Perceptions of Aboriginal Names among the Meru People of Tanzania: Colonial Disruption and Cultural Continuity in a Typological Perspective

The analysis revealed that religious leaders played a fundamental role in shaping naming practices following the spread of Christianity in Meru and other African communities. Upon baptism, converts were often given Christian or biblical names by priests or spiritual leaders. These names were considered to reflect the family’s faith, embody spiritual blessings, and signify moral transformation.

The first Christian baptism in Meru was conducted in 1905 by missionary Ar. Krause at Nkoaranga. This marked a turning point in local naming traditions. Table 2 presents the names of the first individuals baptised, combining their new Christian names with retained clan names:

Although Krause later returned to the Netherlands due to illness, his work was continued by missionary E. Ittameier. Under Ittameier’s leadership, preceding rounds of baptisms were conducted, further cementing biblical names in Meru society (Table 3).

Ittameier was succeeded by Schachschneider, who continued the work until World War I disrupted missionary activities in 1914. After the war, Ittameier returned to Meru and resumed baptisms for another decade.

Despite missionary influence, data suggests that aboriginal and clan names were not entirely erased. During the first baptismal phase, all 11 individuals retained their clan names. In the second and third phases, approximately 71% kept lineage names, while 29% adopted alternative Meru names. This indicates a persistent cultural attachment to traditional naming.

Between 1925 and 1937, the arrival of additional European missionaries in Meru further shaped local naming practices by promoting Western religious and cultural norms. Their efforts significantly altered the meanings and applications of indigenous names. Terhi and Saarikivi (2017) note that, following World War II, traditional names across many cultures were increasingly abandoned in favour of foreign ones. In Meru, missionaries believed certain indigenous names unsuitable because of their perceived connections to conventional beliefs. Names that commemorated specific events, such as Nka-mbaka “cat,” Nka-ngumi “born in the bush,” Nkafunga “born in dust,” Ifie “gorilla,” and Ifisi “hyena” were particularly discouraged. Missionaries argued that associating individuals with animal descriptions perpetuated negative stereotypes, prompting a systematic replacement of such names with biblical or English alternatives (Saarelma-Maunumaa 2003). Although many Meru adopted these foreign names, they often lacked understanding of their meanings or cultural significance. By contrast, traditional names like Mannya, Kadoko, and Ngarina conveyed notions of childhood and youthfulness, similar to Yoruba naming conventions in Nigeria, which reflect familial heritage and life circumstances (Agyekum 2006).

Interviews revealed tensions between traditional naming practices and Christian expectations. One case involved a man named Tangoi, who wished to be baptised as Taa-ngoi “light in the heart,” a name rich in spiritual symbolism. However, he was rejected because pastors failed to recognise its religious significance. A Meru church leader explained:

This example highlights how some religious leaders overlooked the symbolic richness of indigenous names, privileging Western linguistic familiarity over cultural relevance. Nonetheless, other leaders acknowledged that names like Tangoi aligned closely with Christian themes. Despite missionary discouragement, many Meru retained a deep respect for their naming traditions. For example, names such as Roketi “victory,” which commemorates Tanzanian fighter jets in 1961, and Nkalerai “born near a traditional tree, namely lerai” illustrate how naming was used to mark historical events and environmental ties.

Mbiti (1969) observes that in African societies, personal names function as repositories of collective memory and cultural identity. In the Meru community, it is customary for each child to receive a traditional name at birth, prior to the adoption of any foreign name, highlighting the community’s deep-rooted commitment to preserving aboriginal identity. The renaming practices introduced by missionaries were often perceived as acts of cultural erasure. As Nnamdi-Eruchalu (2018) contends, Westernisation has gradually diminished the original meanings of indigenous names, leading to cultural ambiguity. Furthermore, Raheem (2013) notes that globalisation has facilitated the anglicisation of African names, particularly through their presentation on digital platforms. Western names became fashionable, and even non-Christians adopted them to avoid being labelled backward or ignorant by colonial authorities (Ayandele 1979, Saarelma-Maunumaa 2003). As a result, identifying individuals’ cultural backgrounds from their names became increasingly difficult. Regardless of this, traditional peer cohort names remain essential in Meru society. One Meru informant stated:

The quotation reflects the enduring significance of traditional naming practices in the Meru community, particularly the use of age-set or peer cohort names like Kisali, which are reserved for use by individuals within the same generational group. This practice highlights a strong sense of cultural identity, social etiquette, and generational respect, where name usage is governed by clearly defined social boundaries. The speaker’s insistence on being called by his traditional name, despite the prevalence of foreign names, underscores the resilience of indigenous naming traditions and their role in maintaining social cohesion, hierarchy, and cultural memory in the Meru society.

