What's in a Name? - Minor Peccadilloes of an Occidental Immigrant

I admit it. I have a funny name. It is something I have learned to endure and live with from my early childhood. My parents claimed not to see anything funny about it, whenever I’ve accused them of cruelty to their offspring. But then, my father comes from a family of siblings with names like Placidus, Amyntus, Felicitus, Justus, (by then my grandparents were running out of inspiration) Quintus and Sextus. If my grandparents had had more children, no doubt the seventh would have been Septimus, the eighth, Octavia (a girl, say) and the ninth would have been a Nonymus! On top of running through the early Roman Emperors and their assigns, my grandparents also scattered, gems like “Ciprion”, “Kingston”, “Mary” (for a boy), and “Elgin” on their offspring. My mother, on the other hand, hails from a family which boasts of “Scholastica”s, “Petronella”s, and “Philomena’”s with even a Sosimus and a Frumentious! So what hope for me? I was doomed from the start!

Fortunately for me, a kind-hearted neighbour had suggested a more sensible name which was included into my given names – Harindra. This was the name which I used for many years, quite happily abbreviated to Harin. The name given by my parents was always carefully concealed behind initials. In formal situations I was E. J. H. Corea. Occasionally, my cover would be blown and school friends, cousins and others would suddenly discover that my ‘E’ stood for ‘Eusebius’! I’ll never forget (and rue) the day the certificate of a scholarship exam, which I had happened to pass, was awarded at school assembly! The Sinhala-speaking teacher who read out the name on the certificate screeched out over the P.A. system; “EE-you-she-be-us Joe-Shup Hareen-dra Corea!” and I walked up, head hanging in shame, stripped naked in nomenclature in front of nearly two thousand schoolmates who were overcome by – first - astonishment and then mirth! I wished I had never passed that wretched exam!

A casual remark by an eighth grade Social Studies teacher during a class on the Portugese occupation of Sri Lanka (five centuries ago), made my surname a problem, too, at school. Corea was an unheard of name at the time in Kandy and I was already treated with some degree of suspicion, as a result, by the sons of the Banda’s and Nayakkar’s who happened to be my classmates. But after that particular Social Studies class, I was branded forever as a Portuguese collaborator (even though the last Portugese had left our shores around four centuries before I was born)! Never mind the assorted “Perera”s, “Fernando”s and “Silva”s who fell out of any casual dust bin one happened to shake at school - it was us “Corea”s who were the Portuguese! I suspect there are still a few of my classmates who believe that I am of Portugese origin!

But I always drew solace from “Harindra” and “Harin”. I liked it and grew to love it. And then I went overseas! At first, it was in the United States. As an exchange student in senior year in an upstate New York school, nobody could pronounce “Harin”. I was alternately called “H”, “Harry”, “HARR-din”, “Ha REEEN” and other variations to the theme, which was crowned by the Physics teacher, who called me “Irene”! Finally, I settled for a friendly “Abdul” given to me by my team-mates on the soccer team (this was before 9/11).

Things became a bit precarious when it came to filling in forms, though. Every form in the US has room for “First Name, Middle Initial and Last Name” - all Americans having only three names. But I had four, and my “first name” wasn’t my real first name! Furthermore, I didn’t have a “middle” initial! I experimented awhile with Harindra J Corea and Harindra E Corea and where the form demanded the full middle name, Harindra Ej Corea. Finally a kind lady at the NY state licensing authority solved my problem permanently by declaring me to be “EJ Harindra Corea” and that’s what was printed on my driver’s license. I’ll never forget the stunned perplexity of a Wyoming County Sheriff, who happened to stop me for speeding one day. He wanted to be polite, and address me by my name, but he couldn’t figure out how to pronounce any of them! After “humming” and “hawing” for a while, he finally drawled “Way-yell EE-jaay, Ah jes’ heyappenned to scray- yep a dee- yah off the haghwaay a whahl baayeck an Ah sho’ doan wanna hav’ ta scray-yep Yee-oo orffit, son, so yee-oo betta slo daaawun!”

Later on, in the UK, my name was rarely a problem. In a country where a post-marked envelope - with your name on it - in your pocket was considered sufficient proof of your identity and address, and names like Worthington, Wilberforce and Wigginbottom were commonplace, my name/s were accepted without question.

Then came Australia, where I migrated with my family a few short years ago. At the bank, it was a Pakistani lady from Lahore, who was not fussed at all. She issued me cheque books, cards etc., declaring me to be Harindra Corea. At my sons’ Primary School, again, no problem – I was simply Harin Corea. And then I went to get my Australian driver’s license! Apparently the system demanded that my names be entered in the exact manner and sequence in which they are written in my passport.However, there is space only for two names and a last name. So the woman behind the counter entered (God Forbid!) – Eusebius Joseph Corea! I protested, cajoled and appealed, explaining passionately that I have always gone as Harindra Corea and that’s how I’ve been identified all my life, etc. etc. I even asked her to enter Joseph Harindra Corea (still the same sequence, I pointed out!) but she was adamant. If I wanted to change my name, I’ll just have to go and get a deed poll to that effect, said she. I protested that I didn’t want to change my name,that it had always been Harindra Corea since the day I was born, and it was she who was changing it! But it was to no avail. My driver’s license, which is my primary source of identification in Australia, declares me to be Eusebius J Corea! This complicates matters more than a little. The other documents I normally carry with me - credit cards, bank cards, cheque book have neither Eusebius nor the initials E or J on them. And, now, my driver’s licence, doesn’t have a trace of Harindra, Harin or even an ‘H’ on it! When I pointed this out to the dragon behind the counter at Vicroads, she just shrugged and said, she couldn’t help it - it was my name, after all.

Recently, I noticed an ad on the telly, run by the Australian Federal Police, asking people to report “suspicious” activities and behaviour. Among other things, it showed a checkout chick at the supermarket calling up to report that she had noticed a customers name on his credit card didn’t match the one on his driver’s license!

My one consolation, I suppose, is that when they eventually do come for me, they wouldn’t be able to figure out what name/s to put on the charge sheet..! Or, maybe I should take that deed poll after all, and change my name to "Ex Harindra Corea"!