When I tell others of my little one’s name, I either get a lift of the eyebrow or a smug look. Both denote confusion at why I would give him such a name as I am 1.) Asian and 2.) Muslim. Have I been too brainwashed by American culture that I have to name my son such a Westernized name? Do I not love my culture, my background, my heritage?

What’s in a name, really?

I have heard that a name is a wish bestowed upon the child by his/her parents, a blessing with the hope that s/he will grow to be good and kind, or majestic and strong, brave and courageous, beautiful and feminine, all qualities of the child are thus dependent on the meaning of his/her name.

What if a name means “dog” or “green valley”? Would then the child become dog-like or green? Silly conclusions, I know, but isn’t wishing or hoping our child has the characteristics of a name-meaning also silly?

Our little one’s name is Noah.

Noah, though of Biblical and non-Asian origins, stands also for his great-grandfathers. The way we came up with it, may also bring about another round of raised eyebrows, but the practice is not so ridiculous for Indonesians. (Hey, if Southerners can traditionally give their children a last-name for a first name, then we Indonesians can do this too!) Before I digress further, let me explain.

I have always wanted to name my children after my grandparents. Having grown up without them, I have become too sentimental with their memory, and would like it to be passed on, albeit in a name. Memories, or names, cannot bring them back or establish relationships I once sought, but with the passing of their names, the familial connections can still continue on.

When my children are old enough to ask me what their names mean, I can share with them stories of their great-grandparents, of our ancestors, of our culture, instead of just saying that it came from a book or by chance (though there is nothing wrong with this either). I am enamored by history, fascinated by my own history of my own ancestors, and this fascination is something else I would like to pass down to them, especially since they are American by birth and attachment to their ancestral land dependent on our perseverance to keep it alive and fresh in our home and community.

Noah.

At first glance, images of the Biblical character are conjured up in our minds. “The patriarch of the great Ark who wandered the earth for 40 years after the Great Flood. All the world’s nations descended from his three sons”. A search of its meaning brings up “peaceful”, “comfort”, “wanderer”.

Noah to me also stands for: SoemarsoNO and Alwi Husein. Both were Indonesian war heroes, serving the island nation through the war for independence, now peacefully resting in Kalibata Cemetery, the final resting place of Indonesia’s brave. Both were men of strength, wisdom, and principle – preferring a life of honesty and simplicity in an era of corruption and collusion despite having access to a more comfortable living through possibly questionable means.

We don’t have allusions that our little one will be just like his great-grandfathers through his name, but we hope he will carry it well, carry it proud. As it is more than just a meaning, it holds a story – a story of great men; great men whose stories deserve to be passed down, whose memories should be preserved and kept alive. They may be long gone, just a name etched into the remembrance wall at the venerable cemetery, but not forgotten.

And that is how and why, Noah came to be – for us.