The Name Game in Mali has a different objective than the game we play in the States.  In the States, it’s usually played when meeting a person for the first time, and if that person has a friend that shares something similar with you (school, job, hometown), you proceed to recite a list of people both of you may know. 

In Mali, the game is also played when meeting a person for the first time.  However, upon hearing their surname, one (me) proceeds to figure out their story.  A surname in Mali often gives away the ethnic group you are from in addition to what region in West Africa your ancestors came from.  It can even have a staple food associated with it that most people with that surname eat.  It is always a fun game to play when greeting someone for the first time, and often turns into a fascinating lesson about the history of migration in the Sahel region of Africa. 

In the case of first names, I would estimate that 80% of the population in Mali is named one of 20 popular Muslim names including Mahommed (and many derivatives of this name), Ousmane, and Ibrahima for males and  Khadiatou (Mohammed’s first wife), Fatimata (Mohammed’s first daughter) and Fanta, for females.  Another 10% hold Catholic Saints’ names, often very dated in our culture, such as Hedwig, Constantine, and Cyrille, and the remaining 10% have secular names that often tell a much greater story.

The last 10% is worth writing about. Since I’ve arrived, I’ve already met a ‘Monday’, ‘Tuesday’, and a ‘Sunday.’  No, ‘Sunday’ was not named after Nicole Kidman’s newest addition, but rather named after the day the person was born, as were the others.   In addition, I’ve met a July.  Naming a child after their birthdate or month is an easy way to remember when he or she was born, especially for the illiterate.    

Last week I had the surreal pleasure of meeting two new colleagues, ‘God Given’ and ‘My Dear,’ both male.   And for some reason I found myself acting in reverence to ‘God Given’, imagining there truly must be something holy about him and lowering my voice in an endearing tone when addressing ‘My Dear.’

I also had the pleasure of meeting ‘Crappy Basket’ a few weeks ago.  Stymied on that one, I inquired about his name to a friend, who told me that his mother had had 4 infants die before they turned 1 years old.  As a result, she decided to name the 5th something very ugly and bad so that Allah would not want to take him away.  I’ve learned this is common practice in Mali.  Hence, ‘Crappy Basket’ is still alive and kicking today. 

Next time I meet a Malian with an equally foul name, I will be reminded of the intense love the Mother had for him or her, trying to beat God in the battle for life or death.