That Is Not My Name

Ferengi, You, Anchi, China, JLo. None of these is my name. Yet these are the things I am most likely to be called while I wander my town each day.  Part of my integration process here in Dangila is to teach people who am I, my purpose for living here, and my name.  It is amazing the level of physical and emotional exhaustion that can build up simply because children are trying to get your attention.

Nicknames I can live with.  In fact, the most commonly used nickname I receive is “JLo.”  Just about every person I have met over the past 4 months has associated me with Jennifer Lopez.
“My name is Jennifer,” I say in Amharic.
“Oh!! I know, I know. Jennifer Lopez!”

Many times this connection continues beyond the initial introduction, and has initiated the permanent nickname “JLo,” which I accept as an improvement from “you!”  I find it odd and amusing that Jennifer Lopez is the most globally recognized Jennifer.  While training in Ambo my extended host family simply called me “JLo” all the time, so I got accustomed to the name a while ago.  In addition, when the family acquired a new kitten, she was named JLo after me. If that isn’t a sustainable impact I don’t know what is.

Upon recommendation from a friend, I have started saying, “Albalem” which means that is not my name to all the children and adults who yell alternatives my way.  It has helped, in fact the children on my street that live between my house and the post office now yell, “Jennifer! Jennifer!” each time I approach. They even correct their friends who call me other names; it is adorable. Additionally, they all insist on shaking my hand and then they fight for position to hold my hand for the remainder of my walk home.  As I round the corner to my compound I turn around, wave, and say, “Ciao!” They then echo the farewell and wave me off to my house.  It is always such an uplifting time of my day and fills me with energy.  It is amazing how much a name can change my attitude and outlook… especially on days when I make the walk home sans envelopes (shameless plea for snail mail!  Please send me letters!!).

Many children first yell, “China!”  I have been told that Chinese construction workers came through town to build the roads and many children just think all non-African people are to be called, “China.”  It amazes me how race-oriented some things are here.  Every Thursday, with the caveat that there is electricity, I ask my landlord to watch television for about an hour as the Arab satellite channel airs the newest American Idol episode.  It airs the same week as back in America, a feat that still astounds me because most times I feel so very far away from all that pop culture.  I relish in that hour and try to pretend that I am back in America as I ignore the bad editing and addition of Arabic subtitles.  I attempt to explain to the children the concept of the show, and one of the major things that I have a hard time communicating is that the African Americans on the show are indeed Americans.  Enough for now, this topic could stem a whole other blog post, which I will get to in the future.

I should go make that walk to the post office now, but first I must mention my new favorite nickname.  Since hanging out at the high school, the latest name I am receiving is “Jenny Love.”  I laugh out loud every time the high school boys say it.  Maybe that is where they are getting “JLo” from!