Name Post: The List

As you can probably tell from my recent posts, I’ve been trying to make as much headway as I can learning about naming in Morocco before my second round of visitors arrive later this month. My name posts are outnumbering my general life posts lately because if I wrote what I’d been up to it would mainly consist of the not-so-thrilling details of time spent grocery shopping, e-mailing future contacts and catching up on bad American television. Thanks largely to the fact that I am settled into my Rabat apartment and have a slew of wonderful contacts to call on, getting into the research side of things here has proved to be far easier than it was in Indonesia or India. In the past week I’ve had several lunch dates full of naming conversations, was a guest speaker at a high school about my research (more on that later), and have sought the help of a few new friends to do some translation work. All in all, while I've become entirely comfortable with the fact that this year is about many different forms of learning, it’s also nice to feel productive in an academic sense once in a while and have copious notes to prove it. In every country I go to this year I know I won’t be able to have the same kind of contacts or set up with which to work from, but I’m trying to take advantage of all that’s working in my favor while I can.

Hello Rabat.

One research jackpot of the past week was this list. To be honest, neither the person who gave me this list nor I have any idea exactly where it’s from or even how she got a hold of it. I was reluctant to share it just because I have no context for it and because of that, I can’t say that it’s an official document. I’m not sure if this is all the names that were sent to a particular regional committee during a certain time, or only names whose decisions were petitioned. Regardless, I find it quite interesting to go through and see what names were approved and what names were rejected (or, perhaps most interesting of all, what suggestions the government made in order to create a name that would be accepted). I do know the list spans across the years 2004-2007 (given the recent changes in policy, specifically regarding Amazigh names, obviously the outcomes might be different today). Most of the document is in Arabic, but based on what I remember from the translations of a friend, here is a simplified version I typed up:

