What's In a Name

Weekly, if not daily, I get to have a cultural exchange comparing the US and Rwandan customs. Even the simplest things that seem so natural to us that we don't question them, can be quite different as soon as you cross a border.

My last name gets a bit of attention here. Skorupski doesn't roll off the tongue in any country, except I would hope Poland. As soon as someone asks my surname and I give it they automatically asks what it means. I try my best to explain that it means absolutely nothing except the fact that I'm Polish. Rwandans scratch their heads. How can your name be Polish when you are American? The whole immigrant thing is a constant confusion. Even more shocking is when I explain my family tree and reveal that my father and mother have the same last name as me.

Here in Rwanda every person has a distinct name picked specifically for them. I shouldn't really use the term distinct since I'm convinced there are about 20 names in Rwanda that are spread amongst 12 million people. So there is no family name. Nothing that gets passed on. When a woman marries, she doesn't change her name. When a baby is born there is not the classic 9 month brainstorming session of picking the perfect name. If you have enough money to throw a party - there is a naming ceremony shortly after the baby is born. Everyone in attendance submits a name on a piece of paper. A small group of important people then pick the name. While the first name is usually French, the last name is just a normal Kinyarwandan word. Because one word can actually be a complete sentence with noun, verb and direct object, and almost all Rwandans are devout Christians, a common last name is I love God. There is also gift from God, praise God, I love Rwanda. Or the exceedingly obvious I'm a boy. So again, imagine their surprise when they hear Skorupski means nothing.

So how would you feel if the family name was stripped away? If, when listed on a piece of paper, no one could tell you were related? Would having a unique name make you feel more special? What if you heard that the whole community came together to celebrate your birth and decide what to call you? What if you didn't have to decide between tradition and some form of feminism when you got hitched (assuming you're a woman)? In a country that is, by nature, community based it is intriguing to consider such an individualistic custom. And if your name could mean something, what would you want it to say? Just some food for thought today...