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An onomastic renaissance: African names to the foreSJ NeethlingUniversity of the Western Cape, BellvilleAbstract
Against this background the paper is offered. The first section is devoted to the development that clearly indicates the influence of African names on the surrounding language communities, while the second part takes a look at how African names, formerly marginalised and operating mostly in ‘closed ranks’, are now making their presence felt in all areas of social life. * ’n Onderskeid kan tussen die leksikon en die onomastikon (naamskat) van ’n taal getref word. Binne die leksikon is kreatiwiteit beperk : min individue voeg nuutskeppinge by. Binne die onomastikon is dit egter nie die geval nie. Enige individu kan ’n entiteit benoem. Binne die onomastiek is die moontlikhede t.o.v. linguistiese kreatiwiteit en innovasie dus groot. Name weerspieël die verskillende sosiale en ander houdings en verwantskappe, sosiale hindernisse, en die wyse waarop sosiale groepe teenoor tale en ander aspekte van die samelewing reageer. Die eerste afdeling word gewy aan ’n ontwikkeling wat duidelik die invloed van Afrika name op die omringende taalgemeenskappe demonstreer. In die tweede word daar aangedui hoe Afrika name, vroeër gemarginaliseer en slegs gebruik in geslote geledere, nou hulle invloed laat geld op feitlik alle vlakke van die samelewing. Xhosa Department University of the Western Cape Private Bag x17 BELLVILLE 7580 On the basis of various criteria, a distinction has been made between the lexicon of a language on the one hand, and the topicon (Sampson 1970 : 103-4) or onomasticon (Nicolaisen 1980 : 41-2) on the other. The corpus of names in a language represents the onomasticon as opposed to the rest, that is items that usually have current lexical value. The onomasticon consists of proper names, inter alia personal names, place names, ethnic names and the like. Onomastics (Greek onoma = name) as a scientific discipline, is therefore the study of proper names. This dichotomy of lexicon and onomasticon has further been formulated in terms of proprial as opposed to non-proprial substantives (Leys : 1974 : 448-9). Non-proprial creativity is restricted psychologically and socially, i.e. few persons are capable of coining new phonic constructions, and most use those lexemes forced upon them by the speech community. Creativity within this sphere is often limited to a social elite comprising those who are economically or intellectually capable (Leys op.cit.). By contrast, onomastic creativity is not thus restricted. Practically all individuals may name an entity. Homo sapiens has been labelled before by Nicolaisen (1978) as homo nominans, i.e. ‘man, the namer’. The possibility of linguistic creativity through namegiving is thus large. In addition names are often psychologically laden and it is therefore no surprise that the sociological and cultural importance of names has been commented on. It has been variously stated that ‘the study of names bears on every aspect of human activity’ (Ekpo 1973 : 281), that ‘the very act of naming has both communal and personal importance’ (Nicolaisen 1980b : 119), that ‘proper names are socio-onomastic, i.e. they are related to the social properties of their referents’ (Van Langendonck 1983 : 643-44), that ‘in African society the naming of a child assumes some very particular cultural significance’ (Thipa 1982), and that ‘key features of …….social structure are brought to the fore by the practice of name-giving’ (Ramos 1974 : 171). The study of personal names belongs to the realm of sociolinguistics, which , roughly defined, is that branch of linguistics dealing with the interaction between language and society (Leys 1976 : 137-8). In view of the dichotomy between proprial and non-proprial substantives mentioned earlier, it has been argued that ‘the impact of all kinds of social structures and situations will, ceteris paribus, manifest itself most easily and frequently in the field of proprial lexemes’ (Leys 1974 : 449-50). Hence it follows that it is in the field of names that the greatest possibility exists for the study of language innovation and attitudes towards language as a cultural phenomenon. Personal nomenclature is socially most sensitive, because it is found at a level of language that is most susceptible to variations and innovations. Personal names reflect, therefore, better than any other language form, various social and other attitudes and relationships, social barriers, the way in which social groups behave towards languages and other aspects of society. Quite clearly then, personal names reflect the sociology and psychology of the era in which they