Name	Decision	Year
Astor Francois	Rejected	2006
Bahrouin	Rejected	2005
Chayna	Rejected	2005
Chynes	Rejected	2005
Dylan	Rejected	2005
Hallya	Accepted	2005
Ikram Tamazight	Rejected; Suggested “Ikram”	2006
Inara	Accepted	2006
Jaid	Accepted	2006
Janet	Rejected	2006
Joud	Accepted	2005
Layana	Accepted	2005
Laytana	Rejected	2005
Linda	Rejected	2005
Loula	Rejected	2005
Magdoul	Accepted	2005
Maissane	Accepted	2006
Maksen	Rejected	2005
Masin Elian	Rejected	2005
Milena	Rejected	2005
Nourjane	Accepted	2005
Nyveen	Rejected	2005
Omaya	Accepted	2006
Rachele	Rejected	2006
Rafel	Rejected	2005
Rayana	Accepted	2006
Romaissa	Accepted	2005
Safir	Accepted	2005
Shahinaz	Accepted	2005
Sidra	Accepted	2005
Tim	Rejected	2006
Vanessa	Rejected; Suggested “Anisa”	2006
Wahib	Accepted	2006
Wissam	Accepted	2006
Youla	Rejected	2005
Zacharia	Rejected	2006
Zoe	Rejected	2005
Alae	Accepted	2004
Iptissam Ptissam	Rejected; suggested just “Iptissam”	2007
Pierre Faaris	Rejected; suggested “Faaris”	2006
Adam	Accepted	2004
Akrane-Idine	Accepted	2007
Yzaia	Accepted	2006
Aslam	Accepted	2005
Aanouz	Accepted	2005
Afane	Accepted	2006
Iguidir	Rejected	2006
Alissa	Rejected; suggested “Anisa”	2006
Ema	Rejected	2005
Imdad	Accepted	2007
Amarin	Accepted	2005
Amaline	Accepted	2007
Amir	Accepted	2006
Amelia	Accepted	2006
Anais	Accepted	2005
Anir	Accepted	2004
Aous	Accepted	2007
Onisa	Accepted	2005
Ouweys	Accepted	2006
Aissar	Accepted	2007
Ilaf	Accepted	2005
Betil	Rejected; Suggested “Batul”	2005
Badis	Accepted	2007
Benyebka	Rejected	2007
Tara	Accepted	2007
Tasmine	Accepted	2007
Tayssir	Accepted	2007
Tifawt	Accepted	2007
Tifa	Accepted	2007
Tawa	Accepted	2006
Jed	Accepted	2005
Jassim	Accepted	2007
Jibrail	Accepted	2004
Jaubeir	Accepted	2007
Jassir	Rejected	2006
Jaloua	Accepted	2005
Jounada	Accepted	2005
Janallal	Rejected	2004
Jinane	Accepted	2007
Janna	Accepted	2007
Joudia	Accepted	2007
Jouwairiya	Accepted	2005
Jeremy	Rejected	2007
Jailys	Rejected	2005
Jihane	Accepted	2004
Houmima	Accepted	2007
Khelian	Rejected	2005
Dalia	Accepted	2005
Dana	Accepted	2005
Dania	Rejected	2007
Djora	Accepted	2005
Douria	Accepted	2007
Douae	Accepted	2004
Douniel	Accepted	2005
Dyran	Accepted	2005
Racha	Accepted	2004
Rakane	Rejected	2005
Ralis	Accepted	2007
Rane	Accepted	2005
Rayn	Accepted	2007
Rita	Rejected	2005
Ritaje	Accepted	2005
Rahile	Accepted	2007
Razane	Accepted	2005
Rocham	Rejected	2006
Riham	Accepted	2004
Rostane Wissen	Rejected	2004
Roman	Rejected	2005
Rayan	Accepted	2004
Zinnira	Accepted	2005
Ziya	Accepted	2005
Zizi	Rejected	2005
Sara	Accepted	2004
Sania	Accepted	2007
Sajida	Rejected	2007
Sirine	Accepted	2005
Soulafa	Accepted	2005
Solwen	Accepted	2007
Salena	Accepted	2005
Sinan	Accepted	2004
Sondosse	Accepted	2004
Sania	Accepted	2007
Siwar	Accepted	2005
Susane	Rejected	2007
Sira	Accepted	2005
Celya	Accepted	2005
Cenda	Rejected	2005
Sinimane	Accepted	2007
Chadine	Rejected	2005
Shahine	Accepted	2006
Chainda	Rejected	2005
Sheaze	Rejected	2004
Chahd	Accepted	2006
Chahla	Rejected	2007
Cheryne	Accepted	2005
Sherihane	Accepted	2006
Sabrine	Accepted	2004
Safora	Accepted	2005
Salena	Accepted	2006
Sahra Isabelle	Rejected	2005
Sakhr	Accepted	2005
Sohaib	Accepted	2007
Sorine	Accepted	2007
Sofia	Accepted	2004
Sohane	Accepted	2007
Abdelhanin	Accepted	2004
Abdesettirre	Rejected	2005
Itab	Accepted	2006
Asli	Accepted	2005
Ilian	Accepted	2005
Ghandi	Accepted	2005
Ghofrane	Accepted	2006
Fady	Accepted	2007
Farabe	Rejected	2005
Kossay	Accepted	2007
Camelia	Accepted	2005
Kenzo	Accepted	2007
Keyane	Accepted	2004
Laala	Accepted	2004
Lamees	Accepted	2007
Lahim	Accepted	2007
Loumedia	Accepted	2004
Louniss	Accepted	2007
Lea	Rejected; Suggested “Layla”	2007
Lea Mariane	Rejected	2006
Lydia	Accepted	2007
Laysa	Rejected; Suggested” Layla”	2005
Lyssa	Accepted	2004
Lilia	Rejected	2005
Lyamine	Accepted	2006
Line	Accepted	2006
Marina	Rejected	2006
Mazine	Accepted	2005
Mazilia	Rejected	2006
Almasse Islam	Accepted	2005
Massine	Accepted	2005
Masinissa	Accepted	2004
Mahelle	Accepted	2005
Awia	Accepted	2005
May	Rejected	2007
Madghis	Accepted	2006
Marame	Accepted	2007
Marwa	Accepted	2004
Malak Rouhi	Accepted	2004
Melissa	Accepted	2005
Melina	Accepted	2007
Manar	Accepted	2004
Manaf	Accepted	2007
Mahal	Accepted	2004
Mahinar	Rejected	2005
Mikael	Accepted	2007
Mira	Accepted	2005
Maysara	Accepted	2006
Maissam	Accepted	2005
Maysoun	Accepted	2004
Neisa	Accepted	2007
Naila	Accepted	2004
Nadine Yossra	Accepted	2007
Nadine	Accepted	2007
Nassia	Accepted	2005
Nabil Juba	Accepted	2005
Nidhal	Accepted	2007
Noam Jibril	Accepted	2007
Noham	Accepted	2005
Nelia	Rejected	2006
Nehame	Accepted	2006
Noha-Meiss	Accepted	2005
Noradan	Accepted	2007
Norman	Rejected	2006
Nouri	Accepted	2005
Noriane	Accepted	2007
Numidia	Accepted	2007
Ninia	Accepted	2004
Hanae Joudiya	Accepted	2007
Haissam	Accepted	2007
Widiane	Accepted	2007
Wadir	Accepted	2005
Waris	Rejected	2007
Wacil	Accepted	2005
Ouiaae	Rejected	2005
Yara	Rejected	2005
Yamin	Accepted	2006
Eliane	Rejected	2004
Yani	Rejected	2004
Yanis	Accepted	2004
El Yassae	Accepted	2004
Alisha	Accepted	2004
Yuba	Accepted	2005
Menen	Rejected	2007
Rymade	Accepted	2007
Iwane	Accepted	2007
Sabri	Accepted	2007
Noe	Accepted	2007

