What is Your Name?

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The dictionary definition of “name” states that it's a word or set of words by which a person or thing is known, addressed or referred to.

A name is a term used for identification. Your name, in short, is your identity

What is leadership?

This is the action of leading a group of people or organization.

Leadership can also be defined as an act of motivating a group of people to act towards achieving a common goal.

Who is a leader?

A leader is a person in a group who possesses the combination of personality and leadership skills, which make other people want to follow in his or her direction.

According to Adam Alter, an associate professor of marketing at the New York University's Stern school of business and psychology department, your name gives the first impression about you. This is because it is usually the first piece of information that people get about you.

That’s why I pose the question: what is your name? Is your first name enough, is your family name the only identification you have, and is it enough?

What prompted me to write about the importance of a name is something that happened to me some time back while I was searching for myself, my true identity. I realized that my first and family names were not enough to define me; I mean, anyone could use my name and literally become me, and simply enjoy any privileges meant for me. So, my name alone was simply not enough.

My personal story

I became pregnant with Zoe after my senior six, and I moved in with my then-sweetheart and didn't care what the world said about us. It was the two of us against the world. He decided to visit some of my relatives to do the first visit (an act that is traditionally known as kukyala) and was accepted, but on condition that he took me back to school after giving birth, which he agreed to. 

Since he had met my relatives, they were supposed to be the ones to talk to my father about our relationship, as is usually the norm. But before they could even say a word to him, word had already burnt his ears, setting his heart ablaze.

Whoever was in that meeting felt my father's wrath. He almost shot all his relatives dead for having consented to our relationship. He swore never to bless our union and never to hold my child in his arms when she was born.

If you have been in love, you very well know that these words hold no water, they’re just like wind. Why care? After all, my happiness was right beside me and soon the fruit of our love would be born and I would have a complete family. That is all that mattered. That's how I missed my second name (Mrs). I would be Mrs. Kaggwa now, only if I had known the real importance of having a name.

Six years down the road, my relationship turned sour. I grew to detest the person I’d once loved the most. Six years in this relationship and I was still being called a girlfriend. In church I could not even walk to the alter to take Holy Communion (Eucharist) because I had now gotten an illegal name (Maama). I was supposed to be Mrs. before being Maama.

One day I boldly got out of my seat and walked to the alter to receive the Eucharist, after which I went back and sat quietly to say a short prayer, only to open my eyes to find Andrew, one of the choir members, seated right beside me. Had he moved all the way from where the choir sat to where I was in the congregation, just to sit beside me before mass ended? That itself was weird, but the weirdest part was the reason for which he’d done that. I was shocked to learn that he had simply come to tell me that I did wrong to go for the holy bread yet I was unmarried and a mother. In short, that my sin was too evident!

I had never felt that much insulted in my whole life, and worst of all in God's house_ in God's sacred presence. I mean, who are you to judge me as if you don't use contraceptives? Just because my sin is exposed doesn't mean you are not a sinner. You too have had sex before marriage and that makes both of us sinners and unworthy to go for Holy Communion! These are the words that shot into my mind at that moment.

I felt the way Zacchaeus felt when people were pouring insults on him about being a cheat. At least, he was lucky that the Lord was right beside him, comforting and openly defending him, which helped him change and pay back those he'd cheated.

So, I decided to own my sin and open the bible for him and, with such pain, said to him, "It is written, in Mathew 26:28 Jesus says ‘This is my blood of the new covenant poured out for the forgiveness of sin.’" I went ahead to tell him that, “If there is anyone who needs this Holy Communion, then it's me. I am a sinner, so let me eat and have my sin removed.” Andrew quietly walked away and went back to his colleagues who had sent him to rebuke me. 
I refused to cry, even though I badly wanted to. Because for even if I had been able to defend myself, I was feeling ashamed! I was burning with rage.

When Zoe made 2, I was able to reunite with some of my old school friends through Facebook. These moments of reunion were usually beautiful, but what did I have to show? I definitely had the most awesome child, my only pride. At least I had the Maama name. But what names did my friends have? They were all students at different universities, pursuing big courses. Is there a small course at university? No, because university is for powerful people; you are either there because you are rich or because your parents care or because you have brains and sponsors came to your aid. I felt really small before my friends.

While at one of our reunion parties, I ended up serving them food and doing the waitress job so that my presence could also be felt; so that somehow my impact, too, could be felt.

It hurt even more when we talked about those old school days where I was the elephant and they were the grass. Remembering all that stung very badly. I’d always been the best student in my English class, no one beat me back then. Yet here I was now, miserable, simply because I’d spent most of my post-high-school time with underclass neighbors, whose education had hardly gone past primary seven. 

