“Please, invest in a couple of machining workshops here,” Jan requested.
The Belgian shook his head.
“Even if I do, who will purchase them? You might be wealthy, but the other Boers won’t be able to buy my machines. What about the elves? If you want my investment, you need to show me that there will be demand for Belgian machines,”
“There is this English man I know, by the name of John Cockerill. He kickstarted the Belgium industry, but the war of our independence caused a bank run, and his company went bankrupt. He is looking for anyone willing to lend him funds so he can continue doing business. Perhaps he might be willing to start over in South Elfrica?”
The Belgian explained and waited for Jan to argue his case.
“Look, our land surveyors have found iron mines. The Elfricans have iron. We have found a couple of iron. With iron and coal, we can fund local industry.”
“As I said, can your Boers pay in pound sterling? Or will they pay in cattle like the elves? As an investor I want profit. This is not a charity. You Boers have not developed a decent economy, nor the population numbers are enough to sustain any domestic consumption of machinery. How many do you have in your little Republic? Thousands. How many machines do you think they’ll need? With their small plots of land, I doubt each family needs to buy one. I believe a machine is enough for a Boer district.”
“Alright. I want to order a hundred of your threshing and winnowing machines. I’ll prove to you that the demand is there. I will profit as well,”
The Belgian smirked.
“It is your money, not mine. If you wish to do so, go ahead, I am pleased to have such an eager customer.”
Power is concentrated in the Elfrican Chiefs, in no way should he seek to remove and reduce that power. Why should he? The African National Congress sought to work with the Congress of Traditional Leaders of South Africa instead of against them. It was not like he could corral the elves to do as he wishes. For he is human, and they are an elf. It was easier to deal with their Chiefs, who provided everything an elf needs in their tribe, thus buying that follower’s loyalty.
Thus, it made dealing with them easier. Go to the chief and if they agreed with you, they’ll do as they say. He was going to wow them with the wonders of industrialization. Every neighbouring Elfrican Chief shall receive one of these machines to supercharge productivity in their tribes. And once they are wowed, then they will embrace the wonders of industrialization.
Then the tribes would hopefully be integrated into the town’s economy, and they’ll begin to build up reserves of the pound sterling. The only problem was the Xhosa. Zulu authority was centralized. Xhosa? Decentralized. Even if he went to Queen Sarili and got her approval for whatever scheme, her subordinate chiefs would have to agree with it before it can be implemented. Funny enough, it was the same situation in the Natalia Republic.
So, he had to work from bottom to up. Which is troublesome, and more expensive. Still, it was easier to play politics with a decentralized state to ensure they won’t become a threat.
It was an easy decision. Jan planned to send a pair of machines to Queen Mpande to suck up to her. She can consider his gift in whatever way she pleased, tribute or gift, it didn’t matter. The presence of the machines in her royal court would be enough to influence the various Zulu chiefs on modernisation. Then, he would send the rest to various chiefs that supported Princess Cetshwayo.
Was he backing the Princess’ bid for the Zulu throne? Of course, but he didn’t want to strengthen her position by too much. He needed to play both sides. He cannot have the princess seize power too easily. So, he would send the rest to the other chiefs supporting her rival for the Zulu throne.
Then the issue was the Xhosa. There were too many small tribes. He doubted that the machines could be used to their full capacity. Pondering for quite some time, he decided to put his influence campaign in the Xhosa Kingdom in the backseat. Influencing every Xhosa Chief was a waste of resources. He should focus on Queen Sarili and the various Great Councillors running her kingdom. There was a Xhosa who distinguished herself during the Sixth Frontier War, a Chief known as Maqoma. She was extremely popular since she refused to cede land to the British, and many Xhosas shared the same thought. He wanted to open contact with her and get her assistance in the next Xhosa frontier war.
He dispatched the bureaucrats, mostly Zulu and Xhosa to carry out the tasks.
“Here is a gift from a Boer,” The Zulu bureaucrat explained pointing at the two machines lugged over with the assistance of some hired Zulus.
One thing that the Zulu bureaucrat noticed was that the rumours of their Queen gaining weight was true.
A couple of Zulus squatted by Mpande’s side and fanned her. By her side, her favourite husband sat beside her. Next to her favourite, her favourite daughter, Mbuyazi sat on a mat, watching the machines with curiosity.
Mpande’s royal palace was nothing as grandiose as the European palaces. It was a simple wooden enclosure, where wooden huts sat behind the outer wooden walls. Another wooden fence sat behind the huts, enclosing all of the cattle that the Zulus reared. This design was a bigger version of the typical Zulu village.
