NATIVE TONGUE Bafana Khumalo
I HAVE a confession to make. I lately have not been feeling hip and with it for I lack the latest status symbol of the black trendoid circles. No, not a cellular phone. Those stopped being hot when the Independent Electoral Commission wound up its operation and repossessed all its toys from the temporary yuppies.
A warm feeling of satisfaction permeated my entire being when I heard that that was happening for I was getting tired of people asking me if had any change: Its for the parking meter, they would say and then add, I dont have any, I now use a cell.
Bewildered at my own ignorance of the latest lingo I would ask: A cell!?
With a look of resignation on their faces they would then whip the little toy from their breast pockets, wave it in my face and explain to this third world native: A cellular phone, bra. I now dont need any change for pay telephones, so I dont have any on me.
The cells have gone but the yuppies are still one up on me, for they have a particularly distinguished status symbol. I dont have a name.
Yes, I know that I have a lot of names, some of which I find to be truly endearing — my personal favourite is Pompous Little Fart. But I am talking about a real trendy, listener-flabbergasting, statement-making label that a lot of non-African language speakers will be too embarrassed to ask me to repeat and will show my brothers that I am truly emancipated from mental slavery.
Lately, some of my friends have decided that they are going to be using not only African names, but truly Afro-centric names. Like prefixing their surnames with ka or waka. I havent had the courage to give such a prefix to my name and I feel particularly inadequate. Most of my brothers can walk up to a public relations type at a press conference and, after greeting her — most of the time it is a her, Im not being sexist — announce long names. Very long names which sound like the entire title of a German count. Names like Thembinkosi yesziwe Sama Zulu ka Khumalo.
It needs courage to do that because some people consider it to be a pretentious thing to do. My view of it is, if FW Klerk can call himself FW de Klerk, why should it be an issue for Themba to call himself Themba ka Nkosi? Besides we already have someone like Klaus von Lieres und … I forgot the other part, I am sorry.
The names operate essentially at the level of reasserting ones cultural roots and identity and, in this regard, I havent reasserted my cultural identity enough. Damn, I thought I was really blacker and more African than the other American accent-affecting brothers.
While the brothers have been learning to be more African than I, the sisters have been learning to be more … more … More what? I dont know what afflicts the sisters. Let me explain. Lately the sisters have started wielding double-barrelled surnames. (I could make an example but I dont want to negatively influence my future job prospects, for most of these sisters hold high-powered career- influencing positions. Who knows, one day the tongue might stop wagging and I dont want to go to an interview and be asked, What did you say about me, in that grotty little newspaper?)
These sisters must have it tough when they fill in those official forms we all have to deal with at one point or another in our lives. Most of these documents seem to be designed for people with short sharp and simple names, names like John Smith. The best these forms have is an extra space for a middle name. If you have two first names and two surnames, you are in serious trouble.
I dont really understand the logic of having two surnames. I dont know whether it is because the sisters want to keep their maiden names or they just want to stand out in a crowd. If they want to keep their maiden names would it not make sense to use just that and forget about the surname belonging to the bum they are married to?
Personally I think that people who get married should exchange names and both have double- barrelled surnames to wield. It is only fair to the husband who has given something to the woman; he should take her surname to append to his.
I, too, am going to get into the swing of things. I am quite tired of feeling left out and therefore will have a prefix appended to my surname. There is one slight problem: in addition to wanting to belong, there is a little part of me that wants to be different. So instead of calling myself Bafana ka Khumalo, I will henceforth be known as Bafana von Khumalo.
This will not be the end of it all. When my dearly beloved and I finally decide to take the plunge — when I decide that I am ready to see her without her make-up and she decides that she is ready to see me in my torn socks — we will exchange names. I, too, will have a prefix and a double barrel. My name will be Bafana von Khumalo-Nkosi.
Try beating that, Mondli waka Makhanya.