2 hours ago
4
Priti Ubhayakar’s article resonated with me because of my non-English surname (A moment that changed me: for the first time in my life, a stranger pronounced my name correctly, 1 April). I grew up in the 1950s on a very English council estate. Most other kids were a Brown, Smith, Jones, etc, but I was an Uszkurat. My lineage is complex on my dad’s side, with a Lithuanian grandfather whose original name was changed to Uszkurat by, I think, German authorities. My dad was born in a part of Europe that was German until the Treaty of Versailles made it part of the new Poland. Like many other Polish ex-servicemen, my dad became a British citizen after the second world war.
My first day at junior school is memorable for one thing: the teacher insisting that I was spelling my surname incorrectly. Three times I was given a new workbook on which to write my name, and each time I did not use what I knew to be the incorrect spelling being insisted on by my teacher.
I got my mum to write a letter to my teacher, telling her that I knew the right way to spell my surname. Since then I have been faced with a number of misspellings of my surname – Vosadrat is one, another included seven Zs and then there was Urquhart. So when, as a form teacher, I was faced with a class of 11-year-olds who were mainly a mix of Asian, Turkish and African, I was worried that I would not know how to say their surnames.
I wrote my very un-English name on the blackboard and asked if anyone could pronounce it correctly. Nobody could. I told them how to say it, and explained that I would like them to tell me how to pronounce their names correctly. It was a great ploy, and one that I could not have used had I been a Brown, Smith or Jones.
Carol Ann Uszkurat
Crouch End, London
I’ve had a similar experience to that of Priti Ubhayakar. My first name sounds to most English speakers like “manic”, with some on hearing it for the first attempting a joke about it. I’ve heard them all before. Several times. Only on my (very) occasional visits to India (whence it originated) or when speaking to an Indian do I hear the correct pronunciation: “Maanek”. It’s subtle, but nice when it happens.
Manek Dubash
Lewes, East Sussex
I sympathise with Priti Ubhayakar, who has problems with people mispronouncing her name. I have the same problem. In both cases the issue arises because the name is not spelt the way it is supposed to be pronounced. I spell my name as Sugumar because that is the way it is entered on my birth certificate. But the phonetic spelling of it should be Sukhumar. My name sounds odd when pronounced the way it is spelt. But I have learned to live with it!
People would not have any trouble with Priti’s name if it were spelled as Preethi. Unfortunately, it is not easy to change basic personal information like one’s name in official documents. So most people just shudder and bear it.
C Sugumar
Trichy, Tamil Nadu, India
Priti Ubhayakar’s article evoked my sympathy. On my first day at secondary school in 1954, two years after arriving in the UK from Holland, the head read out a list of all the new boys. When he struggled to get his tongue round mine the whole school burst out laughing. Not a great start, and I’ve spent the rest of my life spelling it out.
Tim Ottevanger
Ashby Parva, Leicestershire
On reading the article by Priti Ubhayakar, I realised that this is exactly what I had endured during my primary school, then secondary school life in England (and in the Cubs and Scouts). “Yves” was never pronounced correctly and I used to dread having to give my first name.
I, of course, said “Yves” the French way – which sounds like “Eve” (silent “s”) to English ears (Adam’s partner is pronounced “Ève” in French (sounds a bit like “ever” with that accent on the “e” and without the “r”). So, people thought that I had a girl’s name.
Sometimes people in England pronounced my name: “Wives”. Although there is the English equivalent to my name (which originates from the Brittany region of France) and it is “Ives” (see St Ives in Cornwall). When we came back to France for our family holidays (we are an Anglo-French family), my name was music to my ears because everyone pronounced Yves correctly.
Yves Reny
Croix-Moligneaux, France
I sympathise with Priti Ubhayakar. As you see, I have a very unusual first name, which has caused me problems ever since I first went to school, some 83 years ago. The Johns, Peters and Davids in my reception class had no problems learning to spell their names; fortunately my first teacher was a family friend, so life was easier than it might have been.
The first occasion I recall understanding that my first name could be a surname came when I was eight and had my tonsils removed. The hospital reversed my name, and there was some confusion when my parents came to collect me.
Secondary school wasn’t a problem; at a 1950s boys’ grammar school, first names were not used, so it wasn’t until I started meeting girls that really took on board that my name was different, and could, apparently, be interesting.
I wish I had a fiver, though, for every time, when I’m introduced to someone, they say: “That’s unusual.” I have to explain that it’s Welsh and that my father came to Essex from the Valleys! The only other person I knew called Miall was an uncle, although I have found another couple on the web.
The problems have really kicked in now I’m retired and, sadly, visiting hospitals and the like. Ward clerks and nurses frequently call for “Mr Miall”, and eventually, when I don’t respond, “Mr James Miall”, and I have to explain. I’m resigned to it, but my hackles do rise when I’m asked if I’m sure.
I am grateful, though, to Ms Ubhayakar: as a Witham constituency resident, I can now pronounce my MP’s name correctly.
Miall James
Coggeshall, Colchester
