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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 brickhouse on New High Street, and everyone was looking up. Planted in the roof of the building was a twenty five foot tall sculpture of a great white shark, its head embedded into the shingles. It looked as if it had dropped their head first.

There was no mystery where the shark came from. Standing beside it on the roof for two men, one of them an American ex pat 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 referred to it only as untitled nineteen eighty six. 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 Hayn put up the artwork in order to hide an antenna of some kind, or as a rank for his neighbors. But these loan 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 Hain 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, Hain held a birthday every year for the statue, which his neighbors attended in droves. In nineteen ninety, as a peacemaking solution, Haynes sent a petition to the council asking for retroactive permission for this statue. The council refused, though, stating that they could not approve a statue that so disruptive to

the neighborhood. It must be taking down, they said. After that, Haynes'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 set to survey the shark even called it unique and brilliant. It had taken six years, but after nineteen ninety two, untitled nineteen eighty six was safe. However,

public pieces of art must be maintained. In the years since then, the sculpture referred to by locals as the Headington 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 ten thirty pm.

It's unclear if these suggestions were followed, but a full renovation was undertaken in two thousand and seven, even as Hain 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 Hayn considered taking the Shark down. As of twenty sixteen, it had been thirty 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 takeover 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 nineteen eighties and nineties. The council lobbied for over a decade to get the Headington Shark listed as a local heritage site, finally succeeding in twenty twenty two. Hayin didn't live to

see this, sadly passing away. In twenty nineteen, in his honor, gold leaf was added to one of the sharks 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 societ 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 Najinga of Indango and Matamba. Her African descendants often paint her as something akin to a saint, while her European rivals tried 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. Nijinga was born in fifteen eighty three, the daughter of the King of Indango in southwestern Africa. She had a close relationship with her father from a very young age, and this made her brother Embondi quite jealous. In Jinga learned everything that she could from her father as he waged war against the invading Portuguese and slavers.

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 sixteen seventeen. Now a grown woman of thirty four years old, she had to watch in horror as Embondi killed all of their male relatives who he saw as a threat

to his rule, and this included her own son. After this, Embandi also forcibly sterilized in Jinga and all other sisters so that they couldn't have children that would one day grow up to challenge him. Despite this mistreatment, though Embondi still relied on in Jinga's superior acumen. When it came time to negotiate with the Portuguese, it was her that he sent. She arrived at then 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 in Bondi's authority. The Portuguese were impressed and agreed to her demands, and the two parties signed a treaty. But as soon as Niginga got back home, she learned that the Portuguese had refused to withdraw their troops and were continuing to raid to kidnap human lives, and Bondi was weak and indecisive.

In Niginga's eyes, he wasn't the man to stand up to these enslavers. He died under mysterious circumstances in sixteen twenty four The official story, if you're curious, was that he died by suicide, but others claimed that Najinga 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 Endogo, who installed a puppet king. The nobles, it seems, preferred a male ruler, Najinga 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 Najinga 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 forties at this point. Najinga 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 corto was a harem of male concubines. She thought that this was only fitting since male rulers had their own harems of women. Strangely, though, Najinga had the concubine's 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, Najinga attacked her homeland, the now Portuguese controlled Kingdom of Endogo. 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 sixteen fifty six, 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 twentieth 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 Manke in partnership with iHeart Podcasts, researched and written by the Grim and Mild team, and produced by Jesse Funk. Learn more about the show and the people who make it over at Grimandmild dot com slash Curiosities. You'll also

find a link to the official Cabinet of Curiosity. These 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 dot com slash Grimandmild, and until next time, stay curious,