THOMAS MORTON: We're in Uganda.
Uganda's had a pretty good spell the last 25 years-- no
major civil wars, a little bit of an Ebola outbreak every so
often, including right now.
And they're the alcoholism capital of Africa.
One favorite type of booze the locals make is called waragi.
We're going to go make some, drink some, and
hopefully not go blind.
In 2004, the World Health Organization released its
global status report on alcohol and health, finding
Uganda as the top contender for per capita alcohol
consumption in the world.
Since 2011, the numbers have only increased.
Basically, making Uganda the drunkest place on earth.
So when Vice heard about Uganda's countrywide
production of a type of moonshine called for waragi,
we were interested.
But after we discovered that people were going blind and
dying for drinking waragi cut with industrial chemicals, we
knew this was something we needed to taste for ourselves.
Making its way through my system.
I can feel it kind of spreading out.
Following the release of the World Health Organization's
report, the administration of President Yoweri Museveni,
acting through Uganda's Parliament, ordered a
commission to be formed to fact check
the report's findings.
If you're wondering what prompted a reaction that seems
like the geopolitical equivalent of an angry work
email, here's some context.
Musevini has been president of Uganda for 27 years.
He came to power after fighting a six year bush war
against this guy, who had been president from 1966 to 1971,
before being ousted in a coup by this
guy, who was a sociopath.
This guy gave himself lots of medals, royal titles, and
ruled with an iron fist until he was deposed by this guy,
who was then president again until he lost a civil war
against the National Resistance Movement, led by
our old pal, Museveni.
Running up to Uganda's 2006 election, Museveni and the now
political National Resistance Movement abolished
presidential term limits.
On top of that, Museveni's been lying about his age for
five or six-odd years in order to avoid the maximum age for
the presidency stipulated in the country's constitution.
So when the commission put in place by Uganda's parliament
to investigate just how drunk they were at the international
office party made the decision to appoint Doctor Kabann
Kabananukye, Professor of Makerere University, and
director of the Victor Rehabilitation Center to head
up the commission, it struck us is
uncharacteristically sober.
What is Ugandans' relationship with alcohol like?
Do a lot of people drink here?
The more we talk to people about the subject, the more we
begin to understand not only the extent of Uganda's issue
with libations, but also just how different the problem
manifested itself in different parts of the country.
So we headed out of the city, 40 kilometers up into the
hills above Kampala, to a village in the
rural Kaliro district.
Thank you.
Where do you guys make the waragi here?
Cool.
So is this somebody's house?
This is the waragi hut, huh?
And you're the one who makes it?
Can she explain what's happening here?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: So it's your basic still.
You've got the mash in there.
It's boiling and fermenting.
The vapor from it comes up through these copper tubes,
then condenses.
You cool it off there, and it drips into this gas tank.
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: And there's your finished waragi.
Seem like it might be strong.
Eh?
Yeah, that tastes like liquor.
It's actually pretty smooth.
This tastes really clean and fresh.
How long does it take to make?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: Oh, do you mind if I kill this really quick?
Thank you.
A native language corruption of the English phrase War Gin,
waragi was originally contrived to embolden Ugandan
soldiers in the King's East Africa Rifles during World
Wars I and II with what the British cheekily referred to
as Dutch courage.
Much to the colonial governor's chagrin, the
beverage later became the drink of choice for those
resisting the crown during the drive for independence in the
late 1950s and early 1960s.
It's up from the store house.
That's great.
Thank you.
It's even better.
You can kind of taste of the banana more with that one when
it's cooled down.
Is there some reason why women make waragi more than men?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: Does the government care
that you make waragi?
Do you ever get interfered with?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: You said some people come up from Kampal two
buy your waragi.
Why would people travel this far?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: That sounds way worse.
Bananas are a lot better than factory reject sugar cane.
Who's winning here?
You're winning.
No, not anymore.
The ladies are all over there.
They're kind of segregated, middle school dance style.
So do people only drink waragi here, or do you drink beer and
other things, too?
[LAUGHTER]
JOJO: No, no, no, no.
[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: What's the hangover like?
We're drinking all this.
How bad is it going to be in the morning?
JOJO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: Did you say they give the child alcohol?
KABANN KABANANUKYE: Yes, in some communities, yes.
It is part of our culture.
For you?
THOMAS MORTON: Yeah, is that OK?
Yeah, I'd love some.
There we go.
Perfect.
Good, right?
To [INAUDIBLE].
There we go.
Now you're me.
Look at me.
With the day wearing on, and the festivities beginning to
take a physical toll on our hosts, we realized it was time
to get these folks some dinner.
So, we're going to go get some food for the party.
I get the feeling this means we're going to get something
that isn't yet food, probably something we're going to have
to watch die before it becomes food.
