Somewhere around 18,000 feet, I felt the full effect of the altitude. After several long days of hiking, we were finally at the summit approach. Our group was patiently enduring the struggle, each of us looking forward to the victory at the peak. Standing at 19,341 feet (5,895 m), Mt. Kilimanjaro, in Tanzania, Africa, is the tallest freestanding mountain in the world. Paul, on the other hand, was still doing dance moves in the conga line, like we were at sea level. 

Paul Wade and I are homebrewers from Northern California. We met a few years ago at a meeting of our local homebrew club, the Solano Garage Brewers. We quickly discovered shared interests beyond brewing; a love for the mountains being one of the biggest. Summiting a mountain is amazing — the views, the relative solitude, the sense of accomplishment. Over the years, we’ve done a few ascents together, and often talk — over a beer of course — about our individual adventures. We believe in earning our beer, and after a long day of hiking and ascending a few thousand feet, a beer is well-deserved . . . and maybe even tastes better. 

We had ascended Mt. Kilimanjaro over the course of six days, passing through diverse environments like the rain forest and the Afro-Alpine moorland. Each day seemed like a new adventure, an individual experience full of unique memories. There was a night of howling monkeys, lots of rocks to climb, and always new fauna to photograph. Fortunately, at the end of each day we were exhausted, so sleep came quickly in the tiny tent. We didn’t have long to think about the fact we hadn’t showered in several days. The only thing that seemed to be missing was a cold beer.

On a side note, one of the most impressive aspects of the trip were the hardworking porters. Every time we made it to camp, they had everything set up — our tents, the dining tent, and most importantly, the bathrooms. They were heroes who graciously listened to our complaints and made the trip bearable.

It took another day and a half to hike down to the exit at Mweka Gate, an access point for several of the routes used to summit Kilimanjaro. After completing the 42-mile (68-km) trek, I walked straight past the congratulatory sign, an obvious photo stop. I saw Paul sitting at a table next to the souvenir shop, where he had probably been for a while before anyone else made it down. “You get a beer yet?” I asked. I couldn’t have cared less about the t-shirts and trinkets being hawked to exhausted hikers. My focus was entirely on the refrigerator. The only offerings were lagers from a few of the larger African breweries, but they were a welcome treat. We had definitely earned a beer. 

After getting our boots washed, enjoying a lager or three, we got back in the van and went to a wonderful celebration hosted by the tour company. It was great to finally relax and party with our group. It was even more special to give a toast to the porters. The beers were well earned by all. 

Our flight the next day didn’t leave until the evening. It was just enough time to find another adventure. This one with a strong connection to home.  

Discovering Maisha

After one of the most refreshing showers of my life and a great night of sleep, Paul and I were ready for more exploration. Naturally, we both had the same Google search in mind, “breweries.” The big breweries showed up, of course — Serengeti and Tanzania, but they were an hour or more away. But then a phrase popped up next to one of the options that made the decision very easy. Under a brewery named Maisha it said, “Best IPA in Tanzania.” No further searching was needed. 

It took a little bit of explaining to the front desk for them to understand where we wanted to go. It seemed like they didn’t know anything about Maisha. When they called the brewery for us, they were told it was closed until the afternoon. But after mentioning we were tourists flying out later, we were given the green light to visit. A ride was arranged, and we were on the way.

The directions took us through town and eventually down a dirt street with no driveways or house numbers visible along the road. Most of the properties had fences or walls around them and it was hard to know if there was a gate or any access. As we reached the red dot on the map, there was still no indication we were at the right location. We were looking at a metal fence with a small gate, but no signs of a brewery. The only sign on the gate appeared to be related to some kind of medical business. Our driver kept going, looking for something that said Maisha, or looked like a brewery. At the end of the street, he called the brewery again and, speaking in Swahili, was told someone would open the gate. 

As we drove back towards the red dot, a gate at the medical business began to open. We drove inside and saw nothing resembling a brewery, or any kind of commercial operation. We appeared to be in the backyard of a residence, a large property with construction taking place on a couple of buildings at opposite ends of an expansive yard. As our driver stopped, a man emerged from around the corner of the building and walked towards the car. When we got out and looked towards the portion of the building from where the man had come, our eyes got a glimpse of some familiar sights. Behind the man, inside a space roughly the size of a single-vehicle garage, we saw a brew kettle and the unmistakable shine of stainless-steel fermenters. We had arrived at Maisha. 

