lemba who are directly related to ancestors who actually traded all the way from Yemen in the Middle East. More about them in a few minutes. Ceramics help us piece together the past more effectively, the period of Shona and Sotho interaction eventually involved into more than a mere overlap of these ceramic styles, because for the first time different stylistic elements appeared on the same vessels. These Letaba pots have also been unearthed in the eastern Transvaal or Limpopo Province as its now known. It is interesting that these ceramics are still produced today, these Letaba pots and ceramics are made by the Venda, the Tsonga, the Ndebele, but anthropologists and historians believe the style itself is distinctly Venda in character. The Venda kingdom pretty much stretched from the Limpopo River in the north to the Olifants and Ngwenya River, or Crocodile River, in the south, but by the time Louis Trichardt rode through their land in 1836, the great Venda empire had almost vanished, torn up by external threats — damaged by the amaNdebele and even amaZulu raiders. The second group who could be found in this territory are the Lemba. They remain one of the self-defining groups of the region who have a stunning origin story. I am going to tread quite carefully here because there's science and then there's oral tradition. As you'll hear, the Lemba believe they are related to the lost Tribes of Israel, and have recently demanded that they be recognized as such. Their narrative and origin story links them to the Middle East and the Judaism and there is DNA evidence to back them up.

The guys get together to discuss topics such as the Brave CF 80 Jose "Shorty" Torres vs Nkosi "King" Ndebele fight card, governor of Illinois JB Pritzker Pulling State Funding From Migrant Base Camp in Chicago and Shreveport Louisiana council agrees to lease Millennium Studios to Curtis ‘50 Cent' Jackson and much more on this highly entertaining episode that you do not want to miss and make sure to tune in!

We are trundling along late in 1837, and as you heard last week, Dingane was dabbling in cross border raids, or at least, cross Drakensburg raids, and had dealt Mzilikazi a penultimate blow. Coming soon towards the Ndebele, were the Boers intent on delivering a coup de grâce. Time to talk a bit aobut Daniel Lindley the American missionary who had been living at Mzilikazi's main imizi Mosega in the Klein Marico valley, and who had left in a hurry along with the other missionaries after the Boer raiding party shot up the homestead. If anyone was qualified to attend to both amaNdebele and Boer mission needs it was Lindley. There is even a town named after him in the Free State which unlike so many others, has retained its name from its origin. Lindley actually became more famous administering to the Christian needs of the Boers in Natal — not the Free State — so the Free Stater's named a town after him. Lindley had been brought up in the American west, he was a dead shot as well as a fearless horseman which made him quite a hit with the Boers of 1837. This was no soft little Englishman, oh no, this was a man of the plains. But he was also an ordained Presbyterian minister, and intellectually stringent. When Potgieter and Maritz returned from their raid on Mzilikazi in early 1837, they relied on Lindley's skills with animals and his hardy attitude while they had very little time for the other two missionaries who appeared lost on the veld. Daniel Lindley was born in Pennsylvania alongside a tiny stream called Ten Mile Creek in August 1801. His father founded Ohio University, so its no surprise that the lad was quite an academic. Back in southern Africa, by the 1830s the political face of the region north of the Orange River and east of the Kalahari Desert was profoundly transformed. Farming communities in the early phase of these changes — say from 1760 onwards, were comprised of a few hundred chiefdoms, small fluid clans and tribes if you like, but by the 1830s there were three large centralised African kingdoms. The AmaZulu in the East, the abakwaGaza or the Gaza as they're better known, in the north east and the amaNdebele in the west. But by the 1830s the Swazi were emerging once more as a power player on the veld. Just to remind ourselves, the kingdoms both centralised and less-centralised were characterised by three clear social divisions — and all were definitely not equal. At the top was the aristocracy consisting of the ruling family and a number of other families who were allowed into the rarified atmosphere of elitism through ties of descent, or political loyalty, or a combination of the two. And to the south, Port Natal had become an important stop over for many ships, British traders were interested in this little bay with its excellent products collected by traders who were subject to Dingane's rule. The traders did not like being ruled by this Zulu king and were making plans to change up the power base of what was to become Natal.Speaking of the English, a Swede-Dutch mixed man was now back in the Cape running the Grahamstown and frontier districts. Andries Stockenstrom had sailed back from his temporary exile in Sweden, and was now the lieutenant governor of the eastern Cape. Lord Glenelg the Colonial Secretary was a liberal and wanted liberals to run the show in Southern Africa and Stockenstrom, despite being a Boer, was also a liberal. Stockenstrom was more in step with the thinking of the missionaries, not the settlers. This was to have repercussions for both the English administration and the 1820 English — and the Boers.

This is episode 128 and the bell is tolling for Mzilikazi Khumalo of the amaNdebele. We'll also hear about the introduction of Maize by hunter-traders, and the relationship between Dingane and the Portuguese at Delagoa Bay. A compounding problem for Mzilikazi was how he'd treated the indigenous Sotho speaking people of the area north of the Vaal. He'd failed to assimilate them into his system of control completely, rather using some as Hole, who were basically domestic and community menials — servants. Others who were overcome by his warriors were assigned to villages of their own where they herded cattle for him under traditional chiefs but under surveillance of an Ndebele regiment and sometimes, one of his wives. There were those allowed more freedom to pursue their lives automously but paid a tribute. All of this meant that they weren't his allies, which also meant when the Boers rolled onto the veld, the Sotho viewed them Boers with antipathy, wary but not always as enemies. Mzilikazi had a community of 60 000 people — possibly 80 000 say historians, but only a tiny percentage of these were warriors, perhaps 4 000 in total at the apex of his power. Mzilikazi was, in a word, a despot. But a complicated despot. Mzilikazi demanded a strict adherence to Nguni and Khumalo traditions. Meanwhile, at Blesberg near Thaba ‘Nchu, the Voortrekkers had elected Piet Retief as the new governor and commandant general of the new Volksraad of April 1937. Potgieter had been replaced by Retief, but had no intention of relinquishing power. This is where the almost reverend Erasmus Smit enters our story once more. He met with Retief who told him that the following Sunday he would be formally inducted as the custodian of the Voortrekkers spiritual needs, he would become a full dominee. It would take place, said Retief, after Smit's sermon. So on the Sunday Smit duly delivered his sermon then waited for the commander to make the announcement. Instead, and to his horror, members of the Volk stood up and shouted objections to his appointment. The humiliation complete, Retief cancelled the inauguration and poor meneer Smit retired to his wagon to quaff a few brandies no doubt. Shattered and disappointed, he was visited by Retief that night who said that they would eventually have to announce him as dominee, because the Voortrekkers were still relying on the Wesleyan missionaries and the American missionary Reverend Daniel Lindley for their marriages, baptisms and funerals. And speaking of the English, they were indeed beginning to view Port Natal with more interest. While Cape Town and Port Elizabeth remained far more important, the hunter traders at Port Natal nagged the governor to consider annexing Natal as a new colony. Their overriding motives were economic and traded hides, furs, Ivory, tallow, horns and plant oil and these folks were linked directly to the British financiers who put up the money for their exploration and their exploits. These hunter traders were the first external group or class of individuals to respond to economic opportunities and the political risks that lay in exploiting the natural wealth of Natal and Zululand. Most of the hunter-traders like Henry Francis Fynn had gone to far as to marry into Zulu society so valuable was this opportunity.