It’s really hard to analyze this list without a context and I think it raises more questions than it answers. I do think it’s interesting to see though and to note the tiny differences in letters that controlled whether this particular committee accepted these names or not; Rachele is rejected, Racha is accepted. Layana is accepted, Laytana is not, Dana is accepted, Dania is not. The very western-sounding (to my ears) Lydia, Adam and Amelia are accepted, but Marina, Zoe and Jeremy are not.

To someone who grew up in a place where people have complete freedom in naming (and often in fact, use creative spellings to make their children’s names unique), the one-letter difference between “Dana” and Dania” seems ridiculous to try to control. It would be as if “Caitlin” was a legal name in the U.S. but “Kaitlin” was not. It’s also a reminder to me though that the difference between “Dana” and “Dania” might be huge to someone who has a much better knowledge of The Qur’an than I do, or of Moroccan history, or of the different ethnic identities within this country. As I am reminded consistently throughout this year, I am only at the tip of the iceberg in trying to understand what the legal, cultural and historical ramifications of these names across nations are.

I talked to a lot of Moroccan students this week as we tried to guess why a government might choose to have these restrictions; or, conversely, why a country like the U.S. would not. Framing these legalities within a specific place, culture and history, is a reminder that the difference between “Dana” and “Dania” may not be one to laugh off. To state the obvious, Morocco is a place that's had to fight for itself quite a bit. And framed within a history of colonization and along with that, a lot of racism and violence, the difference between the (traditionally) French “Lea” (rejected) and the (traditionally) Arab “Layla” (accepted) becomes much greater than just three letters.

Most of all after reading this list, I'm just left with the desire to meet the Moroccan couple who really wanted to name their son "Norman." Now that's a story I'd like to hear.

Name Post: Amazigh Names, Policies in Practice

Street in Azrou

Although my last week in Fez and Rabat was mainly spent catching up with my relatives and exploring some new parts of Morocco, I did meet with Professor Mohamed Ouakrime, who works in the Department of English at the Universitie Sidi Mohamed Ben Abdellah in Fez. Professor Ouakrime was one of the only research contacts I had before coming to Morocco because a friend sent me his article, “Amazigh Toponyms: A Historical Perpsective” that focuses on Amazigh (Berber) place names. He’s from Azrou, a town in the Middle Atlas region that’s largely populated by Amazigh people and because of this, he’s interested in questions of naming and Amazigh identity on a personal level. He kindly agreed to let me share pieces of our conversation with you.

Fez

I was curious to find out when he believed discrimination against Amazigh names began, and what the government’s justification for it is. What I learned was that just within the last year there have been many fewer cases where the government has rejected Amazigh names (or at least where families haven’t been able to appeal an initial rejection). In part this could be because the current King is known for his reforms that have promoted Amazigh culture and language, or perhaps because the recent protests of human rights groups after the ban of these names in 2009 have been effective.

Professor Ouakrime believes that a lot of the anti-Amazigh discrimination arose right after the Moroccan independence movement (1956), when there was a fear of sectionalism and regionalism. It was around independence when names began to be monitored and there was a move to get births (and names) registered in more formal documentation even in rural areas. Naturally, it was also around independence when there was a move to determine just what a Moroccan identity looks like (or, in this case, sounds like). The justification against Amazigh names was that these names do not represent a “Moroccan identity” (as I’ve pointed out previously, this means that a “Moroccan identity” is defined as excluding anything that was pre-Islamic), and also justified by the belief that if Amazigh names are allowed, it would mean any name could be allowed.

