Echoes of the Divine: Unraveling the God-Exalting Names of Banyakitara

The Kitara region, a vibrant tapestry woven from the cultures of the Banyankore, Bakiga, Batoro, and Banyoro, resonates with a remarkable tradition: names that directly exalt God. This fascinating phenomenon begs the question: what historical currents shaped this profound connection between identity and the divine? The answer lies in a layered history of migration, power dynamics, and spiritual evolution.

Long before the arrival of the present-day Banyakitara, the fertile lands they now inhabit were pioneered by a people known as the Batembuzi. Their very name, derived from the verb ‘okutembuura’ (to pioneer), speaks to their role as developers of previously unutilized spaces. This was a well-established society, complete with its own intricate political, economic, and spiritual structures. Agriculture formed the bedrock of their livelihood, and they engaged in a thriving barter system, exchanging the fruits of their labor.

However, the course of history shifted with the migration of the Bachwezi, a pastoralist group believed to have originated from Abyssinia. Over time, these newcomers, skilled in animal husbandry, gradually asserted their dominance over the indigenous Batembuzi. The established economic order underwent a transformation as cattle, the wealth of the Bachwezi, superseded agricultural produce as the primary medium of exchange, including for goods and even bride price. Consequently, the Batembuzi found themselves in a position of increased labor, often working for the ascendant Bachwezi to maintain their standard of living. This shift in economic power paved the way for the Bachwezi to gain political ascendancy.

To solidify their position, the Bachwezi wove a tapestry of myths, featuring figures like Keiru, Kakama, and Kahima. These narratives subtly presented them as a superior lineage, divinely ordained and sent directly by God. Oral tradition recounts the construction of shrines where the native populations were compelled to worship the Bachwezi as minor deities. The very term ‘omuchwezi’ is linked to the verb ‘okuchwera’ (to spit), a practice associated with their high priests. These figures, perceived as God’s representatives, would reportedly spit into the hands of supplicants before offering healing or prophecy. “Among the Bacwhezi, Bakama; political heads were appointed to oversee the different regions of this area,” recounts Rwangyezi, highlighting the hierarchical structure that placed the Batembuzi in a subservient role. The word ‘okutweizera’ (to give alms), a term now commonly used in the Catholic Church during mass, is believed to originate from this era, where the lower strata of society had to ‘okutweizera Abakama’ (take alms to the leaders or officials). Rwangyezi emphasizes that the Bachwezi were often feared due to their intimidating demeanor towards those they governed.

This period of Bachwezi dominance was marked by significant hardship for the Batembuzi. The names they bestowed upon their children became poignant reflections of their suffering and their yearning for liberation. Names like Zoreka, derived from the proverb “Enaku Zoreka” (times of trouble can open one’s eyes to seeing things he never imagined), encapsulated their hope for enlightenment amidst adversity. Ikamukuba (sorrow overcame him) and Katurebe (let us wait and see) further illustrate the burden of their experiences.

The arrival of white colonialists in the region coincided with a population living under the weight of this historical oppression. The Batembuzi, out of fear, were reportedly worshipping the Bachwezi. The missionaries introduced the concept of “Okujunwa”, which translates to salvation or rescue. “People’s eyes were opened to a higher God who was greater than the Bachwezi,” explains Rwangyezi. This new religious framework offered an “escape route” from the perceived oppression, leading to the deep entrenchment of Western Christianity in the region.

The introduction of money as a medium of exchange, replacing the symbolic cow, further fueled a sense of liberation from “obweiru” (slavery). Mr. Rwangyezi notes that with the rise of Christianity, people began to favor names that celebrated God’s mercy, salvation, and protection, such as Musinguzi (victor), Natukunda (He loves us), Ahimbisibwe (praised be He), and Muchunguzi (savior). However, this shift came at a cost. The new religion often discouraged traditional practices, deeming them backward and even evil. Consequently, the ancestral names, rich with cultural meaning, were often abandoned, labeled as “heathen.” Since then, the Banyakitara have predominantly carried names that pay homage to the God of the missionaries.