Last episode, we heard how the battle of Kopjeskraal near Parys had ended, where Mzilikazi's second in command Kaliphi and his force of 500 men had been repulsed in a close fought affair. This was an important clash, pitting Andries Potgieter's second in command and brother in law, Piet Botha against Kaliphi, who was responsible for the entire southern reaches of Mzilikazi's territory. They had failed to overrun the Voortrekkers, but had decimated the Liebenberg party a few kilometers upriver, catching the small group unawares. That was also after destroying the Erasmus party and its wagons, although Petrus Erasmus and his son as well as Pieter Bekker made their escape. But Erasmus had no idea what had happened to his two others sons. They were missing. The other group that was virtually wiped out was the Liebenberg party was under command of Gotlieb Liebenberg senior, a 71 year old man, who'd left the Colesberg district seeking greener pastures. The trek party was made up of his wife, four sons and a daughter — all of whom were married — along with 21 children and a Scottish meester, or school master called MacDonald. Liebenberg's trek had been overrun from a section of the amaNdebele, the boers desperately rushing to pull their wagons together as the warriors descended. The first inkling that the main Voortrekker party had of their fate was a disselboom that Botha's laager had seen being dragged past by oxen as you heard last episode. Nkaliphi had sent a smaller force onwards to launch an assault on this little Boer party at the same time that he'd attacked the larger Kopjeskraal laager. All six of the Liebenberg men were killed, along with 12 of their Khoesan servants. Two of the women were killed and six of the 21 children. The others were saved by a miraculous intervention further strengthening the narrative about chosen people. Back at Mosega, near the Marico River, Mzilikazi was indeed planning a second major assault. He wanted the Boers crushed so that none would ever enter his country again, determined to eliminate what he correctly perceived as a real threat to his rule over this valuable land. He mobilised as many of his men as he could. Living with him were American missionaries Doctor Alexander Wilson, Daniel Lindley and Henry Venables. They had all been shocked when tye Ndebele returned with the Boers wagons and cattle, hearing that Stephanus Erasmus' camp was destroyed and two of his children killed. They were even more horrified when they heard that Mzilikazi was sending thousands of his men back to finish the job. While some have said that he was to mobilise 6000 soldiers, historians believe the number was about 2000. Nkaliphi was placed in charge once more, and received strict instructions. All the Boer men and boys were to be killed, but all the women and girls were to be spared and brought back to Mosega, along with all the Voortrekkers herds of cattle and sheep. A classic amaNdebele raid, kill the possible threats, the men and boys, and bring the valuable women and girls to the king. This was the build up to the incredible Battle of Vegkop, where Mzilikazi's warriors were finally beaten in a major confrontation with the Voortrekkers. This was an historic battle, a seminal moment, it has resonated down the ages.

Last episode we ended with Hendrick Potgieter and Sarel Cilliers riding to try and find a route to Delagoa Bay, and meeting up with Louis Trichardt. If you remember, Potgieter had warned his followers camped the Sand Rivier not to cross the Vaal River into Mzilikazi's territory, or they'd be attacked. We'll come back to what happened when a small group decided to ignore his orders in a moment. Some explanation is required about what the difference is between a trekboer, and a Voortrekker. The drosters, or raiders, had preceded the Voortrekkers, and in many ways, they had scarred the landscape and warped the perception of folks who dressed in trousers and carried muskets. The frontiers mixed race groups that had pushed out of the Cape starting early in the 18th Century, more than one hundred years before the Voortrekkers, had ploughed into the people's of inner southern Africa, and these same people were to become the agterryers of the Boers in the future. The Voortrekker Exodus was one of many early 19th Century treks out of the Cape by indigenous South Africans. There was a northern boundary and the Kora, Koranna, Griqua, basters and other mixed groups expanded this boundary, speaking an early form of Afrikaans, simplified Dutch, indigenised if you like. The Zulus and Ndebele, and others, who were going to face the new threat on the veld, did not have the long history of fighting the Dutch and the English and did not really understand how to avoid suicidal full frontal suicidal attacks on entrenched positions — they were machismo to the max — believing that a kind of furious sprint towards the enemy would overcome everything. The Boers had another system which was perfected on the open plains of southern Africa. They would ride out to within range of a large group of warriors, an ibutho, and fire on them while keeping a sharp eye out for possible outflanking manoeuvres. The warriors would persist in a massed frontal attack, and the Boers would ride in retreat in two ranks. The first would dismount, fire, remount and retire behind the next line of men who would repeat the action. They would load as they rode, some could do this in less than 20 seconds, or they would hand their rifles to their baster agterryers who would hand them their second musket, increasing the volume of fire. They would draw the enemy into the range of the rest of the Boers inside the laager, and these would open lay down a deadly fusillade, usually stalling the enemy's assault and demoralising the attackers. Sensing victory, the an assault force inside the laager would ride out, routing the enemy. The Voortrekkers departed from these eastern and north eastern locales in more cohesive groups, bound by religion. The differences that emerged the factions, were group based on the leadership of individuals, whereas the trekboers of earlier times had been far more isolated, small nuclear families roaming the vastnesses, the Karoo, the scrublands, the men often taking Khoi and Khoisan mistresses or wives. The earlier frontiersmen were like hillbillies facing off against each other sometimes — squabbling with neighbours. The new moral code that imbued the Voortrekker way demanded conformity, it knitted the Groups together, and there would be no compromise or adaption of the Khoe or Xhosa way of life that had characterised earlier trekkers. Meanwhile, carnage.

