transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:04] Welcome to Aaron Mahnke's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of iHeartRadio and Grim & Mild.

Speaker 2:
[00:12] Our world is full of the unexplainable. And if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities. It was the morning of August 9th of 1986 in the neighborhood of Headington, Oxford. It was an unassuming place, suburban with cookie cutter houses lining a quaint street, a perfectly ordinary British suburb. On that morning, though, something had changed. By eight o'clock, a small crowd had gathered outside of a two-story brick house on New High Street, and everyone was looking up. Planted in the roof of the building was a 25-foot-tall sculpture of a great white shark, its head embedded into the shingles. It looked as if it had dropped there head first. There was no mystery where the shark came from. Standing beside it on the roof were two men. One of them, an American expat named Bill Hayne, who owned the house, and the other man was John Buckley, a British sculptor who had crafted the shark. The creators of this piece of art refer to it only as Untitled, 1986. It was, at least according to its creators, a political statement. Set up on the anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki, it was supposed to represent death coming suddenly from above onto the heads of innocent civilians, like a shark lunging at its prey from the murky darkness of the ocean. Of course, not everyone believed that this was the intent. Skeptics suspected that Hayne put up the artwork in order to hide an antenna of some kind, or as a prank for his neighbors. But these lone speculators were not the statue's primary enemy. No, that would be the Oxford City Council. The council took an immediate dislike to the shark. They thought that it was an eyesore on the otherwise pleasant looking row of houses. They were also annoyed that Hayne and Buckley had not gotten any permits to put such a visible statue up. And for years, the city council and Hayne went to war over this statue. Council members created a petition to have it removed and asked everyone in the district to sign. They even solicited signatures from local retirement homes. Meanwhile, Hayne held a birthday every year for the statue, which his neighbors attended in droves. In 1990, as a peacemaking solution, Hayne sent a petition to the council asking for retroactive permission for the statue. The council refused, though, stating that they could not approve a statue that's so disruptive to the neighborhood. It must be taken down, they said. After that, Hayne's petition went all the way to the Department of the Environment. A representative there agreed that the shark was quite disruptive visually, but said that this was clearly the point of the artwork and allowed it to stay. One of the government inspectors sent to survey the shark even called it unique and brilliant. It had taken six years, but after 1992, untitled 1986 was safe. However, public pieces of art must be maintained. In the years since then, the sculpture referred to by locals as the Heddington Shark started to show the wear and tear of age. The Department of the Environment suggested that it should be repainted every nine months and not illuminated after 1030 PM. It's unclear if these suggestions were followed, but a full renovation was undertaken in 2007, even as Hayne himself grew older and struggled to maintain the same enthusiasm for the sculpture that he had shown as a younger man. In his later years, as his mortgage ran out and his work prospects dwindled, Bill Hayne considered taking the shark down. As of 2016, it had been 30 years since the shark had started standing over the neighborhood, which was a long time and he was tired. Fortunately, his son was able to buy the house from him and take over maintenance of the sculpture. He found an ally in the Oxford City Council, the same body that tried to have the shark taken down in the 1980s and 90s. The Council lobbied for over a decade to get the Heddington shark listed as a local heritage site, finally succeeding in 2022. Hayne didn't live to see this, sadly, passing away in 2019. In his honor, Goldleaf was added to one of the shark's fins. Today, the house is available as an Airbnb. So if you're visiting Oxford, it's entirely possible to stay underneath one of the most esoteric pieces of independent art in England. The irony is not lost on anyone. A piece of art created without permission to protest the way society is blind to the cruelties of war has become a tourist attraction. Whether that represents failure or success, though, is entirely up to you. When people tell stories, we often sand off the rough edges. We try to make people good or bad, rather than the complex reality. And no figure in history better exemplifies this complexity than Queen Njinga of Ndongo and Matamba. Her African descendants often paint her as something akin to a saint, while her European rivals try to depict her as a ruthless warlord. In truth, she was a complex, curious person from one of the most violent settings in human history. Njinga was born in 1583, the daughter of the King of Ndongo in