are or were used. It is against this background that this contribution is offered. Clearly African names have always been there, and innovation and creativity have always been very prominent within an onomastic context (see Neethling 1990). But the remarkable wealth of onomastic data from the African languages has never been exposed to other linguistic or cultural communities because of apartheid. The exciting onomastic world of African language speakers has by and large because of apartheid, operated in ‘closed ranks’, so to speak. With the demise of apartheid and democracy now firmly in place, the wealth of African names is not only coming to the fore strongly in all areas of social life, but has already begun to influence naming in other cultural groups. The purpose of this contribution is then to illustrate this development. The first part is devoted to a development that clearly shows the influence that African languages exerted on language communities around them. The first and most important of these came about within the sporting context. The national rugby side is fondly known as the Springboks. The name is often shortened to the ‘Boks’ (English) or ‘die Bokke’ (Afrikaans). In the apartheid years resentment and controversy developed around this name in groups that felt marginalised and who argued that they never had equal opportunities to compete for Springbok colours. This has led to the new sporting authority, the NSC (National Sport Council) abandoning the name, with the exception of rugby where it is still firmly entrenched. The Springboks endeared themselves to the South African rugby supporters by winning the World Cup in 1995. The competition was hosted by South Africa, and after the momentous victory when South Africa beat New Zealand in the final, the large African population of the country was caught up in the euphoria and ‘Africanised’ the name of the side to amaBokoboko. In the aftermath of our relatively peaceful elections in 1994, local sporting journalists (English and Afrikaans ones) happily seized this new appellative, sensing that it also reached out to a segment of the population that had not formerly expressed much interest in the sport. The appearance of our former president, Nelson Mandela, at the presentation ceremony, donning a Springbok jersey, endeared him to the hearts of rugby supporters. Even Archbishop Desmond Tutu walked down Adderley Street in Cape Town wearing a Springbok jersey to show his support. The name amaBokoboko is truly Nguni in all respects: it boasts of a class marker ama- , firmly positioning it in a specific noun class (cl. 6), it was phonologically adapted to represent the open syllable structure of the African languages, and it contains a common feature of African names, i.e. a reduplication of the stem (see Dillard 1976 : 22,29 on reduplication as a feature of African names). This development was probably not surprising. Names are given and used by human beings. The study of names can therefore not be isolated from the study of the societies in which those human beings live, nor from the study of their minds, their mental and emotional processes and their behavioural patterns. Where different communities interact, it stands to reason that influence of some sort would take place, also at the level of naming. This takes one into the area of code switching and/or borrowing and hence also sociolinguistics. When thinking about code switching, one would probably think of switching between two languages that would involve greater syntactical phrases or even sentences, but Eastman (1992: 16) makes it clear that code switching may also involve single lexical items as is the case with names. She asserts further that particularly in urban settings where people from diverse linguistic and cultural backgrounds interact regularly, material from many languages may be embedded in a matrix language (op.cit.). Clearly, this type of phenomenon, also within onomastics, is then to be expected, particularly in post-apartheid South Africa with its many peoples, languages and cultures. Goyvaerts and Zembele (1992: 72) believe that code switching in multilingual communities should be regarded as the norm rather than the exception. They quote the extraordinary case of Bukavu, a town in Zaire, where more than 40 languages are spoken in the city! Not unexpectedly, the degree of multilingualism and multiculturalism resulting from that context, is staggering. That this has not been common in apartheid South Africa, is probably indicative of the tacit acceptance of political, social and/or economic power differences where negotiated change had not been possible. This in turn, also evokes the concepts of the ‘we-code’ and ‘they-code’, introduced into the literature on codeswitching by Gumperz (see Sebba and Wootton 1998 : 262). Of necessity, it also deals then with group identity. The amaBokoboko example was clearly an attempt to break down existing barriers between communities and as such was quite a significant development. White sporting journalists had no hesitation in using this name in their columns aimed primarily at a white readership, thereby showing a willingness to open up, even if marginally, to the ‘Other’. Although the linguistic processes underlying the formation of an example like amaBokoboko are not the focus point of this contribution, it is nevertheless interesting to take a brief look at Myers-Scotton’s model (1993 : 4) which she calls the Matrix Language Frame Model (MLF). It basically deals with clarifying the status of lexical material from an Embedded Language (EL) which appears in a frame provided by the Matrix Language (ML). In the amaBokoboko example, Afrikaans provided the lexical item ‘bok’ which is then embedded in the frame provided by the matrix language Xhosa (or Zulu). Khati (1992: 185), using English and Sesotho as examples of two languages interacting, prefers to call examples such as amaBokoboko intra-lexical switching which is ostensibly more correct. The amaBokoboko example illustrates linguistic integration characterised by phonological and morphological adaptation of features of the source language to those of the recipient language (ibid. : 182). Dillard (1976 : 78) refers to the ‘hybrid’ patterns that developed in naming through contact of different cultures. The use of amaBokoboko is perhaps not as evident nowadays as in 1995, but what is significant, is the spinoff that this name had in other sporting codes, as well as in advertising or marketing strategies. Mainly Afrikaans sport journalists have been quite creative and innovative in creating new ‘pet names’ for national or representative sides. In cricket the UCBSA (United Cricket Board of South Africa) was at pains to denounce the name Springbok , insisting that former sides had never been called by that name. The UCBSA has become known for its ‘politically correct’ stance in matters like these. The NSC has declared the king protea as South Africa’s national sport emblem, hence national sides (including the cricket one), are supposed to be called by the pet name, the Proteas. They are usually simply called the South African cricket side. When they do not perform well, however, some journalists, notably Afrikaans ones, refer to them as amaBlommeblomme or amaBlomoblomo (blom=flower=protea) suggesting that the flower metaphor is perhaps not an appropriate one. It does not conjure up notions of toughness, resilience, perseverance, etc., all qualities required in the tough and competitive international sports arena. It is interesting to note that in the first case the Afrikaans lexical item ‘blomme’(flowers) is retained unchanged and merely duplicated, whereas in the second example it has undergone phonological adaptation to the matrix language. Khati calls the first type of nouns as ‘mixed’ in his contribution on Sesotho and English (1992 :185). When South Africa competed in the Cricket Trinations Cup together with India and Zimbabwe, black sporting journalists referred to the South African side that won the trophy as amaShushu (‘the hot [in form] ones’). Indian cricket players in and around Durban are called amaRotiroti , after the Indian delicacy. This clearly shows that this phenomenon cuts across cultural borders, but at the same time the Indian cricketers have used a culture-specific item to make the newly coined term, in spite of borrowing ama- and the duplication feature, still their own. Lately sports writers, again the Afrikaans ones, have begun to use the appellative amaBlomoblomo or amaBlommeblomme for the national netball side. Given the fact that this is a sport practised by females, it is better received. At the risk of offending sensitive readers, I have also come across the name amaFannyfanny for the netball side. I will not go into the etymology. Not surprisingly, this name is essentially used by men only and could therefore be considered sexist, derogatory and even tasteless. Soon after the Rugby World Cup triumph, Ernie Els and Wayne Westner emulated the feat by winning the Golf World Cup again hosted by South Africa in 1996. The sports writers opted for amaStokkestokke or amaStokostoko (stok [Afr] = stick, club). This was also clearly inspired by amaBokoboko. In the same way as with the netball and cricket sides (‘blomme’ vs ‘blomo’), the Afrikaans ‘stokke’ is simply duplicated with the ama- prefix in the first example. The embedded language is clearly Afrikaans