Hello, My Name Is....

I was simply helping myself to coffee, at the self-serve beverage station of my favorite café. When this symbolical occurrence that I am about to share with you, happened. It was the jolting picture of ‘pretty perfect’ that approached my viewing space. First there was the elegantly coiffed hair, that swooshed and almost slapped me blind. Then I would notice the ‘out-of-this-world’ manicure, as she gingerly lifted two packets of sweetener. Items that were now strategically placed, between her right thumb and index finger. Tearing at them systematically, as if each fiber of recycled paper was singing her praise.

As I reached for the flask of creamer, simultaneously squinting my tired and nearly whipped eyelids. She did the same also. Oh those pampered hands again. I drooled, as I silently bowed out and let her go first. Beauty before admirer, someone once said. No?

She applied the same smooth and unhurried gesture, as she delicately poured the cream into her cup. I watched in stressed and hungry horror. All the while fearing, that two of three things were about to go down in this joint.

One, I yell; “Treason!” And then proceed to flip the cup in my hand over and upside down.

Two, I ask nicely; “Do you think you might be finished with the cream, sometime this year? This may be hard for you to believe or understand for that matter. But I intend to slurp this caffeine at some point today. At least before it sprouts wings and deserts me.” To which she might answer “Huh?” Moving along….

The third thing that might occur, you ask? Never mind. I will decide to pass, on revealing that one. But just so you know, it was something along the lines of a nuclear blast.

I opted instead for Act II scene I. I would ask nicely, because it felt like Christmas was around the corner. And please do not remind me, that it is still the gorgeous month of May. Anyway, I turned to the queen of all things bright and beautiful. Beholding her radiance. As I chided myself, for not promptly and perfectly rising to the picturesque occasion. I should have spent more time drawing out my brows, before I dashed out of the house hurriedly. Then I mumbled under my breath. As I tore open, two packs of black pepper and emptied it into my cup of coffee. All the while, wondering what those floating items in the cup were. Hmmm…. Who knew sugar now came in grey/black flakes.

I startled violently, spilling about a pint of liquid from an 8 ounce cup. And no it was not the swimming foreign objects that got me so. It was a voice from my left side. From the exact same spot where beauty had been standing. “Hello beautiful!” Said she cheerily and continued. “Omg, I have been meaning to meet and talk with you for some time now.”

I turned sharply to the back in confusion. Who could she be talking to? Though she was looking directly at me. Or was she tender-eyed Leah? Come back from the times of old, to haunt me? Where is Jacob when you need him the most? But instead, there was an angry man behind. He was staring at us. And non-verbally daring, me to end this intriguing exchange. You need to calm down caveman, seriously.

So I obliged my lovely interrogator. “You mean me?” I ventured politely, as hot liquid trickled down my fingers. “Of course you,” she asserted with a smile that spread from her eyes. “I see you at (that public space) most of the time. And I always thought what a beautiful and special woman.” I missed the last part of her introduction. She called me beautiful, I ruminated. She had just shared that name with me. And I thought, I just might change my moniker after all. I nearly tripped over my spilled coffee. As caveman grumbled to his shoes. Moral of the story? Grab the creamer first.

“K-I-B-A-M-A,” came the voice over the loudspeakers. As I turned the other way, all the while grinding my teeth and smacking my lips on my imaginary chewing gum. This was not the day to come at me incorrect, I fumed inwardly. Wait; was that blood I taste in my mouth? The number flashing on the ceiling-high small screen, was the same as the one that had been allotted to me alright. But I was determined not to move a muscle, until someone showed some overdue gesture. I believe the word is spelled R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

The number kept flashing. Turning aggressive and rapid. As the voice, now attempted a fearless try on my second name. "I quadruple dare you," said I to no one in particular. Or at least no one who could hear me at the moment. But I would sit there and wait for my name to be called. Properly. As I furiously kicked my crossed leg, back and forth. Yes that number looked familiar. In fact, it even looked like the same number on the card I was holding. But the name that was mentioned, was alien. It was in no way, even remotely close to what my name sounded like. Or what it was spelled like for that matter.

I submitted a name in the likes of; And with the letters C-H-I-O-M-A. From whence came and how did the letters K and B creep into the mix?

I could try to understand if the pronunciation or intended accent was mangled. But why the inapplicable and replacement letters? Why invent and input extra alphabets that were foreign to my name and to me as well? Whatever happened to sequentially joining the present characters, to pronounce or say a word? Was it the lack of regard and effort. Or subsequently, a careless unwillingness to try?

I was tired and done with the impromptu teaching sessions that surrounded my very pretty and meaning laden name. People would have to try harder, if they were going to get my attention this time. Even if it appeared I had bitten my lips in anticipatory angst. And indeed it was my blood I tasted as I chewed on that gum.

Heck, I had seen people with nine consonants existing back to back in their names. And no one as much as blinked or faltered at the oddity. It just seemed the right thing, to carefully take the time. To blend all consonants together, with an intent not to offend.

Yes my parents, who themselves had beautiful English names. Chose not to give me any of the perceived cooler handles, for reasons best known to them. And I am quite fine with that. Actually, scratch that statement. I am ecstatic and proud of that. Basically walking on sunshine right now, should you catch a glimpse of me. Yes, we make it dramatic in this website.

Then there was that time, I walked into a room full of casting directors and agents. I felt like I was making an entrance into the showcase, like a mumbling mass of monologues. Every sentence I had memorized, was at this point entwined in my head. It felt like it would take weeks, to unravel the mystery of my intended rendition. Chances were, that I would unconsciously borrow a classic line and follow up with a contemporary one. And then maybe, just maybe. Eventually tie it all up with a musical piece. I panicked, as my showtime was finally becoming a reality. I needed more time to disintegrate, the tangled tapestry that was now my monologue.

Nevertheless, I did not have to worry about overlapping words. For the simple fact that when I walked in, most of the panel were trying to figure out how to say my name. What an unplanned, yet welcomed escape indeed.

This scenario bought me the time that I needed. Or so I thought, because I would spend the next couple of minutes in a pronunciation session. And then we further proceeded, to the origin and meaning of my names. What a creative and amazing way to break the ice. How did the delivery of my piece go, you ask? I don’t remember and I do not believe anyone did either. But my phenomenal name introduction and historical attribute, was as memorable as a monument. I won either way.

Eventually, at other seminars, recitals, auditions and showcases. One out of every five industry professional would ask me to either change my name, or consider altering it for the purposes of showmanship. I fault not their logic, nor do I shoot down their ideas. But here are a couple of reasons, why I did not and will not budge:

(1) When the roll is called up yonder in the great by and by, I want to be acknowledged as the same person I was when I was thrust into this evil planet at birth. And my father did a happy dance.

(2) The nostalgic feeling, that made everyone around cry. When my parents signed my birth certificate and my pink little toes were proudly tagged.

(3) I am used to having and answering to my name. Might take me a while or never to learn a new one.

(4) The reason I got the name and the intent behind it. That is way too powerful of a stuff, to drop on a whim. I am eternally hooked.

(5) It may be a common name. But not when it applies to and identifies me.

(6) And then there are all those adversities and adventures, that I signed off on. You would not recognize the stories, if my name became ‘Nunu the evil quencher’, would you now? My point exactly.

So I will have to stop here for now. For one I have given more than enough reasons. And secondly I think I am hungry…..

Oh wait, by the way; We have not been formally introduced yet. Hello again, my name is CHIOMA ONWUDIWE. But then you already knew that….

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