Refreshes the parts other beers cannot reach

Beer will save us, I promise. And I have proof too. Klaude told me so.

It was a starry May evening at the Corel Rock hotel in Zanzibar when Klaude told me about the Heineken factories in the Congo. Sorry, make that the Democratic Republic. It would seem that even warlords aren’t without irony.

It’s a country the size of Western Europe. Trees, rivers, Jane Goodall, four tar-sealed roads and one never-ending civil war. So it’s a little peculiar that a Dutch brewing company has set up a HQ in the nether-regions of the world.

But Heineken seems to be doing alright. It’s one of the only corporations that still exist in the DRC. They’ve never been bombed, and are turning a profit in the region, proving that you may be a guerrilla, but you still need a good brew. Or two.

Klaude knows a little about this. While knocking back a pint (or two) of Kilimanjaro , he tells me that he heads a field office for a major aid organisation in Burundi. Forget Neighbours From Hell; to the north is Rwanda and to the west, the DRC.

And here are where things get interesting. Not so long ago, a refugee camp on the border was experiencing water shortages. To everyone’s surprise, Heineken stuck up its hand to help, and before anyone could stop them, diverted the water supply intended for its nearby brewery to the camp. By anybody’s books whoever made this call is a saviour. So where you can you hear about all this?

Nowhere. Heineken deny it.

I was stunned. In fact at first I didn’t believe Klaude, but he was adamant. Either he was a persuasive liar, or he had witnessed a rare gleam of human decency from a multi-national.

“That makes no sense. Why?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it doesn’t benefit their company.”

Damn straight it does, most people call it PR. And trust me, firms who deal in vices need every scrap they can muster. We argued for a while but Klaude stuck to his tune. Eventually the conversation changed as conversations do, and that was that.

Until last Friday, when I was reminded of my chat with Klaude. While catching up with some kiwis in Farringdon, I heard the news that Speight’s are coming to town. They were delivering a NZ built Speight’s Alehouse to London via boat.

Now, I’m more of a Montieths man myself, but there’s just something special that no PR can muster. I call it goodwill. So onya, Heineken, and onya Speight’s. Looking forward to the party.

Like Klaude said, saviours.