by Lona Thomas
The beauty about being a South African is that as diverse and multi-cultural as we are, we are bound to intertwine in one way or the other. One may find that in some families there is “a bit of everything”. For example, my family is made up of the Xhosa, Sotho, Zulu tribes and the Coloured ethnic group with White individuals who married into the family here and there. It is a beautiful scene when we have family gatherings where you can literally hear “South Africa” in your own yard.
The first gift a human being is blessed with is their name. In the South African culture, naming a child needs to have a deep meaning- a meaning that they need to harness by becoming what they have been called to be through their name. A person named “Xhantilomzi” is given the responsibility to always be the one who holds and keeps the homestead intact- to be responsible for the family’s livelihood. In a diverse, multicultural family, its quite interesting because you may never know in which language a new-born will be named but what is certain is that, it will hold a very special meaning.
Another reason of naming is to give an individualistic identity to a person. That sense of knowing that “There is no one else who is like me or named with the same sentiments as me” gives one that sense of belonging and confidence. In the world that we live in, that is cruel with suicide rates increasing and the ages at which people commit suicide decreasing to as young as 5 years old, it is crucial to take this as the first step in making one realise that they have a place in this world. Most importantly, they are loved and needed.
Sometime last year I was conversing with my then 12-year-old sister on the phone. As she is approaching her teens, she is starting to find her place in the world and comparing herself to her peers. This can either boost or knock a youngster’s confidence. The one thing I kept on emphasising was that she is loved, and I did this through referring to how she got her name.
She was born at 7 months premature with quite low chances to live past her first month and our mother almost lost her own life while giving birth. “Bonubuhle” was the name our mother gave her; A Xhosa name that means “see beauty”. No matter what happens in life, no matter how twisted the world is, she must always see the beauty of life. She spent her first month of life in an incubator at St Dominics Hospital in East London, where they were later discharged to go back home. As a human-being, that was her first victory- doctors said her lungs were not well developed, she was too small, but the little nugget showed them she is a fighter. The day she and my mother went back home to Queenstown, clouds started to gather, and it looked like it was going to rain later that day in the evening, and we were expecting them early afternoon. The moment the car parked in front of the house I told my grandmother that they are here, then made my way to the door to help them with their luggage. As I stepped out the door, it suddenly poured heavily- not drizzle, but POURING RAIN. My grandmother, who is a Basotho native (Mokoena), at that moment she exclaimed “Helang! Bitso la hae ke Puleng! Puleng o tla le mahlohonolo!” meaning “Her name is Puleng- she has brought us blessings”. In Xhosa her name means Nomvula. By telling her this story over and over again, it is a reminder that she was given the name Puleng and Bonubuhle intentionally because she is loved, and she has the responsibility to always see the beauty of life and to shower goodness, kindness and warmth wherever she goes.
Wherever you go, whatever you are faced with as an African child, look at your name- remind yourself who you are and confidently hold your head up high.
