Banana Beer Bar
Kilimanjaro, Tanzania
February 2016
Walter, our guide, has talked about this beer all day long. Knowing that I’m a beer connoisseur he tells me “you will love it. It’s a local beer only made in this region. We will try it this afternoon.”
We then proceeded on a long, treacherous trip to the waterfall. The hike is way beyond my physical abilities and I’m struggling in pain and humiliation.
“ Just think Bridget soon when you get to the top to have a banana beer.”
At this moment, that is not a motivator. But once the damn hike is over I do look forward to trying this beer. I like banana bread and pancakes and pudding. so of course I’m going to like this banana beer.
We drive to a rundown hut and are greeted by a woman who looks to be my age. She speaks English and welcomes me to her bar. We sit on the porch and enjoy the late afternoon breeze. She holds a wooden gourd attached to a long stick. She tells us that history of the beer and then there is silence.
“She is waiting for you to sip the beer”, Walter tells me.
“ Out of this wooden cup” I ask. “It’s all for me?”
“ No we all will drink from this cup. It’s a tradition that we share this beer. Take a sip and pass the cup.”
So I take a sip of this substance, which smells like apple cider and looks more like watered down oatmeal. There is no banana taste that I recognize. The texture is gritty and I find myself chewing this beverage. I am glad I tried it once but I’m not going to try again.
Then some bottles of banana wine are brought to us. This taste is much more agreeable to me. Again I don’t taste any semblance of banana. The cup is passed to me a few more times but I decline. I am still chewing on my first swallow.
We leave the porch as we are invited into the bar, which is no electricity. So it is pitch dark. In one corner is a couple who sits in silence and shares a large cup of beer. Occasionally one speaks to the other. But there isn’t a lot of conversation.
Four women sit by the window. Mostly women come to this bar as a social gathering place. The men go to another bar and drink by themselves. Sometimes, on weekends, couple will come here and drink together. But mid-week, the crowd is mostly separated by gender.
The bar owner is also the beer meister. She started this business after her husband died. She tells me this was the only way she could make a living. I asked her if she has children. She has three, “one is a gentleman and two girls”. They’re in their 20s. This throws me a bit. That now puts her age to be about 45 but she looks to be about 60. She tells me that she used to teach nursery school at the church and that is where she learned English. She doesn’t teach anymore as the bar business takes up all of her time.
It appears to me as if $5 of beer was sold today. While it is still early in the evening, I can’t imagine anyone coming in after dark as it would be just too, too dark to see this place. So I think she is finished selling beer for the day. I wonder if weekends bring in more business and I wonder if the rainy season keeps customers away. But mostly I wonder how anyone can live on $35 a week.
African Skies http://bkmemoirs.blogspot.com/2016/03/african-skies.html
Kilimanjaro, Tanzania
February 2016
Walter, our guide, has talked about this beer all day long. Knowing that I’m a beer connoisseur he tells me “you will love it. It’s a local beer only made in this region. We will try it this afternoon.”
We then proceeded on a long, treacherous trip to the waterfall. The hike is way beyond my physical abilities and I’m struggling in pain and humiliation.
“ Just think Bridget soon when you get to the top to have a banana beer.”
At this moment, that is not a motivator. But once the damn hike is over I do look forward to trying this beer. I like banana bread and pancakes and pudding. so of course I’m going to like this banana beer.
We drive to a rundown hut and are greeted by a woman who looks to be my age. She speaks English and welcomes me to her bar. We sit on the porch and enjoy the late afternoon breeze. She holds a wooden gourd attached to a long stick. She tells us that history of the beer and then there is silence.
“She is waiting for you to sip the beer”, Walter tells me.
“ Out of this wooden cup” I ask. “It’s all for me?”
So I take a sip of this substance, which smells like apple cider and looks more like watered down oatmeal. There is no banana taste that I recognize. The texture is gritty and I find myself chewing this beverage. I am glad I tried it once but I’m not going to try again.
Then some bottles of banana wine are brought to us. This taste is much more agreeable to me. Again I don’t taste any semblance of banana. The cup is passed to me a few more times but I decline. I am still chewing on my first swallow.
We leave the porch as we are invited into the bar, which is no electricity. So it is pitch dark. In one corner is a couple who sits in silence and shares a large cup of beer. Occasionally one speaks to the other. But there isn’t a lot of conversation.
Four women sit by the window. Mostly women come to this bar as a social gathering place. The men go to another bar and drink by themselves. Sometimes, on weekends, couple will come here and drink together. But mid-week, the crowd is mostly separated by gender.
The bar owner is also the beer meister. She started this business after her husband died. She tells me this was the only way she could make a living. I asked her if she has children. She has three, “one is a gentleman and two girls”. They’re in their 20s. This throws me a bit. That now puts her age to be about 45 but she looks to be about 60. She tells me that she used to teach nursery school at the church and that is where she learned English. She doesn’t teach anymore as the bar business takes up all of her time.
It appears to me as if $5 of beer was sold today. While it is still early in the evening, I can’t imagine anyone coming in after dark as it would be just too, too dark to see this place. So I think she is finished selling beer for the day. I wonder if weekends bring in more business and I wonder if the rainy season keeps customers away. But mostly I wonder how anyone can live on $35 a week.
African Skies http://bkmemoirs.blogspot.com/2016/03/african-skies.html
