A rose by any other name<\/p>\n
JAKARTA (JP): About 30 years ago the Chinese-Indonesian
\ncommunity was rocked by a New Order government recommendation
\nthat advised the replacement of Chinese names with indigenous
\nones. The change was not compulsory, however the adoption of new
\nnames was promoted as a mechanism for assimilation into the
\nbroader community. Indonesian names themselves were not
\nprivileged: any name was suitable except ones of Chinese origin.<\/p>\n
That was when the famous and popular Shakespearean citation --
\nA rose by any other name -- became a useful expression for some
\nChinese-Indonesians.<\/p>\n
There were many arguments for and against the proposal. I was
\npro name changing.<\/p>\n
Indonesian names had been adopted by many people in the past.
\nThey were simple names such as: perak, picis or gobang: names for
\ncoins in colonial days. A picis was a small silver coin; the name
\nwas selected for girls with a refined appearance. A gobang was a
\nbig two-and-a-half cent piece made of a metal that gradually
\nturned dark over time. Parents of children unlucky to be born
\nbigger and darker than usual, sometimes bestowed the name gobang
\non their offspring.<\/p>\n
Another argument in my stock was that traditional Chinese had
\nlong practiced the adoption of different names. For example, when
\nthey were recognized as scholars, a new name was usually
\nconferred. I remember that my grandfather had a new name given to
\nhim by his colleagues when he was honored by his office for
\nlongstanding service. The new name was used by those associates
\nin conversation and correspondence.<\/p>\n
In addition, although it is a usual practice in telephone
\nbooks, I have always found it awkward to write my family name
\nfollowed by my given name.<\/p>\n
My husband, who had long submitted papers to scientific
\njournals, found that the average scientist had no inkling of the
\ncomposition of Chinese names. His name -- Sie Pek Giok -- would
\nbe written Giok, Sie Pek. Even worse, he remained unknown,
\nbecause nobody knew that the two names actually were components
\nof the one name.<\/p>\n
My children were excited by the government's proposal because
\nI gave them the freedom to choose their own new names. They
\nconsulted dictionaries of names, wayang books and other sources
\nfor inspiration. Even my three-year-old son, who was only
\nfamiliar with a few letters of the alphabet, discovered a new
\nname and would accept no other opinion. He knew no other name to
\nwrite.<\/p>\n
However, my friend Ai-Ling dared to challenge Shakespeare. She
\nargued that new theories in philosophy and psychology had made
\nhis words obsolete. We now know that certain words evoke certain
\nassociations: if a rose was called durian, it would not smell as
\nsweet as a rose. Rather it would have durian characteristics. She
\nwas not going to change her name.<\/p>\n
\"My name is given by my parents and we should honor that,\" she
\nsaid. She maintained that \"for the men, these names are centuries
\nold and may have been written on the ancestral tablet of the
\nfounding father or in genealogies. They are usually taken from
\npoems or adages, so they have meanings for the family. The second
\npart of the three syllables of a Chinese name is usually the
\ngeneration name of the family. So people with the same surname
\nwould know whether they are related and to which generation they
\nbelong.\"<\/p>\n
What if we used names that are translations of the old names?
\nThat of course could be a solution and that was exactly what Ah
\nFu did. He changed his name to Untung, which meant \"luck\" in
\nIndonesian. He sought approval from his local temple, however an
\nelder said the name was incomplete and suggested the addition of
\nSukirno as a middle name. Kirno -- an acronym of mungkir Cino
\n(denial of being Chinese) -- was a commonly adopted name by those
\nwishing to criticize the name changing practice. Ah Fu accepted
\nthe recommendation.<\/p>\n
With his new name, Ah Fu -- or rather Untung -- did very well.
\nUnable to continue his education in a Chinese school, (banned
\nfrom 1965), he went to Taiwan and received training in the
\ntechnology field. When he returned, he opened a television shop
\nin the Glodok complex. He did so well that he opened a second
\noutlet and then a third. He was planning a new and even larger
\noutlet in a giant shopping mall in West Jakarta when the events
\nof May 13 happened. All three shops were looted and burned. His
\ndreams were shattered.<\/p>\n
In desperation, he asked me what Shakespeare's words really
\nmeant: \"I translated my old name, thinking that my rose would
\nhave the same smell, yet it turned out to be different. For 30
\nyears I thought that I had contributed to the assimilation
\nprocess and yet I was still discriminated against.\"<\/p>\n
\"Look,\" I replied, \"I am not a Shakespeare expert but I think
\nthat he meant that the scent of a rose is not in its name, but in
\nthe essence of being a rose. And you, Ah Fu, or Untung, or
\nwhatever, your luck does not depend on your name, but on your
\nChinese legacy. It is the tenacity and sense for business that
\nyou have inherited from your ancestors which has brought you
\nluck. Don't think of the past. Pick up the odds and ends and open
\na new shop. The temple elders may be able to tell you where the
\nbest location is.\"<\/p>\n
-- Myra Sidharta<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/a-rose-by-any-other-name-1447893297", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }