Titles upon titles: Why the obsession with big names?

 Why are we Kenyans so obsessed with titles? Last week I was introduced to someone at a function, and this is how the conversation went:

“Caroline, meet Veronica Njuguna, she is our human resources manager,” the host said.

“Veronica, it is a pleasure to meet you,” I said, stretching my hand for a handshake, only for her to quickly correct me,

“I prefer to be called Mrs Njuguna…”

I should have felt rebuked, but instead, I was amused. Looking at her, she and I might as well have been agemates, so I don’t think I had breached any social rules — real or imagined — when I called her by her first name.

I know someone who believes that women who insist on being called “Mrs Somebody” view marriage as an accomplishment, a sign of success that needs to be worn on the forehead. Such women, she says, probably look down on single women, but of course she could be wrong.

I know several women who write “Mrs” in parenthesis after their names and titles, even on official documents. Such things get me curious, and I have always wondered what prompts such an action, and what purpose it serves. Somebody help me out: does being a “Mrs Somebody” elevate your social standing? Does it make you more noteworthy? 

Since we’re talking about titles, I once heard someone being introduced as Dr Mrs Linet Odhiambo. I was tempted to snort because it sounded ridiculous, especially because it was at a party, and nobody really cared, but that would have been undignified, especially because I was seated at the same table with some of her relatives. Another one that makes me want to roll my eyes is “Pastor and Mrs so-and-so.” Why not just say, for instance, Pastor Ambrose Were and his wife Pamela Akinyi?

Interestingly, I am yet to find someone who adds Miss, after their name. Why is this? Why is it such a cardinal sin to be still single at a certain age in this country?

FIRST NAME PROFESSORS

A few days ago, I was talking to a professor who lectures at one of our public universities — he studied in the US for some years, and he tells me that there, at least at the university he went to, everyone, from his lecturers — all professors by the way — to the cleaners, went by their first names.

Here, that would be sacrilege.

The cleaner knows his place, and would never even dream of calling his supervisor by his first name. We thrive on titles, and would quickly throw a tantrum should someone forget to add that you are Dr so-and-so, or even a manager, when introducing you.

True, titles are called for on some occasions, for instance during corporate functions or symposiums, but why would you be offended when the host does not add that you are a managing director when introducing you to guests at his two-year-old’s birthday party? 

The titles that irritate me most though, are the pompous ones that our politicians insist on. You must remember the annoying back and forth a couple of weeks ago that our MPs and governors had, regarding the use of the title “His Excellency”. It took a session in Parliament to put this matter to rest, but I have a feeling that some of our governors still sulk and roll on the ground with outrage when not referred to as “Your Excellency”.

And what about those numerous initials that some of our waheshimiwa insist on appending next to their names? Honourable Ernest Wanyonyi (MBs, OGW,EBS,PhD,PPS,UVW) — such a mouthful and filled with self-importance, never mind that all of them might be honorary titles.

I have to agree though, that a little flattery works wonders, and several times, in the course of work, I liberally use people’s titles because I know it makes them more receptive, more malleable. 

The writer is editor, Living magazine in the Daily Nation; [email protected], Twitter: @cnjerius

FEEDBACK

You should not allow a stranger to question you.

Mwangi

Please forgive the unrefined man. Your story made him come out exactly the way he is. I agree the man does not know a number of things in life. He talked to you as if you were close. However, what a nice story!

Githuku

 I decided to avoid or at least minimise awkward moments and conversations notorious in certain places, say, in a matatu. I play oblivious and distracted with my earphones plugged in. That way somebody who knows me won’t be tempted to start a dialogue with me and in the end, the matatu crew and its passengers won’t get a chance to know what they shouldn’t. It works.

Chris

Your situation in the bank must have been uncomfortable. Much as I think you let yourself be led into answering undeserved questions from a busybody, I once found myself in a very similar situation in a bar when I used to drink. One self-important fellow asked me whether I was the son of my dad. My answer opened an inquiry about, among other issues, where I went to college and my position in my sibling lineup. At some stage, I noticed that all were quiet and looking at me. I felt exposed. I should have told the fellow to mind his beer! These days I do.

David

I wish to appreciate your articles in the Sunday Nation. I feel that I read a realistic piece and so well written in plain language, yet so naturally and interestingly narrated. I admire your style. There’s so much you can do with a pen. Keep up.

 Cyrus

I read your article with a smile. You are not alone. I have this deep-voiced loud customer whom I met in church a while back and every time she enters where I work, I look for the nearest back door exit. The reason is that she shouts from the security desk, “Arthur, Arthur yuko leo?” When attending to her, she always speaks in Kikuyu in an office where Kiswahili is the recommended language. Pole lakini.