The top end of the parade ground, opposite the fence to her palace, or ikhanda in Zulu, was an area where Mpande and her umkhandlu (royal council) would discuss affairs. No normal Zulu would be able to gain access here.
Behind that was the royal enclosure, or isigodlo, and it contained all members of Mpande’s household. Her husbands, her offspring as well as various servants serve her every need. Any Zulu who entered here without permission will be put to death.
The machines were placed right before Mpande before her royal council.
The Zulu bureaucrat was nervous. Here he was dressed in the Western wear of the Boers while his people all around him wore the clothing of his ancestors. Even if he wanted to change his clothes for the matter, this was an affair for Port Mpande’s administration, so he decided to dress appropriately to represent that. He didn’t come on the behalf of another Zulu Chief after all.
His trusty gun was confiscated at the entrance. He wondered if he would get it back. It was likely he wouldn’t. Some bastard likely took it for himself.
The Zulu bureaucrat demonstrated the machine with a couple of bureaucrats, mocking the same presentation the Belgian gave to Jan and his Veldkornets.
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Mpande silently nodded, intrigued with how the machinery would help during harvesting season. She turned towards her favourite daughter, Mbuyazi, and waited to hear her opinion.
Mbuyazi, reflective of her youth, had nothing to contribute, so she turned to her royal council and waited for inputs.
“Seems like Boer witchcraft,” One of her council members remarked and the rest nodded their heads with her.
“It might be a curse. It would curse any Zulu who used it. I know those Boers want our lands. It is very much possible.”
Mpande turned to look toward her abathakathi (witch) and waited for her input.
Her abathakathi approached the strange contraption and knocked on it. The sound of sonorous metal vibrating was returned.
“If you ask me… I cannot sense a curse on it. Perhaps there might be Boer witchcraft on the machine, I do not know. I am not familiar with Boer witchcraft.”
“It would be a waste to not use such an interesting machine, my abathakathi. Can you purify the machine of all potential Boer witchcraft?”
The abathakathi walked a circle around the device, taking no notice of the nervous Zulu bureaucrats. They almost had a heart attack. They could have died if the abathakathi deemed any sort of witchcraft on the machine! They must demand hazard pay from the Commando for this trouble once they head back to town if they make it back alive.
“I will do my best.”
“My mother, I respectfully disagree. We should destroy this device. Your Council may be right and Boer witchcraft might be in this contraption,” Mbuyazi spoke up.
Heads were turned to Princess Mbuyazi, who peeked at the nods of approval from the various members of Mpande’s council.
The Zulu bureaucrats began planning their escape. Fuck traditions, they want to live! If they must run through places where there aren’t allowed to live, then they would do so! They can beg forgiveness from their ancestors later.
“Very well. My daughter if you think so. But as I’ve said, I believe it is a waste. If any of the Chiefs wish to take the contraptions back with you to your tribes, you may do so.”
Things were very different on the Xhosa front.
The Xhosa bureaucrats bribed her Great Councillors with machinery. And unlike the Zulu, they have been repeatedly bullied by superior Western firepower. Thus, they had more appetite to undergo modernisation efforts.
Queen Sarili was introduced to the device with benevolent Councillors. The Xhosa bureaucrats stood around unsure of what to do as the councillors did the selling on their behalf.
“These are English machines, right? How did you get them? Did you steal them?”
Queen Sarili frowned.
“No, my Queen. Boer,” A Xhosa bureaucrat explained.
Everyone in the Xhosa royal court was silenced.
The settlers in the Eastern Cape constantly sent demands to the Cape Colony for the conquest of more land from Xhosa's hands. They have even conducted numerous cattle raids, on the justification that many of their cattle were stolen. Whilst it was true cattle were stolen, it was innocent Chiefs who were caught in the crossfire.
Andries Stockenström, in the aftermath of the Sixth Frontier War, implemented a treaty system. There will be no further expansion into the Xhosa territory. Nor will cattle raids be carried out by any man. Ambassadors sent by both sides would discuss matters before deciding on a resolution. The Xhosa Chiefs upheld the system and returned any cattle stolen.
But who were these settlers clamouring for land? Boers, descendants of the Dutch settlers who settled in South Elfrica.
Sarili snorted derisively.
“How interesting. The ones who clamour for our land and complain constantly about their cattle being stolen come to send us a gift? Perhaps the Boers would cede the territory they’ve stolen from us.”
The settlers made interesting statements which various Xhosa envoys noted down.
“The appearance of the country is very fine, it will make excellent sheep farms."
