This article written by Benjamin ‘Matabele’ Wilson appeared in the publication of the Occupation of Matabeleland: A Souvenir that celebrated the fortieth anniversary of the occupation of Matabeleland in 1933.

He was born in the Lake District, Cumbria on 17 December 1861 and brought up in Scotland. He left for South Africa in 1881 and went to the Kimberley diamond fields and subsequently went prospecting in the Eastern Transvaal (present-day Mpumalanga)  In 1885 he returned to Kimberley to join Major Lowe's Mounted Police and was a member of the Warren Expedition, a British military expedition to the Tswana country to assert British sovereignty in the following year. He travelled to the Makgadikgadi salt pans with Colonel Frederick Carrington, in command of the Bechuanaland Border Police (BBP)

                                      Benjamin ‘Matabele’ Wilson

Whilst in present-day Botswana he heard about the gold discoveries in Mashonaland. Resigning from the military he left for Johannesburg and then went onto Barberton. In 1887 he returned to Johannesburg and formed an exploration syndicate with Alex Boggie and J.L. Chadwick. The party left Johannesburg on 22 March 1888, but it was a very heavy rainy season, rivers were difficult to cross and they did not reach Bulawayo until July where they stayed hoping to get a concession from Lobengula to explore for gold in Mashonaland.[1]

The Pioneer Column reached and proclaimed Fort Salisbury in September 1890.  Chadwick, Boggie and Wilson then left for Mashonaland where they spent several months prospecting but after suffering from recurring bouts of malaria Wilson left for England, returning in 1892 through Fort Victoria (present-day Masvingo) In 1893 he returned on another visit to Matabeleland and Lobengula’s kraal.

In November 1893 he served as a guide to the Victoria Column giving credit to the Matabele guide Manyenyeni who he wrote “was the real guide.”

He served in uniform in the 1896 Rebellion (Umvukela) and in 1897 married Miss Stanford of Redhill, England.  They travelled quite widely before returning in later years to Rhodesia and being appointed manager of Rhodesdale Ranch from 1914 to 1922 and then retiring to live in Johannesburg.

Recollections of Lobengula, King of the amaNdebele

I knew Lobengula from 1888 to 1893 and saw him hundreds of times at his kraal at Bulawayo and at various other kraals in Matabeleland. At times he had twinges of gout and at other times sore eyes caused by the dust, the wind, or flies in the goat kraal, or from cold weather. When I spoke to him I looked straight into his eyes. I am just on 6 feet, so he must have been about the same height, allowing for my boots. He was quite stout with a paunch. In his youth he must have been about 6 foot one inch, or a little taller, and his complexion was dark bronze. A few white hairs on his face showed he was ageing and when he smiled, one noticed a tooth missing in the lower jaw.

Lobengula always wore monkey skins back and front. They were of a special kind, sent down from Pandamatenga by George Westbeech ‘Mahala Longele’ (the man that stays nicely) Lobengula and all the Matabele were very fond of Westbeech.[2] When Alex Boggie, John Chadwick and I first went to Matabeleland we took a bundle of these monkey skins with us from Westbeech to give to the King.

  Africana Museum: what may be the only known Photograph of Lobengula with an unknown  European, but George Westbeech has been suggested

At times Lobengula wore a hat and smoked a pipe. He had a small square purse of snakeskin with medicine inside to act as a charm. This was attached to a piece of riempie  and tied round his neck. When suffering from gout he had his legs below the knee painted with some black native medicine. His feet at times were swollen and he used to walk with a long stick in his right hand and occasionally leaned upon it, the stick was about 7 feet long.

He was very dignified and every man and woman in Matabeleland showed him the greatest respect, some no doubt from fear, but the majority because he respected himself. I never knew a man, white or black, who ever saw him under the influence of drink of any kind, not even native beer. No drunkenness was ever seen at the kraal, nor did Lobengula mix with his indunas or people in any kind of jamboree. The indunas took a leaf out of the King's book and tried to imitate him in many ways. It was an unusual sight, an induna the worse for drink, certainly never at the King’s kraal. In their private lives and in their own kraals, the Matabele rank and file were always ready to drink beer. It was food and drink to them. It was a common thing to see, both men and women the worse for it.

I never knew of Lobengula buying drink of any kind from white men, nor did I ever know of him drinking spirits. At rare times a case of champagne was presented to him, but it was never opened or drunk in the presence of the giver. I have heard that a bottle was at times opened and poured into a can of native beer and drunk in that way. Almost all the champagne was given to the Queens. Only on one occasion did I see Lobengula drink champagne, which was on Saint Patrick's Day, when Major Maxwell and Dennis Doyle, both Irishmen, got it into their heads to get the King to drink to Saint Patrick. All the other white men at the King’s kraal were invited, about ten in all. A few bottles of champagne were opened and poured into a large billy can. The King was then told all about Saint Patrick, the greatest witch doctor known to the western world, who had driven all the snakes out of Ireland. The king laughingly asked what kind of medicine he used. They said they did not know, the secret had died with him. All the parties, except Doyle, who never touched alcohol, had a drink. And the remainder of the case of champagne was taken away before we left.

I'm not sure who sent the story to the Kimberley papers, but it got there, and nearly everyone who writes about Lobengula tries to outdo the other in making him out to be a drunken sot, so muddled and fuddled with champagne as to be unaware of what he was doing. There was never a greater wrong done to the memory of anyone than this. Lobengula was no drunkard. Not even the native beer made him so. He had to drink in limited quantities because of his gout. He was a wise and strong ruler and always kept his head. Only once did I know him lose his temper.

