Two Joanas and an umbrella

        

    According to the Portuguese rules, a child's name can have a maximum of six nouns, of which two can be given names and four can be surnames. Additionally, it is a Portuguese tradition to want everything one is entitled to.

    Portuguese parents are very proud of their surnames, and transmit them to their children even when the surnames are redundant or repeated, are in opposition with each other, rhyme or are cacophonous, belong to the same word family, amplify or refer to a job connected to the previous surname, or when the combination of two surnames is simply comical. Portuguese parents bestow their surnames guided by an innate sense of belonging, hoping the legacy endures. It is not uncommon for daughters to be christened with the name Maria as a first name, even though Maria is to be muted, and which allows them to share the same first name as their mothers and grandmothers, which I always found wonderful. We are very happy, and no one ever bother us.

    Until we are registered in the British health system. This is what happened: when I lived in London, I was registered with my father's two surnames; and upon returning to England a few years later, the national health system registered me again with my mother's two surnames. It was not my fault, but they called me urgently to go to the health center because I had been "duplicated." When I arrived, unaware of what was happening, the lady at the reception handed me two papers, as if she was seeing double, waved them in front of me, and said, "Look, there are two Maria Joana's." I was lucky because usually they would only unproperly call me Maria (which, again, is muted). I quickly understood the problem and explained that I have four surnames. As soon as I finished my explanation, the lady rolled her eyes and repeated incredulously, "Four surnames?" I realized that anything I would say would be rhetorical, but aware of the administrative hassle I was causing, I very calmly answered again that yes, it was normal. She didn't hear me and persisted on asking whether there were really four. Since it wasn't worth saying yes again, I attempted to politely reassure her that the situation could be even worse: "you know, and when I get married, I might have six." The goal was just to make her stop shouting, but she turned away and left me alone with my four surnames.

    A few days later, when I went to pick up a book I had requested - the books are stored in drawers with the first letter of the requester's surname - they couldn't find it. I saw them lifting and bending, all looking for the book, but I never guessed that the problem could relate with my names. I said I was in no hurry, that I was around, and that when they found it, they could just send an email. I received an email 25 minutes later. As you can imagine, they were not at all pleased when they saw me again: my card with two surnames, the requisition record with two others. I started to explain that in Portugal..., but the lady was absolutely uninterested in any explanation, and didn't even look at me.

    People's reactions to the problem are funny. Some are curious and ask which two surnames I will choose for my children; others are delighted when they unravel the mystery: "you know, I was looking on J, but I realized it could be M, and I was very right. Very happy I found your package!" Others, with a sense of humor, say: "well, then, I should bow to you," which is funny because the monarchy is theirs, not mine. I am known by the porters as the girl with many surnames, which, said affectionately, is very kind. One day, the porter, already distressed and tired, was telling me that I should choose one surname, but when I asked which of the four I should choose, he concluded, with a lighthearted smile, "the name is yours, I can't decide how you want to use it." And I also smiled because I found it funny, and I already suspected that there was little possibility of resolving this issue in any other manner. I never brought up the subject again and my journey continued with four surnames.

    Nowadays, we are all good friends. If it's raining and they see me leaving without an umbrella, they offer: "Oh Joana, take this very big umbrella!" And, of course, I wonder: for my big surname? For the two Joanas? But there's a lot that one thinks and doesn't say, so I smile and smile, and thank them, thank them. Exactly as the English say "good, good" when asked if they are okay, and I find it very amusing. One should never ask someone to spare words... or surnames.