Any of those settlers who saw her now would likely be shocked. On the surface, she put up an amiable expression to the white settlers. But deep inside, she deeply resented the greed of the humans.
Many Boers trekked North towards the Natal. And thus, they were now a Zulu problem. Sarili was most satisfied with the headache the Boers up north caused for the Zulus. The chaos caused by Mfecane was a deep scar in the psyche of many of her followers. She found that it was suitable karma, for all the trouble the Zulus in the North caused.
That left a mostly Anglo community of settlers left in the Eastern Cape. Many of them were settled in the region by the British government. And they and their religious leaders made very interesting statements.
“The British race was selected by God himself to colonize Kaffraria"
Oh, she very much wished to have those Anglos slaughtered, but she could only hold back her temper and sigh due to the powerlessness of their situation. They have been stockpiling weapons in case of another war. But gunpowder was limited, and the guns were outdated. They were better off fighting with their spears than going toe to toe in a gunfight.
“Which Boer? Hardly any of them left in the Eastern Cape. All ran away.”
The Xhosa bureaucrat explained, “It is a Commando located in the North. His name is Jan Boddewijk and he would like to deepen ties with your majesty,”
Sarili remembered the Boer’s name so that she could put it on her backlog of humans whose necks need to be snapped. But she calmed down, and saintly nodded.
“That is good. But get our war doctors to purify the contraption. I don’t know whether they have any witchcraft in this device.”
Luckily, unlike the two majesties, especially the very scary-sounding report from the Zulu bureaucrats, Nokuthula was more amiable.
“Are you sure there isn’t any Boer witchcraft in this contraption? I am very suspicious. Why are you giving us a gift?”
She stared at the device, trying to decipher any signs of Boer witchcraft tainting the machinery.
Nevermind then, she was like the rest.
“If you won’t accept it as a gift, then I can also accept payment. Hand over some cattle.”
“Won’t I be a fool then if there is truly Boer witchcraft? Aren’t I paying for my poison?”
“If you don’t want it, I can give it to someone else. Ok. I can give it to Pretorius. I can give it to Potgieter. So do you want it or not?”
“I’ll get abathakathi to prevent any of your Boer witchcraft to trigger on this device.”
Jan frowned.
“Why do you think we have witchcraft or whatever nonsense you believe in?”
“Do Boers not have witchcraft? Almost every Elfrican tribe has a witch. I am surprised that you Boers lack them.”
Jan decided it was best to save his breath. No need to argue with someone who is firmly entrenched in their ways. What do those business lectures call it? Ah, cultural understanding. There seemed to be a cultural clash.
Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Ok, tell me what I must do to convince you that it doesn’t have witchcraft. I can use the machine and demonstrate to you that it is perfectly safe.”
“No need. The spell might only trigger on elves. It will not affect humans.”
He decided to not bother arguing any further and cut the meeting short.
He reserved machines for Pretorius and Potgieter, as well as their respective Veldkornets, to curry favour with them. This time, he dispatched Boer bureaucrats to ensure that they will be best suited to understand how to integrate the machines into their harvesting processes.
For the bureaucrats heading to Potchefstroom, he specifically tasked them into finding out the effectiveness of the exported opium in inducing addictiveness in the Boers in Zoutpansberg.
“Here are some farming machines that will help with the harvest,” The Boer bureaucrat presented to Pretorius who nodded.
“I’ve kept up with the developments in agriculture during my time in the Cape. Could you help me thank your Commando on my behalf?”
Pretorius shook his head.
“Nevermind, I shall personally pen a letter to thank him.”
Potgieter stared at the contraption. Like the elves, he was unsure of what to make of it.
“So, these are the farming machines that many Europeans are using huh?” He remarked after watching the demonstration by the bureaucrat.
“Yes, it makes the harvesting much easier. Your men will be pleased with the improved speed of the harvest. We also have more for the various Veldkornets. I hope you would accept this gift sent by our Commando,”
“Of course. Thank Jan on my behalf for gifting me such wonderous machines.”
“One more thing, how goes the exported ‘tobacco’ to Zoutpansberg?”
“Ah… about that. I was wondering when the next shipment would come,” Potgieter smirked.
Weakening the Zoutpansberg inhabitants was in his interest. After all, the man himself wanted to directly secure the gold fields there. Drug-addicted men made for poor soldiers after all. He could cut their supply at the last minute before striking at Zoutpansberg.
“Next shipment on its way. Recently procured from India. It is also insured.”
“Heh. I have received many complaints from English merchants about being attacked by Zulus on that route, is your Commando involved? For some reason, Boer merchants are unscathed.”
The Boer bureaucrat shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know.”