In late January 1879, following news of the terrible disaster to befall British forces at Isandlwana, Colonel Henry Evelyn Wood, commanding officer of the northern No. 4 Column, withdraws his forces to Khambula, near the Natal and Transvaal borders. Adding to their woes, the southern No. 1 Column finds itself trapped under siege at the abandoned mission station of Eshowe. The General Officer Commanding, Lord Chelmsford, orders Wood to continue harassing the Zulus, keeping the pressure off their central and southern forces while he rallies reinforcements to relieve Eshowe. In light of the disaster at Isandlwana, Wood knows he must temper aggression with caution, as he does not have the numbers necessary to face the entire Zulu amabutho.Facing the British in the north are the semi-autonomous abaQulusi tribe and their venerable ally, an exiled Swazi prince named Mbilini. A master of guerrilla warfare, Mbilini harries the British invaders relentlessly while awaiting reinforcements from the Zulu king, Cetshwayo. Fifty miles to the east, at the royal kraal of Ulundi, Cetshwayo's triumphant albeit terribly bloodied regiments return home to take in the harvest following their victory at Isandlwana. The king's subsequent overtures of peace are soundly rebuffed by Lord Chelmsford, and he knows he must soon summon his regiments once again. With shouts of 'We are the boys of Isandlwana!' the Zulus turn their attention north, seeking to join with Mbilini and send another British invasion column to oblivion.

It is December 1878 and war looms on the horizon in South Africa. British High Commissioner Sir Henry Bartle-Frere and Lt. General Frederic Augustus Thesiger, Baron Chelmsford seek to dismantle the powerful neighbouring kingdom of the Zulus. He and Frere are convinced that a quick victory over the Zulus will negate any repercussions from the home government for launching what is, in essence, an illegal war. Using an incursion along the disputed border as justification for war, Frere issues an ultimatum to the Zulu king, Cetshwayo, demanding he disband his armies and pay reparations. The king prepares his nation for war against their former allies. Recently arrived to South Africa are newly-recruited Privates Arthur Wilkinson and Richard Lowe; members of C Company, 1/24th Regiment of Foot. Eager for adventure, they are prepared to do their duty both for the Empire and for their friends. As Frere's ultimatum expires, the army of British redcoats and allied African auxiliaries crosses the uMzinyathi River into Zululand. Ten days later, the British and Zulus will meet their destiny at the base of a mountain called Isandlwana.

It is January of 1879. While three columns of British soldiers and their African allies cross the uMzinyathi River to commence the invasion of the Zulu Kingdom, a handful of redcoats from B Company, 2/24th Regiment are left to guard the centre column's supply depot at Rorke's Drift. On the morning of 22 January, the main camp at Isandlwana, just ten miles to the east, comes under attack from the entire Zulu army and is utterly destroyed. Four thousand warriors from King Cetshwayo's elite Undi Corps remained in reserve and were denied any chance to take part in the fighting. Led by Prince Dabulamanzi, they disobey the king's orders and cross into British Natal, seeking their share in triumph and spoils. They soon converge on Rorke's Drift; an easy prize, with its paltry force of 150 redcoats to be readily swept aside. Upon hearing of the disaster at Isandlwana, and with retreat impossible, the tiny British garrison readies to receive the coming onslaught. Leading them is Lieutenant John Chard, a newly-arrived engineer officer with no actual combat experience. Aiding him is B Company's previously undistinguished officer commanding, Lieutenant Gonville Bromhead, along with 24-year old Colour Sergeant Frank Bourne, and a retired soldier-turned civilian volunteer named James Dalton. Unbeknownst to either the British or the Zulus, half of the centre column, under Lord Chelmsford's direct command, was not even at Isandlwana, but fifteen miles further east, at Mangeni Falls. However, with a huge Zulu force of over twenty-thousand warriors between them and the drift, their ammunition and ration stores taken or destroyed, and an impossible distance to cover, Chelmsford's battered column cannot possibly come to the depot's aid, and must look to their own survival. The defenders of Rorke's Drift stand alone.

This book tells the story of one of the largest and most influential African churches in South Africa.

In January 1879, three columns of British soldiers under the command of Lord Chelmsford, commenced the invasion of the Zulu Kingdom. The southern No. 1 Column led by Colonel Charles Pearson advances on the old mission station at Eshowe. Their intent is to establish a fort and supply depot from which to support the centre No. 3 Column's advance on the Zulu royal kraal at Ulundi. As the vast column of British soldiers and their African allies slogs its way across the coastal hills, the incessant rain and threat of typhoid promise to be as fearful a nemesis as the lurking armies of Zulu warriors. Unbeknownst to Pearson, calamity struck a hundred miles to the north when nearly half of No. 3 Column is destroyed during a catastrophic battle at a mountain called Isandlwana. Despite the garrison at Rorke's Drift subsequent repelling of the Zulu onslaught, the entire invasion is left in tatters. Over a thousand imperial soldiers now lie dead, in a war which the Crown never authorised or wanted. Over the coming days, the Zulus surround the fort at Eshowe, cutting off all communications and resupply efforts. With the British Empire now reluctantly committed to war, reinforcements are dispatched from England. In a race against time, Lord Chelmsford rallies the arriving forces into a relief column. Should they fail to break through to Eshowe and relieve the garrison, Colonel Pearson and another thousand British soldiers will suffer the same fate as the poor souls whose bodies still lie unburied along the slopes of Isandlwana.

In the aftermath of the Battles of Khambula and Gingindlovu, a lull fell over the war-torn Zulu Kingdom. Though British forces under Lord Chelmsford emerged victorious during both encounters, earlier defeats, casualties, and supply shortages required them to withdraw back into Natal. Now with waves of long-awaited reinforcements arriving, Chelmsford prepares to launch a second invasion of Zululand.Death and destruction have taken their toll on the Zulu people. Thousands of families mourn for their loved ones, while refugees flee from the devastation of the border regions. Despite the defeats and fearful losses, King Cetshwayo, who never wanted war in the first place, takes heart in knowing that, strategically, his enemies were compelled to retreat from his lands. He hopes this will allow him to come to terms with the British before Chelmsford can renew the war in earnest.Unbeknownst to the king, Lord Chelmsford has received word from London that he is to be replaced by General Sir Garnet Wolseley. His lordship is determined to expedite the invasion and utterly crush Cetshwayo's forces at any cost, denying Wolseley the chance to usurp him before he can expunge the humiliation that has lingered since the dark days following the defeat at Isandlwana.

This new book by the well-known anthropologists Jean and John L. Comaroff explores the global preoccupation with criminality in the early twenty-first century, a preoccupation strikingly disproportionate, in most places and for most people, to the risks posed by lawlessness to the conduct of everyday life. Ours in an epoch in which law-making, law-breaking, and law-enforcement are ever more critical registers in which societies construct, contest, and confront truths about themselves, an epoch in which criminology, broadly defined, has displaced sociology as the privileged means by which the social world knows itself. They also argue that as the result of a tectonic shift in the triangulation of capital, the state, and governance, the meanings attached to crime and, with it, the nature of policing, have undergone significant change; also, that there has been a palpable muddying of the lines between legality and illegality, between corruption and conventional business; even between crime-and-policing, which exist, nowadays, in ever greater, hyphenated complicity. Thinking through Crime and Policing is, therefore, an excursion into the contemporary Order of Things; or, rather, into the metaphysic of disorder that saturates the late modern world, indeed, has become its leitmotif. It is also a meditation on sovereignty and citizenship, on civility, class, and race, on the law and its transgression, on the political economy of representation.