Nobody who met David Rattray, the internationally renowned historian of the
Anglo-Zulu war, ever forgot him and nobody who heard his stories ever forgot
them either. For the hundreds of Times readers who will have heard
him speak, as he so often did, at the Royal Geographical Society in London,
or who will have sat at the base of that brooding sphinx-shaped mountain
that stands guard at Isandlwana as he unfolded the tale of that long-ago
battle, the news of his murder at his farmhouse at Fugitives’ Drift in
KwaZulu, South Africa on January 26, came as a most heart-wrenching shock.
David was just 48. He left a young widow, Nicky, and three teenage sons. He
was not only an exceptional man but a storyteller of the most gifted kind.
He brought to his stories his love of history and his profound admiration
for the Zulu people as well as his empathy for every man, from the youngest
little Welsh drummer boy to the hordes of Zulu impis who had been caught up
in the great and tragic events of Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift. He told
these stories through the eyes and voices of those on both sides of the
battle on that “Day of the Dead Moon” (at the height of the battle it is
said that the sun went dark), January 22, 1879.
He’d read the soldiers’ journals, he lived among the descendants of the Zulu
warriors who had fought that day, he knew the cave where the last soldier
had held out and the valley which as far as the eye could see had been
filled with 20,000 Zulu impis sitting in utter silence row upon row, their
shields glinting in the sun, waiting for the battle to begin. His tales were
of a British defeat, one of the worst in its imperial history, and of a
great Zulu victory. He helped the Zulu nation to reclaim its history and
gave it voice and power. And in the telling of these stories those who were
privileged to listen to him came to understand why history matters, why
every human life is meaningful and to believe that nobility and courage,
honesty and loyalty are constants in the human spirit that are there, ready
to be awakened if only the cause is fine enough.
It was this gift, combined with the energies and talents of his wife, that
turned a small lodge on family-owned land in a remote corner of Zululand,
close to Rorke’s Drift and Isandlwana, into one of the most sought-after
destinations in South Africa for tourists. It became a place that brought
kings and our own Prince of Wales, foreign diplomats, historians and
ordinary people who had heard of his magic to visit the historic sites and
listen to him talk.
But while David’s voice has been silenced, the stories themselves will not
die. At Fugitives’ Drift itself Rob Caskie and Joseph Ndima will continue to
tell the stories the way that David taught them. But into the mix there are
now lectures offering new perspectives on the history of their land. The
lodge will continue to function just the way it always has, still offering a
magical insight into the infinite complexities of South Africa and
KwaZulu-Natal in particular, into its history and cultures, sharing the
secrets of that region that the Zulus called “The Land of Heaven”. As Nicky
Rattray puts it: “David’s life would really have been in vain if his life’s
work folded.” Nicky herself says she feels as safe at Fugitives’ Lodge as
ever she did. David’s death, she is convinced, was a random act of violence
which has not diminished in any way her love and trust in the Zulu people.
A new foundation in his name will have reconciliation as its central theme and
will continue to support the many charities that David had already
established in the area — the schools, the electricity, fencing, computers.
health and many other projects.
He loved Sout Africa with a passion. He believed deeply in its future, in all
its people. And in his life he used his own God-given gifts to forge a new
way forward, combining the stories of all its peoples in ways that
emphasised their common humanity and made them realise that their past and
future were inextricably intertwined.
And in the meantime one of the sad ironies of his death was that he was
killed just two days before he was to see the first bound copies of a book
called A Soldier-Artist in Zululand that he’d been working on for
five years with Judith and Richard Becher, the owners of the watercolours
and paintings that form the central building blocks of the book.
