A concise history of the beer industry in Namibia written by history scholar Tycho Van der Hoog begins with the pithy observation by American singer-songwriter Frank Zappa to the effect that every nation worth its salt needs an airline and its own beer.

As it happens, the first no longer holds true, while beer remains a marker of national and, for that matter, subnational identities.

The brewing industry is today regarded as a source of national pride in Namibia. Windhoek Lager has not merely conquered the domestic market but has made substantial inroads south of the border where South African Breweries held a de facto monopoly for decades.

This is a tale, lovingly told, of an unlikely success built on the most fragile foundations. The early sections of Breweries, Politics and Identity: The History Behind Namibian Beer are, in effect, a careful piecing together of fragments of information about a series of operations that were very small and left little trace.

The history

The nascent breweries relied on the consumption of a very small number of Germans who remained in what was then known as South West Africa after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919 under which Germany finally ceded loss of the territory. The territory was part of the German Empire from 1884 until 1915 when it was invaded by South Africa.

The first local brewery was established in 1900. Van der Hoog traces the fierce rivalry between breweries in the “beer triangle,” consisting of Windhoek, Swakopmund and Omaruru. This rivalry culminated in the eventual merger that constituted South West Breweries in 1920 – the company that eventually assumed the current name of Namibia Breweries Limited.

The main rival to South West Breweries from the mid-1920s was the Hansa Brewery. These two companies struggled through the ups and downs of the decades that followed. During World War 2, the breweries were suspected of pro-Nazi sympathies and were placed under close surveillance. The author provides a brief, but fascinating account of the subterfuges that were necessary to acquire German hops, the distribution of which was routed through third countries.

The most satisfying section of the book investigates the relationship between South West Breweries and South African Breweries. Van der Hoog notes that the South African company initially acquired a stake in South West Breweries (which had taken over Hansa Breweries in 1967) and acquired the right to make and sell Hansa Pilsner under license in South Africa. When the two companies parted company, South African Breweries retained the use of this trademark for the South African market.

The author maps a long history of suspicion, and eventually open warfare, between the Namibian brewery and its much larger South African neighbour.

Realities of South African rule

The story after 1919 is intertwined with the realities of South African rule, initially under a League of Nations mandate from 1919 to 1945 and subsequently under occupation in defiance of the United Nations. A ban on the sale of alcohol to Africans was imposed in 1920. This was in conformity with the terms of the mandate and was arguably more restrictive than in South Africa itself.

This changed with the passage of the 1928 Liquor Act, which entrenched racialised prohibition in South Africa, following which the liquor laws seem to have converged. In line with the South African model of control, beer halls were opened by municipalities dispensing an imitation of “native beer” – the proceeds of which financed the administration.

In both countries, illegal brewing and shebeens proliferated in the 1950s. This led to the abandonment of racially exclusive liquor legislation over the following decade. This happened in Namibia in 1969, seven years later than south of the border.

Van der Hoog demonstrates that the escalation of the liberation wars across the subcontinent had an important impact on the beer industry. The north of Namibia, particularly Ovamboland, had been treated as a South African labour reserve and had been isolated from the rest of the territory. No beer could be sold there, in effect, but the author indicates there was a lively trade in smuggled beer from Angola. The civil war that accompanied the messy withdrawal of the Portuguese had an impact on the cross-border trade in the mid-1970s.

South African soldiers, who backed one side in the war in Angola from bases on the northern border, created a demand for South African beer. But there was also an opportunity for South West Breweries to sell its beer into Ovamboland effectively for the first time.

Interestingly, Van der Hoog also reveals that brewing changes were made as late as 1986 to differentiate the products of the company from those of South African Breweries. With a lower alcohol content, Namibian beer incurred lower excise duties in South Africa.

Identity politics

The identity politics surrounding Namibian beer set in soon after. The author points to the elision from beer as a white Germanophone preserve to the embodiment of the newly independent Namibian nation after 1990. Despite a chequered relationship, the author notes that once in power, the South West African People’s Organisation – which led the war against South African occupation and took over running the country after independence – repeatedly blocked South African Breweries from establishing a brewery in Namibia to protect the brewery. This decision was reversed in 2015.

At the same time, Namibia Breweries Limited was able to make significant inroads into the South African market. The creation of a brewery inside South Africa, in tandem with Heineken, positioned the Namibian brewer within a regional struggle for dominance among some of the largest corporate players in the alcohol market.

The book is based on a wide range of archival sources and interviews and is accompanied by some fascinating photographs and examples of advertising material. The writing is understated, and it does not set out to make grand statements – even in relation to the matter of identity. It is also much more about the history of Namibian brewing than of beer consumption per se.

Given the richness of the material, it is a monograph that one feels could have been fleshed out in many different directions. The author has laid down a marker that he, or someone else, will hopefully follow up in the future.

An earlier version of this article appeared in the Journal of Wine Economics.

Paul Nugent, Professor of Comparative African History (School of History, Classics and Archaeology) & African Studies (School of Social and Political Science), University of Edinburgh

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

We often ask ourselves, “Where has the time gone?”. As we watch our parents age and our younger relatives grow up, time can be both painful and redeeming.

Time is a key component of our daily lives, a guiding force for our behavior. Adults seem to obsess over time that has passed swiftly and recall the days of long summers as a child. There is an ever-present nostalgia for being young again – a period when time seemed to move slowly, languorously.

