It lies in the darkness where it has been entombed for over 140 years, barely inches under the hard, stony soil of Zululand surrounding a curiously sphinx-shaped hill known to the locals as Isandlwana.
It is just a little piece of metal. Bronze, to be exact. Less than an inch and a half across. Shaped as a “cross pattee”, so the experts call it. The front displays a rather jaunty looking lion, bright eyed and particularly bushy tailed, trampling on a flattish-looking crown with pointed ears. Slightly dented from where its original owner’s chest was slashed to ribbons by a huge Zulu stabbing spear, the blood long since washed away, one can just make out the inscription “For Valour” written in a scroll beneath the crown.
The back is not so impressive. Merely a date, “7 May 1867” and along the top suspender bar “Pte. W. Griffiths 24th. Rgt.” The bar is bent and the piece is encrusted with the debris of a century, but the metal is still in surprisingly good condition.
Years of wind and rain have eroded the ground around it, dragging it reluctantly closer to the surface. Another couple of rainy seasons from now and it may well work its way out in a muddy torrent into the donga in front of Mahlabamkhosi, its face once again to be warmed by the harsh African sunlight.
Maybe, with a bit of luck, the right kind of human will be fortunate enough to find it. Someone who appreciates the...