The book is magnificent. How it came into being is a tale in itself. In the
year 2000 the Bechers were invited to stay with a friend in South Africa who
suggested a visit to Fugitives’ Lodge and the famous storytelling tours of
Isandlwana and Rorke’s Drift. Judith remembered that her husband had
inherited a whole lot of watercolours and pen-and-ink sketches done by
William Whitelocke Lloyd, an officer of the 1st Battalion of the 24th
(Second Warwickshire) Regiment of Foot, who had been in Zululand during the
Anglo-Zulu wars. He’d missed Isandlwana by a whisker. He was a day late
arriving there because the wagon he was travelling with had been overturned
at a river crossing. The paintings had mostly lain neglected in a cupboard
for many years but Judith thought they might be of interest to the tour
leaders. She photocopied some of them and took them with her to Fugitives’
Lodge. As luck would have it David Rattray wasn’t there, but she left them
behind for him to look at. When he finally got round to opening the envelope
he realised at once that here was something special — an extraordinarily
accurate and unique pictorial record of the war.
When he and the Bechers met it was decided that they should be turned into a
book. It is, of course, much, much more than a book of paintings. David
Rattray writes as vividly as he spoke and this book encompasses the whole of
the Zulu war, from Lord Chelmsford’s first disastrous miscalculations over
the power of the Zulu army to the final smashing of the great Zulu nation at
Ulundi and the capture of King Cetshwayo. The story is poignant beyond
words, for though Isandlwana was a great Zulu victory, even as the British
soldiers lay dying among the rocks and bushes, even as the wail of grief and
sorrow for the thousands of dead and wounded Zulus echoed from village to
village until it reached him in Ulundi, Cetshwayo in his heart knew it was
the beginning of the end for the Zulu nation. “It is,” he said, “as if we
have had an assegai thrust into our belly.”
Side by side with the pictures, paintings and sketches, with David Rattray’s
own wonderful prose, run entries from the diaries and journals of Whitelocke
Lloyd’s great friend and brother officer, Lt Wilfred Heaton. “It was often
possible,” says David Rattray in his introduction, “to match up an entry in
Heaton’s diary exactly with the scene depicted in one of Whitelocke Lloyd’s
paintings.” When Rattray had the complete set of pictures he spent hours
tramping the hills of Zululand matching the topography with the paintings
and he was astounded by the accuracy of the artist’s eye. Scattered
throughout the book are contemporary photographs side by side with
Whitelocke Lloyd’s paintings of 1879. There on page 198, for instance, is a
sketch of the corpse of a wagon driver killed at Isandlwana and there on the
facing page is a contemporary photograph of the very rock against which the
body lay. A contemporary photograph of the white Umvelosi River, “a bright
sparkling river its bank covered several miles deep with cactus and thorn
trees and a nasty place to go through with an army”, compared with
Whitelocke Lloyd’s painting of it shows how little the topography has
changed over the years.
This is a book that will interest all Rattray’s many fans as well as Zulu war
enthusiasts, historians and book collectors. It has a foreword by the Prince
of Wales, who came to know Rattray when he took his younger son, Prince
Harry, to Fugitives’ Drift in 1997 and who, in his address at Rattray’s
funeral — read on his behalf by Robin Woodhead, the chief executive of
Sotheby’s — described his “sense of overwhelming despair and unutterable
anguish at the news of his untimely and brutal death”. Those who met Rattray
will not need reminding that he was, as one obituarist put it, a “national
treasure”. The fact that about 2,000 people, including many Zulus who walked
many miles to pay tribute, attended the funeral gives one some idea of his
hold on the hearts and minds of those who knew him.
For those who never met him there is still a chance to hear his voice for a
full set of his own recording of the events leading up to the Zulu war and
all its dramatic battles is available on cassette or CD. All those who knew
him cannot do better than echo the words spoken by Prince Mangosuthu
Buthelezi at his funeral. “As the mists roll over the desolate battlefields
adorned by wild flowers: as we strain to hear the ghostly battle cry ‘usuthu
!’ and retell our grandchildren stories of bravery and heroism, we thank God
for the gift of this dazzling soul.” Hamba kahle (go safely),
David.
A Soldier-Artist in Zululand is published privately by Rattray
Publications at £100 plus £11 p+p in the UK. It — as well as the cassettes
and CDs (£47 for a set of five) — is available from Barbara Lindsay at barbara.lindsay@mac.com
.
For general information on the book e-mail judith@becherjoinery.com.
Those interested in the foundation set up in David Rattray’s name or in
visiting Fugitives’ Drift Lodge should visit the website: www.fugitives-drift-lodge.com