Just a quick thank you to the folks at East coast Radio, Diane and DW, for promoting this podcast with listeners to that station, I'm honoured to have cracked the nod and been selected to be part of their ECR podcast platform. Also a big thank you to all the listeners who've reviewed this podcast on iTunes and elsewhere, it's pushed the series into the top 20 or so at least according to Apple, and there've been close to 800 000 listens. With that slightly self-serving service announcement, back to the real world of the third decade in the 19th Century. Last episode we heard how Harry Smith was busy ridiculing the amaXhosa culture and religion, and planning to destroy their chiefs in order to ensure they would be pliable to the British government's needs in the coming years. We'll get back to Colonel Smith in future episodes. Moshoeshoe's kingdom had taken shape, and to his north, the kingdom of the BaTlokwa, who were led by Sekhonyela, the son of MaNthatisi. While she had been regal, stately, and charming, he was equally tall, but was surly and aggressive where she had been tactful. He was a capable war leader however, and Moshoeshoe had never managed to defeat him - in fact he had forced the BaSotho leader to hand over Thaba Bosiu to him in 1824. In the continuous war between Moshoeshoe and Sekhonyela, the greatest treasure was the Caledon River Valley - a land of water, pasturage, and defensive buttes and other landscape strongholds. The Batlokwa ruled the upper valley, the north, and by 1835 Sekhonyela had emulated Moshoeshoe in forming alliances with the Drosters - the Griquas and other mixed race groups that were living along the western edge of his land. The Drosters had been repeatedly defeated by Mzilikazi and he stood menacingly in the path of the Trekkers pushing north across the Vaal River - a confrontation was unavoidable. It had been a remarkable journey for Mzilikazi from the area at the headwaters of the Black Mfolozi in north Western Zululand, up on the highveld to the Vaal River. As he roamed, he killed off all competitors, particularly members of his own family, similar to what Shaka and Dingane had done. He ran his kingdom as a Zulu, he also had age based regiments, he also forced his warriors to fight for him before they could marry, usually taking about 10 years, the unmarried men known as the amaJaha. The older men who were the members of the ibutho, had many wives and children, large herds, and took captives from war, who did the chores around the homestead, enslaved. By the early 1830s these Ndebele were happily ensconced north of the Magaliesburg mountains with its excellent water and pastures. And its warmer than other areas of the highveld, with its ridges covered in thick vegetation. Despite controlling territory all the way south of the Vaal and for hundreds of kilometers around this central point, Mzilikazi was paranoid about his safety. is diplomacy was specifically aimed at preventing others like the Drosters heading into his land from the Cape - and here he completely underestimated the Voortrekkers. They conformed to no treaty either, which is not what Mzilikazi had expected. Leading the most significant of these trek parties was Andries Hendrik Potgieter who was a farmer from the Cradock District who'd departed from his beloved Klein Karoo in December 1835. There were 49 armed men and teenage boys over 16, he led 50 wagons, and was joined by Charl or Sarel Cilliers as he became known, who lived near Colesberg. He had 25 adult men in his group, and included a ten year-old Paul Kruger as I've mentioned.

Moshoeshoe's elder sons were now at a site that was to be named Moriah, 24 miles south of Maseru, chosen by the two French missionaries Arbousset and Casalis for its beauty - and the fact that it was uninhabited. But before we return to what was going on there, we need to swing around southern Africa for a little update about what else was happening circa 1835 and 1836. The Voortrekkers were coming. Dingane was marauding - or more accurately - impis representing Dingane were marauding. Port Natal traders were conniving. The Koranna and the Griqua were expanding. The British were conquering. By now Moshoeshoe of the BaSotho was facing influx after influx, including word that more than 8 000 and possibly as many as 12 000 people mostly of the Rolong chief Moseme had arrived at Thaba Bosiu, his mountain redoubt. But there were also Griqua under Barend Barends amongst these, and Bastaards under Carolus Baatje. He welcomed these immigrants hoping for some protection against the Kora people, brigands who were operating with virtual impunity across the Orange River, predating on African groups as far as Ndebele territory along the Vaal. But the Kora heyday was over, by 1835 Moshoeshoe's sons Letsie and Molapo were bent on proving their manhood and planned on attacked Kora villages seeking bigger herds and more women. Moshoeshoe got wind of the plan and stopped them, fearing they'd both die in the attempt. And yet, their attitude was a precursor to the Kora's final comeuppance. Moshoeshoe was an expert at avoiding trouble if he could. He was going to need all his diplomatic skills because his territory was facing buffeting. At the beginning of 1836 as the Voortrekkers were beginning to appear and the Kora who had been strengthened by some Xhosa refugees from the Sixth Frontier War who'd scattered seeking a new home. These Xhosa settled at Qethoane under chief Mjaluza, joining the Kora people living along the Riet River - just west of where Kimberley is today. Soon Moshoeshoe was hearing reports that Mjaluza was demanding a kind of travel and protection toll from BaSotho trying to return to Lesotho from the Cape colony. Mjaluza was also seizing their cattle. A short while later he was informed two of his son Letsie's councillors had been killed by Mjaluza. That was that for the bandit Xhosa chief. Rumbling along slowly, at 5 miles a day - about 8 kilometers on average, were two main leaders we heard about and will hear about again. Louis Trichardt and Lang Hans Janse van Rensburg passed Suikerbosrand which had been the scene of a recent battle between the Zulu and the Ndebele, then turned towards the Olifants River and descended down the valley through a mountain range they named Sekwati Poort after the Bapedi Chief Sekwadi. He welcomed the travellers, they were passing through after all and he had nothing to fear from the Boers. Travelling so closely however, was proving a problem for Van Rensburg and Trichardt. The Boer leadership had always been prone to infighting and their relationship was no different. The conflict was sparked over Trichardts advice, which as actually good advice in retrospect, that Van Rensburg should stop killing so many elephants. His wagons were now groaning with ivory, wiping out entire herds, and expending a vast quantity of gunpowder. He'd need that to fight off rampaging hordes said Trichardt.