The man who greeted us was Sanga Joseph Massawe, the Co-Owner and Head Brewer for Maisha. Our adventure at Maisha was one of fate. As Paul and I walked into the brewery, we could smell the sweet scent of mashing grains. “I’m brewing my IPA right now,” said Sanga. 

In discussion with Sanga, we learned after much experimentation he decided to focus on two main beers, a blonde ale and an IPA. He didn’t have any of the blonde available, but after being there for just a few minutes, Sanga’s assistant, Naso, brought out some bottles of the IPA. “Please tell me what you think,” Sanga said with curious eyes.

The beer had a beautiful, white foamy head, and the clarity was stunning. “This is what we’ve been missing,” said Paul. The aroma wasn’t very strong compared to the IPAs we were accustomed to, but the taste had the classic tropical, citrus, and piney notes you expect from Mosaic^® hops. The clarity and lager-level ABV was strategic, as Sanga is trying to introduce a different style of beer to his community.  That first beer turned out to be one of many, as we spent the whole day brewing with Sanga and Naso, and learning about the story of Maisha. 

The Story of Maisha

Sanga and his brother, Sadick, started brewing as a hobby. Like many of us, they started by brewing small batches in their kitchen. 

“We have always wanted to start a beverage manufacturing company. While growing up, our mom used to make a local banana beer, which we enjoyed helping with,” said Sanga. “Naturally, one day Sadick and I decided to make our own beer.” 

As they gained knowledge and skills, they moved from 1.5-quart/L batches, fermented in a water bottle, to a 5-gallon (19-L) bucket. Like most homebrewers, they learned by reading, watching videos, and brewing batch after batch. 

“For two years we brewed regularly, trying to perfect our art. We read brewing literature, watched YouTube videos, found like-minded brewers, experimented with hundreds of recipes and brewing techniques. We began sharing our brews with friends and relatives, who provided positive feedback,” Sanga told us.

Spurred on by the support of their family and friends, they began to look for larger equipment. With no local homebrew shop, nor many brewing suppliers in their part of the world, their search expanded, and yet was paradoxically confined to mostly international vendors for equipment and ingredients. “(Sourcing equipment) has been one of our major challenges considering our capital and size. Our friends and family have helped support our passion with the purchases of bigger equipment.”

With much of the equipment coming from China, we observed dents and other imperfections in the fermenters, evidence of the challenges of the long shipping distance. The brewhouse was a basic three-vessel, propane-fired system, with a 26-gallon (100-L) boil capacity. It takes three turns for Sanga to fill the 79-gallon (300-L) fermenters. 

“My brew day takes around 18 hours,” Sanga said.  

And we thought our six-hour brew days were long.

Since much of the capital was consumed with building up cold-side capacity and quality, the hot side and other accessories were in obvious need of improvement. The valves weren’t always the right size, so various adapters and mismatched hoses were used. The one small chugger pump was noticeably tired. 

With small propane burners, Sanga told us it is difficult to control temperature and achieve an even boil. 

“I scorch the bottoms of my pots often,” said Sanga. “And the design of the kettles makes it difficult for wort recirculation.”

Despite the challenges, the beer kept improving, and after four years they moved from the kitchen to the larger space. Sanga and Sadick registered the brewery in 2021 and now brew and package close to 2,000 bottles per month. The beer is served to visitors at the brewery, usually friends and locals, but they also have a few accounts with restaurants and hotels. 

“We distribute around Moshi and our neighboring tourist city, Arusha. We see the potential for selling more craft beers in the country. We just need to find ways to upgrade our equipment, explore more ingredients, improve quality and efficiency, and introduce more styles.”  

“The Best IPA in Tanzania”

Sanga’s IPA is a SMaSH (Single Malt and Single Hop) beer, with Pilsen malt and Mosaic^® hops. 

“I use 22 kilograms (48 lbs.) of Pilsen malt in each batch,” said Sanga. “We get our grains from the U.S. or Nairobi, Kenya. We have bought local barley and malted it ourselves, but this adds more time and challenges.” Sanga mills the grain in a mill similar to what homebrewers use, which is adequate for the amount of grain in each brew day.

