OPINIONS & PERSPECTIVES: Maqoma, The Man History Tried, But Failed, To Bury

“Maqoma had outgeneralled the first division at every turn” and remained the “proud master of the field”. The above words appeared in the Eastern Province News, now known as The Herald, during the Eighth Frontier War. They were not written to celebrate Nkosi Jongumsobomvu Maqoma. If anything, they were an expression of frustration at a fierce military opponent, who had repeatedly outsmarted the British forces.

It is also an account of our history that colonial South Africa often struggled to admit: Maqoma was not simply a chief who resisted colonial expansion. He was a formidable military strategist who repeatedly outmanoeuvred one of the world's most powerful imperial armies.

Maqoma died on 9 September 1873, providing us with an opportunity to remember him this Heritage Month.

Born in 1798 at Xukwana (a village in Middledrift, roughly about 30km from Qonce) in the Eastern Cape, Maqoma was the eldest son of King Ngqika. From an early age he was exposed to matters of state, accompanying his father to meetings with councillors and visiting officials. His education in leadership was not confined to a classroom. It was learned in the political and military realities of a kingdom, then increasingly threatened by colonial expansion.

His first major military test came during the Battle of Amalinda in 1818. Still a young man, Maqoma commanded experienced warriors and distinguished himself in battle. Reverend Tiyo Soga’s son, John Henderson Soga, who was a Scottish-educated historian wrote about that 1818 battle and concluded that “it was here that Maqoma distinguished himself”.

Soga's account described the young commander leading his warriors into the heart of the battle and still rising to the challenge after being wounded. The battles that followed were not simply military contests. They were struggles over land.

After colonial forces took large tracts of King Ngqika's (Jongumsobomvu Maqoma’s father) territory between the Fish and Keiskamma rivers, Maqoma made the defence and recovery of that land central to his life's work. During the Frontier Wars, he developed a highly effective form of warfare in the Amathole mountains, using the rugged terrain to frustrate an enemy that was much better equipped militarily.

Dr Jongi Klaas has written about this history. So has Pastor Themba Ngada, Noel Mostert as well as Timothy J. Stapleton, whose latest book on Maqoma was published in 2016 by Amava Heritage.

The British eventually prevailed against the ‘brute’ and ‘savage’ Maqoma, as colonial history preferred to describe its most formidable opponent. Xhosa praise poets such as Mqhayi and Rubusana remembered Maqoma differently. Not as the ‘savage’ of colonial accounts, but as a warrior of almost mythical stature.

Dr. Walter Rubusana immortalised him in his praise poetry as “Ingwe ka Fordayis’ e-Mthontsi! [the leopard of Fordyce at Mthontsi!]

Colonial authorities ultimately captured Maqoma and prosecuted him. After his involvement in the wars that followed the cattle-killing movement, he was convicted and sentenced to banishment. He spent years on Robben Island, was released on parole in 1869, and was later returned to the island.

He died there on 9 September 1873, aged 75. The official explanation was “due to desolation” [loneliness and despair]. Others called it what it was: Murder. History, conveniently, buried both the man and the truth. Maqoma was buried in an unmarked grave on Robben Island. His remains were only identified decades later and repatriated to the Eastern Cape in 1978, when he was reburied at Ntaba kaNdoda with military honours.

That history makes the question of remembering Maqoma today more complicated.

What happens when a country remembers its history selectively?

Maqoma's story sits at the intersection of land, military resistance, political leadership, education, culture and the long struggle to restore African historical memory. His significance is not confined to the battlefield. He was also a leader capable of intervening in matters beyond warfare. When King Hintsa sought to expel his wife, Queen Nomsa, from the royal house, Maqoma was asked to intervene. His counsel helped persuade Hintsa to reverse the decision.

Today, the effort to recover Maqoma's place in history is being carried by descendants, historians, artists and organisations such as the Nkosi Jongumsobomvu Maqoma Foundation, led by Chief Siseko Maqoma, Prince Siqithi Maqoma, Professor Ncedile Saule and Vuyo Fani.

“The story of South African land is incomplete without mentioning Maqoma and other traditional leaders who sacrificed their lives while fighting against land dispossession,” said the Foundation.

That work is no longer confined to commemorative speeches. The Foundation has been involved in exhibitions, Maqoma theatre productions in Makhanda, heritage projects and efforts to restore Maqoma's name to the landscape. In 2023, Fort Beaufort was officially renamed KwaMaqoma, a move the Foundation described as a long-overdue recognition of his legacy.

The campaign has also extended beyond South Africa. Maqoma's descendants have been seeking the return of his sacred warrior's stick, held at a museum in Ireland for around 150 years. A play about Maqoma's life, Mamtshawe: The Rise of Maqoma, subsequently brought that story to audiences in Ireland and South Africa.

Maqoma matters to this day. He matters because the questions he fought over such as land, sovereignty, identity, memory and who gets to tell a country's history have not disappeared. He matters because the Eastern Cape is filled with the physical geography of his story, from the Amathole mountains to KwaMaqoma, yet for generations his name was far less prominent in formal history than those of the men who fought against him. He matters because remembering him is not about replacing one mythology with another. It is about the restoration and completeness of our history.

The irony is hard to miss. History tried to bury Maqoma on Robben Island.

It failed. The task now is to make sure that remembering him is no longer an act of recovery, but part of the ordinary South African story.