I meet someone and tell him my name, Joumana Medlej. He asks:

"Medlej from where?"

"From Lebaa, near Saida."

"I know a Medlej family from Bsouss."

"Yes, but we're not related. There's also a Shi3a Medlej family in Baalbek."

He then tells me his and I happen to know someone of that name who married my cousin, so I ask if they are related.

"Well, our family is originally from Syria and is very small. But there are several larger ones in the area, and there's one Christian family from the North."

As you can see, we are concerned not just with our family history, but also with other families bearing the same name, their place of birth and their religion. The Lebanese have in mind a frame of reference (I call it "the map" or "the matrix") where they strive to place every person they meet, hence the "everybody knows everybody" impression we give, which is not very far from the truth.

This can go further. Here's another common scenario. I give my name to another person.

"Medlej from where?"

"Lebaa."

"Whose house?"

"House" usually means "family": if I had said "My name is Joumana", he would have asked "What house?" to know my family name. In this context though what is meant is: "Who's the head of your family?", and the answer would be either my grandfather's first name or my father's. With this information, the person would be able to place me on his mental map and draw connections with ayone else he might know of that name. If he knew anyone else called Medlej he would likely ask me if we were connected. The following happened to me once in a bank: the employee asked me "Medlej from where?" and after I gave the ritual answer "from Lebaa, Elias' house", he pointed at the man next to him and said "This is your dad's cousin."

Supplementary pieces of information that allow the "map" to be more complete and more accurate include who married into the family, work, education, children... I have to mention that in Lebanon, the practice of the middle name as it is known in the USA does not exist. Instead, our official "middle name", used on all official documents, is our father's name (whether we're male or female). This immediately gives a clue that permits one to place you somewhere on his map, and makes future crossreference possible, while that would be hard with an isolated name.

An increasing number of women today, especially issued from big families, use their maiden name as middle name when they get married. This prevents the confusion that a change of name would have on the map (although I doubt it is deliberately done to this effect, the "map" being an unconscious construct. Their purpose is continuity, for everyone to know that this "new person" is actually them).

Family names were so meaningful to us that when the Ottomans extended their domination to Lebanon, they found an efficient way to discourage resistance (and the population in general) by stripping all families of their names and replacing them with monikers they chose themselves. The local confusion (and depresseion) that followed served their purposes. Few family names have survived untouched or were recovered when the Turks left in 1918: it's why we now have Arabic family names that mean "smith", "priest", or even "wheat", "cripple" rather than the older names of Phoenician origin. As an example, my mother's family is Jazzar ("butcher"), but originally it was Daaloub.

While family names are really important as explained above, we are mostly a first-name-basis culture. There is a sharp contrast between what the French imposed on us as "proper" (using last names) and our natural instinct which is to call someone by his first name. When asked for my name, unless it's official matters, I would actually only give my first name. When I go to the bank, instead of being referred to Mrs. Hakim or Mr. Karam, I would be told "Ask for madame Paula or monsieur George". It doesn't matter that these are complete strangers to me. Similarly, someone might introduce me in their office by saying " 'demoiselle Joumana is here to see you". When the collector for the electricity or water bill passes by, he always asks for "Mister Jean" -- my dad. When making a reservation or putting a roll film to print, even when I give my full name they usually only write down my first name, so that later on I have to come back and say "There was a film under the name of Joumana..."

Outside official matters, to address someone by his last name is usually humble and deferent; to insist on having one's last name used is usually snubbish. Even official matters are very flexible on that point. I have a vivid recollection of an official report written after the assassination of President Bechir Gemayel, where the late head of State is consistently referred to as "Bechir"...

Article © Joumana Medlej