POEM 101: WHAT'S IN A NAME?
What’s in a name that heads turn at the mention of one,
other heads shake at the mention of another,
while heads bow at the mention of the other?
What’s in a name that causes a quiver in your body
or a smile to curl onto your lips
when the name of that gorgeous dame
or that of that gentleman rings in your heart?
What’s in a name that everyone cherish
lest it be tarnished?
What’s in a name that the newly born
must be tagged with one?
If not given one, will identity be lost?
What’s in a name that can make one stand out from the crowd
or make you lost in the masses like a grain of rice in a bag of sand?
What’s in a name that in every clime forms
a means of introduction?
What’s in a name?
I don't know what's in mine.
So let me introduce myself:
Ja(r)achi: that's my name.
I used to feel my name in harsh syllables
rooted in the language of Ndi Igbo and imported English
Jar or Jaa?
One’s a container
the other a worship verb;
like being boxed in jar
so I could offer my worship to Jah.
I lost my identity in the thin line of opposing religio-cultures.
‘Jaachi’ says the Igbo
But how can God I extol
when I’m boxed in a religious jar of another?
They mocked my Chi and his priests
Burnt down his shrines and gave us crosses
Took our Mgbeke and gave us Mary
Jar or Jaa, I don’t know what I am!
Lost and in darkness, they said I was
And like Moses with a magic rod
they thrust deep into my mode of worship
with subtle trades and a single warship
they took down our barns and announced I AM
but what's in a name I AM when we’ve lost our yam?
How burdensome,
How difficult,
to stand between two worlds
with no name for what I’ve become.
Never still. Tumultuous.
Swirling and dangling with a foreign name
In syllabus my forebears would chew tongues
just to say my name.
What’s in name
that could make me write a poem
I myself do not understand?
- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu
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