through the use of ‘stokke’, but it is extremely dubious whether the end result, amaStokkestokke, which in ‘normal’ cases represents the matrix language, does so here. It rather appears as if Afrikaans borrows two typical Nguni language features, i.e. the class marker ama- and the duplication of ‘stokke’ to form what I would call a ‘neologonoma’, which in spite of its ‘contaminated’ form, is still decidedly Afrikaans. There is no further phonological adaptation as with amaStokostoko. Lately the hockey writers have used this name for the national side, too. The coach at the school where my son plays hockey, got so carried away with the good performances of his side, that he coined the name amahokkahokka in a circular to the boys and their parents (1997). It is abundantly clear that amaBokoboko made a significant impact on other established sporting codes. But things did not end there. When the South African paraplegic team went across to Atlanta to compete in the paralympics in 1996, they were goodhumouredly dubbed the amaKrokokroko (krok-gekrok [Afr]; crock - crocked [Eng] ). Although some may object to this name, suggesting that one should not make fun of handicapped people, the handicapped themselves accepted the name in good spirit. Earlier this year South Africa hosted the Golden Oldies Rugby tournament in Cape Town. A number of countries participated. The oldest competitor was 97 and South Africa’s ‘star’ player weighed in at 170 kilograms! They were summarily dubbed the amaKrokoboko, a clever mix of the ‘kroko’ and ‘boko’ elements, which suggested that they in a way still aspired to the status of the amaBokoboko, but that their physical condition placed them in a category closer to that of the amaKrokokroko. The newest addition in the world of sport (that is if one can call it a sport), is the reference to the South African team that took part in the World Frisbee Championship held in the USA in 1998 as the amababata (‘the ones that fly’). It is probably a contaminated form from ‘bhabha’ (fly) or ‘ibhabhatane (butterfly). It is clear that the sporting parent amaBokoboko has ‘fathered’ quite a number of offspring and I am sure some are still to follow. The irony, in my opinion, is that the noble idea underlying the creation of amaBokoboko, i.e. fostering a notion of nationbuilding, has largely fallen by the wayside with the newer creations. At best the ama- forms have some curiosity value and the creators might consider themselves as innovative, whereas in some cases adopting an ‘African sounding’ name might be considered as ‘politically correct’. Purely from an onomastic point of view, however, in spite of well-meaning even if misdirected intentions, the data so created adds an exciting dimension to the study of onomastics. It remains a fact that names, better than any other language form, reflect various social and other attitudes and relationships, as well as the way in which social groups behave towards languages and other aspects of society. The influence of amaBokoboko did not remain restricted to the sporting context. It was amazing to see how this trend spilled over into the corporate world, the world of business and advertising. One of the ‘pioneers’ was a well-known local petroleum company, SASOL. In a popular TV advertisement a little boy imitated the gurgling sound of the petrol by saying ‘glug-glug’ as he ‘filled’ up his toy car from a toy SASOL petrol pump.. He then watched in horror and amazement as the car took off and sped away. The company, obviously inspired by amaBokoboko then added: ‘Perhaps we should remember which great South African performer got there first: amaGlug-glug , SASOL today, SASOL forever’. Due to a sponsorship by SASOL, the South African under 23 soccer side is also called amaGlug-glug. I have overheard that the learners of a high school fairly close to where I live call their principal amaGlug-glug because he drinks too much! The different contexts in which ama- forms crop up are truly amazing. I will briefly refer to some. In an Afrikaans newspaper article on Josiah Thugwane, our Olympic marathon gold medallist, mention is made of amavoetseks (cheap black tackies [running shoes] ). ‘Voe(r )tsek’ is a well known Afrikaans term of abuse (Away with you! Scram!) originally intended for dogs, but unfortunately also used by humans towards humans. I once found myself in the uncomfortable position where a Xhosa speaker levelled this term of abuse to another Xhosa speaker after a strong altercation had ensued. Although merely speculation, I do think there is a likely connection between ‘running away fast’ (hence the shoe metaphor) coupled to the term of abuse, perhaps used by people in a position of power over