We join Moshoeshoe just before the arrival of the trekkers, as he sought to build his political power once the Ngwane and other roving bands had been defeated. Mzilikazi was attacking the area which would become known as Lesotho, from his headquarters on the Apies River north of modern Pretoria. His regiments were praying on the Shona people across the Limpopo and all the way down to the southern Basotho throughout the mid 1820s into the 1830s. Moshoeshoe was at great pains to avoid fighting the Ndebele impis, and in 1828, he had delivered oxen to Mzilikazi with the message that “Moshesh salutes you, supposing that hunger has brought you into this country, he sends you these cattle, that you may eat them on your way home…” Later Moshoeshoe would send cattle to the British governor Sir George Cathcart in a similar attempt at placating a threatening power. That would not work out - but it did work with Mzilikazi, who did not send another attack on Moshoeshoe, although he continued predating on neighbour Sekhonyela. Mzilikazi had also found it easier to plunder the Shona across the Limpopo anyway. From 1831 the Ndebele chief was also defending himself from attacks by the Zulu because Dingane ordered his impis into the highveld at times. Of course, the Griqua to the south were also of some concern to Moshoeshoe, but the Kora were a much bigger problem. Nothing was quiet in this part of southern Africa in the third decade of the 19th Century. In June 1833, what we know as LeSotho came into being for the first time and their creation was observed by French missionaries who wrote down everything they saw. French Protestants reached Thaba Bosiu from Cape Town via Philippolis, and of these, Thomas Arbousset was probably the most eloquent. On the 29th June 1833 he wrote that Moshoeshoe, “… has a Roman head, an oval face, an aquiline nose .. a long chin, and a prominent forehead, his eye is lively, his speech animated, and his voice harsh….” Later Arbousset's fellow missionary Eugene Casalis would jot down a few thoughts in his memoirs, and his notes were more exaggerated and flowery “…I felt at once that I had to do with a superior man, trained to think, to command others, and above all himself. ..” And thus, in1833 the two French missionaries arrived, Eugene Casalis and Thomas Arbousset, along with a third Frenchman called Constant Grosselin, Remarkably, because they were tough back in 1834, Arbousset was a Huegenot of only 23, and Casalis was just 20. Grosselin was 33, a Catholic who converted to Protestantism, a mason, a tough subordinate. Krotz the freed slave guided them to Thaba Bosiu and this is where the first proper descriptions were noted about the bones scattered on the veld — and they saw the signs of the devastation that had been visited up these people, it was clear that many battles had been fought along the Caledon valley.

The story of south Africa is incomplete without scrutinising the kingdom of Lesotho, not only because geographic location means the mountains are part of our tale, but also because the entire region is intertwined like lovers, or wrestlers, or snakes that are hell bent on eating each other. Sorry about the graphic description there, but by the time you've finished listening to this episode, I'm sure you'll agree with the somewhat over the top analogy. We must step back in time, from where we left off last episode, 1835, beginning of 1836 just to understand who King Moshoeshoe was, and what he means today. During his dramatic youth, events among the northern Nguni people who lived below the mountain escarpment, were going to impact the people who we now called the Basotho. Before these sudden surges of people and the destruction caused by the Ndebele and the Ngwane, the people of the Caledon valley and into the hills above lived in small segmentary chiefdoms - where the chiefs made political decisions after consulting councillors and headmen. The wars of Zwide, Dingiswayo, Senzangakhona and Shaka, then Dingane after him, had profound repercussions throughout the entire region as you've heard. For some on the high veld, the effects were catastrophic, Matiwane of the Ngwane had fled north as Shaka expanded his control, leaving his home along the Umfolozi River and attacking the Hlubi, who lived at the source of the Tugela River on the highlands. Some of these defeated Hlubi made it to Hintsa as you've heard, and by 1835 had marched into the Albany District seeking refuge, and being used as labourers. Small world they say. It was into this fractured society that Moshoeshoe had been born. Isolated and conservative, their culture had been utterly disrupted. Fields were not being cultivated and entire ruling family lines had been destroyed, vanished into the African air. Virtually every MoSotho had been driven from their homes, subjected to suffering and deprivation, human remains littered the landscape - and would be found for another decade. Crunch Crunch went the oxwagons in 1836.

Last episode we heard how Jan Bloem and Kora leader Haip had launched a raid on Mzilikazi's Ndebele people arraigned along the southern reaches of the Vaal River in 1830 - and Mzilikazi's bloody response where he not only recovered his cattle but killed 50 Kora. This was the first of a series of incidents which convinced Griqua captain Barend Barends to put together a massive commando and deal with the Ndebele once and for all. Barends is regarded as the founder of Griqualand, he settled north of the Orange River early in the 19th Century - and was the first Griqua to do this. He was also more adventurous than his fellow people, and was a profoundly focused Griqua nationalist. His spirit still moves the people of Griqualand today - it is a fiercely independent folk who live around Kuruman, to Upington, Kimberley. The land there is fierce as well - only the hardiest people can take the splendid isolation of the searing summer temperates and the freezing winds in winter. Barend Barends had left the Cape because he disliked the Dutch and the colonists generally - and he refused to cooperate with authorities when they demanded he hand back escaped slaves. He was far away from their centre of power - who was going to try and stop him? He became known as a protector of runaway slaves, a man whose name was whispered amongst the slave community of Cape Town, his towns a place for the so-called Hottentots to reach if they could across the barren Namaqua wastes - and past the unfriendly Dutch farms. Barends was also a staunch paternalist when it came to the Tswana around him presuming that his people were a cut above - he was condescending at times. And he was luke-warm about Jan Bloem's first plan to raid Mzilikazi. Mzilikazi attacked Griqua hunting parties north of the Molopo River. Barends himself had hunted there, and he'd traded with the Hurutshe folk who by now had been turned into one of the Ndebele vassal peoples. Mzilikazi is also reported to have told Barend and his Griquas to steer clear of the Ndebele land which the Griqua had regarded as their ivory hunting grounds. This was not acceptable to the Griqua view of themselves as superiors to the Tswana, the Sotho, the Ndebele. By early 1831 Barend Barends began to talk in messianic terms - that he was sent by God to sweep Mzilikazi and his “gang of blood thirsty warriors from the fine pastures and glens of the Bakone country…” as Robert Moffat the missionary wrote in his book “Missionary Labours”. The Bakone country was the highveld just fyi. Barend said he wanted to emancipate the people of the region from Mzilikazi's thrall. I'll return to what Mzilikazi was up to by 1833 and it will be a story of blood, gore, pain and suffering, raiding, raping, pillaging and other inappropriate activities because now allow our gaze to swing south once more. Here the relationship between the missionaries, the amaXhosa and the settlers was growing more and more complex. The missionaries thought amaXhosa were living in sin and cursed by damnation, the amaXhosa thought the missionaries were borderline insane and I'll explain why - although its nicely summed up by one young woman quoted by the Scots missionaries of the time. “I am young, and in health, I have a husband and we possess corn, and cattle and milk. Why should I not be happy? Why do I need more?” Such disregard for the soul horrified the poor missionaries, so did just about everything about the amaXhosa, their nudity, the circumcision dances, and missionaries reporting that their land “… is filled with fornication, whoredom, and all uncleanness, witchcraft, their doctors, polygamy, conversations full of frivolousness and filth…”

