Here is a place that is central to South Africa's historic battlefields. This is an area where the course of nations was decided. Where much blood was spilt and brave men died. Places where greed and contempt and incompetence seemed to have won out; seemingly riding roughshod over bravery, discipline, honour and courage.

Here is this region, monumental battles took place that caused shockwaves and changed the landscape of nations. The British, the Afrikaans and the Zulu all met here in the heat of battle and cemented their places in history and folklore.

And the Royal Country Inn was where we had a glimpse of the past sipping beers and supping on venison pie. The walls of this old world, yet homely and friendly inn are adorned with memorabilia of the armies that have marched over this land; all very tastefully present and easily accessible.

If you are ever in this part of the world, stay at this little place - www.royalcountryinn.com. You cannot go wrong. We arrived and were shown to our room. Furnished like the days of yore, I felt that I might need to dress for dinner with sherry in the lounge before dinner and later a cigar and brandies late into the night. No doubt, this place has had those sort long long before! It was truly a special little place.

Battle of Blood River

Ask any die-hard Afrikaner about this battle, and they will say that they won it fair and square. Yes, this hardy group of trekboers with their 64 wagons and associated livestock, horses and servants knew that a confrontation would come. After all, the Zulus had murdered the trek leader Piet Retief and his whole party. They will say that after signing away most of his Zulu kingdom to these men demanding land, the Zulu King, Dingaan, invited them into the royal enclosure, without their weapons and then had his warriors slaughter them! Apparently, Piet Retief was wearing a leather type jerkin with this agreement in his pocket when this all happened. So it was necessary to dispense justice to these Zulus. Who did they think they were?

On the morning on the battle, mist shrouded the field so that you could not see your hand in front of your face. And all was still. Credit must be given to the far-sighted leader of the trek party for sighting his wagons well. The river formed a natural bend and it was joined by another that flowed through a deep gully. The Zulus could only attack from one side. You might be told that the Zulus blundered into them because they had no idea where the Afrikaners actually were and this added to their victory.

But these Afrikaners knew that they had little chance against the sheer numbers facing them. Even with their superior firepower. It was 40 000 battle hardened Zulu warriors against 200 men, women and children. In desperation, they prayed and made a pact with God. If He saved them from oblivion at the hands of the Zulu, then they would forever remember that day as a day of Covenant.

You see, the Afrikaners believed that they were the lost tribe of Israel. Their nation's emergence from nothing mirrored that of the rise of the Israelites under Abraham. In their minds, the parallels were uncanny. They believed that they were the Chosen People.

At the end of the battle, you will be told that God protected His own and the Afrikaners defeated the Zulus in battle. The water of the river ran red with the blood of the fallen, so hence the name of the battle ever more. Not only were they saved, but they found the bones of Piet Retief and his party. Amazing! His skeleton was recognized by his intact red leather jerkin complete with fully legible signed up agreement. Zululand was legitimately theirs for the taking! And so the day of the Battle of the Blood River was honoured ever since.

So special was this place, which a monument of 64 full scale cast bronze wagons was made and put into lager. It was sighted just as it was all those years ago! Deep in the heart of Zululand, you will find a field complete with green tarnished wagons awaiting the next wave of soldiers that will never come. In today's age, it has a touch of the absurd.

But you will definitely hear a very different story from Zulu historians. Piet Retief has no grounds for demanding anything. He and his party were trespassers in the Zulu Kingdom and had stolen from the King himself. The King regularly executed 3 - 4 people a day outside his kingdom and so the bones piled high and the hyenas, jackals and vultures feasted royally! Historians will argue that it was impossible for that red leather jerkin to have survived for 7 months! Especially in a carrion field! Never mind, that the weather might well have destroyed that document that gives the Afrikaners sovereignty over Zululand!

Also the Zulu was far too adept in the field not to know where their enemy was. The Zulus always tended to attack with the dawn. So they would have spent the night nearby observing the lager and the praying Afrikaners. Mist was a hindrance, but nothing more. Besides which, the Zulu generals had the Afrikaners under observation for weeks beforehand.

The Zulu army, when going into battle, itself into a formation called "the horns of the bull". Two arms of regiments would go left and right; the bull's horns. While a centre block of regiments would wait in reserve and crush the enemy. This centre block was the head of the bull. The horns were made of regiments of young and untested warriors eager to "wet their spears" with their enemies blood. On this day, the Zulus will argue, the right horn duly attacked the lager at the rising of the sun, but were repeated repulsed by the superior firepower. They withdrewto lick their wounds and re-group. But the centre block of tested warriors taunted and teased them for their cowardice, lack of balls, strength like woman and being lower than dogs. Naturally incensed, these young regiments from the right horn took it all personally and fell upon the centre block.

It was not that the Afrikaners won any battle. It was just that the Zulu army tried to destroy itself on the field of battle in front of their enemy. The Afrikaners just sat back and watched with morbid fascination; and re-wrote the history books to suit their purposes.

Thankfully, in the new South Africa, 16th December is now remembered as the Day of Reconciliation. But those wagons still stand in a field in Zululand.