What’s in a name

HEE naha e malimabe ena. Ekare koloi ea ‘muso. Baqhobi ba eona ha ba e tsotelle hohang There’s nothing as unlucky as a government vehicle. It’s never given any TLC –Tender, Love and Care. It is rarely washed, rarely serviced and does the dirtiest of dirty jobs such as moving politicians in the wee hours of the morning, linakeng or nakeling. No one cares or feels sympathy for government vehicles. That’s because there isn’t a sense of ownership. As a driver, if you want, you can just speed and drive into deep potholes. If it breaks, you simply sign a report and get a replacement. This is exactly how this country is treated or blatantly mistreated. No sense of ownership and care from the custodians. That’s because the custodians have lost their sense of responsibility. They’ve simply gone mad! Ka Molisana, ha re sa hlokomele, re tlo hlanya ke batho bana. These politicians are going to drive us mad with their antics, if we are not careful. Anyway, to mark a milestone birthday that I celebrated on the 12th of April, I decided to pen a light-hearted piece, to open up a debate on an issue that I’ve always wanted us to discuss. Yes, I share a birthday with Msholozi, former President Zuma. Well, I’ll leave it there but I will welcome the birthday cakes. I once had an interesting conversation with my friend, Robert Likhang. The reason why I like Ntate Likhang, is because he has an enquiring mind. He has an ability to ask pertinent questions. So, one time as we were having our breakfast at a local Herbalife Club, at Victoria Hotel, Ntate Likhang asked me a question that was totally unexpected but made me question a few things that challenged my sense of belief. As I was busy sipping my cookies and cream shake, Ntate Likhang asked me why the Catholic missionaries chose Mazenod of all places to set up a mission. What exactly were they looking for because Mazenod doesn’t have a river or mountain? It’s just a fl at piece of land. He punched me with another question and said, “What was the original name of Mazenod. By the way who is Mazenod?” As a self-appointed ambassador of Mazenod Airport City, I stood there, staring at Ntate Likhang, wondering how I could possibly maneuver around those diffi cult questions. It was a clear case of a technical knockout. All I could say was, Eeeerrrrmmm! This made me think the times when we were kids. The older boys would come over whilst playing soccer and say, “Hee banna hee! Ha re eng ka Tholi-Moli ka mane, re lo batla ‘meche. Fela le hle le tšele majoe a lekaneng ka liphokothong.” Meaning, let’s go to Thota-Moli and ask for a soccer match but put enough stones in your pockets. The stones were useful for self-defense depending on what the turn-out of the score would be. Funny enough, we all knew where Thota- Moli was and that name stood the test of time. In our view we knew it as a region near Moshoeshoe I airport, around villages like Ha Takaliname, but the part where we lived in, was called Mazenod. It is only now that I fi gure out that the original name of Mazenod was indeed Thota- Moli. However, the part of the village I am from is Ha Mokholo-khotha and the Catholic mission was built in Ha Paki. So, as you can imagine, the French-Canadian Catholic Missionaries must have thought, “What? What is Thota-Moli? What is Mokholo-khotha for that matter? Rubbish! We’ll get a new name.” And they re-wrote history and named the region Mazenod and nick-named it little Canada. Who or what Mazenod is still remains a mystery to most people that currently live there. There are still pockets of very stub-born citizens that would rather subscribe to the original African names. Imagine the chaos that must have happened when the inhabitants learnt without any consultations that their region has been renamed Mazenod. I’m sure they were all shocked as to, “Hothoe’ng? Masinoto? Masinoto ke mang joale.” Of which was totally unfair to the inhabitants and disrespectful. Imagine a person arriving at your house and renaming your children. I wrote this piece at the back of the recent renaming of Port Elizabeth (PE) to Gqeberha (pronounced Qebekha) and this brought chaos because some Black people just love English names. Grahamstown was also renamed back to its original name, Makhanda. I remember telling my relatives from PE that were visiting me over the Christmas holidays that, “Hey, have you heard? Your city has been renamed Gqeberha.” You should’ve seen the shock on their faces. Like, “What? Who, what is Gqeberha?” But in all honesty, we are Africans fi rst and should embrace our African culture and names. I really fi nd it sad that some of us have been so indoctrinated to know the Catholic catechism and in replacement of our African clans, songs and stories. Who wrote the history of Basotho? What was the purpose of Mazenod and Morija Printing Works? Most Basotho people like myself don’t know their African clans in full. All I know is that, Ke motloung oa Sekhoane and it ends there. But my mind was conditioned to see it as shameful to know and recite my clan in full. It is seen as bokoata. We’d rather know and recite the Catholic catechism by heart. I say all this at the back of the piece that was written by Dr Maquthu, about decolonizing education and it was spot on. Well, it’s not that I want to bash or criticize my church, the Catholic Church but I must say, some of the things that were done were not in the best interest of African people. Take the renaming of villages such as Roma and St Michael’s for instance. It’s not only the Catholics but the French missionaries that committed the same mistakes for renaming Makhoarane to Morija. Yes, we all know that the original name of Roma was Tloutle. My friend Tšepang Ledia said Tloutle is a name that came about because the region was known to be a hiding place for elephants. Because of the valley, elephants would go to the region for shelter in the winter season. Whether true or not, it was wrong to change those names. By the way, Tšepang Ledia said he’s still gathering some momentum to write more about food and nutrition. But he made me laugh when we were discussing this topic and said, “Hee batho bano ba re tabotse. Ba re qetela ka mabitso a kereke” meaning, the missionaries fi nished us when they imposed the notion of “Christian names” for every child that was baptized at the church. Names like bo-David le bo-Robert. By the way, I was named Robert after Robert Gabriel Mugabe and I hate the name. I would rather now use my isiXhosa name, Siviwe (a gift from God), that I was given by my grandmother. From now on, ha ke Robert, ke Siviwe. In closing, I always get amazed at the amount of brain-washing that went into degrading the African mind. Somewhere in Gauteng where I live, I observe nametags of supermarket cashiers with very keen interest and the names are so funny. Ke bo-Beauty, bo-Pretty, bo-Princess. I mean, completely useless names with no meaning. I always ask the cashier ladies about their true African names. Some of them get offended and tell me to F-off, whilst some answer in embarrassment and vow to change the name tags to their real African names. There was this lady in particular that had an Afrikaans name on her tag only to fi nd out that her real name is Mmakgoshi meaning an African queen. Imagine that! The piece by Dr Maquthu was a real eye opener. Maybe it’s time I send a petition to the Parliament for names such as Mazenod, Morija, Roma, Nazareth, St. Michaels, to revert to their original names. By the way what are the original names of St. Michaels and Nazareth? No, not Mikaeleng and Nasareta. Le rona re ke re tlohelle mabitso ana a kereke for heaven’s sake! Bo-David. Could this be the reason why we are so lost and have identity problems as Africans? Are we Christians fi rst and Africans thereafter or viceversa? What’s your take? Please pen your thoughts and send them to the managing editor on the following address: managingeditor@ thepost.co.ls ‘Mako Bohloa