This indicates that, while missionary activity significantly influenced naming in the Meru community, traditional names continue to carry deep social, spiritual, and historical meanings. Yet, without active efforts to preserve and revitalise these traditions, there is a real risk of losing vital aspects of Meru cultural identity.

Data analysis reveals that before missionary influence, Meru people commonly used traditional names such as Nnkuuku “very old,” Tareto “one of peer cohorts,” Nnkuu “old person,” and Vaava “old person” in formal contexts such as offices, churches, and schools. Over time, however, these names became confined to domestic and ritual spaces, largely due to the influence of European missionaries (Fakuade et al. 2018, Lusekelo & Muro 2018, Lusekelo & Mtenga 2020, Nnamdi-Eruchalu 2021). With the arrival of Christianity and Western education, some Meru individuals began adopting European or biblical names.

Missionaries, particularly those affiliated with Lutheran and Catholic denominations, sought to impart Christian ideals into naming practices by encouraging biblical name adoption. This was rooted in the belief that traditional names were linked to ancestral spirits or “ghosts,” and thus incompatible with Christian values. Consequently, cultural practices such as circumcision, which are often linked to the bestowal of peer cohort names, were discouraged. A Pentecostal pastor from Meru explained that:

This quote reflects the broader tension between religious belief and cultural heritage. While some religious leaders discouraged traditional names, others acknowledged their role in preserving moral values, social bonds, and cultural identity. Lusekelo and Muro (2018) note that although many African Christians replaced indigenous names with baptismal names, communities like the Machame-Chagga, similar to the Meru, maintained both traditional and Christian elements in their naming systems. Saarelma-Maunumaa (2003) further argues that 19th-century Christian evangelism deliberately promoted European names to weaken African cultural foundations.

Table 4 presents Meru names with biblical interpretations, categorised by gender, meaning, and grammatical structure. These names typically follow specific patterns such as noun-verb-noun (N+V+N), verb-noun (V+N), or noun-noun (N+N), blending Meru and biblical lexicons. For example, Ndetirishwa (female) combines Nde (God) with tirishwa (protect), meaning “protected by God,” while Elieka (female) combines Eli (God) and eka (thank), translating to “Thank you, God.” Other names such as Kaanankira and Kaanaeli “remain with God” for male, Wariatikisi and Wariambora “receive a blessing” for female, integrate verbs and nouns to express spiritual ideas.

The incorporation of religious concepts into Meru names aligns with naming trends observed in neighbouring communities. In Machame-Chagga culture, names such as Aikaeli “Thank you, God,” Aminaeli “Faith in God,” and Shisaeli “God guide me” reflect a similar fusion of local and Christian elements. The Meru term Ndumi, used to signify God, also appears in Chagga naming conventions, underscoring a shared regional pattern.

This section illustrates how Christianity influenced the transformation of Meru naming practices by encouraging the incorporation of biblical meanings into traditional names. While some religious leaders viewed indigenous names as spiritually problematic, others recognised their cultural and moral significance. The result is a naming system that blends Meru linguistic structures with Christian theology, mirroring trends in other East African communities such as the Machame-Chagga. This demonstrates both the resilience and adaptability of indigenous identity under religious influence.

The analysed data revealed that after the arrival of missionaries in Meru land, churches and schools were established, leading to the introduction of religious and modern names. This resulted in the blending of Meru indigenous names with Christian, Swahili, and Hebrew names, particularly the lexicon Eli, meaning “God.” Consequently, many traditional Meru names were affected. From a biblical perspective, Eli originates from the Hebrew word אֵלִי, symbolising “ascension / my God” or “high priest” (Nelson 1985).

During the 19th century, missionaries encouraged or required Meru converts to adopt Christian names, many of which were of European or biblical origin. Among these, Swahili names were also blended with Hebrew words, particularly Eli, due to their religious significance. Data analysis shows that in Meru, Eli can be placed at the beginning or end of Swahili or Meru words, forming names with biblical interpretations. The influence of Swahili on Meru names is linked to cultural exchange, linguistic merging, and colonial history. As Kiswahili emerged as a lingua franca in East Africa through trade, administration, and missionary activities, it extended its influence into areas previously dominated by ethnic languages, including the Meru community (Lusekelo & Mtenga 2020). Thus, hybrid names combining Swahili and Hebrew elements became widespread.