others with less or no power. It is also interesting to note that in spite of the presence of the plural marker ama-, the common Afrikaans plural suffix -s is also used, clearly indicating two different grammatical systems co-existing side by side in one lexical item. A well-known outlet in Pretoria, selling biltong (dried meat) and droëwors (dried sausage) is called amaBiltong. These delicacies (to some) are sold by weight and not by number, hence using the plural class six marker for the collective entity is in order. An extremely innovative creation appeared in a newspaper review of a production at the Grahamstown Art Festival in 1997 of Mozart’s well-known opera The Magic Flute. The opera was placed within an African context and sung in English with Zulu exclamations in between. The reviewer, welcoming this innovative development, hailed it as follows: Auf Wiedersehen Wolfgang. Woza Ama Deus Deus! As is well-known, Mozart’s first names were Wolfgang Amadeus. By saying Auf Wiedersehen (‘goodbye’ in German) to Wolfgang, and welcoming the South African production through Woza (Zulu for ‘come’), and then cleverly utilising the ama part of Mozart’s name, the reviewer then slips into the pattern started by the amaBokoboko, i.e. using the ama prefix and then duplicating the Deus part. A well-known courier service advertised its service by saying ‘we transport anything’, from Ama-briewe-briewe (Afr. ‘briewe’= letters) to Ama-bokse-bokse (Afr. ‘bokse’= boxes). A franchise involved with delivering goods to homes and offices, call themselves AMA Tuk-Tuk . They use a type of motorcycle with three wheels commonly known as a tuk-tuk. A car manufacturer was so proud of their achievements in a car rally, that they called themselves Ama wen-wen in a prominent newspaper advertisement. In white circles many jokes do the rounds about blonde females that are supposedly not very bright. One columnist in a daily Afrikaans newspaper referred to them as being amadof-dof (<Afr. ‘dof’; dull, not bright) in the New South Africa. Recently a fireworks competition was held in South Africa (sponsored by Dunhill) and called the Symphony of Fire. A number of countries competed. One newspaper correspondent referred to the South African competitors as amaVuur. And also in a newspaper column the correspondent referred to South African competitors in an imaginary cooking competition against competitors from other countries as ama Potjie-Potjies (< potjiekos = food cooked in a black pot over an open fire). When the South African government announced an unusually big delegation to an event in Washington, they were depicted in a cartoon in an Afrikaans newspaper as follows : some delegates were sitting on the wings and tail of a big jumbo aeroplane, and some more were seated in a little plane on tow by the big one. On the side of the jumbo was written: amaflyfly. This was one of the rare examples where English served as the embedded language. Another example of this nature , was Ama-sip-sip for a car light on petrol. The latest examples that I could find were the following: a travel agency based in Stellenbosch called Maties Reisburo (‘Travel’) placed an advertisement in the Afrikaans daily in the Western Cape, Die Burger. The majority of the information was in Afrikaans, but the travel agency invited the Ama fly-fly (the travellers) to make use of their special offers Ama quick-quick (quickly) because they were Ama cheap-cheap (cheap) and then to depart for their destinations Amabyebye. This example is remarkable in many ways. It clearly illustrates the multilingual context of South Africa. Aside from the first example, it appears as if the noun class prefix ama- had been randomly prefixed to adjectival forms such as ‘quick’ and ‘cheap’ and also eventually to the well-wishing ‘bye’bye’. One may attribute this to the ignorance of non-African language speaking persons of the grammatical structure of Nguni, and hence the resultant forms could ostensibly not be described as ‘names’ in the true sense of the word. But in spite of that, it is clear that this is also an offspring of the original Amabokoboko. It should be clear that the original amaBokoboko has spawned a great number of creations. One could ostensibly say that it was a popular trend in the period immediately after our first democratic elections and being ‘politically correct’ at that time was of great importance. Commercial names, for example, reflect economic, technological and political forces that underlie human history. These creations exemplify the fruitful and innovative interaction between the various linguistic communities in South Africa. One other very clever copywriter got his inspiration from the Bafana Bafana, South