There's like a whole dragoon of kids behind us now.
This is dinner?
I see.
Oh, lord.
Kind of isn't a Vice party until something dies.
We're going to eat that?
Yeah, OK, that's what I thought.
I feel bad saying this about the goat that's about to die,
but that thing's balls are enormous.
This went from some sort of weird Breugel's village life
scene into some perverse take on the old
Judaic scapegoat ritual.
[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: This was in the goat about 20 minutes ago.
Give it another 20 minutes it'll be inside me.
Lord.
[INAUDIBLE]
THOMAS MORTON: I'm just here getting my head rubbed and
trying to eat some goat that's way too hot.
It's about 7 o'clock in the evening.
I've got to wait a second.
This thing is way too hot for me.
As our new friends begin to hit the deck one by one, we
noticed that besides her initial sip during our
interview, Mistress Kaliro was the only one who hadn't
touched a drop of the waragi during the party.
Is waragi something that people drink
here like every day?
Or is it just kind of more for special
occasions, for parties?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: What would happens if they stopped
drinking it?
MISTRESS KALIRO: [SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: It's like their medicine.
[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: Everybody gets out of work.
Everybody lets their worries wash away
in a stream of waragi.
Somebody kills a goat.
They day is over.
You start anew the next day.
What happens in the city, though, is another story.
We're going to go check that out.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Our visit to the very traditional waragi operation
in Kaliro had ended with a lot of older men on the ground
before sunset.
It seemed like we were watching people drink for the
first time.
But based on what we observed, that was probably just the
everyday norm.
Curious about how moonshine worked in the rest of the
country, we visited the Kataza suburb of Kampala to explore a
much larger and much, much prettier setup.
Oh wow.
Now this is a far cry.
Hello, how are you?
All the kids came with us.
That's cute and distressing, because this looks like some
sort of creepy industrial slog yard filled with bubbling vats
of half-buried booze.
[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: Can I see?
Oh wow.
Oh, I can smell it.
Bubbling.
There's so many drums.
And how much does each of these--
a whole barrel, how much waragi comes out of that?
So 40 liters a day, then basically.
That's a big operation.
How many people work here?
Why do women make waragi?
It feels like everybody we've met who
makes waragi is a woman.
It's the only job a woman can give herself.
[SPEAKING FOREIGN LANGUAGE]
THOMAS MORTON: How much do you sell a liter for?
OK.
OK, that's 600, and that's, what, one too?
In 1965, Ugandan Parliament enacted the Enguli Act,
requiring a license for bringing and distillation of
all locally produced alcohol.
But for really obvious reasons, the Enguli Act has
never been successfully enforced, as unlicensed
production of waragi rampantly persists across the country.
Can we buy some bottles?
I'd like to buy a couple bottles if possible.
Whatever shit that's in there is going to kill a lot more
germs than water would have.
Yes, that's ours.
This is Robert, our driver.
As you could tell by his ability to gulp
down bootleg liquor.
Can we go over and see the drinkers?
Well thank you.
I'm glad that me showing up and drinking
is an honor to you.
Yeah, it's nice, when the day is done, when the work's over,
quitting time.
Just like a neighborhood bar.
Good to meet you, James.
JAMES: You are called Thomaso?
THOMAS MORTON: Oh, just Thomas.
Thomas.
JAMES: Thomas.
THOMAS MORTON: Thomas Morton.
My last name?
Morton.
Oh it is.
JAMES: [INAUDIBLE].
THOMAS MORTON: Yeah, it's great.
It's nice and strong.
Who?
Which one?
Oh, him?
JOE STRAMOWSKI: I can see why you give it the name.
Here, here, we're good.
Then--
THOMAS MORTON: In April 2010, more than 80 people died after
drinking waragi contaminated with high amounts of methanol
over a three week period in the Kambala district.
THOMAS MORTON: It's like when drug dealers stamp out their
supply, and they put filler in it.
Yeah.
Wow.
That's--
oh man-- that's a lot stronger than yesterday.
[INAUDIBLE].
How do I benefit?
I get to come to Africa.
I get to come to Africa and hang out with you guys.
That's how I benefit.
This is fun, man!
No, this is fun.
This is my reward, hanging out.
Dude.
So after you've got your waragi, and you've got a
little buzz going, everybody comes down here.
This is Kalagala, kind of the red light district on Kampala.
And basically this is Sunday night.
It kind of looks like Cardiff, or like Glasgow or something
on a Friday.
Tons of people out.
Everybody's staggering, picking fights, and hugging.
A lot of women out who look like they're charging.
This is sort of like Britain's lasting legacy here, you now?
Instead of rum, sodomy, and the lash Ugandans opted for
gin, no sodomy, and hookers.
[PIANO MUSIC PLAYING]
[MUSIC PLAYING]