As missionaries engaged with the Meru, European and biblical names influenced local naming patterns. While indigenous names traditionally carried cultural, spiritual, or familial meanings, some Meru believe that Christian names should coexist with traditional ones. Others, however, have abandoned indigenous names entirely. One interviewee affirmed:

This quote illustrates how Christian names are perceived not as replacements but as complementary to clan and cohort names, symbolising religious identity. Names such as Shukuru “thank you,” Ombeni “pray,” Asifiwe “he is praised,” and Neema “grace” became widely adopted. Likewise, names like Amani “peace,” Rehema “mercy,” Pokea “receive,” Asante “thank you,” Nuru “light,” Baraka “blessings,” and Nasi “with us” reflect the integration of Christian values into Meru naming traditions.

The study further reveals Swahili names merging with the Hebrew lexicon Eli, producing names such as Elinasi “God with us,” Elineema “the grace of God,” Eliamani “peace of God,” and Elirehema “God’s mercy.” As Kiswahili is Tanzania’s official language, such hybrid names are common, especially in urban areas (Table 5).

These examples show how missionary influence led to a blending of Meru, Swahili, and biblical elements, reinforcing Christian identity. The structure typically includes eli as a prefix or suffix in patterns such as noun + verb, verb + noun, and noun + pronoun. However, despite this linguistic creativity, many Christians in Meru are unaware of the meanings of their names. A Meru retired Pastor lamented:

This quote suggests that the acceptance of Christian names, often without understanding, was shaped by colonial influence and feelings of cultural inferiority.

Another pastor shared:

Here, traditional names like Nkuku, Soori, and Kiwandai are rejected in favour of Christian ones believed to attract divine favour, illustrating a tension between heritage and spiritual aspiration. Generational differences also emerge. Older Meru placed emphasis on a name’s meaning and often consulted elders or church leaders. As one elder observed:

This quote highlights a cultural shift as names are now often chosen based on popularity or religious affiliation rather than their original significance.

This section shows that missionary activities and Kiswahili influence led to a unique blend of Christian, Swahili, and Hebrew naming patterns in the Meru community, particularly through the incorporation of the lexicon eli. Although these names reinforce religious identity, they also reflect the erosion of traditional naming practices. Interviewees expressed varied views. For instance, some integrate Christian and Meru names harmoniously, while others reject indigenous names as spiritually regressive. The rise of names without meaningful understanding reflects broader changes in identity and the influence of colonial and missionary legacies. This transformation raises concerns about the long-term preservation of Meru cultural heritage.

The findings indicate that civilisation and globalisation have significantly influenced naming traditions in the Meru community. English names have become common, often used alongside or in place of traditional names. Many Meru, especially the youth, view English names as modern, fashionable, and reflective of a global identity. These names are also considered easier for outsiders to pronounce, facilitating communication in broader contexts.

It is now common for individuals to possess both an indigenous name that signifies cultural heritage and an English name used in school, work, or religious spaces. Some parents consult literature, religious texts, or naming dictionaries when choosing names. One Meru parent detailed:

The quote shows a shift from traditional to church-influenced naming practices. It highlights the role of written sources in validating names like “Godlove.” Religious institutions now guide acceptable naming based on meaning. This trend may marginalise indigenous names not found in books.

Another key driver is the internet. One informant said:

The quote highlights how digital media, especially YouTube, has become a key source for name selection in the Meru community. It reflects a shift from traditional naming practices to global, internet-driven influences. Names like Mishel, Ricardo, and Daniela illustrate how foreign names enter Meru society through online platforms. This trend signifies the growing impact of globalisation and technology on local cultural identity. Also, analysis of the data revealed that some parents prioritise name meanings over cultural origins. For instance, an informant explained:

The quote reflects a growing preference in the Meru community for names based on appealing meanings rather than cultural or linguistic origins. The informant’s father chose Jenipha for its symbolic meaning, “white clouds,” regardless of its foreign origin, highlighting how meaning now overshadows tradition in name selection. The preference for the English name Glory over the Swahili equivalent Utukufu suggests that English names are perceived as more modern or socially acceptable. This indicates a shift in naming attitudes, where foreign names are favoured for their prestige, potentially at the expense of indigenous linguistic and cultural identity.

