Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Rebellion (1)
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“Re, rebellion! The Herero bastards have revolted!”
“To arms! To arms!”
January 12, 1904.
It hadn’t been long since the new year dawned, but Okahandja—one of the key strongholds in German South West Africa—was already ablaze with the fierce flames of revolt.
Bang! Bang bang!
“We won’t live like beasts any longer!”
“Brothers! Let’s fight and die together!”
“Waaaaah—!”
The vengeful cries of the Herero, filled with resentment from years of humiliation and exploitation at the hands of the Germans, echoed across the African plains alongside the gunfire.
The German settlers, who had grabbed their rifles and rushed out of their homes at news of the black attackers, turned pale as ghosts when they saw enraged Herero warriors swarming from all directions. They began fleeing in panic, dragging their families along.
“Hold them off! Hold them back however you can!”
“We can’t let the Herero breach the defensive line!”
Soldiers of the Schutztruppe—the Colonial Protection Force of the German African colonial army—shouted desperately as they tried to defend the settlement from the oncoming Herero horde. But it was hopeless.
The Schutztruppe garrisoned in Okahandja was outnumbered and outmatched in morale by the Herero.
Crack!
“The line’s broken!”
“Damn it, fall back! Fall back!”
Once even the Schutztruppe collapsed, the Herero rebels poured into the settlement.
And the Herero showed no mercy to the whites.
These German settlers weren’t just innocent civilians.
They were landowners, ranchers, and mining magnates who had settled in German South West Africa.
They were the very ones responsible for brutally exploiting and crushing the Herero and other African natives.
Kachunk!
“There are more whites in here!”
“N-no, please have mercy!”
“Mommy!”
A Herero warrior spotted a German mother and daughter hiding inside a house and immediately aimed his rifle at them.
The German mother and daughter begged for their lives, but the warrior found their pleas repulsive. With a face cold as ice, he tightened his finger on the trigger.
Grab!
“Stop.”
“Chief Maharero!”
Just as the warrior was about to fire, someone seized his arm with iron strength, halting the shot.
The Herero warrior scowled and turned his head.
But when he saw who had stopped him, his eyes widened in shock.
Samuel Maharero.
Chief of the Herero in the Okahandja region and the leader spearheading the Herero uprising.
He would later be revered as a national hero and warrior who resisted German colonial rule in independent Namibia.
“There’s no need to spill the blood of women and children.”
“Chief!”
Maharero stepped in front of the warrior, blocking his path to the German mother and daughter.
But the Herero warrior raised his voice, unable to comprehend his chief’s actions.
“You know how the Germans have treated us! These devils all deserve to die!”
Several nearby Herero nodded in agreement with the warrior’s fury.
The German settlers in South West Africa didn’t treat the Herero or other African natives like humans.
They openly scorned the black natives as “baboon-faced monkeys” rather than people, claiming they only had value when useful to whites.
And to prove their words weren’t empty, the Germans tormented the Herero relentlessly.
German settlers seized Herero land and livestock to build ranches and farms.
Stripped of their cattle—the lifeblood of their people—the Herero were forced to live like slaves under the Germans.
Exploiting a rinderpest outbreak that devastated their herds and left the Herero destitute, the Germans tricked them into crippling high-interest debts.
Some whites even dragged Herero wives and daughters into their homes, raped them, and took them as forced concubines.
The governor had taken moderate steps for the colony’s stability—like forgiving some Herero debts—but most German officials and settlers continued treating the Herero like beasts, perpetuating exploitation and oppression.
“I understand your feelings. We’ve all suffered the same pain.”
Yet Maharero stood firm.
“But if you kill those white women, you’ll become no different from them. You’ll truly become the beasts they call us.”
“……”
“Brother, are you a beast? Or a man?”
After a long hesitation, the Herero warrior lowered his rifle.
He chose to remain human.
Satisfied with the warrior’s decision, Maharero clapped him on the shoulder.
Then he addressed the other warriors.
“The same goes for all of you. Never harm women, children, non-Germans, or missionaries. We fire only at the exploiters who point weapons at us—not the weak!”
“Waaaaah! Maharero! Maharero!”
“Freedom or death!”
“We will not be slaves!”
As the Herero cheered and brandished their weapons, Samuel Maharero nodded with satisfaction.
Maharero’s decision to minimize civilian casualties was strategically sound.
The whites were more sensitive to the killing of women and children than anyone.
Moreover, Maharero wanted to prove something.
That the Herero were not the savages the whites imagined.
“Chief Maharero! A group of riders is approaching from that direction!”
As Samuel Maharero and his Herero savored their victory over the whites, a scout on watch nearby shouted.
At the same moment, the sound of hooves echoed from afar.
Cavalry.
“Everyone, battle formation.”
“Yes, Chief!”
At Maharero’s command, the Herero readied their weapons and formed ranks.
Soon, a small cavalry unit emerged from a cloud of dust, heading toward the Herero.
And leading them was someone Maharero knew well.
“Leutwein.”
Theodor Leutwein, Governor of German South West Africa and commander of the Schutztruppe.
