ETSEY: A name under siege!

The Writer, Etsey Atisu

Since the day I was christened, I have always had a problem with my first name (formerly my middle name). Although not a jaw-breaking name, it has always been a challenge to a many few when it comes to pronunciation and sometimes spelling.

To many, they have wondered why a more suitable and decent name like John, Paul or even William was not given me at birth rather than Etsey. As I imagine, it has caused a lot of anxiety, suspicion and uncertainty with many misspelling it and pronouncing it rather untraditionally – mostly to suit themselves.

Not to sound too ambiguous or mischievous, I sense the name has once had near earthquake-causing-consequences. Oh, it is true. You can verify from my twin brother Atsu who has never, for once, had a challenge with his name. He will not try to defend me on this, that I can assure you.

At one time, I am a Nigerian called Uche who cannot convince anyone that he is full-blooded Ghanaian. It gets more disturbing when they learn that I hail from Aflao.

“Ah, but people from Aflao are not Ghanaians so why do you claim to be one?” they would usually ask, rather sarcastically.

And then on another dawn, I am an Akan word for a hat – 3ts3. Some have called me Atsei or Etwi. But that is not as bad as the worst of them all. This is pathetic but it is true. And my mates from secondary school at the Bishop Herman College at Kpando can testify.

For three years continuously, I was the Akan name of the private part of a woman (for those who do not know this and would have me mention it here, I am sorry to disappoint you. Employ the services of another to provide you with the answer). Yes, nobody ever screamed my name so loud anytime he/she wanted to, like this personality did. He would scream the name so loud, and never just once, but twice or more. But you know how it gets when you try to discourage boys in a typical boys’ school from tagging you with an unpleasant name?

And it was pardonable at least during the period we were in school but not over two years after that, and most definitely not in a public place like a church compound.

I was by now a cub journalist and I was on a Sunday Church assignment, covering the launch of a Twi Dictionary somewhere in the capital. The rather lengthy church program got my butt unstable and I had to catch some fresh air. And then on the wings of a familiar voice, headed straight at me, I heard that name again. Utterly surprised at this ‘child’ that had not ‘grown up,’ I hesitatingly did the 180 degrees.

Immediately, I made a disclaimer to that cynical way of mentioning my name and advised him that if he could not have the decency of properly addressing me, then he could call our friendship goodbye. We resolved that name issue and reminisced old memories from school, laughing most of the period.

And for one sweet, adopted sister of mine, her constant failure at correctly putting the letters of my name together got me convinced that my prognosis and diagnosis of river-blindness was near-accurate. Hers was simply ‘Etcheh.’

Well, the story surrounding my name has had it that, most of the time, I have had to mention mine twice or more, mostly on days when my clone and I have gone out. Extra energy and time is taken to perfect the right pronunciation of this name which sadly enough, survives only the next two minutes after.

And when I hear people ask, “Are you Nigerian?” even after I introduce my clone and I as twins, I chuckle and reply kindly in the negative.

“I have heard Atsu often but never Etsey.”

So, I begin with my tuition again:

“When twin boys are born in the Ewe land, they are called Atsu and Etsey; a boy and a girl are called Atsu and Atsufui (Atsuphui) while two girls are Eyi and Etsa.”

Etsey and his twin brother Atsu (sitting)

And when it appears insurmountable for some to mention the name, they have fallen on an edited form of my surname –Atisu. Instead of Atisu, they would just settle for ATSU, omitting the ‘I’ in the name. At this point, I fall back on the age-old assertion that people do not just take significance in paying attention to detail. This, however, is pardonable.

On the flipside, however, I have had a number of people flawlessly pronouncing my name with such dexterity and class so much that I instantly smile-up. At one time, I gave a young, Akan lady-receptionist GHc10 for that first, perfect attempt at my name. Some Ewes like me would have failed miserably.

So, what is in a name? Do names matter? And how about how they are pronounced, especially because growing up, we were told names are nouns and regardless, can they be mentioned anyhow?

Names are more than a bunch of letters grouped together to sound pleasant to the ear. Names are more than a convenience allowing us to talk to each other. Names are a gift from God. They contain his power. They define things. They define us and that is why every name must, of a necessity, have a meaning.