Last episode we heard how Jan Bloem and Kora leader Haip had launched a raid on Mzilikazi's Ndebele people arraigned along the southern reaches of the Vaal River in 1830 - and Mzilikazi's bloody response where he not only recovered his cattle but killed 50 Kora. This was the first of a series of incidents which convinced Griqua captain Barend Barends to put together a massive commando and deal with the Ndebele once and for all. Barends is regarded as the founder of Griqualand, he settled north of the Orange River early in the 19th Century - and was the first Griqua to do this. He was also more adventurous than his fellow people, and was a profoundly focused Griqua nationalist. His spirit still moves the people of Griqualand today - it is a fiercely independent folk who live around Kuruman, to Upington, Kimberley. The land there is fierce as well - only the hardiest people can take the splendid isolation of the searing summer temperates and the freezing winds in winter. Barend Barends had left the Cape because he disliked the Dutch and the colonists generally - and he refused to cooperate with authorities when they demanded he hand back escaped slaves. He was far away from their centre of power - who was going to try and stop him? He became known as a protector of runaway slaves, a man whose name was whispered amongst the slave community of Cape Town, his towns a place for the so-called Hottentots to reach if they could across the barren Namaqua wastes - and past the unfriendly Dutch farms. Barends was also a staunch paternalist when it came to the Tswana around him presuming that his people were a cut above - he was condescending at times. And he was luke-warm about Jan Bloem's first plan to raid Mzilikazi. Mzilikazi attacked Griqua hunting parties north of the Molopo River. Barends himself had hunted there, and he'd traded with the Hurutshe folk who by now had been turned into one of the Ndebele vassal peoples. Mzilikazi is also reported to have told Barend and his Griquas to steer clear of the Ndebele land which the Griqua had regarded as their ivory hunting grounds. This was not acceptable to the Griqua view of themselves as superiors to the Tswana, the Sotho, the Ndebele. By early 1831 Barend Barends began to talk in messianic terms - that he was sent by God to sweep Mzilikazi and his “gang of blood thirsty warriors from the fine pastures and glens of the Bakone country…” as Robert Moffat the missionary wrote in his book “Missionary Labours”. The Bakone country was the highveld just fyi. Barend said he wanted to emancipate the people of the region from Mzilikazi's thrall. I'll return to what Mzilikazi was up to by 1833 and it will be a story of blood, gore, pain and suffering, raiding, raping, pillaging and other inappropriate activities because now allow our gaze to swing south once more. Here the relationship between the missionaries, the amaXhosa and the settlers was growing more and more complex. The missionaries thought amaXhosa were living in sin and cursed by damnation, the amaXhosa thought the missionaries were borderline insane and I'll explain why - although its nicely summed up by one young woman quoted by the Scots missionaries of the time. “I am young, and in health, I have a husband and we possess corn, and cattle and milk. Why should I not be happy? Why do I need more?” Such disregard for the soul horrified the poor missionaries, so did just about everything about the amaXhosa, their nudity, the circumcision dances, and missionaries reporting that their land “… is filled with fornication, whoredom, and all uncleanness, witchcraft, their doctors, polygamy, conversations full of frivolousness and filth…”

It's time to delve deeply into the other Ndebele, then what happened when Mzilikazi arrived in the area known as the Trans Vaal - across the Vaal, with his hungry wolves. The development of the highveld to the late 1820s is quite a tale, with the first Tswana people made their way here by the 1100s, although much of the high ground was avoided. However, by the late 1600s, people had moved onto hilltop defensive locations through the region. Rooikrans for example, a small stone-walled Sotho, Tswana and Pedi site on the Waterberg plateau north west of the Witwatersrand. There was also a similar development at Bruma on the Linksfield Ridge right in the heart of Johannesburg. I used to walk up that slope from the back of my house and the original stone settlements had been frittered away by Boer and British defenders during the Anglo Boer war who used the 500 year-old Tswana stone to build Sangars and trenches. So over hundreds of years, the original peoples of the highveld moved about a great deal, sometimes living on hilltops, sometimes in the valleys depending on how politically stable it was. Oral tradition points out the Hurutshe founded the hill-top village of Chuenyane - also called Witkoppies, which is near Zeerust by the early 1500s. By the 17th Century, there was significant Tswana state growth in the west where it is warmer than around Johannesburg, with the rise of the Kwena and Kgatla dynasties, but these shattered in the 18th Century as trading power shifted north. If you've followed the series to this point, you'll remember the descriptions of the trading routes from Delagoa Bay and how they criss-crossed central southern Africa. There were even traders who arrived here from the West Coast, modern day Angola. By the end of the 17th Century, the transvaal Ndebele began to emerge - and by the 18th Century they were regarded as a separate people by the Sotho, Tswana and Pedi speakers. They became known as the Matabele, and they lived on the steepest hills where they built fortifications around the Waterberg plateau. The southern Trans Vaal Ndebele were spread over the Witwatersrand high veld adjoining the Drakensberg, up to where Pretoria is today and they were in this region by the end of the 17th Century. They all trace their history to a man known as Busi, and the dating of this man is around 1630-1670. Busi's son was called Tshwane, and that's why we know Pretoria area today as Tshwane - because that was its first name. Oral stories are a bit more murky when it comes to the northern trans vaal Ndebele, who settled west of the Waterberg Plateau in the 1500s. Some headed further west across the Limpopo to the Tswapong hills in eastern Botswana. While they were migrating north west, the other transvaal Ndebele called the LAka aka, Langa, and the Hwaduba, remained behind in the WAterberg plateau. These people clung onto their linguistic identity, they spoke an Nguni language, whereas the others to the west became Tswana, Sotho, and Pedi speakers. One man by the name of Mogale refused to dilute his language, and it is his name that morphed into the Magaliesberg - that wonderful and imposing steep and craggy range of mountains the west of Johannesburg. The very phrase sounds Afrikaans - Magalies, but it is actually an early Ndebele word from the 1500s. By Mzilikazi's time in the mid-1820s, there was significant jostling for territory and ascendancy around inland southern Africa. A series of small wars amongst the Tswana which have become known as the ivory and cattle and fur wars, and some known as the Wives wars, were on the go around this time.

