A funny thing I’ve learned here is that Kenyans don’t put much importance in names. It’s a strange phenomenon. I know we Americans don’t have the greatest memory, and many times you forget a person’s name immediately after you ask for it. In fact, this isn’t an issue with remembering; it is a problem with listening.
The difference in Kenya, however, is that the people actually do listen- they just listen poorly.

“Jina langu ni Paige.”
“Pait? Payg? Paygy? Peggy? Paitronella?”

These have all been repeated after I say my name once, twice, and maybe even three times. Now I know Paige isn’t a very common name in Africa, but still. Paitronella?

And apparently, as our Peace Corps counterparts pointed out, correcting someone on your name is a very American thing to do. Kenyans are completely okay with someone completely butchering your name, even if it goes as far as saving the butchered version in their cell phones. It is very possible, therefore, for me to work with someone for two years without them ever knowing my real name.

Makes you think, huh?