The Nature of a Name

My Setswana name is Kitso, which means knowledge, and I like it a lot (for obvious ego boosting reasons!). We are encouraged to use our new names as a way to get better acclimated into the community and for some it works really great. In reflecting on how I relate to others in this country and how I view myself, I realized that I am now experiencing the cultural/identity ambiguities that many foreigners feel when they are trying to fit into a new country/culture. 

Being Black and using my Setswana name has meant that I can walk down the street and for the most part go unnoticed. Or I can get into a combi and not be hassled or gawked at, because even though I might not be recognized at Motswana I can still be considered one of the numerous other African immigrants in the country. It is a double-edged sword though, because even though I can bypass a lot of the negatives of being an American here, I also have to deal with very high expectations and less freedom of individual expression than others. There is a small minority that would like me to speak more or better Setswana, and I have had to endure more than a few impromptu language tests (where I found that laughing along does not really help). I have also been reprimanded for not following cultural norms that I am supposed to have known. Just because of who I am I also find myself not talking to people or being more shy, because there is an expectation from both sides that I should try to communicate in Setswana as much as possible. Many people say that Peace Corps provides an opportunity to reinvent yourself or try out different aspects of who you are with no fear that your past history will cloud peoples’ judgements. Also, the likelihood of meeting many of the people you encounter during service is very small (for the majority of people) so the fear of reprisal or future embarrassment can also tempt you into acting in a manner who might not have if you were back home. 

The main point I wanted to make is that I used to feel bad that people from different backgrounds would come to America, and have to change their names or behaviors in order to fit in (my perception). Having dealt with acceptance issues about my culture and skin, I was very adamant that it was wrong to not try and learn the “correct” name and pronunciation of a person, and I would try to find out what was the “real” name of the individual (and try to pronounce it correctly). Now I am on the other end of the stick and I have a whole different perspective of what it means to try and live somewhere foreign. I have people ask me what my real name is and I usually balk at the question; how dare they try to call me a fraud or figure out a piece of me I am not comfortable in sharing. I usually laugh it off and say I don’t have one or that in Botswana my name is Kitso, that’s it. It retrospect it is a very interesting reaction. I am using the name Kitso, I like the name Kitso, but I am still me, I am still Octavius, so what is the problem. I can finally understand that taking a new name does not have to mean that a person is forced to disregard their past history and heritage. It really is not that big of a deal for the most part. The more I live, the more I see how I have held onto superficial perceptions of identity as I means of anchoring myself in this world. From clothes, to behavior patterns and even names we are malleable enough to put on or take off these things without fear of changing the core of our spirit. I still oppose the notion of external pressures forcing a sense of conformity and censorship, but when the action is voluntary who are we to criticize it. We do not begrudge water for changing states, nor do we disregard the fact that its elemental nature stays the same.