It's time to delve deeply into the other Ndebele, then what happened when Mzilikazi arrived in the area known as the Trans Vaal - across the Vaal, with his hungry wolves. The development of the highveld to the late 1820s is quite a tale, with the first Tswana people made their way here by the 1100s, although much of the high ground was avoided. However, by the late 1600s, people had moved onto hilltop defensive locations through the region. Rooikrans for example, a small stone-walled Sotho, Tswana and Pedi site on the Waterberg plateau north west of the Witwatersrand. There was also a similar development at Bruma on the Linksfield Ridge right in the heart of Johannesburg. I used to walk up that slope from the back of my house and the original stone settlements had been frittered away by Boer and British defenders during the Anglo Boer war who used the 500 year-old Tswana stone to build Sangars and trenches. So over hundreds of years, the original peoples of the highveld moved about a great deal, sometimes living on hilltops, sometimes in the valleys depending on how politically stable it was. Oral tradition points out the Hurutshe founded the hill-top village of Chuenyane - also called Witkoppies, which is near Zeerust by the early 1500s. By the 17th Century, there was significant Tswana state growth in the west where it is warmer than around Johannesburg, with the rise of the Kwena and Kgatla dynasties, but these shattered in the 18th Century as trading power shifted north. If you've followed the series to this point, you'll remember the descriptions of the trading routes from Delagoa Bay and how they criss-crossed central southern Africa. There were even traders who arrived here from the West Coast, modern day Angola. By the end of the 17th Century, the transvaal Ndebele began to emerge - and by the 18th Century they were regarded as a separate people by the Sotho, Tswana and Pedi speakers. They became known as the Matabele, and they lived on the steepest hills where they built fortifications around the Waterberg plateau. The southern Trans Vaal Ndebele were spread over the Witwatersrand high veld adjoining the Drakensberg, up to where Pretoria is today and they were in this region by the end of the 17th Century. They all trace their history to a man known as Busi, and the dating of this man is around 1630-1670. Busi's son was called Tshwane, and that's why we know Pretoria area today as Tshwane - because that was its first name. Oral stories are a bit more murky when it comes to the northern trans vaal Ndebele, who settled west of the Waterberg Plateau in the 1500s. Some headed further west across the Limpopo to the Tswapong hills in eastern Botswana. While they were migrating north west, the other transvaal Ndebele called the LAka aka, Langa, and the Hwaduba, remained behind in the WAterberg plateau. These people clung onto their linguistic identity, they spoke an Nguni language, whereas the others to the west became Tswana, Sotho, and Pedi speakers. One man by the name of Mogale refused to dilute his language, and it is his name that morphed into the Magaliesberg - that wonderful and imposing steep and craggy range of mountains the west of Johannesburg. The very phrase sounds Afrikaans - Magalies, but it is actually an early Ndebele word from the 1500s. By Mzilikazi's time in the mid-1820s, there was significant jostling for territory and ascendancy around inland southern Africa. A series of small wars amongst the Tswana which have become known as the ivory and cattle and fur wars, and some known as the Wives wars, were on the go around this time.

Join Membership: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrJFvubYBiqw7cPQ63wgbOw/join Host: Mgcini Cohost: Kbrizzy Producer: Given Sound: Tumelo Special thanks to Don Mashesha for the venue!!

On Kwantu we look at the history of the Ndebele people and we're joined by Thulani Mahlangu, Thulani Mahlangu, a seasoned Traditional Radio & TV Producer/Presenter, Ndebele Language expert and historian.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Afro Pop Queen Sandra Ndebele opens up about her struggles in search of stardom, her controversies, the present and the future. 

Emishado eminengi seyacithwa ngamzwi nje. Singafundani kulenkulumo ka Seka Brian lo NaBrian --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/golidefm/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/golidefm/support

There is a 20% promo code for David Snape's book 'The Fire of Venture was in his veins' when purchased via the Helion website. It is JULYMTM20 The Shangani Patrol was part of the Ndebele War of 1893-94 which ended in the overthrow of the kingdom of Lobengula, King of the Ndebele. In this episode historian David Snape talks us through the full story of this legendary engagement which is often compared to Custer's Last Stand. His book can be purchased via the link below using the discount code... https://www.helion.co.uk/military-history-books/the-fire-of-venture-was-in-his-veins-major-allan-wilson-and-the-shangani-patrol-1893-rhodesias-custers-last-stand.php?sid=b6a006e22854e0fa47959d4ccd4aa25c 

Welcome back Afri-WATU to a great African kingdom - the Ndebele Kingdom. I have to say, this was one of those kingdoms I was really looking forward to learning about, and it did not disappoint. It was short lived but truly packed one heck of a punch, and rightly so....How you ask? Tune in and find out more! As always, huge THANKS to Lee Kanyottu for delivering as always and making me sound good! Until next time, Mubarikiwe! Music Credits-TBC --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/afriwetu/message

In this episode of #GirlInSkies, we speak with Phathisa Nyathi about the role of culture and cultural practices in modern society. We discuss Lobola, the power that women yield in society, patriarchy, remains held in Western Museums, and more! Amagugu International Heritage: https://mobile.twitter.com/amaguguheritage Lozikeyi Dlodlo. Queen of the Ndebele book: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lozikeyi-Dlodlo-Ndebele-Marieke-Clarke/dp/0797442669/ref=sr_1_4?qid=1649705693&refinements=p_27%3APathisa+Nyathi&s=books&sr=1-4 ---------- THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY SHUMBA MONEY. Shumba Money provides safe, fast, and easy money transfers from the UK, Australia, Canada, and Botswana to Zimbabwe. What makes Shumba Money different is that they won't charge you any translation fees if you're sending any amount less than $200USD. Yes, you heard that right! Zero transaction fees when you send up to $200 and your recipient can collect from our Newlands branch in Harare or any NBS (National Building Society) branch in Zimbabwe. Sign up on: https://www.shumbamoney.com/home ---------- #GirlInSkies is your podcast by Nat & Xolie discussing life, hot topics, being Africans away from home and more. Keep the conversation going on @girlinskies on twitter & Instagram and be sure to add #GirlInSkies. Hosts: Nat Twitter: https://twitter.com/malaikadiva Xolie Twitter: https://twitter.com/XolieNc email us on mygirlinskies@gmail.com Become a patron and get additional content plus one exclusive podcast episode/month: https://www.patreon.com/girlinskies Like the episode? Buy us coffee to keep the show going: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/girlinskies

