As-salam-o-alaikum! My name is Paul Abdul Wahab Shawkat, a Los Angelino and a recent college graduate of English Literature. I wanted to start a blog to spare my Facebook friends the torture of my long "just for fun" educational posts that I occasionally will put up. This blog will cover a large range of different ideas and topics which happen to be running through my head at that moment. It will also serve as a sort of therapeutic journal. If you have stumbled upon here, well then: welcome. Also, I love reading blogs, so share with me your story as well. We all have one.
What's in a name? I figure that I start off my first entry by looking a little closer at the etymology of my last name. Theirs a story behind every name they say (not sure who says that, but just go with it).
Shawkat. Hmm, a little strange at first glance, isn't it? It sounds like it can come from any vague worldly location. To me I hear more native American than anything. When pronounced with a middle-Eastern pronunciation however, it comes out to sound more like shów-cut - a decidedly better fit as a middle-eastern surname.
I have been researching (and I use the word "research" generously) my family background and in fact something which I've known for quite a while, but wasn't sure as to why, Shawkat isn't really my family's original surname. See, according to my father, we have a former, more authentic last name, Al Moudarres, alternatively spelled Al Mudarris, which literally means "the teacher" in classical Arabic. This is our family's original surname before the government of Iraq, sometime in the late 1960s or 70s (I'm not quite sure when), forced many large families and powerful family-clans to change their last names. This was essentially done as a method to divide and disorganize these larger family groups who might stand up against the government if dissatisfied with the new Baathist regime. Or so this is what I have been told. The documentation on the period and on this subject is a little... limited. I don't think I'll ever really get to the botom of the name change.
My cousins and family that immigrated out of Iraq before the government-led action all have the Al Moudarres surname and all of it's variations (Al Maderas, Almuderas, etc). And as much as I am proud to call myself a Shawkat (it's what I've known my entire life), I can't help but think about the cool factor (again, a very generous use of the word "cool") of having my family's last name translate into "the teacher," which reflects the type of work I wish to go into - teaching.
My cousins and family that immigrated out of Iraq before the government-led action all have the Al Moudarres surname and all of it's variations (Al Maderas, Almuderas, etc). And as much as I am proud to call myself a Shawkat (it's what I've known my entire life), I can't help but think about the cool factor (again, a very generous use of the word "cool") of having my family's last name translate into "the teacher," which reflects the type of work I wish to go into - teaching.
In classical Arabic, mudarris is the word for teacher (mudarresah, for a woman). In popular media during Obama's first election run in 2008 you may have heard the related word "madarasa" (or "madras") thrown about, usually with a bad connotation to it. He attended one of these "madrasas" when abroad in Indonesia. But basically it just means school or educational institution in Arabic. Religious affiliation and practice in the schools is due mostly to happenstance, as many schools in the middle east are religiously based as a matter of their culture.
But, with all of this, why should we care? It's just a name, after all Arn't we judged on our actions rather than our heritage? Well, yes and no. With a last name should come a healthy sense of pride. Knowledge of one's own family past can help support a healthy self-confidence. As we trace the roots of our family and discover our ancestry we begin to piece together the puzzle of our origins (hmm, I think I should market that to ancestry.com, sounds quippy). It seems like many cultures, if not all, maintain some sort of relationship between last name and stated profession, too. Shoemaker, for example, was associated with families of shoe makers most likely in the middle ages in England, if not earlier. What are the odds of that person, however, really being passionate about said profession just because it's in their family name and heritage? Having the luxury of choosing a profession for yourself based on your own interests is a rather modern ideal, though.
But, with all of this, why should we care? It's just a name, after all Arn't we judged on our actions rather than our heritage? Well, yes and no. With a last name should come a healthy sense of pride. Knowledge of one's own family past can help support a healthy self-confidence. As we trace the roots of our family and discover our ancestry we begin to piece together the puzzle of our origins (hmm, I think I should market that to ancestry.com, sounds quippy). It seems like many cultures, if not all, maintain some sort of relationship between last name and stated profession, too. Shoemaker, for example, was associated with families of shoe makers most likely in the middle ages in England, if not earlier. What are the odds of that person, however, really being passionate about said profession just because it's in their family name and heritage? Having the luxury of choosing a profession for yourself based on your own interests is a rather modern ideal, though.
I could go on and on, but I don't want this to sound academic. I'm out of school (for now) after all. Thanks for your attention and until next time,
May peace be upon you and Allah (God) guide your way.
May peace be upon you and Allah (God) guide your way.