Television and music also influence naming. An informant informed:

The quote shows that televised pop culture, in this case, a Philippine drama, has become a powerful naming source for some Meru parents. Characters’ names, such as Brenda and Ricardo, are adopted because repeated exposure makes them familiar and desirable, even though they have no local linguistic or cultural roots. This underscores how global media can dominate traditional naming practices, introducing foreign names that signal modernity and multicultural identity. Consequently, indigenous Meru names risk further marginalisation as entertainment-driven trends reshape the community’s onomastic landscape.

Also, analysis of the data revealed that cultural erosion may result from illiteracy. One retired pastor insisted:

The quote underscores a deep concern over cultural erosion in the Meru community, attributing the loss of traditional naming practices to a shift in mindset rather than external forces alone. The retired pastor suggests that some Meru people have internalised the belief that European ways, including names, are superior, leading to uncritical acceptance of foreign names like Very Nice, which lack cultural meaning or relevance. This mindset, shaped by colonial influence, has contributed to the abandonment of indigenous identity markers, highlighting how psychological and ideological changes can undermine cultural heritage more powerfully than external pressure alone.

In Meru, some parents also choose foreign names without understanding them. A Christian mother reflected:

The quote illustrates a shift from naming by trend to naming by meaning: Her first child’s name, Donald, was chosen with no thought to significance, whereas the second child’s name, Godrich, deliberately annoys religious values, “God” with family heritage “Rich,” from the grandfather. Acknowledgement of data, “Your question made me realise I was wrong,” reveals growing self-awareness about the cultural and spiritual weight of names, suggesting that external reflection can prompt parents to reconsider and potentially recover more meaningful, lineage-conscious naming practices in the Meru community.

Another woman explained:

The data shows that popular culture, particularly music, influences naming practices in the Meru community. The informant named her daughter Brenda after South African singer Brenda Fassie, based on admiration rather than meaning. This reflects a shift where names are chosen for emotional or cultural associations rather than traditional or linguistic significance. It also highlights a growing disconnection from indigenous naming values and meanings.

While there is a commitment to ensuring that future generations appreciate the significance of naming practices, the current trend of assigning names arbitrarily reflects dissatisfaction with contemporary naming customs. Some community members in Meru argue that losing touch with one’s origin is similar to being enslaved. Indigenous names in Meru hold unique qualities that commemorate past, present, and future generations. The community stresses the need to re-educate younger generations on the importance of indigenous names, which help identify family lineage and prevent accidental marriages between relatives. The loss of indigenous names is linked to language and cultural shifts. A pastor noted growing concerns over the diminishing use of indigenous names:

The data reflects concern over cultural and linguistic erosion in the Meru community. The informant (pastor) highlights how younger generations are losing touch with their roots, evident in their inability to recall indigenous names or use the Meru language. This disconnect suggests a weakening of traditional identity markers, such as clan and peer cohort names. The statement underscores a broader fear that modern influences are replacing foundational elements of Meru cultural identity.

Mokala (2020) argues that “European names are just arbitrary labels, they have no real meaning.” In a similar vein, Chauke (2015) notes that communities such as the Basotho have increasingly adopted both family names and Christian or English names, illustrating a pattern of cultural hybridisation. This blending of indigenous and Western naming traditions is also evident among the Vatsonga people, reflecting a wider African trend. In the Meru context, the adoption of foreign names was largely driven by the influence of Christian missionaries and colonial authorities. With the introduction of mission and colonial government schools, Western education became accessible, and students began adopting English names as symbols of education and elevated social standing. Some Christian leaders even insisted that true religious devotion required bearing a biblical or English name during baptism (Saarelma-Maunumaa 2003).

This pattern persists today, as globalisation and modernisation reinforce the perception of foreign names as modern, prestigious, and internationally acceptable. A Meru church leader reflected on this development:

The data suggest that foreign influences not only introduced new naming conventions but also reshaped family structures and gender roles in decision-making. While globalisation has encouraged cultural blending, it has simultaneously eroded some traditional values, especially those related to naming. The widespread trend of assigning children three names: A foreign first name, a father’s name, and a clan name, demonstrates this cultural transition. Yet, many Meru still advocate for the preservation of indigenous names, recognising them as vital to cultural continuity and identity.

