"I was reading an Arab newspaper yesterday when I came across the following names, all on the same page: Dary [derived from the word for ferocious beast], Harb [war], Sa'ab [harsh], Mot'eb [troublesome], Mos'eb [ruthless], 'Adey [aggressive], Mohned [sword-bearer] and Juhaiman [implacable]. In addition, there was a woman's name, Anoud [stubborn]. A sociological study that takes into account the factors of geography and politics can easily trace the cultural background of the geopolitical environment that bestows such names on its children. The common denominator linking all these names together is xenophobia, an inflexibly hostile and combative attitude towards the other."

"Do you mean," I asked, "that the Islamic background is the common denominator between these names?"

Forcefully denying that this had been his intention, he reminded me that according to the prophet's biographer Ibn Hashem, when Mohamed's first grandson was born he refused to name him Harb (war) and called him Al-Hassan instead.

The explanation for the belligerency of the names, said my eccentric friend, is that they are a product of the culture and mentality of Bedouin tribes struggling for survival in the inhospitable deserts of the Arabian Peninsula. In this harsh environment, the Other is seen as an enemy that must be destroyed [hence the name Fatek or Destroyer], ferociously fought off [hence the name Dary or Ferocity], engaged in battle [hence the name Harb or war], and shown no mercy [hence the names Sa'ab, Mos'eb and Mote'eb, all from the same etymological root of the Arabic word for harsh, ruthless or uncompromising]. Communication with the Other is through the language of the sword [hence the name Mohannad or sword-bearer], no quarter given [hence the name Juhaiman or implacable]. Even women in that society are given names like 'Anoud or stubborn.

There is nothing Islamic about those names, he went on, they are exclusive to the Bedouin culture that developed in the harsh deserts of the Arabian Peninsula.

This is confirmed by the fact that they are totally absent from other Islamic societies like Egypt, Morocco, Syria, Tunisia and Lebanon. No Egyptian peasant would dream of bestowing any of those names on his son. He will call his first-born Saber or patient, and his long-awaited second son Shehata or Shehta, which means charity, in gratitude for the munificence of God in answering his prayers for another son. Even if he opts for a name that includes a reference to God, he will normally steer clear of names that conjure up the awesome and fear-inspiring aspects of the Almighty, like Abdul Gabbar, and go instead for names that reflect His benign nature, like Abdullah, Abdul Latif, Abdul Hafith or Abdul Ghani. The reason Egyptians prefer to focus on the benevolence of their Creator is deeply embedded in the Egyptian character.

Having spent many years in North Africa and made frequent visits to Syrian and Lebanon, I can safely say that what is true of Egypt applies equally to all these societies, where the bloody phalanx of names deriving from the austere and belligerent culture of desert tribes is virtually unknown. I am writing these lines in a region lying along the Egyptian-Libyan border where the cultural influences of the two countries blend and interact to form a unique composite culture. Nowhere did I come across any of the names that reflect a paranoid sense of conflict ascribed to the supposed hostility of the Other, who is automatically cast in the role of the enemy. In this northwestern corner of Egypt, the name Salem or peaceful is one of the most common names, despite the harsh environment imposed by the geography of the place, while in Sudan to the south the name Bashir, or harbinger of glad tidings, is frequently heard.

My eccentric friend ended with the words:

"Imagine yourself talking to a man from those societies who introduces himself as Fatek ibn Dary el Juhaimy... What could you say except: God spare me from your ferocity, destructiveness and implacability!"

What's in a name? What shall our name be before the human community?

As I noted in an earlier article here on Winds of Change.NET:

"I write in order to instill in the Egyptian mind the fact that although the outside world will harbour animosities towards us at times, and will work to further its own interests most of the time, our problems, in their entirety, originate inside our country and can only be solved internally. We alone are responsible for those problems and for the fact that they remain unsolved. The excessive belief in the conspiracy theory is a confession of our impotence and an admission of the supremacy of others in the face of our ineffectiveness.

...I write in order to instill in the Egyptian mind that Anwar Sadat's historic choice to move the Arab/Israeli conflict from the battlefield to the negotiation table was the only way to reach a reasonable settlement of a conflict that has been used for too long as an excuse to delay democracy and development.

...I write in order to instill in the Egyptian mind that there are shortcomings in Western culture, but it is an essential rung on the ladder of human civilization. To oppose Western culture is to oppose science, development and civilization.

...I write in order to instill in the Egyptian mind that the tolerant and peaceful brand of Egyptian Islam has been subjected to attacks on many fronts. The attacks came from a trinity made up of the Wahabi faith, a doctrinaire approach to religion, and the omnipotence of the petrodollar that has funded an Islam fundamentally different from the gentle Islam practiced in Egypt and which has enabled us to coexist with others over the years.

...I write in order to instill in the Egyptian mind (especially in the minds of the young) that where there is a will there is a way and that, armed with a solid formation and determination, they can achieve anything. The future does not exist as such; it is the product of what we create today.

These are the messages I have tried to convey in the hundreds of articles and the thirteen books I published over the past quarter of a century. Skeptics may consider that my voice, like that of John the Baptist, is a cry in the wilderness. They would do well to remember that the words of John the Baptist were far more than a cry in the wilderness, that they were, in fact, stepping stones towards a noble and glorious path.

What will be our name? What will be, in our name?

For more of Tarek Heggy's writtings in English, please visit www.t-heggy-site-contents.org and for Tarek Heggy's writings in French please visit www.metransparent.com/authors/french/tarek_heggy.htm.