Tales of the Zinobian Queen

A Crown Disguised

9, October, 2024.

"Did I ever tell you why your name is Zikora?"

The day Grandma arrived, I went to the balcony to sit with her. Grandpa was fast asleep by now, and Grandma thought it would be nice to step outside; to breathe the air in — air she said reminded her of the many days she sat at her rocking chair outside the old village house. For many years, she only left the house because of things she believed she could not avoid: school, marriage, work trips. Now, the house still stood, but she was no longer there.

It was within these circumstances that she decided to tell me what my name meant. Up until that moment, I never questioned it. When I arrived in the United States a couple of years ago and people asked what my name meant, I told them I did not know. The possibility of finding out what my name meant was unsettling. This, coupled with Grandma's grave expression added to my unease.

"No, I don't remember you telling me that."

I came into the country with my aunt and uncle. After my parent's death when I was too young to comprehend their loss, I moved in with them.

Grandma clicked her tongue.

"You must know what your name means. A name is the best predictor of a person's destiny!"

I bit the inside of my cheek, a bit amused by Grandma's statement.

"Well, can a person not live a life contrary to what their name means? Can a person not have a name that has an objective meaning?"

Grandma furrowed her brows at me. "Well, if a person does not live according to the meaning of their name, it changes the objective meaning of that name. It converts it into something new – something of their own design, for better or worse. In fact, a person's name cannot have objective meaning, because everybody's manifestation of their name is different."

I wanted to ask whether she thought people should be given names posthumously, but decided against it.

"What does my name mean, Grandma?"

She exhaled. "Zikoranachimamaka was the name your mother wanted you to have. Your father wanted to name you Adah. Since it means 'first daughter' in Igbo, and you indeed are the first daughter amongst your cousins, you have both names." She said this because even though I had no siblings, my cousins and I had a relationship that could only be qualified as siblinghood.

"Zikoranachimamaka means 'show the world that God is good.' I see everyday how you are a manifestation of that meaning. To answer that question in relation to you, it would always be a resounding yes. From becoming an older sister to your cousins to your excellence in school, your life exemplifies God's goodness."

I smiled. Yet, I could not help but question whether God's goodness in my life depended only on the good things I did, or the things that could be objectively seen as 'success'. My life looked more like shards of mistakes that God had turned into a mosaic for His glory.

But I responded, "Thank you, Grandma."

"Yes, yes, of course, my dear." She adjusted in her seat like she just remembered something deeper. Something more, about the meaning of my name.

Her fingers wrapped lightly upon my knuckles. "Sweetheart, how much do you know about the Zinobian Kingdom"

I frowned. "I haven't heard about that, what was it?"

"Well, it began with an ancient family... a family even more ancient than the stones that make up the caves containing the historical etchings in our village. It dates to the legend of a princess who had your name, and the will of a powerful people. This is part of the reason your mother chose your name."