Naming practices in Meru have thus undergone deep transformation, shaped by colonialism, Christianity, education, and globalisation. While some community members uphold traditional names, many now favour foreign ones, often without a clear understanding of their meaning. Table 6 provides examples of such foreign names for males and females, as recorded during the field study.

Table 6 illustrates that European names in the Meru community foster intercultural connections and ease communication across linguistic boundaries. However, this shift has contributed to the erosion of traditional naming customs, especially among the youth. Many indigenous names are being replaced, reducing the cultural lexicon and undermining historical continuity. For instance, while “Livingstone” is typically a Western surname, some Meru individuals use it as a first name. The same applies to “Collin,” a name shared by celebrities like Phil Collins and Joan Collins, now used as a personal name in Meru.

The prestige associated with Western, Islamic, and Christian names reinforces their desirability (Agyekum 2006). As older generations pass, the knowledge and cultural meaning of indigenous names may not be transmitted effectively, leading to a weakened sense of heritage. This naming shift also contributes to a broader linguistic and semantic transformation, with ethnic languages increasingly sidelined. English, Swahili, Christian, and Muslim names dominate formal settings such as churches, mosques, schools, and workplaces.

Lusekelo and Muro (2018) observed a similar pattern among the Machame-Chagga, where formal schooling facilitated Westernisation and the widespread adoption of English names. Likewise, Nnamdi-Eruchalu (2018) notes that many educated and employed Igbo parents have distanced themselves from traditional naming practices. In Meru, indigenous names are often absent from birth certificates. During baptisms, a standard formula of biblical/foreign first name, surname, and clan name is used. This blend preserves clan identity for cultural purposes while promoting foreign names for official identification.

Yet, unlike in the Igbo community, where clan names are disappearing (Nnamdi-Eruchalu 2021), Meru still retains them. This balance reflects a dual identity strategy: Embracing modernity without entirely abandoning tradition. Islamic naming patterns in Meru also support this view. Muslim families from clans like Sikawa and Pallangyo adopt Islamic names (e.g., Mohammed, Salim, Hemed) but retain their Meru clan names. This pattern mirrors trends observed by Agyekum (2006) among the Akan and by Lusekelo and Muro (2018) among various African groups, where Islamic and Christian names erode traditional naming systems while coexisting with them in some contexts. The list of names presented in Table 7 may illustrate this.

To validate the data in Table 7, this article employed a qualitative approach incorporating percentages. While percentages are more common in quantitative research, they can effectively highlight trends in qualitative analysis by illustrating the frequency of specific naming patterns (Miles et al. 2013, Creswell & Poth 2017, Flick 2018). To assess the growing prevalence of foreign first names in the Meru community, particularly among younger generations, the study analysed the names of 108 individuals who registered as a group to collect donations. These names were drawn from social spaces such as churches, mosques, schools, and workplaces.

Traditionally, being recognised as a full Meru person requires three core elements: fluency in the Meru language, identification with peer cohort names, and a clan name. However, globalisation and regional interactions have weakened the role of indigenous languages and naming conventions. The analysis focused on the first and third (clan) names to measure the extent of Western influence. Among the 108 names in Table 7, six lacked a clan name, making origin identification difficult, while thirteen used non-Meru clan names. Of the remaining 89 individuals, nine (10%) had biblical (first) names, four (5%) had Swahili names, and a significant 76 (85%) had English names. While 96% still used Meru clan names, 5% substituted them with another indigenous name, such as a grandfather’s.

These findings underscore the widespread replacement of indigenous names with English or other foreign names, driven by forces of colonisation, globalisation, education, and religious conversion. Western names are increasingly viewed as prestigious, modern, and internationally recognisable, especially among the youth. This shift in naming conventions risks eroding the cultural and historical lexicon of traditional names.

This widespread preference for English names aligns with earlier observations by Saarelma-Maunumaa (2003), Agyekum (2006), Makoni et al. (2007), Chauke (2015), Lusekelo and Muro (2018), and Lusekelo and Mtenga (2020), who found that Western names often introduced through Christian baptism or colonial education signify higher status and modernity. In Meru, these foreign names have become dominant in institutions such as churches, schools, and formal documentation, while indigenous names are increasingly confined to informal or clan contexts. Despite this shift, clan names continue to play a vital role in preserving Meru identity and family.