Chinua Achebe, Ngugi wa Thiongó. Noen av de best kjente afrikanske romanforfatterne begynte alle å skrive under eller i kjølvannet av nasjonale frigjøringskamper, fra 1950-tallet og de neste tiårene.Hvilken rolle spilte denne litteraturen i å sette ord på kolonialismens konsekvenser, og i sentrale debatter om de nye nasjonene? Og hvordan har disse forfatterne formet nyere afrikansk litteratur?Tonje Vold er førsteamanuensis ved Institutt for lingvistiske og nordiske studier ved Universtitetet i Oslo, og har gjennom mange år jobbet med afrikansk og postkolonial litteratur. I 2019 ga hun ut boka Å lese verden. Fra imperieblikk og postkolonialisme til verdenslitteratur og økokritikk. Nå gir hun oss en innføring i en sentral epoke i afrikansk litteraturhistorie.Gjennom en serie foredrag vil Litteraturhuset gi en innføring i noen av de litterære tradisjonene fra det afrikanske kontinentet.Leseliste: Chinua Achebe (1930-2013). Things Fall Apart. 1958Dangarembga, Tsitsi (1988). Nervous Conditions. London: Women's Press.Fanon, Franz. (1991 [1961). Jordens fordømte. Oslo: Pax.Ndebele, Njabulo S. (2003). The Cry of Winnie Mandela. Claremont: David Philip.wa Thiong'o, Ngugi. (1977). Petals of Blood. London: Penguin Books. (1967) Grain of Wheat London: Penguin Books.Ellers nevnes bl.a. J.M. Coetzee, Aime Cesaire, Edward Said, Nadine Gordimer, Miriam Tlali, Abdulrazak Gurnah, Petinah Gappah. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

F. W. DeKlerk, the last White President of South Africa. The Logic of Apartheid, and how De Klerk's perspective evolved F. W. De Klerk died in November of 2021.  He came out of the very heart of the Afrikaaner establishment, and was firmly entrenched in the secret society known as the Broederbund (brotherhood).   Whites were about 15% of the South African population and the Afrikaaners (of Dutch heritage) were about 60% of the white population.  They controlled all the major positions of power in the Republic.  And yet by the 1980s many Afrikaaners  could see that the reality was changing, and they would have to change with it, or be swept away.  F. W. De Klerk became the instrument of that change.  This may well be the only place where you will ever hear a sympathetic discussion of the logic of apartheid, which was widely condemned in America, especially among those of us who had studied the South African political system. Remember that there are other podcasts on Archbishop Tutu and Nelson Mandela. And one called Thoughts of a Former Terrorist, discussing my activism on this issue. Names:  Botha, Mulder, Terms used:  apartheid, Stellenbosch,  verligte, verkrampte, Xhosa, Zulu, Tswana, Ndebele, Swazi. Transkei, Zululand, Professor Jeppe, 

Shades and Layers returns for the New Year and wishes you all the good things you desire in 2022.This is episode 7 of Season 3 of Shades and Layers: On Creative Entrepreneurship… Today my guest is Candice Lawrence, Founder and Design Maker at the Cape Town-based furniture and interiors company, Modern Gesture. So, the picture of successful entrepreneurship that we are often sold is that of fast paced growth - you know, the famous hockey stick sales and growth projection, millions of dollars in venture capital investments and a superstar celebrity CEO. Nothing wrong with that, if that's your vibe, but there's a lot  to be said for a different approach. Candice and her team of four have been plugging away at their designs for the past six years and they are growing steadily and sustainably while achieving international success. I love the story of how Modern Gesture started out as a hobby. Most importantly, the impact that this team is having, not only aesthetically, but within their community, is truly meaningful and visible.  After completing her Bachelor's degree in Surface Design at the Cape Peninsula University of Technology, she soon won a prize for her now famous Woven Necklace Lampshade. That win catapulted her into full-time entrepreneurship, and the rest as they say, is history.  Starting with an in-depth description of her work, Candice shares her story generously in this conversation and I hope you will walk away wiser and as inspired as I was after listening. Thank you Candice, it was an absolute pleasure chatting with you. MENTIONED IN THIS EPISODENando's Woven Necklace Lampshade 

This is episode 34 and we're going to take a close look at what was going on in the region bounded by the Orange River, the Kalahari Desert and the Indian Ocean. This is where the Zulu emerged but the story is not the simple tale most of us know about Shaka. As with other areas we've investigated, the popular narrative over time is not always an accurate reflection of real history. This will become very apparent particularly as we unearth facts about the period between 1760 and 1800. It's fairly recently in historical research that we've come to understand what was going on – earlier historians tended to pay very little attention to the decades before 1810 and the emergence of Shaka's Zulu. Before then the Zulu were a tiny clan washing around in a much bigger pool of tribes and clans. An important feature we all agree on now is that the upheavals of the early 1800s were not all about Shaka, it was caused partly by the increasing interaction between European commercial and colonial expansion and indigenous communities, as well as the expansion of Zulu and Ndebele and other warlike people. Traders and settler numbers rose swiftly as we're going to hear. Trading and raiding was always part of the southern African landscape, hundreds of years before Jan van Riebeeck setup shop in 1652. The processes of reorganisation and expansion of increasingly centralized kingdoms can be tracked to this time. While these changes were taking place between the Drakensberg and Indian Ocean, they were also happening among the Tswana speaking societies on the south eastern fringes of the Kalahari Desert. I've outlined the most important clans in the last podcast – don't forget these – they were the Bafokeng, Bahurutshe, Bakgatla, Bakwena, Bangwaketse, Barolong and Bathlaping.

This is episode 34 and we're going to take a close look at what was going on in the region bounded by the Orange River, the Kalahari Desert and the Indian Ocean. This is where the Zulu emerged but the story is not the simple tale most of us know about Shaka. As with other areas we've investigated, the popular narrative over time is not always an accurate reflection of real history. This will become very apparent particularly as we unearth facts about the period between 1760 and 1800. It's fairly recently in historical research that we've come to understand what was going on – earlier historians tended to pay very little attention to the decades before 1810 and the emergence of Shaka's Zulu. Before then the Zulu were a tiny clan washing around in a much bigger pool of tribes and clans. An important feature we all agree on now is that the upheavals of the early 1800s were not all about Shaka, it was caused partly by the increasing interaction between European commercial and colonial expansion and indigenous communities, as well as the expansion of Zulu and Ndebele and other warlike people. Traders and settler numbers rose swiftly as we're going to hear. Trading and raiding was always part of the southern African landscape, hundreds of years before Jan van Riebeeck setup shop in 1652. The processes of reorganisation and expansion of increasingly centralized kingdoms can be tracked to this time. While these changes were taking place between the Drakensberg and Indian Ocean, they were also happening among the Tswana speaking societies on the south eastern fringes of the Kalahari Desert. I've outlined the most important clans in the last podcast – don't forget these – they were the Bafokeng, Bahurutshe, Bakgatla, Bakwena, Bangwaketse, Barolong and Bathlaping.