Africa’s popular soccer side. In a newspaper advertisement for a well known dog food, he created Blafana Blafana (< Afr. ‘blaf’ [bark]). Unlike the amaBokoboko, however, the Bafana Bafana did not inspire many new creations. As far as the typographical representations of these names go, I have presented them as they appeared. Capital letters, if present, may appear at the beginning or sometimes in the middle. There does not seem to be consistency which is not unexpected. These are clearly ‘experimental’ forms. The change of the political scene since 1994 (and to some extent a few years before that already) also saw a predictable change in the nature and prominence of onomastic data. All non-African language communities in South Africa had up till that time by and large been ‘shielded’ from big scale exposure to names with an African language origin because of the socio-political system . The obvious arena in which this was manifested at first, was of course the political one, where a host of new politicians took office, all of them with ‘strange-sounding names’ and probably difficult to pronounce for non-African language speakers. Fortunately Nelson Mandela was an exception! Even the Americans get it nearly right although they would not attempt Rolihlahla! I would not, however, like to focus on personal names, but rather on names within other contexts where names had to be consciously created anew, because it is in these areas where the new developments and the new prevailing circumstances in South Africa are best illustrated. In some contexts names were consciously changed to take on an African character when it was felt that the existing ones had a more Eurocentric ring to it and did not have a name linking it to the continent. Three magazines, e.g. changed their names: The SA National Parks Board changed from the Latin Custos (preserver/custodian) to Timbila (‘drums’ in Tsonga ). South African Airlines (SAA) changed their on-board magazine from The Flying Springbok /Die Vlieënde Springbok which was a reference to the emblem of the airline, to Sawubona (the Zulu greeting). The SA National Art Museum changed their Quarterly magazine to Bonani (the plural Nguni imperative for ‘see’). In all these cases it was a concerted attempt to ‘Africanise’ the names, thereby indicating a sensitivity towards the changing political climate. Travellers in the departing lounge of Johannesburg Airport are invited to have some refreshments at the restaurant called Isikhonkwane. At first sight this appears strange, because the common meaning of isikhonkwane in Nguni is ‘nail’, but further investigation yielded the following: a lesser known meaning is that of ‘navigation point, landmark, beacon’, like waterfalls, hillocks, large trees, etc. Next to the name is an image of the baobab tree. The implication is therefore not only to serve as a beacon where you might arrange to meet somebody, but it is also a haven for weary travellers. One may well ask: how many of the thousands of travellers passing through the Isikhonkwane restaurant notice the name or have an inkling of what it means? Not unexpectedly many black empowerment groups took on African names and when reading reports nowadays on the stock exchange, these names come to the fore more and more. A few prominent ones are, inter alia, Thuthukani (expand, grow) Group, Sekunjalo (It is already so - also used in political contexts) Investments, Awethu (ours) Breweries, Ukukhanya (to enlighten)Technologies Group, and Kopano ke Matla (Unity is strength - the investment arm of Cosatu). It is interesting that in most cases an English qualifier would follow the African name to suggest the kind of business the groups are involved with. Again, not unexpectedly, many businesses not necessarily run by blacks or in black ownership, realised that having an African name might be considered innovative and perhaps also opportunistic, reaching out to a growing and potentially big customer base. I have noted the following (and there are many more): Sityebi Finance (< isityebi [Xhosa] ‘a rich man’) for a cash loan company, Siyakha Civil Engineering (< -akha [Xhosa] ‘build’; siyakha ‘we build’), Phezulu (On top) Fencing and Phumelela Park (< -phumelela [Xhosa] ‘succeed’) for a big industrial complex near Cape Town. In the coastal town of Hermanus, there is a leather shop with the name Ishkumba which is an obvious contamination, deliberate or not, of Xhosa isikhumba (‘skin’). A few years ago one would not have seen these type of names unless one moved around in black areas. In Knysna there is a restaurant called Inyathi (buffalo) Traditional Restaurant, in Port Elizabeth a factory called Intsimbi (bead) Ceramic Bead Factory, and in Pretoria