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Angelina Liu ed. Om Mirashi
mu·mi·a (also mum·mi·a) /ˈməmēə/ noun: A medicinal preparation of powdered human remains, widely prescribed in Europe from the 12th to the 18th century as a panacea for wounds, bruising, and various internal ailments.
Manual for the 15th Century Physician
The human form is a storehouse of medicines. Apply these parts according to the Doctrine of Signatures, ensuring the “essence” of the donor matches the ailment of the patient.
I. The Skull (Cranium Humanum): For the curing of Head-Aches, Phrensies, and the Falling Sickness, the physician should seek the Moss that grows upon the Skull, known as Usnea. This rare growth must be ground into a fine Powder and inhaled into the Nostrils.
II. The Flesh (Mummia Transmarina): For the staunching of Blood and the healing of deep Bruises, one must utilize the Egyptian Variety of the medicament. This black and resinous matter, being well-soaked in the Bitumens of the Tombs for many centuries, is to be dissolved in a draught of Wine and drunk during the Waning Moon to bind the internal fluids and prevent the rot of gangrene.
III. The Heart (Cor Humanum): To restore Courage and remedy Palpitations, the Heart of a Youth must be obtained and dried slowly in the heat of an oven. Once powdered and tempered with the aromatic Spices of the East, it shall be taken in a Tincture.
Note for the 21st Century Medical Student
Today, standing in fluorescent anatomy labs in our sterile labcoats, it is easy to dismiss mumia as a macabre relic of a darker age. We often perceive the history of medicine as a linear climb from superstition towards enlightenment, assuming that archaic practices hold no relevance in a world of biotechnology and robotic surgeries. However, for the modern medical student, the history of mumia is not merely a curiosity; it is a case study in epistemic violence – the literal “eating” of the Other.
To understand this medicalisation of the dead, we must trace its origins back to a 12th-century translation error. While translating Arabic medical texts, European scholars encountered the word mummy (derived from the Persian mūm or mūmiyā), which originally referred to natural bitumen – a sticky mineral pitch prized by the Greeks and Romans for its antiseptic properties. However, upon observing that ancient Egyptian remains were often coated in a similar resinous substance, these translators mistakenly concluded that the bodies themselves were saturated with the medicine. Consequently, the pharmaceutical demand shifted from natural mineral pitch to the physical tissues of the Egyptian dead.
By the Renaissance, mumia had moved from the margins of medicine to the centre of medical practice. This transition was driven by the Doctrine of Signatures – the belief that “like cures like” – leading physicians to prescribe powdered skulls for head ailments and dried flesh for internal bruising. Paracelsian physicians further justified the practice through the Vital Heat theory, arguing that a sudden, violent death trapped a body’s life force within its tissues. This made the remains of executed criminals particularly valuable, reaching such a height of prestige that King Charles II famously consumed tinctures distilled from human skulls.
When the desert could no longer satiate the Western appetite, the medical market turned its gaze closer to home. To meet demand, unscrupulous traders began manufacturing “fresh” mummies by scavenging the bodies of executed criminals, the enslaved, and the destitute from gallows and gutters. This commodification persisted into the Victorian era, where mummies were reduced to spectacles – unwrapped to the clinking of teacups at designated Unwrapping Parties. Once the entertainment concluded, the despoiled remains were often sold by the pound to local apothecaries.
Paring back the pseudoscience of mumia reveals a practice steeped in classism and colonialism. By looting Egyptian tombs, the European medical establishment performed a literal erasure of identity, reclassifying ancient Egyptian royalty as commodities for the Western elite. This created a medical hierarchy where the health of the dominant class was sustained by the physical digestion of the dispossessed. Essentially, mumia thrived on the belief that certain bodies – defined by their race, poverty, or legal status – were inherently available for use, establishing a chilling precedent where medical progress was prioritised over human rights.
Ultimately, this trade did not cease because of a moral epiphany; it slowed only when the supply became exhausted. As medical students, we must therefore ask ourselves: what vestiges of the past exist in our modern clinical practice? While we no longer prescribe powdered hearts, the risk of instrumentalisation – viewing a patient as biological parts rather than a whole person – remains a constant. The history of mumia warns us that medical progress is rarely neutral; it has often been built upon the unconsented labor and tissues of those deemed lesser by the society of the time. The apothecary jars may be empty, but the ghost is still in the pharmacopoeia.
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