Persons are named by and after unique peculiar circumstances of their births. The English have such outlandish names like Stone, Wood, and believe it or not Drinkwater! For the Yorubas of Western Nigeria, the naming of a newborn child entails deep ceremonies and an age-old saying that we have to look inwards before bestowing a name on a child who naturally has no say in his naming is trite. Circumstances of the birth of twins and other considered unusual deliveries render their naming relatively easy. But acquired nicknames for adults is another ball game entirely.
Nicknames are common for both teachers and students; the former by outraged students or as endearments for their peculiarities. Students also bestow nicknames on their contemporaries or seniors; some for their feats in both curricular and extra-curricular activities. This sort of musing arose because of a chance encounter with a contemporary student in the old Aquinas College, Akure who was nominated by his peers as the chairman of the ‘No Future Association (NFA) for his layback attitude to both curricular and extra-curricular activities. Yet this guy bagged a Grade II in the West African School Leaving examinations, went to the then University of Ife, and became a neurosurgeon. So much for contemporary permutations of their colleagues’ future prospects in life.
Rufus Olafusi was as bad as they come in a school famous for their mischievous and devil takes the hindmost students. He was so incorrigible the ever-reliable rumor mill had it that his biological father used local ‘juju to expel him from the family household. Also known as ‘Jigi Jaga’ because of his wayward attitude and the ‘in your face’ lifestyle, he became so organized in a miraculous way in later life that he was solely responsible for the funeral obsequies of his hitherto alienated father. The cardinal law was never to fight imposed nicknames as they would stick no matter what.
‘Bebere idi’ used to position his school trousers indecently and provocatively while abroad only to become a reverend in later life. Benedict Popoola aka ‘Benepo’ used to be as gentle as a lamb and ferocious as a tiger in the field of play. Involved in an epic fisticuff with a school bully who he demolished to the open admiration of his peers and cheering juniors, he became the ‘avenger’, going on to play football for the famous Bendel Insurance and subsequently the national football team. Louis Umeh used to punish students by simply telling them to stand there while he was reading. ‘Stand there ’became his enduring sobriquet. What an effective way to punish erring students without inflicting the usual punishments! Stand there for no purpose for an hour and see. ‘Iwin’, the unusual one was an enigma to his contemporaries after rushing into the dormitory in the middle of the night after dabbling in the forbidden sixth and seventh books of Moses. He was forgiven all as a result of his inimitable prowess in the school football team. The nickname stuck.
But give it to the students who had an endless repertoire for their hard-working teachers. One became known as Agama lizard for his endless bobbling of the head in the science laboratory. ‘Maths is a logical game’ was a name given to Chief Babalola for his tireless and more than often futile efforts to impart the mysteries of the subject to thick-headed wards. His hateful sing songs were usually accompanied by ferocious slaps. His own son was even averse to the subject to the delight of students and slaps the unfortunate son.
There was Atomic energy, the physics teacher who was all energy and a likable games master to boot. He used to improvise boxing rings for students bent on a show of strength and referee same to the delight of ‘promoters’ who usually sprang up at the drop of a hat. There was the tireless and indefatigable Mr. Idemili who stormed into the class in our final year to declaim the unfortunate fate of senior Fakunle also known as Agarachi Agaracha who bagged a Grade III in his final exams.
“You students were always hailing him Agarachi Agaracha until his final ruin”. The likeable and easy-going student scored a P8 in Idemili’s English. We, students, bestowed the student’s nickname on the teacher. Given a rare second chance in the school, senior Fakunle had an A3 in Idemili’s beloved subject but there were now two Agarachi Agarachas in the school! Mr. Idemili took the nickname in good faith for Fakunle was his favorite.
Espying the principal in his endless quest to catch erring students pants down at night, the universal whistling of Oga nbo (Oga is coming!) will rent the air to give the students advanced warning of the impending peril. Oga was the affectionate nickname of the principal who also used the students warning code to catch them pants down by imitating the students’ cat call!
Far away from the cozy environment of schools, the nicknames came fast and sometimes uncompromisingly derisive. Criminals give themselves ghoulish and fearsome aliases. Foreign film stars featured less prominently than homegrown blood-curdling ones. ‘Doctor’ Oyenusi terrorized the citizenry in the early 70s. Lawrence Anini became ‘The Law’ in the eighties. Both came to their inevitable grief in the end. Musicians out to sell became Commanders, Admirals, Kings, and the son of the hunter (omo ode). All these panegyrics were understandable in their professions.
Bishop Ajayi Crowder and his team made a grave error in equating the devil of the Bible with the orisa Esu in Yoruba cosmogony. The trickster deity in the Yoruba worldview was so powerful that other deities in the pantheon of the race were advised to take him into serious account in all their dealings. Hence the names Esubiyi, Esugbami, and other Esu prefixes to Yoruba names. A close friend named Akin Esubiyi was simply called Esu by his contemporaries due to his enormous reservoir of mischief and trickery.
Without batting his eyes, he would simply give Esu as his name and he lived up to the Biblical attributes of his namesake. Trouble would find him when he was not looking for it; he was in his element in the midst of chaos and confusion. Terrible was the day when he had an altercation with Remi Ilerika simply known as Ika (Wicked) by friends and foes alike. The formidable duos were good friends and were involved with the same girl. They resolved their amorous differences without mutual friends: both of them dated the girl without acrimony. The sky is big and vast enough for all sorts of birds to fly!
Before Fela Kuti decided that he had death in his pouch, Yorubas had been paying an ambivalent homage to the Grim Reaper by naming their offspring after him or pleading with him as the great leveler knowing full well the irrevocability and finality of Death.
Parents who experienced repeated deaths at childbirth named subsequent issues as Ikumapayi, Ikumuyiwa, Ikumolu, Kokumo, and other plaintive names. But as the Yorubas are quick to point out, Kokumo and his mother are living on borrowed time.
A friend named Ikumapayi reveled in the acronym of Iku—a shortened form of Ikumapayi. Without an elixir of everlasting life, the exercise was bound to be futile but most people knew him as Iku rather than his full name. Fela Kuti could only be immortal in his works and not in his physical state.
The same could be said of all mortals. So if your friends or foes give you a nickname, whether derisive or affectionate, answer it with equanimity, and aplomb for it is your essence.
Afolabi is a historian and an analyst. He contributed this piece from Ibadan via akinbolaafolabi152@gmail.com.
