The shebeen queens of Maseru

MASERU – THE visit to ’Mapuleng Leoma’s traditional beer house reminds us of Wave Rhyder’s hit, “Tšela bo Tlale”, a satirical depiction of a shebeen queen’s novel brewing skills.

“Tšela bo Tlale”, meaning “fill it to the brim”, shows how word of mouth often drives patrons to a beer house because the skilled brewer serves the tastiest and most potent brew in the village.

This seems to be the case with Leoma’s shebeen in Ha-Thetsane, about 10 kilometres south-west of Maseru city centre. Here, customers visit from as early as 7am.

When thepost visited the shebeen last week, a small gathering of people singing and talking on top of their voices were already partaking the “wise waters” early in the morning.

The song is not well organised. But everyone has somehow managed to insert themselves into the lyrics.

A few steps away lies old, stone built booking rooms. A few more steps from the door, there is a fireplace and a bundle of firewood.

In one of the rooms, which is a point of sale as well as a living room for the shebeen queen, her daughter and four grandchildren, the bedding has been rolled nicely towards the wall to create more space for patrons. There are four stools.

On the other side of the room there are two tables where cooking utensils are packed.

A blue 120-litre plastic bucket has been covered with a clean lace cloth.

The 50-year-old Leoma is holding an empty one-litre bottle.

In her left hand, she holds a jug of Sesotho traditional home brewed beer to fill the empty bottle.

She puts the jug into the barrel and covers it with the cloth before handing the now filled bottle to a waiting customer who stretches his hands in a respectful way.

The man puts the bottle between his stretched legs, sits on the stool and takes a sip.

“This is how I support my entire family,” Leoma says.

Leoma, who has been in the business for a year, says she previously depended on running an informal day care centre until last year when she was outcompeted by a new, formal one.

“After the formal day care centre was established in the village, all the children were taken to the new place. I then had to think on what I could do to survive,” she says.

Realising that many women in the village were in the business of selling traditionally fermented beer, she decided to join the bandwagon.

“I chose to sell Sesotho beer because it is easy and cheap to brew,” Leoma says.

According to an article on traditional fermented foods of Lesotho by Tendekayi Gadaga and fellow academics, traditional alcoholic beverages in Lesotho referred to as joala include hopose, sekumu-kumu and Sesotho sorghum beer.

The latter is referred to just as Sesotho, the one Leoma is brewing.

In preparation of 120 litres of Sesotho beer, Leoma says she mixes 12.5kg of maize meal and 1kg of wheat meal with cold water.

She then adds boiled water and lets the mixture cool.

A traditional liquid starter, tomoso, is added and the container is covered with a blanket to retain warmth.

Leoma says she then adds 5kg of ’mela (malt) before leaving the mixture to ferment for two to three days.

When the mixture is ready, she then filters it out to remove the coarse particles before serving the smooth alcoholic drink to her customers.

Leoma says the business has been doing well.

“There is never a time when I have failed to provide for my family of eight members,” she says.

In the middle of the conversation, a young man in his late 20s enters the room, seemingly in a hurry and eyes darting as if to spot any onlookers.

He takes a 2-litre bottle from a backpack and hands it to Leoma together with M10. He puts the filled bottle back into the bag and leaves hastily.

After a bit of silence, Leoma explains the seemingly dodgy behaviour.

She says the Covid-19 pandemic, coupled with high prices of alcoholic beverages in formal pubs, has forced many people, especially young adults, to resort to traditional beer.

“They don’t stay. They don’t even want to be seen in this kind of place,” she says, laughing.

They use traditional beer as “a starter” due to its affordability and only go to pubs to buy at least one longneck and mingle with friends when they are already drunk.

Everyone who sees them drunk assumes that they were drinking from a formal bar, not knowing that they got high at the shebeen.

“If you pass by the taverns later in the evening, you will find them holding the longnecks,” says Leoma, as one customer loudly complains that Leoma’s beer finishes quickly.

“We sometimes find the barrel empty,” the customer shouts.

Later, Leoma sits on a bench, takes out a plastic bag of vegetables and starts cleaning them as she prepares lunch.

Next to her is her daughter, in her late 20s.

