The mother or father then announces each child’s names and the meanings. Sometimes, the congregation bursts into spontaneous cheering and applause when a particularly promising meaning is announced.
A young Nigerian man I know changed his surname from Ihimoyan to Moyan; “Ihi” was a deity that his family worshipped generations ago. He no longer wanted to bear the name of a god he did not know, especially since his family is now Christian. My friend, Iyabo, also changed her name to Busola; Iyabo means “mother has come back” and she no longer wanted to be seen as a carry-over of someone else. These are just two out of the growing number of today’s Nigerians, who, dissatisfied with their given names, are altering them to reflect a new outlook. You are now likely to see a Mr Alex who used to be a Mr Agwu or Nkiruka who was Azuka. Some of the names may sound very similar to the ones they have replaced, but their meanings are radically different. Nkiruka, for example, means “what lies ahead is greater” while Azuka means “the past is greater”. Agwu is the Igbo deity of divination, thought to be a malignant and ruthless force. Cows vs tigers Whole communities are also changing their names. In 1992, the people of my ancestral village in the south-eastern state of Abia voted to change our name from Umuojameze, which means “children of Ojam, the king”. Ojam was a deity the people used to worship. The villagers attributed the spate of sudden deaths in the community to Ojam’s yearning for a long-overdue sacrifice, and wanted to make it clear that we no longer wanted anything to do with him.Umujieze, the new name, sounds similar to the old one, but means “children who hold the kingship”.
The late Reverend Father Stephen Uche Njoku, author of the book Challenge and Deal with Your Evil Foundations, believed there was a strong case for people and communities to change their names if they have disagreeable connotations. “In doing this, you are making a choice to initiate a process of transformation for yourself, your family or your community,” he said. According to him, the Nkerehi people in Orumba improved their circumstances by changing their name. The old name evoked a brutish past that included human sacrifices to their various deities and shrines; the Nkerehi now call themselves the Umuchukwu, or “children of God”. “The community now has a missionary hospital, an international secondary school and a civic centre,” Rev Fr Njoku said. The village of Ehi in Ikeduru has also changed its name to Amaudo, meaning “land of peace”. Ehi means “cow”. This name, people believe, was the reason they were constantly being dominated by the Agu, a neighbouring community. Agu means “tiger”, and a tiger is always likely to exert its strength over a cow. Will ‘Goodluck’ prevail? One of the most spectacular reinforcements of the idea that names have power has been Nigeria’s President Goodluck Jonathan, who enjoyed a series of “lucky” outcomes that thrust him into the highest position in the land. The removal of those above him – through no act of his own – led to his dramatic rise from a deputy state governor to president. However, the potency of his name is currently facing its greatest test, as a result of aggressive opposition to his perceived ambition to seek re-election in 2015. It should be interesting to see whether Mr Jonathan’s famed “good luck” will ultimately prevail. It should also be interesting to see what alternative names the South Africans may consider for their lads. Whatever they eventually select, you can be sure that the rest of Africa will be watching to see what – if any – difference it will make. Culled from bbc.co.uk