Research suggests that older people underestimate how much time has passed because our dopaminergic levels decrease as we age.  Dopamine is a neurotransmitter, a chemical that helps transmit signals between the nerve cells of the brain. This process leads us to perceive time as speeding up as we age.

However, there are several techniques we can use to slow down our perception of time – both practical and metaphysical – to “gain” more time. To be intentional about our perception of time requires learning to be childlike again, engaging in new activities, disconnecting from technology, paying attention to details, and meditating on mortality. 

Learn to be a child again

Our perception of time changes as we adventure and do new things to stimulate the mind. We can learn to be curious again about new ideas. With new experiences, the brain creates new neural pathways, adapts to new experiences and information, and creates new memories. This allows the brain to focus and record memories more clearly, making it feel as if time is moving more slowly.

Because children are constantly dedicating significant neural resources and brainpower to building new mental models, in an attempt to understand how the world works, children are constantly engaged in the moment. However, as adults, we experience similar stimuli daily as we engage in routines. In order to maximize our perception of time, we must learn to be children again; we must attempt to explore new things in this world. We must be eager for adventure, to see and feel all that there is to experience. If we are able to break out of routine and engage the world with a childlike sense of wonder, the reward is feeling as if we have lived longer lives.

Engage in new activities

Imagine a magician hands you a deck of cards. You riffle through and confirm that each card is unique. Now with a tap of the wand, she transforms the deck so every card is the same. This popular illusion is exactly what happens when we cease to invite new experiences into our life. When our days become a carbon copy of one another, we lose the ability to differentiate between them. We look back over the months spent on the same commute, in the same office, and fighting the same problems, with a diminished ability to separate those days in our mind.

Our perception of time feels rushed and condensed. Compare the blur of mechanized work-life to a vacation where every day is distinct and filled with new experiences. You remember exactly what happened, who you were with, and where you went. This is the power of new experiences in shaping our perception of time. 

Dr. David Eagleman’s work examining how we perceive time was recently featured in an article in The New Yorker. According to Dr. Eagleman, the more vivid the details were in memory, the longer that we perceive the moment to have lasted. Eagleman also said “childhood summers seem to go on forever, while old age slips by while we’re dozing.

The more familiar the world becomes, the less information your brain writes down, and the more quickly time seems to pass.” Yet, by being more aware of our surroundings, making note of new experiences, we have the power to make it seem like our lives are longer, and we receive more of our scarcest resource: time.

Dr. David Eagleman believes that even small changes can help us become more aware of what is happening around us; switching your watch to the opposite wrist or taking a different route to work can shake up your neural circuits —anything you can do to keep your brain from switching to auto-pilot. 

Pay attention

When we live through dramatic events, such as near death experiences, research shows that people report time passes in slow motion. The perception of time is connected to the engagement and attention we provide in the moment; the more attention we provide, the more information we process, and the more time we perceive.

Our brain has to speed up its data processing to react. When our bodies sense a serious threat, the amygdala directs our brain’s resources to focus on the current situation. This ability was evolutionarily advantageous as it enabled humans to make quick decisions necessary for survival. This neural clock in the human brain perceives time through processes related to memory and attention, unlike our commonly known perceptions of clocks (the man-made items). So, when encountering something new, try paying close attention to the details and engaging in the moment’s beauty. Reflect on the sun’s rays hitting the leaves in the early morning.

Listen to the birds sing. Almost as if by magic, you may feel time slow down. 

Learn to disconnect

Researchers have discovered that technological advances and modern lifestyle have impacted our experience of time. Increases in the pace of life have been linked to physical and mental health issues. Our interactions with technological devices and systems make it feel as if time flows quickly.

In one study, over 70% of participants reported a dependence on everyday technologies and a considerable amount of time spent on social networking sites. Eighty-three percent of participants using technology reported they felt time moved faster than when they were not using technology.

Individuals who spent more time using technology overestimated the passing of time, while individuals who used less technology were more accurate at estimating time. When we are present to the current experience, we feel as if we “have more” time and as if time moves more slowly.

Meditate on mortality

Most of us don’t spend much of our lives pondering the thought of death and how short life could be. By understanding and being aware of our mortality, we are able to intensify every experience that we have. 

Author Flannery O’Conner was diagnosed with a fatal disease that kept her close to death for many years, and yet, she was able to write over two dozen short stories and two novels while suffering from lupus. The closeness of death showed her what really mattered in her life and how to better appreciate every moment and relationship.

When we continuously find ourselves outside our comfort zone, our awareness of the vivid arises. We gain an enhanced sense of smell, feel stronger emotions, and experience desires to extend the moment.

By “meditating on morality,” we can intensify our life experiences and extend our perception of time. Meditating on mortality is not just a focus on death – it is accepting our nature and refocusing our energy to meet death on our own terms when it comes.

Reflection

Time is our scarcest resource and most of us feel that we do not have enough of it. Yet, how quickly we perceive time to pass is dependent upon our perceptions. In other words, how we live our lives determines whether or not we experience time passing slowly or quickly.

Although we often feel threatened by things that we have no control over, getting more control over our perceptions of time will make it feel that time is not an enemy. When we immerse ourselves in new ideas and experiences, these enhanced efforts to focus on the present can slow our perceptions of time and enable us to derive the most from our scarcest resource in life—time.

Practice slowing down and experiencing the moment at hand. Take a new route home. Turn a fresh, childlike eye on the beauty and wonder that surrounds you in every moment. And finally, embrace novelty and change for what they are – harbingers of a long life.