Names

Shakespeare said that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. I suppose he´s right, but there is something important about names. They give us identity. They make us who we are. I´m fortunate here in Peru, because my name (Ash) is also a word in Quechua. Actually it´s more an expression or a sound. It´s what is said when things are going great or going bad. They shake their hand and say something like, “Ash, vida!” (which means, “Ah, this is the life)`or they shake their head and say, “Ash, lluvia” (meaning something like, “Dang, it´s raining again) or they make a move in chess without noticing their opponents piece ready to strike and say, “Ash!” (which means something like “Man, that was a stupid move”). My name and the Quechua word makes a connection. People laugh with me when I say my name is Quechua. They understand. It gives me an identity.

Here in Peru, it is interesting. A lot of times we don´t know peoples names. Or, if we know them, we don´t use them. There is a love of titles. There seems to be a need for distance as well. We are still trying to sort through this.

At church, I am rarely referred to by name. I am always called “Pastor”. Sometimes I get called “Hermano” (brother), but that is rare. There have been times when people called me Hermano and then quickly corrected themselves, saying, “Oh, excuse me. I mean, pastor.”

A store opened near the house. Actually, right next to the house, in our neighbor´s house. We greet one another as we pass by. One day I stopped in and said, “We say hi to each other, but I don´t know your name.” She told me hers and I told her mine. Cool, I though, We´ll be getting to know our neighbors better. Things really haven´t changed, though. Every time I greet them, I don´t think they´ve ever said my name. I´m still vecino (neighbor) to them. “Hola, Vecino,” they say.

Sometimes people call me Joven (young man). I tell them, I´m not very young, but I´ll try to answer their questions. (I don´t mind that one very much).

Other times people say, papito, which is a Quechua word for mister. Sometimes (though rarely) it is Señor. A lot of times we get “Gringo” (which means white person), but I get that more when I´m with the rest of the family (they are a lot more blonde than I am).

By my students I´m called either “Profe” (short for professor) or “Teacher” (in English with a strong accent). I told one that he could call me Ash or Profe or whatever. He laughed nervously and said, “I think I´ll call you profe.”

I get called a lot of things. Thankfully, it´s usually good (or at least neutral). Rarely, though, am I called Ash.

I wonder how I smell? Is it still as sweet?

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