Kenya’s Tusker Lager

For as long as I can remember I have done my best to watch the sun set each day. It’s probably the closest thing to a religious ritual I have, saying good night to our star and giving thanks to it and . . . whatever or whomever one might consider a higher force in the universe . . . for another day on the planet. At times it comprises nothing but a quick peek through a window, but when possible I make it a formal occasion—especially if I happen to be somewhere beautiful and wild.

So when I was introduced to the sundowner—a de rigueuer mandatory beer or cocktail at sunset—on my first trip to Africa, I thought, How could I have missed thinking of this? The ritual has since become standard with us on any trip. And when possible, we like to toast with something suitable to the region—pisco sours in Peru, wine in Argentina, for example. In Africa we can either go colonial with a gin and tonic, or sample the local beer.

I’m going to be honest: I’ve never tasted a truly remarkable African beer. This could be for several reasons, chief among them, perhaps, being that few African countries have the economic luxury to indulge in expensive craft breweries and leisurely experimentation with fine hops and bottom fermenting. After a hot day you want something light, cold, and refreshing; discussing IBUs and ABVs might come across as a bit affected. Thus virtually all local African brews are high-volume, easily produced lagers. On my first trip to Africa, in Zambia, I was introduced to Mosi Lager, christened after the local name for Victoria Falls: Mosi oa Tunya (“The Smoke that Thunders”—far more evocative, don’t you agree?). In Namibia it was Windhoek Lager, after the capital. And in Kenya the prefered brew is Tusker.

Made by Kenya Breweries since 1922, the beer was, as Clayton Porter describes in Trail of the Jaguar, named Tusker in memoriam after the company’s co-founder, George Hurst, was killed by an elephant. Originally made with imported malt extracts (and thus, reportedly, not very well-received at the Stanley Hotel where it was introduced), production soon changed to the use of local barley and hops. After a searing day in the Rift Valley a Tusker at sundown is a welcome treat. 

Occasionally I’ll buy one at home for nostalgia. But it’s just not the same as it is where there is an actual chance of getting trampled by an elephant.