Each batch of IPA uses about 130 grams (4.6 oz) of hops on the hot side in addition to a small dry-hop addition. Sanga sources the hops from online distributors, usually from the U.S. It’s a small amount of hops compared to IPAs we are used to, but with ingredients being such a commodity and local beer drinkers still being introduced to the style, it works.

“I wanted my beers to mirror what was popular here in Tanzania, but with an exploration of flavor. I like hops and Mosaic^® is very popular, but you can’t make the beer too bitter here,” said Sanga. 

When I asked how a hazy IPA might be received by the locals, Sanga didn’t hesitate. “People also expect the beer to be clear like a lager,” he said.  

The longer we chatted, the more curious we became and started peppering him with questions, as homebrewers so often do when discussing brewing with other brewers. 

“What about a hoppy Pilsner, international pale lager, or offer an IPA series that explores different hops?” we asked. Sanga looked intrigued. 

“What about your water?” asked Paul, inquiring where it comes from and how he treats it.

“I use tap water that I have tested in the laboratory. The profile, measured in mg/L, is pH 7.82, calcium 3.2, sulphate 0, magnesium 0.48, chloride 13, sodium 52.9, and alkalinity (CaCO₃) 40. No salt additions,” said Sanga.

For fermentation, Sanga uses SafAle US-05. Dry yeast is easier to manage than its liquid counterparts, suitable for longer storage, and is ideal for brewing neutral and well-balanced ales. Given all the supply challenges Sanga has faced, dry yeast seems like the most logical choice.

Beer Brings People Together

As most of the readers here know, brew days are often when friends and other brewers love to hang out (and interrupt your brewing). Paul and I got to do exactly that with Sanga. We dove right in helping with his brew day and tried not to get in the way. We were able to stay through two batches, helping to mash in and observing how he transferred to the fermenter. 

Maisha’s brewhouse is in need of upgrades, but capital is limited. The three-burner deck sits on a slight slope in the front. Since his kettles only have 26-gallon (100-L) capacity, to fill the fermenter with three turns, the boil volume is right to the top. Due to the unlevel deck, there is no margin for error. I tossed in too many hops during one charge and caused a momentary boil over. Sanga fired me and did the rest himself. 

Watching Sanga work through the series of valves and assortment of hoses was impressive, but clearly inefficient. Still, he makes a damn good beer. Plus, every time our glass was empty, Naso would appear with another bottle of IPA. It was an awesome brew day. 

Throughout the day, we each shared the brewing knowledge we possessed and bounced around all kinds of ideas for how we could help Maisha grow. Before we departed, we exchanged contact information with Sanga and Sadick. We promised to bring his story back to the homebrew club and to do whatever we could to help. In that day, we had become not just fellow brewers, but brewing brothers. 

Back home, Paul got Sanga connected to the Solano Garage Brewers website and access to all the educational material and brewing stories. At the next meeting, we presented the story of Maisha to the homebrew club. Our fellow brewers were on board with doing what we could to support our international brother. One of the ideas was to start a movement called “Brewers Without Borders,” a play on another famous international organization. Knowing what I know about beer lovers and brewers, if we connected homebrew clubs in the U.S. with brewers in parts of the world where there may not be many resources, remote collaborations would begin. After all, beer brings people together, and brewing is the process of making connections. We’re still trying to figure out how to get the idea off the ground, if any readers of this article want to help!

Sanga told us Maisha, in Swahili, means “life.” 

“It is a common saying in Tanzania that if you don’t have money, then you don’t have life. We noticed,” laughed Sanga, “when people were complaining they don’t have life because they have nothing in their pockets, we would give them one of our beers, and they would stop complaining. We quickly realized, Maisha beer is about restoring life to people.”   

The Maisha IPA bottles feature a basic graphic of the iconic shape of Mt. Kilimanjaro as it appears towering over the skyline of Moshi. On the back of the Maisha IPA label it says:  

“This brew was initially home crafted and since it tastes so good it was time to share it with everyone in order to strengthen our friendship. Now enjoy a brew that is made from the finest ingredients of the motherland, Tanzania.” 

Paul and I look forward to brewing up our own version of Maisha IPA here in the U.S., and can’t wait to discover all the ways we can strengthen our new friendship.