When the ski season ended in April, a video surfaced on Instagram, showing Pedro's premium “Group of Holiday Makers sipping Gogoro” on the snowy slopes of the French Alps. Wrapped in ski jackets, speaking in a mix of Lagosian, London and American accents, they strode the subtly smoky Nigerian spirit, laughing and toasting as if tossing both gravity and history.
The moment was scripted, raw, oddly moving. Once the equivalent of Nigerian Moonshine drink became a premium brand, and now I was drunk on one of Europe's most exclusive playgrounds.
Laura Pedro, co-founder of UK-Nigeria, had no idea who the skiers were. But she wasn't surprised. “Nigerians are everywhere,” she said. “And Pedro always finds its way in suitcases.” Pedro is part of a new generation of African ownership ethos that reshapes awareness of what the continent can produce and export. In Nigeria, Ghana, Zimbabwe and South Africa, local entrepreneurs are regaining indigenous ingredients and traditions that have long been dismissed as informal, illegal or inferior. Their brand combines authenticity with innovation, aiming to win slices of the global premium market while still rooted in cultural memory.
Cult Follow
In Lagos, Pedro has become a cult favorite among certain crowds. Distinct drinkers, diaspora returners, travelers looking for something more immersive than imported cognacs. But the road from the palm to a refined bottle was not easy.
Pedro is distilled from palm sap, traditionally fermented and fired in bush stills. Pedro and her business partner, Chibueze Akkuwe, wanted to preserve the legacy so that they could sit on a selfridged shelf while refined their products. “We didn't want to repackage Gógóró. We wanted to elevate that,” Akukwe says. “But there was no roadmap. Nigerian authorities were not sure how to regulate us. Are you exporting a fully-made spirit in Nigeria? That's still basically unheard of.”
Despite these barriers, Pedro is heading far to Ghana, the UK, Kenya and Australia. In the UK, bottles are sold for 60 pounds ($80). In Lagos, that's less than half. Social media helped, but the team intentionally formulated online activities last year. “We were preying on people who couldn't supply,” Pedro says. “So now we're focusing on building foundations, expanding production, setting up a larger distillery, and launching an aged line that takes us to another level.”
For generations, palm trees have been at the heart of West African life. The wood builds a house, the roof of the leaves, the fruits burn the fire with the food. But it is sap, slowly tapped from the tree, and takes on the most cultural weight – a drunkard fresh like palm wine. Distilled to become ògógóró in Nigeria or Akpeteshie in Ghana. Traditionally made in villages and becomes a powerful and clear spirit that is shared at weddings, funerals and festivals.
During the colonial period, British authorities banned these spirits, citing vague concerns about purity and public health. In fact, the ban was seen by many as a way to weaken local industries and protect the imports of Scotch and London dry gin. Production went underground. The bottle was not covered, the recipe was given verbally, and the drinks became shorthand for back alley swigs and rough edges.
Even today, ògógóró is often misunderstood. It is grouped with Moonshine or rejected as unsafe. But in reality, the best batches are craftsmen, small scale, naturally fermented from palm sap and double-plated on fire in hand-made stills. There are no additives. There are no shortcuts. Its flavor is earthy, dark chocolate-like smoky, with a kick left.
It still tastes like home
Brands like Pedro try to regain their legacy by celebrating them, rather than hiding the roots of their drinks. “We asked ourselves,” says Pedro, “How do we create an ògógóró that holds ourselves against the world's highest spirit?
The timing may be a coincidence. The global spirits industry is projected to grow from $152.3 billion in 2024 to $1612.3 billion in 2025.
Ultra Premium bottles currently account for almost 5% of their total market value, according to drink data company IWSR.
According to IWSR, local spirits have been exported to markets in South Africa alone, such as Zambia, Mozambique and Brazil. And while the African spirit still represents just a small part of the world's volume, they are attracting attention. In Africa, premium spirit accounts for just 4% of the volume, but contributes to nearly 20% of the value that IWSR says in its 2024 Beverage Alcohol Report.
Euromonitor analyst Christopher John Day says the market for the African spirit has been stable after two years of intense growth, in part driven by an increase in disposable income and a desire to show their position with local brands among wealthy Africans.
“There's a strong identity and storytelling embedded in these spirits,” he says. “International brands can't replicate that, but competing with (global brands) in price, scale or distribution remains a major challenge.”
In South Africa, Spearhead Spirits praises Bayab Gin and Vusa Vodka for using ingredients from indigenous plants and sauces from local farmers. Zimbabwean sommelier Nashe Nyamdoka has gained global recognition for Kumusha wine. And in Ghana, Amma Mensa transformed the governing rum into aged, luxurious product of cashew brandy barrels wrapped in the symbolism of Ashanti. Three South African whiskeys continue to win global awards.
“The tactic we're looking at now is that small African brands identify niche categories that large international players have not yet integrated,” adds Day. “It's a place where local producers can really carve out the space, but it takes time.”
Reliability and backstory
Day says African brands are also benefiting from changing global preferences. “Consumers, especially in markets like the US and the UK, are looking for authenticity and backstory. “It gives the African spirit a real advantage if they can overcome barriers to export and distribution.”
But most African spirit brands still work in small batches, but not because they want it, Akukwe says that navigating local logistics, taxation and local distribution is crazy complicated. The African Continental Free Trade Area (AFCFTA) offers a potential lifeline, but as Pedro's experience shows, even basic export rules remain unclear.
“The system is designed to ship raw materials and add value elsewhere,” Akkwe says. “But we're trying to do everything from scratch in Nigeria. We're tapping on palms, distillations, bottles, boats. It's destructive.”
Pedro is currently working with Nigerian authorities on “ensuring the geographical adaptation status of Gogoro,” like Mexican tequila and French champagne. It could provide international legitimacy and protection to the Nigerian spirit.
“We are building new facilities outside of some distilleries, some destinations, Lagos,” explains Pedro. “It's like going to a vineyard. You can see tapping, distilling the bushes, refinement. It's not just a drink, it's a culture.” Their next big push is this December, when the diasporan Nigerians flooded their home for what is known as “Detti December.” Lagos is full of rooftop parties, imported DJs, and bottles of flowing foreign liquor. “We're not a sparkler crowd,” Pedro says. “Pedro is to sit with friends and reconnect with roots. He hasn't made a shot. It's a drink for a person of thinking.” But Detty December's sales opportunity remains.
Even at home, building that trust was not easy. Many ambitious and image-oriented Nigerians have historically preferred foreign labels. However, inflation and import bottlenecks make Pedro unexpectedly appealing. “When international liquor became more expensive, we saw a surge in sales,” Akukwe said.
The product itself continues to evolve. Each harvest produces a different flavor that is the result of climate, palm diversity and fermentation. The latest batches taste like dark chocolate, they say. For the first time, they are printing special stickers to mark vintage.
The goal is to not only compete with foreign brands, but also redefine the spirit of premium Africa. “We want people to know about tequila and mezcal,” Pedro says. “And we want them to take pride in drinking it,” already on the ski slopes.