After sharing a sip with a man sitting next to her, the daughter helps Leoma clean the vegetables.

“I always come here whenever I get a chance even if I don’t have money to buy beer,” the young lady says.

Leoma says she is usually busy since the establishment of the business due to an influx of customers.

“They sometimes wake me very early in the morning,” she says, adding that she normally closes at 9pm.

Leoma says she is able to continue with her house chores and babysitting her grandchildren while serving clients at the same time.

However, she says the challenge of using her own place is that they all have to get up early in the morning to bathe before customers start flowing in.

“It becomes more challenging for younger children to bathe when it’s cold. We also have to wait until 9 pm for everyone to go so that we can sleep,” she says.

From morning till night, the place is a hive of activity. Towards midday, the tone of patrons starts changing as patrons speak on top of their voices.

Morake Monare, who is in his late 60s, explains that he has been drinking Sesotho since 1973.

He says Sesotho beer is cheaper than other alcoholic beverages sold in formal bars, which helps him to save money for other house necessities.

“I only spent M7 on this beer while with other alcohol types I have to spend M30 for one bottle. Sesotho beer not only saves money, it is also healthy,” says Monare.

Monare says after being diagnosed with high blood pressure and asthma in 2010, one of the specialists advised him to drink Sesotho beer over other alcohol types.

He says although Sesotho beer is not a remedy to his sickness, he is able to drink the beer without affecting his health.

According to an article posted by Barley Beaver on Health Benefits of Homebrew, aside from containing high amounts of flavonoids, antioxidants, and Vitamin B, “naturally fermented beer also contains high amounts of probiotics that can improve the number of good bacteria in the stomach”.

The article claims that homebrews have anti-cancer properties.

Monare says it is safer to drink at the shebeen than taverns.

He says Leoma, the shebeen queen, always calls violent people to order.

“We work together with her to get rid of violent people. The level of safety is better than at a tavern. Even if you forget or misplace your wallet, you will get it back because patrons all know each other,” he says.

“If I get hungry, I know she will provide me with food,” he says, pointing to the vegetables which are still in preparation.

Around midday, David Montši, a patron, enters the house holding a building metrestick.

He folds his knees lying against the wall.

He pays close attention to the ensuing discussion and tries to force himself into the conversation.

“You are now denying me the chance to speak,” he shouts, before stating that he has decided to come to the shebeen for Sesotho beer due to family problems that are taking a toll on him. “This is my life partner,” he says, pointing at the bottle full of beer.

Montši, who is on his way to work, says he takes to the traditional brew each time he feels miserable.

“To start my day and boost my mood, I normally start with Sesotho beer,” he says.

thepost moves from Leoma’s business to another but in the same building. It belongs to ’Malebele Bulara, and another kind of traditional beer is brewed there.
Bulara sells hopose.

The hopose shebeen queen says she had to find ways of surviving after she lost her job in the textile companies. Her daughter also lost her job.

“I then ventured into traditionally fermented beer,” says Bulara, who supports her family of 10 members, including her grandchildren from the business.

With her severance pay, she bought two 120-litre barrels which cost M800 each.

“I then bought a stock of 5kg flour, 5kg sugar, 4kg malt and two packets of hops,” says Bulara, adding that she decided to ferment hopose because it takes fewer hours to prepare.

She says she manages to sell one full barrel, which generates an average of M500, in two weeks.

Bulara says the business is profitable, adding that her clients are usually “mature people”.

“This kind of beer is mostly consumed by older people. They are mostly responsible people and easy to manage,” she says, citing rising prices of ingredients as a major challenge.

According to the Consumer Price Index of February issued by the Lesotho Bureau of Statistics, the price of bread and cereals increased by 7.4 percent between February 2022 and February 2023.

It further shows that the price of sugar, jam, honey, chocolate and confectionery increased by 8.3 percent during the same period.

Before the price hikes, Bulara says she used M180 to ferment 120 litres of beer, but now needs more than M250 for the same quantity of beer.

Although this sometimes tempts her to increase prices, tough competition means she can’t do that without losing customers.

“This has affected our profits. I wish we had an association which would help us regulate the prices,” she says, urging the government to subsidise the prices of their ingredients.

Refiloe Mpobole & Relebohile Tšepe