I felt so dissolved, and spoke Luganda like a typical Muganda village girl from Kiboga. I could hardly sustain a conversation in English, and I kept speaking typical Luganda throughout the party until my head hurt, yet my friends had this what sounded like a language only spoken and understood by those at university. Most of it were English slangs. It sounded really sweet to the ear, yet I, myself could hardly pick. But even if I picked, was I ever going to speak to mama Edgar in English or mama Shivan, who was even worse because she had just come to the city and was still struggling to get the local Ntugamo village lifestyle out of herself in order to learn some ki nakampala (urban lifestyle)? Which time would such a person ever have to think about learning English?

I had gone for that reunion party feeling extremely happy, but I left when I could barely forge a plastic smile because I was hurting. I asked myself, “Who am I, what do people call me, besides just ‘Daphine’?” Because I constantly felt that “Maama Zoe” alone was not enough to fully define me.

Many of my friends from far and near, after the small reunion party of about ten people, spread the news about having found me. Very many people who had known me for being very social and lovable in the past, wanted to find me again. I remember one old friend (Mbabazi) traveling from Rwanda, just to come and see me because she had been looking for me for a very long time. 

She could barely hide her disappointment, though, when she finally found me. She’d expected to find a very successful, beautiful young woman. She instead found a young mother, skinny and miserable. She wanted to take me with her to Rwanda so that I could use my senior four papers and at least get myself a job as a primary school English language teacher, but it was not possible because my child was still too young, and I had not yet found the strength to leave my boyfriend, despite the enslavement I was in.

As time went on, I joined several WhatsApp groups where lots of my old school friends were, and we kept chatting every once in a while. Soon after about a year, I started getting invitations to attend their graduation ceremonies. One of the invitations even came with a request for me to be the MC. I remember crying in disguise of tears of joy, yet I was crying tears of deep pain and regret. 

I looked at my childhood friend, Silvia; now she had a new name: Graduand. Oh, that really hurt. Will I ever have such a beautiful name? Will people ever gather to celebrate my new name like they did when I got my first name (at baptism)? This new name that I was admiring signified patience (which I’d never had), struggle, success, righteousness, beauty with brains. I cried a lot when I left that party. 

I asked God when my turn would come. I asked Him if I had not been sorry enough. Truth is, my friends' new names all hurt me, their success hurt me and I started being jealous of them all. They had perfect relationships which were leading them to their other name, “Mrs.” I couldn’t even afford that, yet I already had a man with whom I lived.

Maybe if he loved me enough, he would have married me even without my father's approval, but just to show how serious he was about me_ at least then I could join Mothers’ Union at my Anglican Church and commune with fellow Christians peacefully. Then, no one would ever talk of the child I bore out of wedlock, my new name would cover up all that, because it would not matter now.

If maybe he had been good enough to open up a retail shop for me, then I could have been called a shop owner. That name could easily be transformed into “Business Woman”, which sounds much better and more formal.

Had he perhaps accepted that we go together to Dubai where he worked at that time, then maybe I would have worked very hard, made money, bought lands and built rental houses. At least I would have the name “land lady”; I would learn to appreciate that.

When he failed to help me redefine myself, I got up and left him with my child and went back to my father and asked for forgiveness. Luckily, God was with me, He had heard my cry. Just like He had done for Hagar concerning Ishmael, this time, for Zoe's sake, God saved me. My father, without hesitation, took us in.

This is Zoe today.

Despite the fact that I was back home, my father battled with my name. Every time my uncles or his friends came home and he had to introduce his children to his friends, he didn't know how exactly to introduce me. After saying, “This is Daphine…”, the visitor waited for another name, a name that defined me beyond the obvious. The question of “Where are you now?” is one that I’d come to hate the most because I was literally nowhere: not at school, not working, no profession, and now I was no longer even illegally married. 

I saw my father's heart wreck each time he searched his mind for what name to give me. I would just stare on until my jolly Zoe would come to save me with her big smile, and that’s when father would finally say, “Daphine is Zoe's mother.” And then a shot of relief could strike through both of us (father and myself) after that.

Father got tired of trying to compete with his friends that always introduced their children like: “This is John, he is a doctor, married with two children.”; “I had actually come to invite you to Patience the accountant's introduction ceremony this weekend.”; “This is Emily, she's doing Law at Makerere University and my last born Joash is at Rainbow International, he's in the football and swimming clubs and has just come back from Hong Kong where he’d gone to represent Uganda.” Oh yes, such statements hurt really deep.

These powerful names hurt so much that my father decided that enough was enough. Before I could breathe in and out, I was at Uganda Christian University (UCU) picking admission forms, Zoe's last name had changed from Nakalanzi to Malinga, and within one week from the time of picking the admission forms, I was in the hall of residence at UCU. It took me quite long to understand the drastic change, it felt like a dream I was soon going to wake up from.