a paint shop called Pendula (-phendula Nguni ‘to answer’) Verwe (Afr. ‘paints’). With the recent controversy around the new proposed legislation regarding the possession of firearms, one body voicing its opinion was the Khuseleka (Nguni ‘be sheltered, safe’) Gun Association. In 1999 we had our second round of democratic elections. By the end of March 1999 some 41 parties had registered for the elections, but not surprisingly, many of them did not make it to voting day. What is interesting, is that only seven of these parties had an African language lexical item in their names. Most parties probably reason that they would prefer not to have an ethnic identity suggested by an African name, but some of the smaller parties may (at least for a while) be quite proud of this label. The best-known party is certainly the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) (Inkatha = headring worn by Zulu women). There are also the Dabalorivhuwa (Venda = the stone has been overturned)Patriotic Front, the Ximoko (Tsonga = whip) Party, the Insindiso (Nguni = salvation < -sindisa ‘save’) Salvation Christian Voice Organisation, the Simunye (Zulu ‘we are one’) in Christ Organisation, the Sindawonye (Nguni ‘we are at one place’) Progressive Party , and finally, the Vuk’ uzenzele sekusile (Nguni = Wake up and do things for yourself, it has already dawned) Party. Most parties then prefer to use other English lexical items (besides ‘party’, ‘organisation’ or ‘front’) together with the African language lexical items. The domination of English in this sphere is clearly shown in the names of the other political parties. The SABC is still in the process of transformation, but a quick look through the weekly programmes reveals that English also dominates here. There are, however, quite a few programmes that do boast of an African name. In some ‘soap’ drama series, the manufacturers seem to prefer a bilingual name. A popular Afrikaans/English soap drama is called Egoli with as a subtitle the translation thereof in Afrikaans, i.e. Plek van Goud. Ironically, not a word in an African language is spoken in the series. Another popular one is called Isidingo -The Need, where the translation of the Nguni ‘isidingo’ constitutes the rest of the name. This trend was also seen in the performing arts when Laurika Rauch and Vusi Mahlasela put together a show called Kopano/Samekoms. This is clearly an attempt to bring different language and cultural groups together, hence the ‘compromised’ bilingual name. There are, however, many programmes that only have an African language name. Well-known ones are : Zama-Zama (Nguni Try -Try) and Bambanani (Nguni ‘strive, struggle’), both game shows, in the sporting context there is Mabaleng (Sotho for ‘in the courtyard, i.e on the playing field) and the soccer show Laduma (Nguni ‘It thundered’, i.e. the ball into the net), chat shows like Mamepe (Sotho ‘honeycombs’ )i.e. a sweet and enjoyable programme, and Lebone (Sotho ‘light/lamp’ ) i.e. an enlightening programme, and many others. What is interesting, is the variety of linguistic structures used in forming the programme name. This, of course, is an area where constant change is prevalent as outgoing programmes are replaced by new ones. Sometimes one picks up little gems that might be purely incidental. In a recent programme on sexual myths, the production house at the end of the programme was listed as Ingubo (Nguni ‘blanket’) Productions! I thought that was extremely appropriate! Within the performing arts, shows involving mainly black performers, now feature regularly in venues formerly not accessible to them. One such African jazz performance that was recently performed in Cape Town , was called Mahube (Tswana for ‘new beginning, daybreak’). The awards for the best Public Service Notices was called Vuka! (Nguni ‘awaken, wake up, rise up’), and the Annual Film and Television Market was called Sithengi (< -thenga < isithengi ‘buyer’ [Nguni]) A well-known supermarket chain found everywhere in South Africa, has their employees wear a T-shirt which states Vuselela. Kropf (1915 :457) has this entry for the Xhosa verb ‘vuselela’: ‘to stir up, arouse a person from inaction and indifference to activity’. When I questioned an employee as to the significance of the term, he very proudly (and he was not an African language speaker) told me that it was ‘the rebirth of good service and customer care’. Now whether all the customers understand that, is an entirely different question, but the marketing division of that chain should be congratulated on their vision to explore and use an African language resource in pronouncing their good service pledge to the public. One could, of course, reason that Vuselela