By Bola Bolawole
Sometime last week I was reading a newspaper report about some coming books where the author, Bisi Daniel, was described in flowery terms as a seasoned journalist and writer. I cracked my brain to see if I could figure out who this person was. Of course, I did not expect to “know” all top flight journalists but imagined that the name should at least ring a bell. It was not until I read further, when some of the earlier works of the author were mentioned that I screamed.
Bisi Ojediran is now Bisi Daniel! There was no way I could have made the connection. Ever-smiling, ever-friendly, always willing to help, Bisi Ojediran used to work in the PR Department of Shell, if my memory has not failed me, when that organisation maintained an office along Broad Street/Marina. I was in his office on a number of occasions and each time I took away fond memories: a very pleasant fellow and the quintessential PR person. I knew he combined his love for writing with his PR job even as at that time. That was decades ago, though. Everyone went their different ways and the next time I would “hear” about Bisi was last week when I read the aforementioned report of him in a national daily. I suspect Bisi’s name-change must have some religious connotations. “Oje” in Yoruba belongs to the genre or cult of traditional drummers, which may not sit pretty with a born-again Christian, which I suspect Bisi to have become. He might have been a (nominal?) Christian these days – I really cannot say – but to be entrusted with writing revealing books on Pastor Adeboye speaks volumes about his present status.
I have a lot of friends who, on becoming born-again, changed their names from what is generally regarded as “fetish” to Christian names. Ogundipe became Oluwaseyi; Ijalana became Olulana; Fawole became Oluwawole; and Fawumni became Jesuwumi. There are those who simply excised the “offending” part of their names, such that Ogundipe became Dipe, Falana became Lana and Sodimimu becameDimimu or Oluwadimimu. On convertion to Christianity, I have sisters and cousins jettisoned their Muslim names outright. Mulikat became Esther; Risikat became Dupe; and another Mulikat became Toyin. It was not so easy for a bosom friend of mine who, for years, was torn between either retaining his Muslim surname or doing something about it. He envied me when I rearranged my own name while we were registering for WAEC in 1974 but family pressure did not let make a decision until he prepared to get married.
Re-arrangement is another option, a lesser of two evils, so to say, for people who, though not comfortable with their surname, cannot completely cut it off for sentimental reasons. I suffered similar pang while re-arranging my own name in 1974. In this wise, the surname becomes just one of the names while the preferred name, which originally was the first or middle name, becomes the surname. Name-change creates fracas or disagreement in families; usually, not everybody toes the same line. Take, for instance, Fela Ransome-Kuti’s change of his surname to Anikulapo-Kuti. It is debatable how many of the other Ransome-Kuti’s toed his line, including even their mother and unrepentant supporter of Fela, Olufunmilayo Ransome-Kuti. How about Fela’s own sons? Femi is Femi Kuti while Seun is Seun Anikulapo-Kuti.
Recently, former Aviation Minister, Femi Fani-Kayode, said he was changing his surname. Ignored by the public, he may have beaten a retreat. Gov. Ayo Fayose of Ekiti was at various times Oluwayose and Fayose. His father, upon “seeing the light”, changed from Fayose to Oluwayose; Ayo tagged along for a while but later decided to go back to Fayose, even though he is himself a very deep Christian. Is a man bound to bear his father’s name as surname or can one enjoy the liberty of picking and choosing? I understand that in the North, children of the same father as a deliberate policy sometime bear different surnames – the father’s first or middle name, grandfather’s name or even the name of their village – oftentimes to mask their real identity.
The recent controversy surrounding Senator Dino Melaye has as much to do with certificates as with names. Mere arrangement of names, especially where consistency is not maintained, can cause a lot of havoc. Ask visa chasers and they will tell you that abbreviation of names (e.g. Bola instead of Bolanle) or the use of initials instead of writing out the names in full, can spell doom. Many make these mistakes – and yours truly is one of them. I started out as Ojo Saliu, Saliu being my surname (aka Faji) in primary and modern school but progressed to Bolawole Ojo Saliu as I leave secondary school (aka Captain Terror Black Avenger), Bolawole becoming my surname. At Osogbo Grammar School, where I was an Auxiliary Teacher, I was “Mr. Jeans” and at Ilesa Grammar School (for my “A” Levels), I was “Odaju” (the audacious one), still bearing Bolawole Ojo Saliu. At IleGrams, the Senior Boarding House Master, Baba Ojo, yelled “Saly!” at me all the time, a reference to the efforts I made to shorten Saliu to Sal. In my Part 3/Final year at the University of Ife (1981/1982), as I prepared to contest as Fajuyi Hall chairman, which I won, I amended my name again to Bolawole Bola Ojo Saliu (aka BB). I maintained this name at the University of Ibadan (for my M.Sc.), except that I now wrote the Bola in full as Bolanle.
As a pastor in the Redeemed Christian Church of God, I have used Bola Bolawole. I am one and same person and have sworn to affidavits to reconcile records. While I was PUNCH editor and signed as Bola Bolawole, many of my former classmates later regretted, for good or for bad, that they never knew I was the one. Thank God I now know that Bisi Ojediran is the same as Bisi Daniel. Do get in touch, dear brother!