rags to riches

The annual OK Grand Challenge is Zimbabwe's answer to Epsom: think excited crowds and oversized flowery hats for the ladies (Dorcas Zireva , wife of OK boss Willard, to made it into the Sunday Mail this year in her large pink creation) Shoppers at the OK chain win points for a couple of months before the race in June (in Mutare in May, I watched a whole village -- literally -- being brought to do their shopping at OK to get a chance of winning). They can bet on the day: shoppers also collect loyalty points towards a draw for a car -- a locally-assembled BT50 Mazda truck -- and a house. This year's event got huge coverage: on the day, roads were closed leading to the Borrowdale race-course and special buses were laid on.

The winner of the Mazda draw was a 28-year old man named Gift. His is a real rags-to-riches story. His surname is Madhumbu, which in Shona means rags. A person who dresses in madhumbu, explained the local Sunday Mail, is "a very poor person who in most cases is the laughing stock of his community." His life had taken the route mapped out by his name: he was a struggling motor mechanic who'd never amassed enough money to buy a car. He'd entered the OK Grand Challenge "many times" before but never won a thing.

Madhumbu was stunned when he heard he'd won.

"I was living a life of rags," he said. "But now it is a thing of the past."

zwangendaba

"Can you spell that? -" The doctor's receptionist obliged. " Z-W-A-N-G-E-N-D-A-B-A. There. Do you need me to repeat it?".

After nine years in southern Africa, I pride myself on being able to spell a lot of local names, both in Shona and Ndebele. I read them in the paper every day, for one thing. But Zwangendaba, my newish doctor's first name: that was one name I hadn't come across. I'd seen the initial Z on his gold-embossed plate and presumed it was Biblical (especially as he doubles up as a pastor): Zaccheus, maybe, or Zephaniah.

Turns out I should have heard of Zwangendaba. He was a famous African king who broke away from the rule of the Zulu king Shaka and (starting in the 1820s) led his people on a 20-year long migration from Swaziland to what's now Tanzania. His people were the Jere tribe.

Back on the Africa desk 10 years ago we had a Lusaka correspondent named Jere: Dickson is now Zambia's presidential spokesman.

clever by name, clever by nature

When you name a child in Zimbabwe, meaning is all.

Lovemore, Trymore, Blessing, Beauty: it's not hard to see the thinking behind those names. Reserve Bank Governor Gideon Gono (who got pelted at a funeral in Chitekwe Village last weekend) has children called Passion, Praise and Pride. A man we employed once as a painter was named Last, presumably by an exhausted mother as a warning to her husband. A softly-spoken female activist at a local AIDS project goes by the name Silence.

Often, parents give a child a name they hope they'll grow into. Sometimes it works: the president of the Zimbabwe National Students' Union is called Clever. His deputy (ZINASU VP) goes by the first name Brilliant. (Clever -- who's been arrested several times -- and Brilliant are currently lobbying the authorities to stop Zimbabwean universities charging in forex.)

Then there are the names you can only guess at the tortured thinking behind. A few years back, there was a state journalist called Jealousy. (Did he have an unfaithful parent?) Another writer was called Killer. (Did his mother die when he was born?)

I see on one of the Western embassy mailing lists that they're sending press releases to someone called Murder

name and shame

It's a hard thing for us murungus (whites). We tell people to call us by our first names as soon as we strike up a friendship. In Zimbabwe, once you become a parent, you lose your first name. You become mai (mother of) and then your child's name or baba (father) and your child's name. After a few years here, I see now how Zimbabweans wince before using a white person's first name. It's such a foreign concept. Even the shop assistant down the road, an unmarried youth in his early 20s, isn't plain Harry to his co-workers. He's Mukoma (brother or cousin) Harry.

"Imagine calling an old lady by her first name," E. said to me once in horror. We were talking about an 80-year-old mutual acquaintance, a white woman who I know as Bet. E's in his 50s. "I just can't do it."

It's only occasionally that you see black Zimbabweans referred to by their first names. Like in the election campaigns. Opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai's running his campaign under the slogan Morgan is more ("You deserve more for your life"). Former finance minister Simba Makoni is using sunflowers and the shout: Simba KaOne (Simba is the one). Only Mugabe's campaigners never ever talk of Bob. Now that would be disrespectful.