Thought Picnic: In writing to get it right

Writing to a sort

Sometimes I wonder if I would successfully fill a month with its daily quota of blogs as both the exercise of discipline and the demonstration of consistency that I occasionally fail to achieve. It is not for the want of determination or the absence of material to write about, the unintended along with the unexplained just seems to invade the appearance of order leaving one thinking things are spiralling out of control.

Then you assess the point of necessity, for none of this is done under any duress, it is just the willingness to act and the preparedness the perform that dictates the frequency or the lack of it. I enjoy this activity and it is not done for the purpose of monetisation as I was asked of recently. I guess when that comes to mind, you acquire both duty and responsibility with the pressure that could portend avoidable anxiety.

Remember to relax and learn

If the themes of some recent blogs are anything to go by, the circumstances I create for myself are ones in which I seek to thrive rather than suffer. Even when I consider the idea of resting on laurels of blogging for almost 18 years, I am no less enthusiastic about blogging which ranges over a broad spectrum of the serious to the unserious, opinions that I once spelt opinono in a primary school spelling test, perspectives, experiences, and reports.

What surprises me as I write is the things I remember, it is like an active archiving and searching operation is going on in my brain and there to type out at this moment are times when I did not know how to pronounce bronchitis, yacht, quay, beau, or Islington, and then I knew. The blog presents opportunities for learning and learning afresh. Now, what did I start this blog for?

The child shall be called - Bingo

Chatterbox moi

Did I just spend 171 minutes on the phone to London chatting to one of my favourite cousins?

Well, basically, it is a meeting of minds and ideas, there is never a short call and the amazing thing is whoever gets to the phone first makes the other jealous – speaking to her or her husband who endearingly refers to me as his out-law, time just passes by as the other itches to get on the phone.

We got to one part of our talk that made me laugh and obviously should serve as a salutary warning to those who give their kids foreign names and fail to get it right.

Those strange names

I remember writing sometime ago about the fact that both my grandmothers’ Christian names were obscure Judeo-Christian names dug out of the Old Testament and pasted on their identities by priests who could not mouth the more meaningful traditional Yoruba names.

My parents also have similar names but with my generation, more parents used our traditional Yoruba names as given names for baptism.

My Christian name is Akinola and except where an angel appears to your parents and dictates through prophecy, vision or dream that the child shall be called Bingo (Bingo is commonly given to dogs in Nigeria), you must be at will to give your children names that are meaningful to you, your circumstances and beliefs.

Deb You Are Feel This

So, she talked of a girl in her class who remonstrated angrily and aggressively that her name Deborah should be pronounced Day-Bo-Rah as opposed to the correct Debra.

One cannot really blame the girl for not realising that her Judeo-Christian English name had been given by silly parents who definitely were clueless about the import and pronunciation of the name.

In the end, they allowed the girl to make a big fool out of herself by not knowing how to say her name. In fact, we once had a house-girl with that name; I was the only one to pronounce her name correctly.

Then there was a boss at work in Nigeria whose first name was Felix that should be pronounced Fee-licks but in Nigeria, a majority would say Fair-Licks. At least, he knew how to pronounce his name.

Now, that is not to say my name Akin is that easy to pronounce for non-Yorubas because the N is nasalised – the one time I heard it pronounced correctly by an English lady, I learnt she was born in Ibadan and she had an accent considerably thicker than mine.

There are many more English names that get mis-pronounced but the top prize has to go to Dennis who in Ijebu-land found everyone calling him Day-eh-nee.

Keep off those foreign names if you don’t want to lose your identity and make a fool of yourself.