Unlike most Germans, he was one of the few who actually cared about the treatment of African natives.
But Maharero’s gaze quickly shifted past Governor Leutwein to the man beside him.
He wasn’t white.
The man was black, just like Maharero and the assembled Herero.
Neigh~!
The man rode forward to face Maharero and the Herero.
Maharero dipped his head slightly in greeting.
“Hendrik Witbooi. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Same to you, Samuel.”
Hendrik Witbooi.
Leader of the Nama, another hero of Namibia whose face adorns the nation’s currency today. Like Samuel Maharero, he resisted German colonial rule and died for it.
But Witbooi wasn’t here to aid the Herero.
“You’ve ultimately rejected my proposal.”
“I’m merely honoring the agreement I made with the Germans, Samuel. Just as you’ve risen for your people, I’ve done so for mine.”
“I understand.”
Maharero nodded, though his expression was bitter.
Contrary to popular belief, Hendrik Witbooi and the Nama hadn’t joined the Herero revolt despite Samuel Maharero’s letter urging them to fight the Germans together.
Witbooi had rebelled against the Germans years earlier, but now he cooperated with them under an agreement with Governor Leutwein.
That’s why, in the original history, when Lothar von Trotha led the Germans against the Herero at Waterberg, Witbooi and the Nama fought alongside the Germans against the Herero.
However, after Waterberg, Witbooi led the Nama in rebellion against the German Empire.
The reason? The Germans’ excessively brutal massacres.
Trotha won a tactical victory at Waterberg but failed the strategic goal of annihilating the Herero and quelling the revolt—as one might expect from the tactically brilliant German army.
To cover his failure, Trotha issued an extermination order to shoot every living Herero, armed or not. The massacres soon followed.
Despite Trotha’s relentless pursuit, Samuel Maharero led the survivors to escape to British Bechuanaland (modern Botswana), but their numbers barely exceeded a thousand.
Horrified by the German Empire’s merciless slaughter, Hendrik Witbooi and the Nama turned their guns on Trotha and the Germans to reclaim their freedom from the ruthless imperialists. Thus, the Herero War entered a new phase against the Nama.
But despite the Nama’s fierce resistance, they couldn’t escape the Herero’s fate.
Witbooi fell in battle, and half the Nama were massacred by the Germans—just as 80% of the Herero population had been.
This was the full horror of what would later be called the Herero and Namaqua Genocide.
But that was still in the future.
For now, Samuel Maharero and Hendrik Witbooi were enemies.
“Samuel!”
As Maharero and Witbooi exchanged loaded glances, Governor Leutwein arrived before Maharero.
As far as Samuel Maharero knew, Leutwein had been in the southern colony.
He must have ridden north like a madman the moment he heard of the revolt.
The governor’s face flushed red as he bellowed at Maharero.
“Are you insane? Do you even realize what you and the Herero have done?!”
“We simply decided it was better to die fighting than to live having everything taken by you. Governor.”
“Damn it! It’s not too late. Lay down your arms now. Let me handle this before the homeland intervenes!”
Despite Leutwein’s pleas, Maharero shook his head.
The Herero did the same.
Maharero replied.
“We didn’t kill the women, children, or anyone unable to fight. Take them with you while you’re here.”
“You think the German Empire will show mercy to the Herero just because you acted like gentlemen?!”
Governor Leutwein grabbed Maharero by the collar and shouted.
Some Herero warriors bristled and raised their rifles at Leutwein, but Maharero held them back.
“Please don’t make a foolish choice. The German Empire and His Majesty the Kaiser will never tolerate rebellion. Once the homeland hears of this, they’ll dispatch the army—and crush the revolt by killing every Herero in the colony!”
Leutwein, who had some personal rapport with Maharero, pleaded desperately.
He prioritized the colony’s stability and didn’t want the African natives massacred by the furious German Empire.
But the Kaiser and the Junkers back home were different.
They’d see this as an insult and seek to wipe the Herero off the map.
And that would unleash an unprecedented bloodbath in South West Africa.
Like the massacres the German Empire committed in China during the Boxer Rebellion years ago.
“Maharero, do you really intend to get all your tribesmen killed?!”
“Don’t listen, Chief Maharero. We’re not afraid no matter how many whites come!”
“That’s right! We’re not scared of you scum!”
As Maharero wavered under the governor’s appeal, the Herero warriors shouted.
Buoyed by their victory over the whites, they underestimated the wrath of the German Empire.
It was hubris.
The Herero were intoxicated by their triumph over the whites.
Maharero knew it too, but like many rebel leaders, he couldn’t ignore his tribesmen’s will.
“……Go back. For the sake of our past ties, I won’t attack you or your men here. But next time we meet, we’ll be enemies.”
In the end, Maharero rejected Leutwein’s offer.
The Herero would not lay down their arms.
“God help us.”
Leutwein closed his eyes and prayed for divine mercy.
Soon after, news of the Herero revolt—and Governor Leutwein’s request for reinforcements—reached Berlin and Potsdam.