Microbrewed Adventures - Charles Papazian [91]
I was on the Zimbabwe National Railways, journeying from Bulawayo to Victoria Falls to catch my long flight back to Colorado. And at the same time I was enjoying the local beer, thinking about the one in my hand and those of the past few days. I had learned to appreciate the commercially produced beers because I had had the privilege of attending an international convention of southern and central African brewers. The variety of cultures, variety of beer styles and quality of life were far better than what my prejudices had anticipated. The all-malt Reinheitsgebot Windhoek lagers of Namibia, the aromatic and hoppy Zambezi Lager of Zimbabwe, the stouts and fruit beers of South Africa all provided quenching relief from the late summer sun of southern Africa. Castle Lager and Castle Pilsener provided welcome rehydration, as I had earlier in the week paddled a canoe along a three-day stretch of the Zambezi River. The elephants 20 feet away, grazing along the riverbanks; hippos sloshing their way only yards from our evening campsites; the distant roar of lions; the ominous crocs lining the riverbanks and the nighttime hyenas skulking through the campgrounds were not beer hallucinations. They were real, though the beer helped. Believe me. Though I learned that one was wise not to drink too much on evening campouts. Late-night urinations were an invitation to dangerous encounters. The morning sun was always welcoming light to my bladder.
As a brewer and an enthusiast of indigenous beers the real treat on this, my first African journey, was the discovery of native and commercially brewed opaque sorghum beer. I feel quite certain that these beers were among the first beers ever brewed, perhaps paralleling the beers of ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt. Unfortunately for historians, we haven’t yet discovered the beer records (if they exist at all) of the peoples of southern and central Africa. Unlike the Mesopotamian and ancient Egyptian brews, these sorghum beers remain a living tradition, though no less historical.
Sorghum is a grain that grows well in the semi-arid regions of Africa. It can easily be made into malt, having adequate enzymes to convert itself into the essential sugars and fermentables needed to brew beer. To produce a variety of flavors and color in their beer, local village and homebrewers may roast all or a portion of their grains and malts.
Did I say beer? Well, yes, I did, though to most of the Western world opaque sorghum beer would hardly be recognized or considered as such. But in reality it has more tradition than any pils, bock, pale ale or stout.
My first encounter with this living history was at a conference of southern and central African brewers. The last night of the event featured traditional African cuisine such as ostrich, impala stew, ox veal tongue in peanut butter sauce and milo/sadza (corn mush), along with sorghum beer brewed by the local Chibuku Brewery. I must have got a little carried away with the Chibuku that night. During the “circumcision dance” and the “tower of power ceremony,” one of the African dancers dragged me into the dirt dancing circle. Several hotel employees told me the next morning that they saw me drinking a lot of Chibuku just before I began kicking up the dust, dancing in front of the entire delegation.
I visited the small Chibuku Brewery in the municipality of Dete. The brewery was one of dozens of Chibuku Breweries in southern Africa commercially producing opaque sorghum beer.
More than half of all the beer consumed in South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe and neighboring nations is not light lager, but rather Chibuku-type sorghum beer. Here at the tiny brewery in Dete they were churning out 10,000 to 12,000 hectoliters per month (that’s about 8,500 to 10,000 U.S. barrels; one barrel equals 31 gallons).
How is it made? Malted sorghum is ground to a medium-fine flour (along with maize, or corn, in some formulations). The flour is “mashed” into hot water and converted into soluble starches