What "is" your name?

 I asked a few of my loved ones who have had children how they came to choose the names they have given to them. The explanations were somewhat different but the common theme was that every one of them named their children with intention and undeniable hope for what those children would be to them as parents, to themselves as individuals and to the world. One of my sisters, who has two daughters who have some of the most beautiful names I have ever heard, even said, that in the course of making the decision of which name to choose, you will find or hear ample beautiful names and still not choose them. Beautiful as they may be, they simply are not your child’s name. When the name comes though, you will know. It is as if the child chooses their name and lets you in on their secret and there it begins.

Names are usually the first piece of information we share about ourselves with others. It is how others come to know us before they actually, know us. In a paper written by Dr Mlamli Diko titled “The sociocultural significance of naming practices among the amaXhosa” he writes : “Above all, names are essential to human identity and societal structure. They serve as markers of ancestral legacy, familial connections and personal attributes. Significantly, the act of naming among the amaXhosa people not only serves as a means of honouring the ancestors and preserving familial legacies, but also buttresses intergenerational continuity.” Essentially, the naming of children among amaXhosa is both an intellectual and spiritual endeavour, something that is not to be taken lightly. I have met a handful of people, who like myself have inherited their names. Mostly from adults who were members of their families and whom they have grown to mirror in character, mannerisms and habits and sometimes, physical appearance, even when they have never even met their namesake. I find that so fascinating, that parents can know a child’s name in this way and a child can know themselves in this way.

I am named after my mother’s high school best friend whom she adored but never saw beyond those years and that I unfortunately did not have a chance to meet. My name is unique and I have only ever known one other person with whom I share it. Much to my irritation, it is often mistaken for similar names that are significantly more popular than it. People want to add a prefix to it because that is what they are used to or what makes sense to them. I am deliberate in correcting this and have been met with both congeniality and hostility while doing so. The hostility is often from people who think similar is same and who I think do not appreciate the thought and weight of that specific decision by my parents.

My name has always been my compass, the means through which I always return to self. When I have doubted my abilities to do and to be, it has reminded me that I am enough. That what I need to do and to be is already in me. When I have let the disappointment of the actions and inactions of others concerning me and my wellbeing, make me wonder if I can truly forge ahead without them, it has reminded me that ere I was born, my parents knew those moments would exist. And they had already answered that question.

When I have been reluctant to let good things in and was content with the good that already exists, it has nudged me to open myself up wide enough to receive life’s gifts because they too, belong to me. That is the weight of this name, something to not be confused with something similar to it. A precise endeavour suited to what I was meant to be. Malawian poet and storyteller Upile Chisala wrote: “There is a danger to letting people misname you. If you are a fire, do not answer when they call you a spark.” While I agree with this statement, I think there is an even more sinister misnaming that you should not allow, the one where you misname yourself. Where you make light of what is laden with meaning and where your grounding begins.