I am not a big fan of alcohol and I don't typically dream about it. I certainly can't say the same thing about my ethnic honey mead named Mùratina. I have many reasons for being very interested in the traditional brew. The most common interests being culinary, cultural and political. Maybe at the end of this writeup, I might add literally to that list.
I should clarify that the talk of Mùratina has been doing the round on social media in the form of a story about a Kenyan in the U.K who has packaged the traditional brew for sale in the U.K market. I am hoping to catch up with him at some point to hear his inspiration and taste his craft. If it passes my critical taste bugs, I will invite him and his team to a five course dinner centered around the gastronomy of my region. I have the whole thing figured out in my head. Talk about vanity!
To be fair, there are all types of excitement about the initiative even outside social media. I have a slightly different interest besides just the vanity above. That interest is etymological. The one question I have been trying to answer for some time is how the name of the brew came about. I have my theory.
The Gìkuyù people, like most indigenous people, kept their history in their names. But then attrition and time can cast the meaning of certain names into oblivion. I hope to rescue the etymology of the Muratina as I believe there is an interesting story and message. In addition there are a litany of utensils that go along with the brew. Among the most popular utensils includes ndua, ndahi, kinya and the ubiquitous horn. When you add honey, sugarcane and three-legged stools to the mix, the only other thing needed is the most important ingredient: the company of friends. The three legged stools from those days are so precious both in look and in feel that I first thought they were made with the precious tree nicknamed tree of life or otherwise known as Lignum Vitae which is one of the few trees that that produces wood that has oil in it.
The first part of the question I had to contend with was similar to the chicken and the egg one. Since the honey mead is made with the loafer-like fruit of the African Sausage tree, the actual name of the brew literally translates to alcohol made with the African Sausage tree. Here is where plot thickens; I am aware that some names derive from the use of that plant. One such tree that I can remember on our farm was known as Mùthabuni ( literally meaning the soap tree). True enough, if you collected a bunch of leaves and rubbed them together with a little water, you would produce some foam.
I have therefore been curious to find out whether the same case is true about Muratina. I first had to think about the role of the brew in the lives of my people. Muratina is the only drink that was highly regulated. It was mostly consumed by old men for Social purposes but it was also very significant in courtship, marriage and other important celebrations. It was rather rare for a man to drink the brew by himself, the same can be said about slaughtering of animals too. In short, food and brew was a communal affair as often as possible. It was used for repairing broken relationships and cementing old ones. Young people were prohibited from consuming Muratina anywhere near the elders.
The second source of a possible clue is a proverb that uses a part of the body whose name seems to be tied into the name of the brew. The proverb which takes the form of an admonition and a bit of reaffirmation, states that “kìnya kìrì itina níkìo kìigaga ( which means that a guard with a nice base keeps its stability). The actual meaning is that a person with good behavior gains success and responsibility. I would hear this proverb quite often being used to encourage good behavior amongst children or the youth. What I found funny is the use of the word buttocks in the proverb as the preferred symbol of the base of the guard. So the literal translation of the proverb would be that a guard with buttocks is able to seat upright.
Some context is necessary here to appreciate the meaning of the proverb. Before the advent of modern kitchen utensils, guards and clay pots were the preferred containers for all household uses. Certain guards were very narrow at the base and had to be leaned next to a wall. One such guard was called Gítete and was used for fermenting milk. Gítete actually resembles the fruit of the African Sausage tree. But a much bigger guard whose base resembles a pumpkin could easily seat comfortably without any support. Now one can see the symbolism. A person with good behavior can live comfortably and one who makes bad choices is surely likely to suffer. The message was so important that the inconvenience of the use of uncomfortable words could not deter its use.
I therefore came to the conclusion that the same logic can be extrapolated further in the case of the close relationships between men or elders who used to drink Mùratina. If the buttocks of the guard allowed it to stay upright, why not celebrate such uprightness in the comradery amongst the elders?
I suspect that the name Mùratina came from mùrùna wì itina. Mùruna means friend and itina means buttocks. The translation would then mean a friend that is solid to the test, upright and secure. The friendships in this case were just fraternal.
Here is a political analysis of the viral story about Mùratina. Economically, the brew does not have buttocks to compete in the international market. It would be an extremely difficult task for a local brew to make it in a highly competitive international alcohol market without the help of the Kenyan government and the support of the local market.
Alcoholic drinks are not like diamonds, gold or oil that can rely totally on being exported to outside markets. Alcohol is cheap to make and the margins are rather small. It is also a specialty item. If Kenyans can not first develop it for the local market successfully, it would be rather hard to make any significant inroad on the international league.
Tea and coffee in the case of Kenya and cacao in the case of West Africa are examples of popular nonalcoholic drinks that are quite popular internationally but have not brought any fortunes to write home or here about. That the farmers and by extension the country have reaped little benefits compared to the importing countries is evidence enough to warrant all the doubt necessary.
I checked the price of coffee at the Whole Foods store close in my area and Kenyan coffee was the most expensive brand on the shelf. It was retailing for $12 dollars per pound. The last time I visited Kenya and talked to farmers in my village, they had paid a paltry sum of $1 dollars for 2.2 lbs for their chemical-intensive and back-breaking berries. That translates to less than 5% of the retail prices when compared to farm gates prices. Global power politics rarely has an unattractive head again to ensure that the gain is both one sided and that side just happens to be the side of the wealthy.
Back to the Mùratina story. If at all the brew is going to have good buttocks in the global market, it will need it's own “Mùruna ùrì itina" or a special friend. That special friend will need to be a big person with enough influence and weight to throw around. Only governments can fit that category of a big friend. Otherwise we can expect two things: either bottles of Mùratina that can't seat upright or another struggling company.
The other option that is possible, but unlikely, is the Mùratina Republic that is similar to Banana republics in South America. That term came about as a result of American obsession with the prices of bananas. The obsession became so great that whenever workers would strike in order to get a small increase in pay, America would engineer a regime change and replace the presidency with one who would keep the prices of bananas wherever America wanted it to be. In 1954, President Juan Jacobo Urbenze was overthrown from office largely for his threat to the banana industry as well as his threat to Nestlé's powdered baby formula.
Those drunk with power and injustice are bent on making sure that the shelf life of Muratina is very short indeed. It is for that reason I love Mùratina in a mighty way and dream of it just slightly more. I guess my love of the brew, food and justice has buttocks too.