What’s in a name?

There was a time in the distant past when I moved with some friends who felt their real names did not suit their status at the time. Hence, they went in search of nicknames. One of them, Seyi, came up with a name after combining her Zodiac sign, Leo, with Spark (which I can’t remember how it came about) to form the nickname SparkerLeo.


Then, answering to an English name was the fad and most girls and boys were not proud of their native names like Deji, Adeola, Aduke, among others. Names like Ricardo, Robert, and Anne were more or less the fad.


At the time, I just could not understand why my name should be a problem. Funke sounded funky to me, so I saw no reason to ‘funkify’ or replace it with a nickname. “You are an Old Skool,” Seyi once told me. “You have to move with the times, girl. You have to change your name, get a nickname or spell your ‘Funke’ differently. If you were in my school, my classmates would have made jest of you. You better wake up, girl.”


This incident reminds me of Basketmouth’s (the comedian) comment when he had his first child. He had to give the boy an English name so that “the boy will be proud of his name.” He also had to adopt an English name while growing up because he considered his native name too local. Until he shared his experience, I never knew I was not the only one caught in the web of inferiority complex with names. Many years after his experience, though, I do not understand why Basketmouth is still ruled by that complex such that he will pre-empt his son’s feeling about names even before the latter comes of age.

Today, the complex about naming is growing among the youth, and you need to be on Facebook to understand this trend. On someone’s page for instance, he spelt his name as: Haryour Changecentric Crown Prince. Note that Ayo is now spelt ‘Haryour.’


Another friend on Facebook also changed her name from Lola Kudi-Martins to Alolie Lucious Cuddy-Martins; while someone else spelt Azeez as ‘Harzyz.’ Blessing also took a new form in Blesyn, while Damilola is: ‘Darmylolar’. Ladi is now Ladehl and Gboyega has become a funkified Gboegha.


Some people have even changed their names completely. Hence, you have Olarenwaju Olakunle as Horlanrewaju Olahkunle and Timilehin Oluwatomilayo as Timmylehin Holuwartomilaryor. Some people prefer to just add a nick name to their original names and so there are names like: Marie Sugargurl, Weakywoody Adebayo, Yemi Thelengendary, Demmie Cutebear, to mention a few.


I have always thought that in Africa, especially in Nigeria, we attach great importance to what a child is called. Often, the circumstances surrounding a child’s birth usually inform his/her name. But today, there is a great movement among ‘young’ people to recreate or reinvent their names and who they are. It’s a kind of creativity, you’d agree, a fusion of Yoruba and English spelling of names. But it’s a creativity I am not totally comfortable with. I believe boldly saying my name is Funke shows the kind of person I am, how much I am are proud of my name, and the kind of confidence I exude.


I can recall that in one of my literature classes as an undergraduate, my lecturer, Wale Oyedele of blessed memory, recounted his experience while in the United States. A ‘white man’ could not pronounce his name correctly, so he had to take his time to teach the man that his name has just two syllables, /wa/, /le/; hence, their should be no difficulty pronouncing it properly. That, however, is no longer the case as more and more people feel comfortable ‘Englishnising’ their names.