southwestern Africa. She had a close relationship with her father from a very young age, and this made her brother Mbandi quite jealous. Njinga learned everything that she could from her father, as he waged war against the invading Portuguese enslavers. When her father captured one of their missionaries, she made the missionary teach her how to read and write in Portuguese. And although she was the most fit to rule, her brother of course took the throne when their father died in 1617. Now a grown woman of 34 years old, she had to watch in horror as Mbandi killed all of their male relatives, who he saw as a threat to his rule. And this included her own son. After this, Mbandi also forcibly sterilized Njinga and all other sisters so that they couldn't have children that would one day grow up to challenge him. Despite this mistreatment though, Mbandi still relied on Njinga's superior acumen. When it came time to negotiate with the Portuguese, it was her that he sent. She arrived at the negotiations clad in elaborate traditional dress. Right away, the Europeans tried to demean her by providing only a mat on the floor for her to sit on while they had chairs. She looked at the mat and then motioned to one of her enslaved people. He came forward and went down on all fours, providing her a place to sit. His back. She spoke Portuguese and even offered to convert to Christianity, but she was determined that her kingdom would not become a vessel. She told the Portuguese that, yes, they could enter into the human trafficking business, but they had to respect Mbandi's authority. The Portuguese were impressed and agreed to her demands, and the two parties signed a treaty. But as soon as Nijinga got back home, she learned that the Portuguese had refused to withdraw their troops and were continuing to raid to kidnap human lives. Mbandi was weak and indecisive in Nijinga's eyes. He wasn't the man to stand up to these enslavers. He died under mysterious circumstances in 1624. The official story, if you're curious, was that he died by suicide, but others claimed that Nijinga had finally gotten her revenge. She ascended to the throne, beginning a period of political maneuvering between her and the Portuguese. Ultimately, though, the Portuguese were able to gain the support of the nobles of Endango, who installed a puppet king. The nobles, it seems, preferred a male ruler. Nijinga was forced to flee on foot to the east, where she found unlikely allies. She met a band of M'Bengala, roving marauders with a strict code of military discipline. Various historical accounts described them as ruthless. They literally ate their enemies and killed and sacrificed any children born within the tribe. The only way to join was to prove yourself in combat. The tribe had no use for infants, they say. And although Nijinga was shocked by their way of life, she was even more shocked when the tribe leader offered to marry her. He was impressed with her abilities and the way she handled the Portuguese compared to her brother. She agreed to the offer, and soon she was personally leading M'Bengala raiding parties. Keep in mind that she was a woman in her 40s at this point. Nijinga and her new allies conquered the nearby kingdom of Matamba, where she became the new ruler, and there she grew in power, equally loved and feared by her people. One of the most curious features of her court, though, was a harem of male concubines. She thought that this was only fitting, since male rulers had their own harems of women. Strangely, though, Nijinga had the concubines dress as women while she dressed as a man, in order to seem more like a king than a queen. With her new kingdom in tow, Nijinga attacked her homeland, the now Portuguese controlled kingdom of Ndongo. Fighting would continue for years, but neither side was ever able to truly get the upper hand. Ultimately, Nijinga had to settle for a peace treaty in 1656, although it did recognize her authority in her kingdom of Matamba, but it also required her to recommit to Christianity and allow the Portuguese slave trade to continue. Matamba, by the way, remained independent until the 20th century, when it was joined with Angola. It's also one of the few countries in the world to have multiple successive female rulers. In the end, it's fair to say that Nijinga was a curious mixture of warrior and diplomat, liberator and enslaver, feminist and matriarch. She was no storybook queen, and yet her accomplishments were absolutely legendary. I hope you enjoyed today's guided tour through the Cabinet of Curiosities. This show was created by me, Aaron Mahnke, in partnership with iHeart Podcasts, researched and written by the Grim & Mild team, and produced by Jesse Funk. Learn more about the show and the people who make it over at grimandmild.com/curiosities. You'll also find a link to the official Cabinet of Curiosities hardcover book available in bookstores and online as well as ebook and audiobook. And if you're looking for an ad-free option, consider joining our Patreon. It's all the same stories but without the interruption for a small monthly fee. Learn more and sign up over at patreon.com/grimandmild. And until next time, stay curious.