After two weeks, I went back home to see my daughter because I was missing her so much. I found my uncles at home. This time round father had found a name for me, one that would give him some respect. So, he went like, “Daphine is a Student at Uganda Christian University.” and he would add on how much the tuition was, because it was really much, yet he said it with such ease and a big smile. He was glad that at least he could afford to buy me a name. My father had bought me a name to cover up all the shame and grief I had caused him before.

I have a few questions for you:

1. What are your names?

2. When your name is mentioned, what are people's reactions? Are they excited, sad, or just not sure how to feel?

3. Do you have other names (such as Dr., Tr., Eng., Mr., Mrs., Student of) besides the ones your parents gave you?

According to me, there are four most important names that a successful person or a leader ought to have that define him or her:

1.       Your family name: This is a brand name. When people hear your family name, can they trust you because your family has trustworthy people, people good in business or politics, people who are religious, educated? Your family name can affect you. Some people don't come from prominent families but they can be the beginning of prominence by making the name their fathers and fore fathers failed to make.

2.    Your professional name: your profession gives you a name that everybody will call you. For example, Doctor Kiggundu, Teacher Daphine, Head Teacher, Nurse Betty, Engineer Sam, and so on. Sometimes you won't hear your real name at all, people will just call you by your profession/title. When introducing a guest to the audience, normally they start with his/her professional name. This pulls attention, this gives the audience a chance to be expectant, if it's a Doctor so-and-so coming to talk, then it's important to pay attention to him or her because he or she is going to talk about matters of life and success, things that are worth listening to, right?

3.     Marital name:  After your professional name or names have been mentioned, the question of whether you are married or not comes in. Traditionally here in our society, if you are not married, lesser respect is accorded to you, especially if you’re a woman; your PHDs will not mean much if you are not married, and the same applies to men. Because if you cannot lead a small group of people (a family), how can we entrust ourselves, our group, our organization to you? It simply infers that you don't know how to multitask, you don't know how to remain calm amidst pressure, and that makes it hard for people to trust your leadership. 

One time I was in a taxi and I couldn't help but eavesdrop a conversation between a gentleman (who admitted to be of the Northern descent) and his friend. The gentleman made a statement and said that one of the reasons his people failed to vote for Mr. Olara Otunnu for president during the  2011 presidential election was because he did not have a wife, so they could not entrust a whole country to a person who could not even convince a woman to marry him and at least have a small unit to exercise authority on.

4.     The fourth name is your behavioral name: The way you talk, act, walk, dress, says a lot about you. This will either earn you a place in the hearts of the people or make you their worst enemy. If you are kind like Mother Teresa, you earn the name “Mother” even to those you do not mother, or those who’ve never even seen you; if you are Patriotic like Martin Luther King Junior, every political rally will be accompanied by your words to bring hope and advocate for change in places of oppression and inequality and/or racism; If you are humble like Nelson Mandela, your name will be sung in the whole world. Your behavior either gives you a name of praise or one that will be hated. For example, at the mention of Idi Amin in Uganda here, a lot of Asians curse; mention Adolf Hitler and the Jews will curse.

How do we make a new respectful name?
Work hard; when you have a chance to study, study like it's all you have; if you get a job, be the best at it and even create something new; if you are a teacher, teach like you would be proud if you were your own teacher; if you are a mother, make your children proud of you so that when they speak they mention your name with praise at least once a day.

Make sure you be known. You can only be known when you do something different, so go ahead and make good news and the world will know you.

Pray to God to give you a new name. If you are still a student, pray for the ‘Graduand’ name. When you get that, pray for your professional name. If you have that, pray for your marital name. Keep working hard as you pray for your new name. Change your name today, Sarai (who was barren became Sarah, and became the mother of nations). Pray for change of name.

Accept every challenge presented to you, for it could be your stepping stone to fame or to a new name. When David took up the challenge against Goliath, his name changed from ‘Shepherd’ and ‘David son of Jesse’ to ‘David, Slayer of men’, ‘king of Israel’ and finally to the ‘Man after God's own heart’.
Through challenges we find our strength and birth a new person with a more powerful name.

Have humility; it will bring you in contact with your destiny-helpers, people who will help redesign and redefine you. Humility is the reason Dorcas (acts 9:39_41) came back to life after people pleaded with God to bring her back because she was a good person to them. Humility can earn you favor and this favor could earn you a new name.

Recommendation to scholars
Get your new name, work or even pay for your new name. There's power in a name. Through the name of Jesus many people have found joy, peace and freedom. Don't joke with the power that is in a name, have one today, make your name be heard.

In Conclusion
Whether your name is a family name, or professional name, or behavioral or marital name, don't let people joke with your new identity, defend it because it is something you worked for and earned. Defend it, work even harder and leave a legacy behind

By Oitamong A Daphine (Guest Blogger)