Dr. James Muchiri 35M

The medicine of the future will not smell like antiseptic or sound like monitors. It will sound like conversation. It will look like movement. It will feel suspiciously ordinary. It will happen before anyone becomes a patient. For a long time, medicine has been excellent at rescue. When the body collapses, we rush in with precision, protocols, and pharmaceuticals. This is heroic work. Necessary work. But rescue is not the same as care, and it is certainly not the same as prevention. The future of medicine begins upstream. It begins in how people move their bodies daily, not once a year on a hospital bed. It begins in whether communities feel seen, connected, and competent. It begins in whether health is something people do together or something done to them. In that future, exercise is not a punishment for being overweight. It is a social ritual. A reason to gather at dawn. A shared language that needs no translation. Functional movement becomes medicine because it restores what modern life quietly erodes: strength, balance, confidence, agency. Measurement still matters, but it changes character. Blood pressure, waist circumference, pulse, trends over time. Collected calmly, without drama. Not to label people as sick, but to notice when the body whispers before it screams. The clinic walls soften. Some of the most important consultations happen over a chessboard, a table tennis rally, a shared walk, a cup of coffee. Cognitive health is not separated from physical health. Mental wellbeing is not outsourced to crisis moments. Belonging becomes a clinical intervention. Technology plays a role, but not as spectacle. Artificial intelligence in the future of medicine is quiet, respectful, and useful. It lowers barriers instead of raising them. It helps people ask better questions about their own lives. It assists communities to organize, learn, and adapt without surrendering privacy or dignity. AI becomes a bicycle for health, not a replacement for human judgment. Importantly, the medicine of the future is local before it is global. It is designed with communities, not dropped into them. It recognizes that behavior changes faster when people see themselves in the solution. When health feels like something owned, not prescribed. Hospitals will still be there. Drugs will still save lives. Surgery will still be miraculous. But the center of gravity shifts. The most powerful medicine of the future is time. Time spent moving. Time spent together. Time spent paying attention early. Time spent building systems that reward consistency instead of crisis. The future doctor looks less like a gatekeeper and more like a systems designer. Someone who understands bodies, yes, but also environments, habits, incentives, and culture. Someone who knows that the strongest prescription is often not written on paper. Medicine of the future does not wait for disease to announce itself. It meets people where they are, helps them move forward together, and quietly makes illness less likely in the first place. And when it works, almost no one notices. Which is exactly the point.  

In the earlier piece on ngemi, I explored how ululations were used to announce a birth and to publicly declare the virtues a child was expected to grow into. Ngemi was immediate, audible, and communal. It travelled quickly, carrying news and expectation across space. But among the Agīkūyū, celebration did not end with sound. Once the ululations settled, the gathering shifted. The focus moved from announcement to responsibility. This transition is where muratina traditionally appeared. If ngemi spoke to the wider community, muratina addressed those who would carry the responsibility forward. Muratina in Context Muratina (mũratina) is a traditional fermented drink named after the mũratina tree (Kigelia africana), whose fruit is used in the brewing process. While often described simply as alcohol, culturally muratina was not brewed or consumed casually. According to traditional accounts, muratina was brewed for specific purposes: rites of passage, marriage-related ceremonies, reconciliation, councils of elders, and occasions involving blessing. A man did not brew muratina for private consumption. It was prepared with intent, for defined social moments. Brewing itself was a communal activity. Younger family members assisted with harvesting and preparation, elderly women carried out the brewing, and elderly men presided over beer-related rituals. Brewing took place around the hearth in the woman’s hut, a space associated with solemn domestic and ritual functions. Ingredients as Cultural Markers Muratina was traditionally made using four core ingredients: water (maaĩ), sugarcane juice (ngogoyo), honey (ũũkĩ), and the mũratina fruit. Each ingredient had both a practical role and a culturally understood meaning. Water (Maaĩ) Water formed the base of the brew. Culturally, it was associated with purity, truth, righteousness, and self-control. Its adaptability — taking the shape of its container — was often used to illustrate how one should uphold truth while adjusting to circumstances. Sugarcane Juice (Ngogoyo) Sugarcane juice provided fermentable sugars. Its segmented structure informed its symbolism. The less sweet upper segments represented youth and inexperience, while the sweeter lower segments represented maturity and wisdom. Different sugarcane varieties were also used to illustrate learning from multiple sources. Honey (Ũũkĩ) Honey symbolized hard work, wealth, and collective identity. Bees were frequently referenced as models of social organization: working in colonies, defending only when necessary, returning to their hive, and extracting value even from difficult environments. Honey reinforced ideas of cooperation, discipline, and responsibility to one’s community. Mũratina Fruit The sausage fruit was not picked from the tree; it was used only after falling naturally. This was understood to represent maturity and natural readiness. The many seeds inside the fruit symbolized fertility, posterity, and continuity. Traditional belief also associated the fruit with strength and vitality into old age. Preparation, Vessels, and Rules of Use Muratina was brewed in large gourds known as ndua and served from medium-sized gourds called nyanja. Men and women used different drinking vessels, reflecting established social roles. Consumption followed clear rules: Muratina was shared, not portioned The order of drinking mattered Elders drank first because they were expected to speak, bless, or decide Refusing to drink muratina was acceptable. Disrespecting the process was not. During significant occasions, muratina was also used for blessing. A small amount might be poured onto the ground for ancestors, and a little applied to the hands or chest before words of blessing were spoken. Through this, muratina was understood to connect the unborn, the living, and the ancestors, with Ngai as witness. Parting Shot. Understanding muratina only as a traditional alcoholic drink misses its primary cultural role. It functioned as a structured social tool, governed by rules, symbolism, and purpose. After the ululations had done their work, muratina ensured that celebration was followed by reflection, and that spoken blessings were anchored in collective responsibility. In this way, muratina did not replace ngemi.It completed it.