Names distinguish us from one another. That is why our wise elders said that “because God detests cheating and impersonation, he gave each one a name.” Etse, Atsu and Atisu may appear alike, but they are not the same. In some cases, names have the same spellings but with different meaning.

President Barack Obama’s brother in Kenya is called Abongo. I am sure my friends from the Upper East Region of Ghana would not hesitate to think that he is one of their own until they know the pronunciation and meaning of that name. Names matter. And one must insist that their names are rightly spelt and pronounced.

It gets disheartening when someone mentions a name and is unable to explain what it means. And even more soul-draining when a name, originally heard the first time from some telenovella series is dumped on a child by dint of the fact that a parent loves the sound of it or the character that played the role.

It is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely and meaningful names to our children and things. Names are everything. And my own people stand accused here. People of the Volta Region have some of the most interesting names. But in order to appear modern, they give names such Prosper, Blessed, Redeemer, Hope, Faith and a host of funny combinations and names reserved for pets. These names in their native languages sound better and make more meaning than mere English words.

The connotation of names is also very important. I have heard that there is something positive or negative in every name and names affect lives. Let us begin from the Holy Scriptures, the Bible. Abram, as he was initially known, adopted a new name, Abraham after God decided that it was time he advanced from where he was, taking on new responsibilities. The accounts of Genesis 17:4-5 states:

17:4 “As for me, behold, my covenant is with thee, and thou shalt be a father of many nations.” (KJV)

17:5 “Neither shall thy name any more be called Abram, but thy name shall be Abraham; for a father of many nations have I made thee.” (KJV)

Joseph, who became the Prime Minister of Egypt was renamed Zaphenath-Paneah. Esther was also known as Hadassah, a Persian or Hebrew name which means myrtle tree (significant for its shrub evergreen feature, with almost the entire plant having fragrant spicy oil used in perfumes).

Back home in Ghana, names take on similar significance. Knowingly or unknowingly, have you noticed the trend with the letter ‘K’ in the names of some notable media personalities? There is KOD, KKD, Kwabena Anokye Adisi (Bola Ray), Kafui Dey, Kojo Oppong Nkrumah, Kwami Sefa Kayi, Komla Dumor of blessed memory, Kojo Yankson, Kwame Sakyiamah (Lexis Bill), Kwame Nkrumah Tekesie, among others.

Perhaps that same trend is what our politicians have been capitalised on, scoring political points with the name John. After all, we have had John Rawlings, John Agyekum Kufour, John Atta Mills of blessed memory, and currently John Dramani Mahama. So it is no surprise if people are hopeful the New Patriotic Party’s (NPP) John Alan Kyeremanten possesses a good chance of becoming president one day because he is a John.

After all, the United States has had its own share of the Johns. We can name a John F. Kennedy, a John ‘Calvin’ Coolidge, a John Quincy Adams, a John Adams, and finally a John Tyler. So, why not Ghana?

Indeed, names are powerful and carry a lot of weight. Names have power. Names open doors but powerful names open more doors and more easily. Imagine being one of the two daughters of the president of America, or even bear the name Mandela. You might not need to be a genius to impress with such a name.

That is why our sages say a good name is better than riches. For, we would not be making ascriptions to names like Kwame Nkrumah, Chinua Achebe, Mahatma Gandhi, Margaret Thatcher, Nelson Mandela, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Oprah Winfrey, Hillary Clinton, and so on if they were without significance. Their names will forever live and if you misspell the names of their descendants, you will be doing a lot of harm to them.

So, perhaps, or even so, we must be careful what we call ourselves and who calls us what because you can never tell. And this why I wonder why that senior in secondary school called Machine Gun nicknamed his school son Bullet. Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive. But why haven’t we been able to find Castro the musician yet? Is it because of his name?

Anyway, if you have any Ewe near you, tap them and ask for the proper pronunciation of “ETSE.” It is the name of a twin. And not the Akan word for the magnet between the thighs of a woman.

The writer, Etsey Atisu, is a communications practitioner and freelance journalist. His email address is [email protected].

WRITER’S NOTE: This article was inspired by my late Editor, Merari Alomele, affectionately called Alor. The title of this piece is borrowed from one of his articles under his famous weekly column, SIKAMAN PALAVA in The Spectator.