Interestingly, despite the Bachwezi having migrated to regions as far as South Rwanda, Burundi, and Zimbabwe centuries ago, a lingering sense of fear and superstition persists among the Banyakitara. “You have heard of people saying that the Bachwezi can make you lose your way home, or they appeared in someone’s house and beat him up, or they set a hill on fire,” Rwangyezi remarks. Even today, stories about the Bachwezi in the Kitara region are often tinged with apprehension.

The Prophetic Role of Naming in Kitara Culture

Historical accounts unequivocally portray the early Banyakitara as deeply spiritual individuals. They revered a supreme being, known as Ruhanga or Nyamuhanga, and communicated with this deity through their chosen mediums, the omufumu (diviner or traditional healer). The omufumu held a position of great importance within the community, serving not only as a healer and problem-solver but also playing a critical role in the naming of children. A prevailing belief held that one’s name significantly influenced their destiny, giving rise to the proverb “Izina ribi riroga mukamawalyo” (a bad name bewitches its owner). Consequently, the responsibility of naming a newborn was considered too significant to be solely entrusted to the parents; it fell upon the wisdom of the elders and the diviner.

Tradition dictated that the family of a newborn would host traditional festivities, known in Runyakitara as Okubandwa (the act of supplicating the family spirits), at the family homestead or shrine for several days before the child was formally named. Amidst feasting, or sometimes fasting, the emandwa (a family deity) would, according to Kabona, declare the child’s name. Each family had its own emandwa, through which they offered prayers to Ruhanga for blessings such as peace, prosperity, health, and rain.

While divination held a central place in this society, the naming process also took into careful consideration the prevailing environmental, social, and political climate. Elders held the crucial responsibility of observing and interpreting the nuances of the time, the physical environment, and significant events such as political conflicts, famine, strife, and disease. At the culmination of the festivities, the omufumu, having invoked the emandwa spirits, would then pronounce the child’s fate, embodied in a name that often reflected the elders’ observations and aligned with patriarchal naming conventions.

In instances where a family faced persistent challenges, such as recurring deaths, either the omufumu or the elders, guided by the emandwa, would devise a name believed to possess the power to ward off misfortune itself.

The social and political landscape at the time of birth also heavily influenced name selection. A baby boy born during times of civil war or disorder might be named Kobweme (‘obweme’ meaning strife), Rutaro, Rutabaro, or Tabaro (all signifying war or conflict), while a girl child born under similar circumstances could be named Korutalo (related to war). This practice highlights how deeply intertwined names were with the lived realities of the community.

The significance placed on child naming by the early Banyakitara stemmed from its role in preserving their proverbs, sayings, and totems. Many names were directly derived from these cultural cornerstones, ensuring the transmission of wisdom and heritage across generations. Elders were revered as repositories of this vital information, passed down orally. This rich oral culture naturally evolved into proverbs, some of which are still evident in contemporary Runyankole/Rukiga publications. These proverbs profoundly influenced the Kitara naming system, serving as a means to record and narrate observations of events, time, space, and environmental elements over the years. These observations were then carefully analyzed by the elders when selecting a name for a newborn child.

Furthermore, the choice of name was intrinsically linked to the notion of safeguarding family lineage. Reflecting the patriarchal structure of families in the region, a tradition that persists to this day, “naming of the family members was and is still stratified according to the male family heads’ names, rooted in the ancestral lineage.” Remembering ancestors by bestowing their names upon newborns, a practice known in Runyankore as ‘okwizukiriza’, was considered crucial. It was believed that a forgotten ancestor might express their displeasure by troubling the family. “If a child was sleeping for instance, small insects would surround him until the issue was resolved,” illustrating the perceived connection between the living and the ancestral spirits. The wisdom of the omufumu was often required to identify the specific ancestor seeking remembrance.

Therefore, long before the advent of Christianity, the Banyakitara possessed their own profound ways of relating to the divine through their traditional African religion. Names like Byarugaba or Karugaba, both implying a pre-existing relationship with God, demonstrate this inherent spirituality. While the arrival of Christianity brought a surge in explicitly God-influenced names, the deep-rooted tradition of meaningful and often prophetic naming speaks to a long-standing cultural practice of imbuing identity with spiritual significance and historical context.