Drinking Traditions of Lesotho: 6 Local Beverages That Tell a Story

High-altitude Lesotho drinks culture is shaped by the Maloti Mountains, cold winters, and smallholder grain farming. Sorghum and maize thrive better than grapes, so hearty ferments and warming brews dominate village gatherings and urban shebeens alike.

Brewing is communal: neighbors share labor and drink from enamel mugs, often during weddings, funerals, and initiation ceremonies. In Maseru and market towns, traditional recipes sit beside modern lagers, reflecting a country where heritage and practicality meet.

Joala ba Sesotho is the Basotho staple: a cloudy, cereal-rich beer brewed from sorghum malt (mabele), maize meal (poone), and water. Home brewers malt sorghum by soaking, sprouting, and drying the grain, then cook a porridge with maize meal, cool it, and add back malt to convert starches before a short fermentation (typically 24–48 hours). Alcohol content ranges from about 3% to 5% ABV, rising if left to ferment longer. Expect a tangy, lactic aroma, faint smoke from wood fires, and a creamy, filling body.

Served fresh in calabashes or enamel mugs, it is central to weddings (lenyalo), funerals, work parties (letsema), and initiation rites (lebollo). In highland districts like Thaba-Tseka and at cattle posts, it is shared mid-morning or afternoon with simple food. You’ll also find it at informal taverns in Maseru, though the best versions are poured same-day at homesteads, where freshness and a slight fizz are part of the appeal.

Ginger beer, known locally as gemere, is a zesty, lightly alcoholic ferment that doubles as a celebratory soft drink when brewed short. Typical ingredients are grated fresh ginger, sugar, lemon peel or juice, water, and a pinch of yeast (some add cream of tartar or raisins). The ginger syrup is briefly simmered, cooled, inoculated, and left to ferment 12–48 hours in a bucket or demijohn before straining and bottling. ABV depends on time and sugar, usually 1–3%, but stronger household batches can push 4–5%.

Gemere tastes bright and spicy with a gentle tartness and soft natural carbonation. It is poured at weddings, Christmas feasts, and school fundraisers, and is a common refreshment at roadside stalls in Maseru and Leribe. Because it’s quick to make, families brew it ahead of weekend gatherings, serving it chilled in reused soda bottles; vendors often caution to “open slowly” thanks to lively fizz.

Skokiaan is a catch-all term for rough-and-ready homebrew sold at informal bars (shebeens). In Lesotho’s lowlands and peri-urban Maseru, recipes often combine maize meal, brown sugar, and either crumbled bread or baker’s yeast; fruit peels may be added for aroma. Fermentation is short—1 to 3 days—yielding a hot, sometimes gritty beer that can reach 6–12% ABV. Quality varies widely because sanitation and ratios are inconsistent.

Expect a sharp alcoholic bite, cereal and molasses notes, and occasional solvent-like edges if fermentation ran warm. Skokiaan is associated with migrant labor history and cash-strapped social spaces, where affordability outweighs refinement. You’ll encounter it in township shebeens, construction camps, and market fringes; ask discreetly and go with a local, as production may be unlicensed and batches are not standardized.

While not traditional in the historic sense, Maluti Lager has become the national default in bars, bottle stores, and lodge fridges from Maseru to Semonkong. Brewed by Maluti Mountain Brewery since the 1980s, it’s a pale lager built on barley malt (with adjuncts common in regional lagers), bottom-fermented and cold-conditioned. The result is a clean, light-bodied beer around 5.0% ABV with gentle grain sweetness and restrained bitterness.

Maluti is the beer for braais, football matches, and sundowners after long drives through the passes. Its crisp profile suits Lesotho’s sunny highland afternoons and pairs easily with grilled meat and pap. Travelers will find it dependable and widely available—handy in areas where traditional brews are made for specific events and seldom held over for casual weekday drinking.

In foothill districts where fruit trees thrive, households sometimes ferment surplus peaches and apples into rustic country wine. Ripe fruit is crushed, mixed with water and sugar, and left to ferment with wild yeasts or a pinch of baker’s yeast for 5–10 days, then racked and left to settle. Alcohol typically reaches 8–12% ABV. Aromas suggest ripe stone fruit, with a lightly tart palate and variable sweetness depending on how long fermentation runs.

These small-batch wines appear in late summer at family gatherings and neighborhood grills, especially around Leribe and Teyateyaneng. In some homesteads the fermented mash is distilled into what people simply call joala bo matla (“strong liquor”), though distillation without permits is illegal and potentially unsafe if poorly executed. If offered a glass, expect an honest, homespun drink that reflects the year’s fruit and the brewer’s touch more than any formal recipe.

Lengana (Artemisia afra), a mountain wormwood prized in Southern African herbalism, is also infused in alcohol to make a bracing, medicinal bitter. The method is straightforward: clean sprigs of lengana steep in brandy or cane spirit for days to weeks, producing a deep green-brown tincture. The ABV mirrors the base spirit (typically 30–43%) but the tasting experience shifts—expect minty-camphor notes, gentle bitterness, and resinous herbs on the nose.

While primarily a household remedy rather than a party drink, these infusions appear after meals in rural homes and townhouses alike, sipped in thimblefuls for warmth in winter or as a digestif. You may encounter a tot offered alongside tea in Semonkong or Maseru homestays; it’s a window into Basotho pragmatism, where medicinal plants and available spirits converge in a single glass.