Latest / The History of Portugal: The Small Nation That Built a Global Empire — Fexingo History / Portugal's Forgotten African Queen: Nzinga of Ndongo
Transcript
- Lucas: So last time we spent a lot of time in Asia and Brazil, but I want to bring us back to Africa today — specifically Angola, and a figure who gave the Portuguese more trouble than most armies combined. Luna: You mean someone other than the Ottomans or the Marathas? Lucas: Exactly. Her name was Nzinga — she was the queen of the Ndongo and Matamba kingdoms in what is now Angola. And she ruled from the 1620s to the 1660s, right when the Portuguese were trying to tighten their grip on the slave trade south of the equator. Lucas: Most people, if they know her at all, know her from that famous story where she refused to stand while negotiating with the Portuguese governor. She had her servant get down on all fours so she could sit on his back — literally making herself his equal, or actually his superior, since she was sitting and he was standing. Luna: Wait, that's a real story? I thought that was just a legend. Lucas: No, it's documented. It happened in 1622 during peace talks in Luanda. The governor, João Correia de Sousa, had a chair for himself but only a mat on the floor for her. So she ordered one of her attendants to kneel, and she sat on him. She wasn't about to be treated as a subordinate. Lucas: And that set the tone for her entire relationship with the Portuguese. She would convert to Christianity, take the name Dona Ana de Sousa, and even ally with them when it suited her. But she always acted from a position of strength, and she never let them forget that she was a sovereign ruler, not a vassal. Luna: So she was playing a long game — using their own tools against them. Lucas: Exactly. The Portuguese were deeply entrenched in the slave trade from Angola by that point. They had founded Luanda in 1575, and they were constantly raiding the interior for captives to send to Brazil. The kingdoms of Ndongo and Matamba were right in their path. Lucas: Nzinga's brother, Ngola Mbande, had been fighting the Portuguese for years, but he couldn't hold out. When he died — possibly by suicide, possibly poisoned — Nzinga took over. And she realized she couldn't beat them militarily, so she would negotiate. Luna: That's where the sitting story comes from. Lucas: Right. She went to Luanda in 1622 and secured a treaty that recognized Ndongo's sovereignty and limited Portuguese slave raiding. But the treaty didn't hold — the Portuguese kept pushing, and she eventually fled to Matamba, where she built a new power base. Lucas: And here's where it gets really interesting. In the 1640s, the Dutch captured Luanda from the Portuguese. Nzinga immediately allied with the Dutch — they were enemies of her enemy. She even sent them military support. But when the Portuguese retook Luanda in 1648, she had to pivot again. Luna: So she was a pragmatist, not an ideologue. Lucas: Absolutely. She converted to Catholicism in 1622, probably as part of the treaty, but she never let that stop her from allying with Protestants when it helped. She also incorporated Imbangala mercenaries — these were feared warrior bands who were often enemies of her people — into her army. She would do whatever it took to survive and expand her power. Lucas: And she was remarkably successful. By the 1650s, she had built Matamba into a strong, centralized kingdom that controlled a major slave-trading route. She even sent ambassadors to the Portuguese governor in Brazil, trying to open a direct trade link. She was thinking on a global scale. Luna: So she was essentially running her own slave-trading empire, rivaling the Portuguese. Lucas: Yes, but with a crucial difference. She used the trade to strengthen her kingdom, not to destroy it. She was a ruler first. And she never stopped fighting Portuguese expansion. In 1641, she led a campaign that temporarily drove the Portuguese out of parts of Ndongo. She was a brilliant military strategist. Lucas: There's a story that she personally led her troops into battle and that she executed one of her own sisters for plotting against her. She was ruthless, but that's what it took to survive in that world. Luna: What happened to her in the end? Lucas: She died peacefully in 1663, in her sixties, a rare thing for a African ruler of that era. She had managed to keep her kingdom independent and even expanded it. But after her death, the Portuguese gradually absorbed Matamba and Ndongo into their colonial system. Still, her legacy lived on. Lucas: Today, she's a national hero in Angola. There are statues of her, her face is on the currency, and her story is taught in schools as a symbol of African resistance to colonialism. She's also become a feminist icon, especially in the diaspora. Luna: It's incredible that she's not more famous in the West. I mean, we know about Cleopatra and Boudica, but Nzinga seems just as remarkable. Lucas: She absolutely is. And the Portuguese sources themselves, even though they portray her as an adversary, respect her intelligence and determination. One Portuguese governor called her 'the most cunning and treacherous woman in Africa' — which, from his perspective, was probably true. But from hers, she was just doing what she had to do to keep her people free. Luna: So this is a whole chapter of Portuguese colonial history that we haven't touched on yet. Lucas: Exactly. Most of our episodes have focused on Asia and Brazil, but Portugal's empire in Africa was just as important — and just as contested. The slave trade from Angola alone shipped hundreds of thousands of people to Brazil over the centuries. Understanding Nzinga helps us see that Africans weren't passive victims; they were active players, resisting, collaborating, and negotiating on their own terms. Luna: I'm glad we finally got to her. She's been on my list of historical figures I wanted to hear about. Lucas: Mine too. And I think her story is a good reminder that history isn't just about the big powers — it's about the people who stood up to them, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, but always leaving a mark.