does not constitute a name as such, but in the context in which it is used it appears to function as a name. That there is sensitivity around the question of namegiving, is borne out by the very recent change of the names of our South African submarines. The three submarines were previously named the SAS Johanna van der Merwe (after a young Voortrekker girl who survived an impi attack on her party), the SAS Emily Hobhouse (after the English humanitarian and social worker in SA during the Anglo-Boer War) and the SAS Maria van Riebeeck (after the wife of the first Dutch governor at the Cape). These names were considered ‘polically correct’ at the time when the submarines were named and the naming is also in line with the widely accepted view that sea vessels are ‘feminine’. The renaming of the three to SAS Assegaai, SAS Umkhonto (Xhosa ‘assegai’), and SAS Spear, has been widely welcomed as representing more acceptable politically neutral names. In this case the committee involved with the matter, decided to give recognition to the three regional languages in the Western Cape, i.e. Afrikaans, Xhosa, and English, seeing that the submarines have Simonstown as their base. The poor committee unwittingly and in absolute good faith committed quite a faux pas when they renamed the SAS Johanna van der Merwe to Assegaai (Eng. ‘assegai’). What the committee did not do, was to investigate the circumstances around the young Johanna. Johanna was one of only two survivors when a Zulu impi attacked her Voortrekker party at the Blaauwkrans River in February 1838. She was horribly mutilated by the Zulu assegais, but survived 19 assegai wounds. And now the submarine is ironically called Assegaai! Everybody involved in the process now pleads innocence and the apologies are accepted in good faith, but it is again a reminder to be extremely careful when naming an entity. In conclusion: the onomastic context in South Africa has changed and is continually changing. Names from African languages sources are slowly but surely permeating our society and becoming more visible by the day. That development is to be welcomed, given the rich onomastic material contained in the African languages and given the fact that South Africa is part of Africa, not some European outpost as some would still believe. At the same time our rainbow nation should acknowledge the richness of onomastic material in all societies that may be culturally diverse: there is probably no better indication of a society’s identity (or then multiple identities) than through their onomastic strategies. And there is probably no better indication of the sociolinguistic profile of a country at a given juncture than through its names. ********* References Auer, Peter (ed) 1998. Code-Switching in Conversation Routledge : London & New York Dillard, JL. 1976 Black Names Contributions to the Sociology Language 13 (ed) Joshua A. Fishman Mouton : The Hague - Paris Eastman, Carol M. 1992 Codeswitching Multilingual Matters 89 Clevedon-Philadelphia-Adelaide Ekpo, Monday U. 1978 ‘Structure in Ibibio Names’ Names 26(3) Goyvaerts, DL & Zembele, T. 1992 ‘Codeswitching in Bukavu’ in Eastman (ed) Multilingual Matters 89 Clevedon-Philadelphia-Adelaide Herbert, Robert K (ed) 1992. Language and Society in Africa Witwatersrand University Press : Johannesburg Khati, Thekiso . 1992 ‘Intra-lexical Switching or Nonce Borrowing? Evidence from Sesotho-English performance in Herbert (ed) Witwatersrand University Press : Johannesburg Leys, O. 1974 ‘Sociolinguistic aspects of namegiving patterns’ Onoma 18(3) Leys, O 1976. ‘Sociolinguistische aspekten van de persoonsnaamgeving’ Naamkunde 8 (3-4) Myers-Scotton, Carol 1993. Social Motivations for codeswitching : Evidence from Africa Clarendon Press : Oxford Neethling, SJ 1990 ‘Iziteketiso in Xhosa’ Nomina Africana 4(1) Nicolaisen WFH 1978. ‘Are there connotative names?’ Names 26(1) Nicolaisen, WFH 1980a . ‘Onomastic Dialects’ American Speech 55(1) Nicolaisen WFH 1980b. ‘Tension and extension : thoughts on Scottish surnames and medieval popular culture’ Journal of Popular Culture 14(1) Ramos, Alcida R 1974. ‘How the Sanuma acquire their names’ Ethnology 13(2-3) Sampson, G 1970. Towards a linguistic theory of reference Typescript (cited by Van Langendonck 1978) Sebba, Mark & Wootton, Tony 1998. ‘We, they and identity : Sequential versus identity- related explanation in code-switching’ in Auer (ed) Routledge : London & New York Thipa, HM 1987. ‘What shall we name him?’ Nomina Africana 1(2) Van Langendonck, Willy 1983. ‘Socio-onomastic functions of bynames’ in GS Nienaber - ’n huldeblyk AJL Sinclair (ed) University of the Western Cape : Bellville *** |
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