Charly Boy Bus Stop and the Politics of Official Renaming

Photo Illustration by Ezinne Osueke / THE REPUBLIC. Source Ref: WIKIMEDIA.

I came to know my name as Abiola. As I understood life, I began to wonder why Ijaw parents would call their son Abiola despite all the other Ijaw names. My mother recounted that I was born on June 13, a day after the historic 1993 election that had just been conducted. It was a celebration of the fame of Moshood Abiola, the late presidential candidate, and perhaps they wanted me to be like him. My childhood disputes primarily involved stopping others from calling me that name, especially as children all around nicknamed me ‘Abiola milk’. Now that I fully understand the origin of the name and its intent, I now proudly bear it even though it's too late to add that to my certificates. I doubt even with amnesia, anyone could forget my birth date if they know this story.

The second story that will forever stay in my heart is about my two nieces. When my elder brother had two daughters and a third girl was born, I saw my elder brother and his wife visibly grieving. My mother named the baby ‘Erekpo-idisenimi’, meaning ‘even if it is a girl, I like it.’ The story continued with a fifth girl, whom she named ‘Ifiemi’, meaning ‘there is time.’ This goes beyond my personal stories; informal toponyms encode jokes, tragedies, market lore and family sagas that never make it into government gazettes or school textbooks.