When names attract qualities associated with them

Names have an uncanny tendency to attract qualities associated with them. Well, almost always. In other words, name a child alcohol and live to see him imbibe it like his or her life depends on it. I have no idea how this happens so don’t ask me a lot of questions about science and stuff. I am neither a scientist nor is guesswork an exact science. But, Hey! This is no guesswork. Take a name like Ruto. It requires no explanation. You know them, and I do not mean some obscure village operative who has never ventured beyond the local shopping centre where he goes for his daily share of busaa. No, not that one. And neither am I intimating there is anything wrong in sipping mouthfuls of this healthy drink which my colleague Chris Oyuga partakes with relish when he goes to Busia. Bury hatchet Take the first Ruto, the Deputy President. He courts controversy like the moth to a flame. It was he who referred to Isaac Ruto’s party (Chama cha Mashinani) as Chama Cha Mashakani. Mashaka came soon, as the lesser Ruto lost to Joyce Laboso for Bomet governor. While we are on the Rutos, I am reliably informed the name suggests guys born away from home, like on a journey. Do you see what I am seeing, especially of the DP? And out there in West Pokot, Governor John Lonyangapuo has buried the hatchet with his perennial rival and political gadfly, (hold your breath) Dennis Ruto Kapchok, also referred to as Mulmulwas. Another Ruto. Let me bring you up to speed. He was the one referred to in that now-famous phrase “kijana fupi, round”. I think short and round is now a licence for being controversial. Or in any case, it brings results. The chap has now resolved to “work with” the governor, whatever that means, because the issues he has been agitating about have been resolved. We hope we have not heard the last of this guy because what goes around comes around. And this particular Ruto happens to be round, just like Isaac. Move over to Kisii, where just the other day a cop shot dead another man in Mokwerero Village. The deceased shielded a barmaid who had turned down the cop’s advances when the officer opened fire and killed him. And what’s the cop’s name? Joseph Mauti (death in Kiswahili). By the way, Mokwerero almost sounds like the term for bereaved in my mother tongue. And you ask what’s in a name? As all these were happening, a wiseacre was hauled before a court in Nairobi for swindling an Asian trader of millions of shillings after spinning a long tale that some piece of land the latter had just bought had evil spirits. Well, the culprit gathered some weird paraphernalia: ash, lizard’s tail, chicken beaks, some feathers, appurtenances and knick-knackery and spread them at the farm. In the process, the farm buyer was convinced he needed some rituals to cast away the spirits. Guess the name of the fraudster? Fedha. Yes, haki! The Fedha guy wanted to reap pesa where he had not sowed and the law caught up with him. I am hoping he does not live in Fedha Estate and that if he does, there are not many bearing similar names! But the bloke who takes the gold medal over this naming business is my uncle Habakkuk. He bore (or rather his wife bore him) a son they called King’ara. Where I come from that name translates directly to a man who is always thirsty. And true to life, this King’ara guy lived up to his name; he drank beer like it was going out of fashion. Outgrow habit His mother, thinking it was the excitement of a first job, thought he would outgrow this alcohol thing lakini wapi! The guy would start drinking at midday on Pay Day, and drink for days on end, only going to his house for a nap and change of clothes. Clearly, there was something amiss. There was consternation all round. Over some pillow talk, where I hear women make some of the most serious decisions in the world, but which the men take credit for, it was decided that King’ara’s name be changed to Maina. And it was. The transformation was both drastic and dramatic. Almost overnight the former Mr Thirsty became a sober character. The village that had made him a laughing stock now thought differently of the man. And finally, a splinter group of the troubled SDA church, calling itself Nairobi Cosmopolitan Conference, is led by, hold it, a guy calling himself Simi. That’s Swahili for sword. So, what’s in a name? Well, everything! Have a safe-name week, folks! – The writer is Special Projects Editor, People Daily

When names attract qualities associated with them

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When names attract qualities associated with them

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