Welcome to the fresh, most progressively growing community of amazing young Zimbabweans in diverse professional spaces. On this episode is Stanford University Human Biology graduate and incoming PM at Wikihow, Dumisile Melody Mphamba who hails from Harare. In Zimbabwe, she attended Dominican Convent for both junior and high school. You can follow her on instagram: @dumi_a_favor Transcript 0:06 Dedicating episode to Harare 0:27 Star intro 1:25 Dumi dishing on post graduation life 2:23 Dumi a brief autobiography. Growing up in Harare, attending Dominican Convent 3:19 How coming to the US, specifically Stanford happened 5:00 How Dumi decided on medical school and how stable she has been with that decision 8:23 Improving health care access 9:34 Leveraging relationships is so powerful 12:53 What were you grateful for at Stanford and what were some tough moments 1 6:19 Parts of you that you thought to mute in college 18:48 High School Musical! Gabriella Montez and the Stanford dream come true 19:57 Fan favorite rapid fire questions 24:44 Do you think you felt a difference at all in Harare, being raised in a Ndebele speaking household? 26:11 Favorite memories in Harare, favorite place in Zimbabwe outside Harare 29:36 Who inspires you? 35:48 What do you want to be part of your legacy? 38:43 Compliment you get most from people --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/nyashazimunhu/message

Welcome to Episode 6 of the ByoPodcast Ingxoxo99 recorded 03/09/21.    Info: https://linktr.ee/Inkampani_enkulu      Email: Byomemes@gmail.com                  Host: @mgcini._  Cohost: @melissah_janeh   Video shot by: @qhelani_moyo @jahalezansi  Sound: @mayibongwinkosikhumalo @nitefreakdj NEW MUSIC ALERT!!! Indigo Saint freestyle : https://youtu.be/ZkxKcTW2CfQ  Mawiza : https://youtu.be/eSzoZ5eI_h4  Ntoni ntoni : https://youtu.be/N69P7fVjtMA

Meet Yeve, a Lawyer, a wife, a mother, and a creative, as the founder of Philisa Creatives she is bridging the gap for children to learn Shona and Ndebele with the use of a multicultural picture book “My first book of Shona and Ndebele words” set in Zimbabwe. This book aims to help children learn these two languages as the majority of Ndebele and Shona language resources are both scarce and outdated. In this episode, we discuss being Zimbabwean, why representation matters, the power of telling our own stories, and what it is like to be a busy working woman. You can visit the website https://www.philisacreatives.com/ to order your book. Follow Philisa Creatives on Instagram @philisacreatives find them on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/philisacreativez/ on Twitter @PhilisaCreativz 

Yeve is a Zimbabwean native who now calls the US home. She is a wife, mom, attorney, public speaker, and author. She is the founder of Philisa Creatives, a media company, that celebrates and amplifies African heritage. Philisa which means “to bring to life” in Ndebele creates innovative products to enhance multicultural learning. Her debut published book “My First Book of Shona and Ndebele Words” and “My First Shona & Ndebele Calendar” are available for sale on her website www.philisacreatives.comYeve Sibanda has extensive experience as a public speaker and cultural curator.Resources mentioned | About the bookMy First Book of Shona and Ndebele Words is a short & engaging picture book set in Zimbabwe. It features a Black Zimbabwean brother and sister who introduce the reader to Shona and Ndebele (the two main native languages in Zimbabwe) vocabulary with accompanying English translations as they experience their daily life activities. The book transports readers to Zimbabwe and allows them a glimpse into Zimbabwean family life and culture.  Yeve says, “African children's books are NOT for African children. They are for ALL children. Books are an important tool in documenting culture, history, and language." Sibanda believes that we have to normalize celebrating, embracing, and learning about other cultures to build a truly global and diverse society. As such, her brand focuses on amplifying diversity, equity, and inclusion matters._______Website: www.philisacreatives.comInstagram: https://instagram.com/philisacreativesTwitter: https://twitter.com/philisacreativzLinkedIn: Https://www.linkedin.com/company/philisa-creativezFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/philisacreativz/Actions to take  Episode Transcript availableFollow @zimexcellencepodcast (IG) & @vongaiofficial (IG/Twitter)Interested in being featured or want to leave us a message? Email us at zimexcellencepodcast@gmail.comEnjoyed this episode?https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vongaiofficialSupport post-productionIf you're interested in how learning how I launched ZimExcellence then you're in luck. Sign up for my podcast workshop and learn how it's easier and more affordable than ever to start a podcast. Also, get a copy of my podcast resource guide which covers industry terminology, and suggested tech setup in addition to countless online resources to support your podcast journey. Just head to vongai.com/podcastcreation. Buzzsprout - Let's get your podcast launched! Start for FREESupport the show>> Sign up for Vongai's podcast workshop Buy ZimExcellence Merch

Today, we're taking on the challenge to take multicultural education to the forefront and encourage kids of all cultures to learn about Zimbabwe and Africa. Yeve C. Sibanda lived in Zimbabwe up until the time she was 16 years old. Eventually moving to the states to become a lawyer, a mother, and the cultural curator and ambassador for Zimbabwe and Africa through her company,  Philisa Creatives. She's the author of the picture book, My First Book Of Shona and Ndebele Words.ABOUT THE BOOKMy First Book of Shona and Ndebele Words is an accessible, engaging and easy-to-follow picture book. It is a multicultural picture book staged in Zimbabwe and designed to make learning Shona and Ndebele, the native languages of Zimbabwe, fun. The main character, Rufaro, takes the reader through her daily activities and helps the reader learn basic words for greetings, transportation, family members and many more. Picture books promote language development by allowing the reader to simultaneously see and name various objects. Yeve says that there's a lot of positive things coming out of Zimbabwe and that you should have a piece of that in your home. Mentions:Philisa Creatives WebsiteYeve's InstagramBuy My First Book Of Shona and Ndebele Words