Lobengula had a difficult people to rule and he had to rule them with a rod of iron. Death and very rarely, mutilation was the law of the country. Only once in all the years I was there did I ever hear of a case of mutilation. The victim was a native who had his face mutilated for stealing the King's beer. David Carnegie, the well-known missionary, spoke to the King about this telling him how barbarous it was and how abhorrent in the eyes of the white people. Lobengula asked him, “What would you advise me to do?” Carnegie replied, “King, why don't you build a gaol as the white men do and put evildoers there.” Then Lobengula asked what a  gaol was and upon being told, remarked, “You give them a house to sleep in, a blanket to lie on, and food to eat. If I built a gaol I would have the whole Matabele nation in there in a week.”

I do not want to pose as a champion of Lobengula, I only ask for fair play for a black man who stood by the white men to the end of his life. I must say this, that no man could condone all the terrible things that happened in the country, even in my time. Superstition, witchcraft, bloodshed and the massacre of thousands of people within the reach of their spears. But I shall always have a kindly feeling towards the one man who deserved a better fate. Lobengula died a King. It was better than death in captivity. Had those two rascally troopers on Forbes’ patrol only approached the authorities as Lobengula desired, the Allan Wilson disaster on the Shangani River might never have happened. It was another instance of Lobengula's thought for the white people.

On my arrival at Lobengula’s kraal in 1893, I found that the King and some of his indunas were having a serious talk. I hesitated to go near them, but they saw me enter. I went straight up to Lobengula, shook hands with him saying, “Good day King.” He seemed pleased to see me. I was asked what Dr Jameson had in his mind in Mashonaland. I said the doctor was a big induna and did not tell everyone what was on his mind. I had heard that the telegraph wires had been cut and that some cattle had been taken from the natives. I thought the animals would be given back when the natives who cut the wires were handed over to the white men for punishment. They kept on asking questions. I told them I knew nothing about these things.

A few days later, with the King's permission, I went to Tati with Usher, who was going down for goods. We were away about five or six weeks. When I returned, I went to the King to report my return. I could see from his manner that something was exciting him. I was prepared for this, as white men in Bulawayo had told me that the natives at Fort Victoria had stolen cattle belonging to one of the King’s indunas and that big indaba’s had been going on at the King’s on the subject. For several days I went down to the King’s kraal trying to get him alone and secure his permission to return to Mashonaland. There was so much talking and coming and going of indunas that I could not get the opportunity. But a day later I got my chance. I asked him for the road out and said I would be taking several hundred head of cattle, sheep and goats which had been traded from the natives by traders at Bulawayo. A few days after asking him, he said he would tell me later when I could go. When I went again, he seemed to hesitate before giving me an answer, but at last said I might go. There was ever however, something he wanted me to do first, and he directed my attention to two or three hundred Martini-Henri rifles standing against a fence. The bayonets were rusted on to them. The rifles were the remainder of the thousand he got from the Chartered Company.[3] He evidently remembered that I had fixed up a couple of rifles for him some time previously. I told him the rifles should not be left out at nights, no matter how fine the weather was. He asked me if I could put them right for him and turning towards James Fairbairn,[4] who was listening to the conversation said, “Fairbairn will help you.”

Next day Fairbairn and I, with the help of 20 natives, got the rifles and in a few days had put them in order. On the last day, Lobengula asked for one of the rifles and gave it to Umgandan[5] and told him to go to Victoria and bring back his cattle. There had been a big indaba lasting several days before this decision was arrived at. The King was unusually excited. The up and down movement of his leg was evidence of his state of mind. The same afternoon having finished the rifles, I spoke to the King again, telling him I would like to leave next morning. He gave me permission and asked when I would be back again. I said before the rains had fallen. I little knew that this was the last time I was to see the old King. I did not return before the rains had fallen. By that time he and his people were fugitives and many of his kraals were in ashes.

Captain Campbell, the first to fall in the 1893 campaign, died on the 16th of October.[6] At the burial, many men from both Victoria and Salisbury Columns attended. Bishop Knight Bruce read the service. He said, “I don't know how some of you men feel, but I feel as safe as in a London drawing room.” Some days after this the Bishop’s wagon was not bushed up and he complained to Major Forbes about it. Forbes said, “Alright Bishop, you are safe enough in that drawing room of yours.”

I shall never forget the first time I met the Bishop in 1888 at Umvutcha, the King’s kraal. He arrived there in a great hurry, perspiration pouring from him and his face shining like the setting sun. His horse with its legs apart, was panting. A white foam was all over it and perspiration was dripping to the ground. It seemed from what he told me that he was passing near the Imbezu Regiment’s kraal on his way back from a trip to Nyasaland. The kraal was at the other side of a heavy sand belt. Some of the Imbezu Regiment saw him coming along and out of sheer devilment they set up a tremendous shout, grabbed their shields and assegais and knobkerries and swooped down on the Bishop, yelling like so many devils. The Bishop's horse took fright and bolted. The Bishop, thinking his life was in danger, helped it along by sticking his spurs into it. Having to go through miles of heavy sand, the natives kept pretty close to him, yelling and shouting and beating their shields all the time to keep the horse going. This continued for several miles until the natives left him not far from the King's kraal. To his surprise, when he got there, he found some white men at the kraal and everything peaceful. If ever a holy man had cause to register a curse against any human beings, I think it was Bishop Knight Bruce against the Imbezu Regiment.

I am particularly glad to hear that the men who took part in the 1896 rebellion are to be included in the celebrations on 4 November. These men had as hard a task as any men in previous years, for on their shoulders fell the cleaning up of the country and all that was left over from previous Matabele troubles.

Reference

Occupation of Matabeleland: A Souvenir