From the native names my father gave us, his children, one can tell he was a petty man with lots of imaginary haters. Maybe he really had haters; he possessed things one could be hated for. So, I’ll cut him some slack and not roast him.
My name is Ekata /’eika:ta(r)/, which can be translated simply to how much can I/we say or how much can be said? But if we decide to interpret deeper, it could mean any of these: how much of God’s goodness can I testify to? How much of my travails can I tell? How many of my stories can I say? But my best interpretation is the pidgin version; how many I go fit talk?
Can you guess which of these interpretations my dad had in mind when he chose it? If you guessed, “how much of my travails can I tell?” You guessed right. Like “una know wetin my eyes don see for this life? Enemies here and there, but God is a majority.”
On the other hand, my mom had a different interpretation—” how much of God’s goodness can I testify to? Countless, I can’t say all. It’s like attempting to count the sand grains at the beach.” Of course, there’s a story behind my name, I’m a special baby, and Ekata is a perfect name for me. I must give my dad credit for being intentional about our names; behind every name is a story.
I recently found out (mid-2021) that my name would have been Arewe if my mom hadn’t stood her ground that no child of hers was going to bear such a silly name. Arewe, in pidgin simply means dem be say—” dem be say I no go make am; dem be say this pikin go die; dem be say… but look who’s laughing in your faces now. Shame!”
Do you still think that man wasn’t petty? It now makes sense to you why my mom rejected that name, right? No child of hers would be a scroll for whatever beef he was having with life. So, they settled for Ekata. My mom named me Osamudiame (God stands in for/by me or defends me).
I wish she’d have been more creative cos more than half the population of Edo state bears that name. But then, with the circumstances surrounding my birth, I can’t be mad at her. It’s a good name, just not as original as Arewe and Ekata. “If God is for me, who can be against me?” That’s another way to see Osamudiame. I have two other beautiful and prophetic native names, but that’s not for today’s story.
Growing up, I hated the name. I mean, what sort of well-meaning parent would give their child a name that rhymes with catarrh? Are my parents really my parents? I would later grow to find out people had been calling my name wrongly. When the “kata” in Ekata is pronounced “catarrh” (the Nigerian way), it has no meaning. I preferred to be called Sonia, the “English” name my siblings chose for me. I wonder if my parents had plans to give me a non-indigenous name. By the way, Sonia is of Greek origin. And now, I’m obsessed with Ekata and wish I had no non-indigenous name.
The older I get, the more I love my name. I mean! Just take a look at me (I know you can’t do that now); how much can you really say? You wouldn’t have words; trust me. Cos OPP (if you don’t get this, I’d advise you to get yourself a Nigerian friend for an explanation. A Yoruba one, precisely).
Really, how much can you say?
Okay, now, I’m lost in my story. I don’t know if I started out to write about my petty father or about my beautiful indigenous names. Anyhoo, the thought that I could have been an Arewe excites me. The name sounds beautiful and stands out.
These days, I love to go by the name Ekata, and it is imperative to me that people call it right. I’ll keep correcting you until you get it right, and no, you aren’t allowed to be lazy. Almost every time I introduce myself as Ekata to people, I get one of these: “Ah! Your name is hard o. Don’t you have another name?” “Do you have an English name?” “What is the short form?”
Do you know what goes on in my head when I get such reactions? I think such people are just damb lazy; mentally lazy. They do not even bother to make an attempt. I understand that the name might be hard to remember because it isn’t popular, but try, at least! Cos how else would it become a familiar name to you?
Whenever people want to take the shortcut, I insist on being called Ekata, not Sonia. This is not because I’ve suddenly become allergic to the name, but because I need them to be intentional and not be lazy. I mean, most of my friends still call me Sonia. So, the name isn’t the problem; I have a problem with people’s attitudes. And no, you don’t get to tell me Sonia is a better choice just because it isn’t local. Only when you get my native name right will I answer Sonia if you call me that.
Let’s just stop here. Again, this story has taken another dimension. But before you go, you should keep in mind that I am a lot, and you’d always be left with the question, “how much can I say?”