Bulawayo’s Enduring Spirit: From Smoke to Shebeens

By Darius Spearman (africanelements)

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Bulawayo’s Industrial Past

Bulawayo, a city in Zimbabwe, once earned the proud nickname “Kontuthu Ziyathunqa,” which translates from the Ndebele language as “Smoke Rising” (theconversation.com). This name perfectly captured its identity as a bustling industrial hub, where factory chimneys continuously belched smoke into the sky. The city’s industrial prowess was a source of great pride and economic activity, drawing workers from across the region.

However, the landscape of Bulawayo has dramatically changed. Many of its factories, once vibrant centers of production, now stand dormant or derelict (theconversation.com). The daily movement of workers, once a torrent flowing between the city center and the high-density western suburbs, has dwindled to a mere trickle (theconversation.com). This decline reflects broader economic shifts and challenges that have impacted the city’s once-thriving industrial sector.

Colonial Roots of Urban Segregation

Bulawayo’s urban development, like many cities in colonial Rhodesia, was shaped by a system of racial segregation (theconversation.com). From its very beginning, the city was informally divided along racial lines, a separation that became even more formalized after World War II (theconversation.com). This segregation dictated where people lived, worked, and socialized, profoundly influencing the city’s layout and social relations.

The colonial administration implemented policies that aimed to control and manage the African urban population (tandfonline.com). These policies often fluctuated between attempts to keep African residents as “temporary” urban dwellers, emphasizing their rural identities, and efforts to integrate them into town while establishing strict forms of social control (tandfonline.com). The establishment of high-density suburbs, also known as townships, was a direct result of this segregated urban planning, designed to house African workers while limiting their access to amenities and opportunities available to the white minority (jstor.org).

The Rise of Municipal Beer Halls

Within these segregated townships, a unique institution emerged: the municipal beer hall and beer garden (theconversation.com). These establishments were not simply places to drink; they were tools of colonial control and revenue generation. Their primary purpose was to manage African drinking and social life, ensuring it remained within controlled environments (theconversation.com).

The revenue generated from these beer halls was then channeled into funding welfare and recreational services within the townships (theconversation.com). Bulawayo’s oldest and most famous beer hall, MaKhumalo, also known as Big Bhawa, stands in the historic Makokoba neighborhood, built over a century ago (theconversation.com). In its early days, its management was so oppressive that drinkers felt like prisoners (theconversation.com).

Hugh Ashton’s Vision for Beer Gardens

The 1950s saw the emergence of more picturesque beer gardens, influenced by the developmental idealism of Hugh Ashton (theconversation.com). Ashton, an anthropologist and director of African administration in Bulawayo, aimed to “stabilize” and “detribalize” African workers (theconversation.com). The term “detribalize” in this context referred to colonial efforts to assimilate African workers into an urban, industrial workforce, often by undermining traditional social structures and cultural practices.

Ashton envisioned beer garden complexes with trees, rocks, game facilities, and food stalls, even hosting events like “traditional dancing” (theconversation.com). The goal was to create a convivial and respectable atmosphere that was also controllable, enticing all classes and boosting profits for social services (theconversation.com). This strategy, however, was fraught with contradictions, as Ashton himself acknowledged, questioning the morality of balancing community health with profit (theconversation.com).

The Beer Monopoly and Its Impact

The success of this system relied on the Bulawayo council’s monopoly on the sale of “native beer,” a traditional brew made from sorghum, millet, or maize grains (theconversation.com). Racialized Rhodesian liquor laws severely restricted African access to “European” beers, wines, and spirits until the late 1950s (theconversation.com). For most Africans, the beer hall or garden was the only public venue where they could legally drink, apart from a small elite who had access to exclusive “cocktail lounges” (theconversation.com).

The council harshly cracked down on “liquor offenses,” including home brewing, to maintain its monopoly (theconversation.com). This system, prevalent across southern and eastern Africa, often generated resentment among African townspeople (theconversation.com). It led to the rise of illicit drinking dens known as shebeens, which offered alternative social spaces and often became sites of resistance against colonial control (tandfonline.com).

Cultural Authenticity and Industrial Production

The names of Bulawayo’s beer gardens, such as MaKhumalo, MaMkhwananzi, MaNdlovu, and MaSilela, referenced the traditional role of women in beer brewing in southern Africa (theconversation.com). This naming convention was a deliberate attempt to authenticate the council’s “home brew” and connect it to deeply rooted cultural practices. It aimed to make the industrially produced beer feel more traditional and familiar to the African population.

However, the reality was far from traditional. The beer was industrially produced in a massive brewery, delivered by trucks, and stored in steel tanks before being dispensed (theconversation.com). This stark contrast between the traditional names and the industrial production highlighted the inherent contradictions of the colonial system, which sought to control and profit from African culture while simultaneously transforming it.

Resistance and Post-Independence Popularity

As Zimbabwe’s struggle for independence intensified in the 1960s, African residents increasingly viewed the beer halls and gardens as symbols of state neglect, repression, or pacification (theconversation.com). These establishments became targets of protest, with periodic boycotts and vandalism (theconversation.com). Despite these acts of resistance, attendance rates remained remarkably high, largely due to the limited alternative options available to African communities (theconversation.com).

After Zimbabwe gained independence in 1980, the township beer gardens remained under municipal control and continued to be popular (theconversation.com). The colonial-era municipal beers, such as Ngwebu (“The Royal Brew”), even became a patriotic beverage for the Ndebele, the city’s majority ethnic group (theconversation.com). This shows how these spaces, despite their colonial origins, were reappropriated and integrated into the post-independence social fabric.

Deindustrialization and Changing Social Landscapes

The deindustrialization of Bulawayo since the late 1990s has profoundly impacted the city’s social fabric (theconversation.com). The decline of factories led to a mass exodus of blue-collar workers, many of whom moved to other areas, primarily South Africa, in search of better economic opportunities (theconversation.com). This migration has fundamentally altered the city’s “drinking rhythm” and the social dynamics of its public spaces.

For the younger generation, the municipal beer gardens hold less allure than they once did (theconversation.com). Changing social habits, combined with the economic shifts, have led many youth to seek out alternative venues. Shebeens, once illicit, have gained more acceptance, with some politicians even campaigning for their legalization, arguing they address the lack of economic opportunity and are part of urban African tradition (tandfonline.com). These alternative spaces are often seen as more respectable or simply more relevant to contemporary social life.

The Enduring Legacy

Despite the changes, the municipal beer gardens of Bulawayo continue to operate. Many have been leased out to private individuals to run, adapting to the new economic realities (theconversation.com). A daily trickle of regulars still visits these establishments, where they socialize, play games, or simply reflect (theconversation.com). These spaces, with their long and complex history, embody the moral and practical contradictions of late colonial development and how such systems endure, yet change meaning, in the post-colonial era.

Bulawayo’s story is a powerful reminder of how colonial policies continue to shape urban landscapes and social dynamics long after independence. The city’s journey from “Smoke Rising” to its current state reflects the resilience of its people and the ongoing evolution of its cultural identity. The beer gardens, once instruments of control, now stand as living monuments to a complex past, serving as places of community and reflection for those who remember, and those who are building, Bulawayo’s future.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Darius Spearman has been a professor of Black Studies at San Diego City College since 2007. He is the author of several books, including Between The Color Lines: A History of African Americans on the California Frontier Through 1890. You can visit Darius online at africanelements.org.