As a young girl, I didn’t like my first name, Joy.
It was too generic. Everywhere you went, there was a “Joy.”
If you went into a market and shouted Joy, at least 10 people would look back.
When I was in SS1, I tried to change Joy to Joan.
I don’t even know what Joan means, I just know liked it and it still had Jo. That dream died when my father found out I had changed my name. Lol. I will never forget the look he gave me. Restored me to factory settings.
I have an Igbo name, but I did not want people to call me that name.
It felt Igbotic and not so great.
I was comfortable with being called by my surname.
Thankfully, people liked it too.
It didn’t sound Igbo at first glance, but it was cool, unique, and nobody else had it.
My sister has 2 Igbo names, her First name and middle name are both Igbo.
One of those names is Chioma.
She does not like that name for the same reason I did not like Joy.
Chioma, as a name, was and still is like a national anthem.
She, too, settled on first name and last name.
My brother loved his Igbo name and not his English name, but he was mocked for his surname.
My surname is Kaduru, and he says he was called Kandle, Kadus, etc. Let’s not even talk about those who called me Kabiru.
Learning to Love My Name
As I grew older, I started to love my Igbo name.
For some reason, it became special to me.
The only people allowed to call me that name were my friends. I don’t mean acquaintances, friends. My main guys.
My friend Ogechi only called me by my middle name when I had done something she considered wrong. For some weird reason, I liked it.
This is my story, but it is not unique to just me.
I know a lot of people my age who prefer their English names over their Igbo names.
Jayden Nkemakolam was known as just Jayden or Jay.
Peace Oluchi was just Peace. Victoria Chinonso was just Victoria.
For some of our friends, the Igbo names were home names, while the English name was for school and the public.
A young girl is Chinaza at home, but Florence in school.
We would see Okechukwu at home and Stanley in school.
This was just secondary school, or so we thought.
Now, on LinkedIn, we see that he is known as just Stanley Njoku; Okechukwu is nowhere to be found.
Who is responsible for this? Who gets the blame?
I say every one of us, including our parents.
Yes, Society caused a lot of this.
You were laughed at in school if your name had too many syllables.
Okoro is used as an insult; Mgbeke is also an insult.
These are beautiful names we grew up seeing as rubbish because we were taught that Mgbeke’s is the name for a househelp, meanwhile, the name given to her was because she was born on Eke Market day.
It was ridiculous. Thinking about this as I write this, it was and still is ridiculous.
All these happened in my generation when I went to secondary school, think 2004 – 2010.
Has this changed now? Is society better? Absolutely not.
Yes, there is a rise in parents giving their kids Igbo first names, but to what end?
Do you know how many Amandas are actually Chimamanda or how many Zikora’s are pronounced in the stylish English way??
Chinwendu is now Wendy. Ifunanya is Iphy. Ngozi is Goz. Chukwuka is Chuka or Chukaz. Kelechi is KC.
This does not stop at first names. Last names are not spared.
Onwuchekwa is Chekwas. Akabuo is Akabs. Okeke is Keks. Okoro is Koz. Ikegbulam is Ikems.
We have taken solid Igbo names and broken them down to fit the world’s standard. Tell me why the Igbo language will not be seen as dying.
Ahamefuna is now simply Aham. This has already defeated the meaning of that name because turning Ahamefuna to Aham has helped that name disappear.
Ahamefuna literally means “My Name will not lost”. Tell me, as Aham, shey the name never lost?
Think about it. You know so many people with names like this, and for us, it’s normal.
It’s okay. Is it really okay?
Afrobeats, Identity, and the Power of Igbo Names
Let’s take this into entertainment.
Think of the top Afrobeats artists you know who sing in Igbo.
Now think of those you know who sing in Yoruba.
Which group has more artists with their full cultural names? Oh ho!!
You cannot say you are “Igbo and Proud” and not use your name.
We have to do more to teach and show our kids that names are prophecies.
I know someone who is rightly named and fulfilling her name.
Her name is Chinazom Fortune Arinze.
She is the founder of Autogirl, Nigeria’s foremost Car rental service. You can see her name play out in her life.
What Our Names Are
Igbo names are prayers. They show history.
Igbo names go beyond being just names for identification; they usually show the situation of things that happened during the time of birth of a child.
For example, a woman names her child “Zí-kò-rà-chú-kwù” (Show the world what God has done) because she was childless for years. The said child decides she is Zik.
While writing this, I tried to know the meaning of Azikiwe.
It took my mum and me a while to figure it out. Why? The pronunciation of it. Azikiwe.
Let’s break it down, Azikiwe = Azi ka Iwe.
