There’s nothing like the suspense of a waiting room or reception area, listening for your name, to get an idea of the many possible ways in which it can be (mis)pronounced…
My name created problems from the very beginning, even before I moved to Portugal. When I was 13, I moved from Manitoba to BC and shortened my name to Gail, but it’s shown on one side of my Canadian citizenship card under “Community Name” to prove it’s still me. I got lectured about that — at great length — at the Portuguese Consulate in Toronto. I was also lectured about the fact that I don’t use my mother’s maiden name as part of my name (as they do in the Philippines, which was a Spanish colony for 400 years), and as they do in Portugal.
Names are serious business in Portugal. (Send this page through a translator for the official version.)
When it came time to decide what to do with my already-problematic name (Gail Edwin-Fielding), which would require two official changes to drop the -Fielding to bring it to Edwin in order to do it the Portuguese way (Gail Edwin Aguiar), I’d already had more than my fair share of paperwork just getting my birth certificate. After some deliberation, I decided to drop the hyphenated Edwin-Fielding in one fell swoop (Portugal does not hyphenate names) and made the decision to stick with just two names: Gail Aguiar. Which looks incredibly short, after years and years of Edwin-Fielding. And in Portugal where most people have four names (first name, second name, mother’s maiden name, surname from father), it looks conspicuously short. When I’m called to a desk, there’s usually a pause while they wait for me to finish giving my name.
Shortening my name also created problems. Because my Portuguese marriage certificate has Edwin-Fielding, and upon immediate return to Canada I applied for changes in ALL my identification to new family name Aguiar (which there only requires the marriage certificate), this meant that my brand-new, July 2013 10-year ePassport no longer matched my marriage certificate. According to Portuguese law, I’m two different people, because here they don’t alter names — they just add them! Thankfully I was able to obtain my Portuguese residency card because I keep my 2012 passport as proof of my previous name, but Paulo had to spend more than an hour at the Conservatória do Registo Civil (local registry office) adding this explanation into the national register to prove who I am and why I have a trail of different identities. I’m not part of a Canadian Witness Protection Program or something sinister, I swear.
So now I have a Portuguese surname. Easy, right?
Hold up, there’s more. Ever heard of the Portuguese name registry? It’s a list of first names — both accepted and rejected — in the official register when it comes time to name your baby. Here’s the list of names as of June 18, 2015 in PDF format. If both parents are Portuguese, the civil code states that they MUST choose a name from this list. If one parent is foreign, the baby can have a non-Portuguese first name if it can be proven that the name is allowed in the foreign parent’s country (with a certified document).
As a result of this requirement to name a child from the registry, MANY people share the same first names. Try yelling out a first name in a crowd (“O Pedro!”) and see how many people turn to look at you! How do Portuguese people keep track of all the Marias, Josés, Paulas and Paulos in their lives??? Like everywhere else, with nicknames, but those shortened names and nicknames are NOT allowed on official documents. (I can still hear the guy at the Portuguese Consulate in Toronto scolding me: “That is NOT YOUR NAME!”)
Another result of “The List” is that it’s quite common to see the same combination of first name + surname, and although less common, matches for even first name + mother’s surname + father’s surname. The Portuguese ID card shows both parents’ names, which I thought was over the top as far as detail is concerned, until it was pointed out to me that it’s the only way to properly ID a person who has a common name — which is most people, thanks to “The List”.
My Name Is On The List, But… Is It?
I had a look at the “The List” and what a surprise! I see my name and it’s approved! But wait… it’s approved as Gáil, not Gail. What’s the difference? Everything! That accent marker means it’s not one diphthong (“ai” which rhymes with “jail”) but two distinct syllables, and the accent is on the first. So the name is actually “GAH-eel”, which was approved I know not when, but I’m guessing fairly recently by the sounds of the struggle over the PA system when someone tries to say it.
“Gahhhh… ill.”
“Gah… eel.”
“GA… el.”
What it comes down to is that because my name doesn’t comply with Portuguese pronunciation, it isn’t actually on “The List”.
After hearing a number of attempts at “Edwin-Fielding” (what a laugh!) during our paperwork days two years ago, I decided to make it easier on everyone. Now I just listen for “Aguiar” and hope there isn’t another Aguiar around.
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