There are many of us who had a similar experience and got our names changed to African names. My parents gave me an Hebrew name found in the Bible and as I grew up in knowledge I changed it to what gives me meaning and proper identification with my Yoruba root.
Today, nothing pleases me more than projecting my indigenous traditional identity and values.
Ogun agbe yin o. Aase
Sent from my iPhone
Sent from my iPhone
Thank you Kwabena my brother. I agree with you. Such oral histories are invaluable and undiluted. I tell you what rude awakenings I got when I arrived the United States eons ago. I enrolled at Howard Univrsity in the Department of African Studies with a major in social anthropology and minor in polical science. The chairman of the department was Professor Chike Onwuachi of blessed memory. The first class was the Anthropology of African World. When the professor walked into the class, I stood up. But I noticed no other student stood. I sat down quietly, somewhat embarrassed. This was my first rude awakening.I always sat in the front because of my height. Now, it was time for us to introduce ourselves. I was the fifth in the front row. I introduced myself as 'John Osia.' The fine young lady who had just introduced herself asked me openly whether or not I was an American or a British, to which I replied in the negative. She retorted with a mocking question: why are you John? My friend, I found myself stuttering in an attmept to explain how I was "John." This was a second rude awakening. Indeed when I got back to where I was living in Northeast Washington, I had sleepless night trying to sort out what happened to me in class. I solved the second rude awakening. I wrote to my parish priest in my village to update my baptismal register and card by adding KUNIRUM because that was my African name. That name meant much to my parents and my culture. I emphasized that from there and then I must be addressed as Kunirum not John, full stop.Since there was no second introduction in the next class, I raised up my hand and the professor acknowledged me. He said : yes John. I stood up and said politely in clear unequvocative Englisdh that I would like the class to know that my name, given to me by my parents was KUNIRUM and that was the name I wanted to be known and addressed as. That 'John' was my baptismal name which came to me 12 years after my existence as KUNIRUM. Our professor was so happy that he openly invited me to have dinner with his family a week later. When I went to the dinner the professor welcomed me and said "you are perfect for African Studies...Africans should never be ashamed to project their Africaness anywhere." Thanks again Kwabena--
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