This justification is easily punctured. As an article I recently read pointed out, what is the difference, really, between naming your child Shams (sun in Arabic) and Tafoukt (sun in Amazigh)?* One possible rationale (though not officially given by the government), could be the meaning of Arabic names and Amazigh names. Many of the Arabic names that are used today reference Muslim heros and Professor Ouakrime told me that in the 1950s every family had a Mohammed and a Fatima in it. He thinks that today almost every family still does. Because Amazigh names pre-date Islam and come from a separate system of beliefs, many of these names focus on nature and the stars instead. I found a list of names that were recently initially rejected by the government and then accepted. They include:

• Ayyur – “moon” in Tamazight
• Massine – the diminutive form of Massinissa, the name of an ancient Berber king
• Sifaw – “enlightened” in Tamazight
• Tara – the name of an aromatic plant in Tamazight
• Tiziri – “moonlight” in Tamazight

(List from: www.nancy.cc/2010/09/06/morocco-bans-berber-amazigh-baby-names/)

Professor Ouakrime believes that most frequently, the people who have the most trouble giving their children the names they want to are Amazighs living in rural areas of Morocco. He believes that these are often people who aren’t sure of the law, or who don’t know the policies about contesting the decision of a civil servant to reject a name. Interesting to me was that he also believes families are more likely to contest a name’s rejection if it is an Amazigh name for a son. He says there are fewer Amazigh names used for daughters because, since they are not the ones passing on the family’s name, it isn’t worth the effort trying to get the name accepted.

We also talked about Amazigh surnames, and how most people didn’t have formal documentation of their names (at least in rural areas in Morocco) until the 1950s. Growing up in Azrou, Professor Ouakrime witnessed first hand people going through the process of registration. He explained to me that most surnames in Morocco refer to membership in a particular family, region, or tribe. He showed me how Amazigh surnames are often transliterated into Arabic surnames when people register their names.

He explained that the prefixes “Ait” or “Ou” are often at the front of an Amazigh surname to indicate “from” or “of”. The name of the tribe would then be filled in. For example, a common surname of those belonging to a tribe in the Middle Atlas is “Ait Sadden.” He explained to me that this name is often changed to be an Arabic one on official documentation. “Ait Sadden” (“belonging to the Sadden tribe”) is often changed to “Ousadden” (“from Sadden”) and then simply to “Sidni” in Arabic.

I think that this process of translation is not dissimilar to what happened to many European immigrants at Ellis Island when, upon arrival, they announced their names and American civil servants wrote them down and guessed at the spelling. What happened in several rural areas in Morocco when this registration process began was that a lot of people ended up being given names by the civil servants they were registering with. The civil servants would ask where the family was from, and if they weren’t sure or didn't know what name they should officially hold, the civil servant would give them an arbitrary surname on paper.

This arbitrary surname didn’t have much power in their daily lives. These people were still known to their neighbors by whatever name they had been called before registering. But problems arose when their children went to school and it was there they learned, often for the first time, what name had been chosen for their family. Professor Ouakrime told me about several instances where these civil servants, abusing their power, had given these families laughable surnames on their formal documents. It became a question of class and a question of power and these families were often looked down on by government officials for not having obtained formal documentation earlier. When the kids of these families got to school, they were made fun of for their names, which were not, in fact, their own, nor were they names that these kids used in their lives at home. Without knowing how to go to court or appeal to authorities to change it, these names often stuck in families for generations (at least on paper).

In medinas across Morocco, you can find these painted blocks on the wall. A friend explained to me that each box is for the symbol of different political parties; this way the public can see which parties are competing in any upcoming election.

I’m often surprised by how something as random as which civil servant a person interacted with could shape something as colossal as a name. It’s amazing to me to think that the formal names of many Amazigh people living in the Middle Atlas right now was determined by something as arbitrary as who was working when they received their formal documentation in the 1950s. It’s also interesting to me, however, how little these formal names seemed to matter.

I say how little they "seemed" to matter, because I would argue these legal names are becoming increasingly important. It’s my guess that it’s because of this that in 2009 the official ban was made. As it becomes more possible (and necessary) for people across the world to hold passports, have formal documentation that will possibly make them eligible for health insurance or food stamps or registering at school, what people are called begins to matter in written form more than ever. I think this is also why the question of Amazigh names has received more publicity recently, despite the fact that Amazighs have been facing discrimination for years. It’s the reason why suddenly the difference between Shams (sun in Arabic) and Tafoukt (sun in Amazigh) matters. As people's identities in their daily lives become increasingly dependent on their legal identities, the ability to have an accurate, written representation of who they are becomes not only a question of cultural respect and tradition, but of personal rights and access to services. As the government excludes Amazigh names in their definition of what a Moroccan identity looks like on paper, they are also excluding some people from the rights that a Moroccan citizen should be entitled to.

See http://www.sorosoro.org/en/july-26-2011-slate-africa-on-the-difficulty-to-grant-moroccan-children-a-berber-name