Sadly, it seems racism has once again shown its face in our city, this time through a deeply offensive comment published anonymously in a local newspaper, a remark that should never have made it past editorial scrutiny.

With local elections approaching, a candidate in the Eccles ward has been targeted not for his politics, not for his record, but simply for the colour of his skin. That alone is reason enough to reflect on who we are and who we claim to be as a city.

Because if you want to understand the true character of Salford, you only need to look to its past.

At the turn of the 20th century, a man named Peter Kushana Lobengula arrived in Britain, travelling thousands of miles from southern Africa. Around 1899, at just 25 years old, he became part of Frank Fillis’s “Savage South Africa” exhibition at Earl’s Court, a spectacle that today stands as a stark reminder of the casual racism of the era. Performers like Lobengula were put on display, their lives reduced to caricature and their identities stripped away and dehumanised for entertainment.

Lobengula himself claimed royal lineage, said to be the grandson of a Matabele king. Yet in Britain, he was treated not as a man of heritage, but as a mere curiosity.

Local Historian Tony Flynn made a video on the life of Prince Lobengula back in the days of SalfordOnline.

His life in London soon became the subject of scandal when he married an English woman, Kitty Jewell, a relationship that provoked outrage in polite society at the time. The marriage broke down amid allegations and hardship, and Lobengula’s life spiralled. Alone in a country that often saw him as less than human, he faced the kind of prejudice that was all too common for Black men in Britain at the time.

But His Story Did Not End There

Lobengula eventually found his way north, settling in Pendlebury, Salford, where he took work at the Agecroft Colliery. Down the pits, far from the gawping crowds and social judgement of London, something changed.

Among the miners, he was no spectacle. He was one of them, he was kin.

In the harsh, dimly lit and dangerous world beneath the ground, it was not the colour of a man’s skin that mattered, it was his graft, his loyalty and his character. Lobengula worked the same shifts, faced the same risks and earned the same respect as any other man. His fellow workers accepted him not as an outsider, but as one of their own, he was welcomed into their family. It was Salford which gave him back his dignity.

Many of those very men, his colleagues and his friends, would go on just a year later to face an even greater darkness in the trenches of the Great War. Some never returned, among the bravest Salford had to offer. Today, we honour them at our cenotaphs, remembering their courage, their sacrifice and the unbreakable sense of brotherhood that bound them together.

And when Lobengula himself died in 1913, that same spirit of solidarity spoke volumes.

The pits fell silent. Miners stood in tribute, tools over their shoulders, as his funeral cortège made its way to Agecroft Cemetery. His burial was paid for by the very men he had worked alongside, a final act of respect and affection for someone they saw simply as a friend.

Peter Kushana Lobengula arrived in Britain treated as a “savage”, dehumanised and cast aside. But in Salford, he found something different. He found dignity. He found belonging. He found a community that judged him not by his skin, but by his humanity, a community who loved him and that love followed him to his grave.

Our cameras were there to capture then unveiling of a plaque dedicated to Prince Lobengula

That is the Salford we should remember as in our Centenary year, that is the truth about Salford, a place of love, compassion, understanding and tolerance, a place where our brave forefathers rejected hate and offered love and compassion to a man from a foreign land who became a welcome part of their mining family.

And that is the Salford that our future generations should aspire to be. Salford has a historical track record of standing up to racism, may that forever continue.