We are sure of Ka Iwe, but you see that Azi, we don’t know.
Guess what? We may be wrong cause there is another variation which makes sense too. Read to the end to see the other option.
I strongly believe it is because of how the name has been pronounced over time.
This is just one name.
PS. If you know what Azikiwe means, please leave a comment.
What Should We Do Now?
1. Make changes. Make changes now.
Revert to the original.
Call any Wendy you know, Chinwendu.
If your name is stylised, undo it.
People need to recognise Igbo names the way they recognise Russian, Kenyan, and Yoruba names.
2. Teach Children around you the meaning of their names.
Do this intentionally.
Let them know the names are not just a jumble or mumble of words. They have to pronounce it right.
We must teach children the power of their Igbo names. Not just to pronounce them correctly, but to understand what they mean, to wear them like armour.
This is very important for Posterity.
Igbos are well-travelled. We are in the countries you do not even know exist. Our names solidify our identity.
We see a lot of Nigerian Igbo footballers, who don’t know how to pronounce their own names, which leads to the world shouting the wrong pronunciation of a beautiful name when they score their first goal
3. Name your kids with intentionality.
Don’t just give names because you have to. Think on it. Find the Igbo version of what you want your child to bear, and remember to call them their full names the right way.
4. Teach your kids to own their culture with confidence.
They have to be Igbo and Proud.
We need our young people to be able to stand and defend their names.
Those who called me Kabiru heard from me.
Oh, they did. And they never tried it again.
Why? I learnt it from my father.
He would ignore you till you pronounced his name properly.
As a young girl with a sharp tongue, I did not have his patience, so I would talk to you (disrespectfully) until you called my name right.
Not proud of it now, but you get the gist.
So, the next time a child asks you what their name means, don’t brush it off.
Sit them down. Tell the story. Let them see that every time someone calls their name, they are being reminded of who they are and where they come from.
Igbo must live long.
Since we’re on it, let’s correct our names and teach our people (adults & kids) to take pride in their names.
I’ll start with me. Aha m bụ Joy Òkwùchì Kàdụ̀rù (kaa-du-roo), I am an Igbo Woman.
Gịnị bụ aha gị? → What is your name?
Know someone who needs to learn to speak Igbo? Send them to IgboLearn.com
Name Glossary
Chí-ó-mà → (Chee-oh-mah) → Good God
Ó-gè-chí → (Oh-geh-chee) → God’s time
Ǹ-kè-m-á-kọ́-lám → (Nkeh-mah-koh-lahm) → What is mine will not be lost to me/I will not lack mine
Ó-lú-chí → (Oh-loo-chee) → God’s work / God’s creation
Chí-nọ́-nsọ́ → (Chee-non-soh) → God is nearby / God is close
Chí-ná-zà → (Chee-nah-zah) → God answers (prayers)
Ò-kè-chú-kwú → (Oh-keh-choo-kwoo) → God’s portion/the/my share from God
Ǹ-jọ́-kụ́ → (Njo-koo) → Deity of yam (traditional name tied to yam festival)
Ò-kó-rò → (Oh-koh-roh) → Young man / youth
Mg-bè-ké → (Mgbay-keh) → One born on Eke market day
Chím-à-mándá → (Cheem-ah-mahn-dah) → My God will not fall / My God will never fail
Zí-kó-rà → (Zee-koh-rah) → Show to others / Reveal to the world
Í-fụ́-ná-nyá → (Ee-foo-nah-nyah) → Love
Chú-kwú-kà → (Choo-kwoo-kah) → God is greater (than all)
Kè-lé-chí → (Keh-leh-chee) → Thank God
Ọ́nwụ́-ché-kwà → (On-woo-cheh-kwah) → Death, spare / do not strike again
À-kà-bú-ó → (Ah-kah-boo-oh)→ The hand that carries (insert something)
Ó-kè-kè → (Oh-keh-keh) → One born on Eke market day
Í-ké-gbú-lám → (Ee-keh-gboo-lahm) → May strength not kill me / May power not destroy me
À-fà-mé-fù-nà → (Ah-fah-meh-foo-nah) → May my name not be lost
Chí-ná-zọ́m → (Chee-nah-zawm) → God protects me
Á-rì-nzè → (Ah-reen-zeh) → Thanks be to God / Let us give prai
The Other Breakdown of Azikiwe
- Azi → comes from azi = to share, to distribute, to divide, to allocate.
- K’íwe → contraction of ka i we = so that you may have/in order to possess.
So literally, Azikiwe = Share so that you may have / Distribute so that you can possess.
P.S: I think this is wrong, though. Doesn’t make sense. What do you think?
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