Nigerian English Names

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Sometimes, the British are shocked, surprised or amused by 'English' Nigerian names and in all honesty, their surprise does not surprise me. Liberty, Patience, God's Light and Sweet Melody are some of my personal favourites.

Last week, I met Patience in the bathroom of a club and I said hi to her, she looked at me and asked 'where are you from?'. We both knew that I did not have to answer this question, nor did she have to ask, because she must have seen from the way my body moved, from the way my hair was braided and from the rise and fall of my intonation that I am Nigerian. For me, it was the way she smiled that gave her away; in the soothing 'Nigerian Mother' way. So I asked the more appropriate question, 'which part of Nigeria are you from?', 'Edo'. Somehow, she could tell that I am Igbo.

My friends stood outside the door waiting for me but I knew that they would have to wait a little longer, Patience's wait in this toilet would be until 3am, when the clubs close and drunken teenagers pour onto the streets. The reality is that Patience and I were not in that toilet under the same circumstances. I was to be in and out in a few minutes but this was Patience's place of work, her office was this toilet. She was to sit and watch people come in and leave, listen to drunk teenagers reveal less-than-secret secrets, and become familiar with the smell of their urine.

In the midst of all this, Patience was smiling, she was seated in a stool in the corner, smiling. I had to hold my breath when I first walked into the toilet, but then, standing there and looking at Patience, my nasal senses quickly forgot the stench.

In those few minutes, I believed I was learning the story of Patience's life, I felt I had met her before, but within myself I recognised that I could not begin to phantom the complex story that is her life. The last time that I saw my family was 6 months ago and I feel like my emotions will come crashing into each other if I do not see them again soon, but there was Patience telling me she had a teenage daughter and a son in Nigeria that she had not seen in 8 years. I suspected that alcohol was playing tricks on my ears, so I asked to confirm that she meant 8 months. 'No', she corrected me, '8 years'. I am about the same age as Patience's children and I survive on my parents’ hugs. She had separated from the father of these children and was now married to a Malawian, 'be careful with Nigerian men’ was her candid advice to me'.

I do not think I would ever meet a person more aptly named than Patience. Like quicksand, in a bid to run away from poverty, she had come to the United Kingdom and fallen deeper into it. I wanted to make end my night there, take Patience with me and put her on a flight to Nigeria, but instead, I bought one of her 50p lollipops (she would have to sell 10 of those to earn the amount I had paid to get into the club) and went out to meet my friends. They had started to worry about me, when the person that they really should have been worried about was Patience, but Patience was sitting in her corner and smiling, maybe thinking of seeing her children, maybe thinking of the money she had made from the sale of her lollipops. This woman gives a new meaning to her name, a meaning beyond the understanding of Nigerians who are so eager to give 'english names' and of the English who are shocked when they hear these names.