Friday, September 30, 2005
What’s in a name anyway?
My wedding day will be a sad day. In fact, I have no doubt that I will cry a lot. Of course, mingled in with the others, will be tears of inexplicable joy. However, some of those tears will be shed at the thought of all that will cease to be. More specifically, I will be saddened by the prospect of ceasing to be an “Etya’ale”. Essentially, losing the name will be highly symbolic of the severing of family ties. Yet, that is only one of the regrettable consequences of my marriage. For, more than just a hard last name to pronounce, Etya’ale is a name infused with deep meaning. According to the Bulu tribe, an ethnic group in my native Cameroon, a name either describes the state of mind of the parents at the birth of a child or could equally reflect their deepest wish for the child’s life. Thus, when my grandmother named my father “Etya’ale”, she envisioned a life of service for him. In Bulu it literally means a “stepping board”, something that helps others spring up to a more fulfilled life. The implication is a life of humility and servant hood; in many ways my father exemplifies his name.
The fact that I carry this name, then, is a matter of great significance to me. In fact, I have always found it amazing that by an ironic turn of events, my interests lie in the medical field. My father also chose medicine as vocational path for service, living up to his name in the process. Obviously, I am in no way implying that names determine a person, however, there is some value in stating that consciously or unconsciously, we embody our names. Why not just keep the name, one may ask. I always thought I was going to keep my name and hyphenate it to my legal name. However, this thought made me chuckle in mischievous amusement. Having experienced it myself, I smiled sadly as I pictured their professors stumbling over their last name, just as complex and now twice as long. Imagining their annoyance at the thought of filling forms was an easy task. Even with the awareness of the legacy of “Etya’ale”, it would be a serious burden nonetheless. So I just need to start getting used to the prospect. Plus, while the thought of losing this part of my identity brings much sadness, what matters more than the name itself is what it symbolizes. Because I believe I have fully embodied its meaning, I can rest assured that its legacy will not be completely lost.