Naming as Narrative Strategy: Onomastic Semiotics in Night of Intruders and Other Stories

By

Ugonma Uba Kalu-Bazuaye

Department of English and Literature, Faculty of Arts, University of Benin, Edo State, Nigeria

Corresponding Author’s email and Phone No: ugonma.kalu-bazuaye@uniben.edu/+2348033724789

Abstract

This article examines the deployment of naming as a structural principle in Night of Intruders and Other Stories. Moving beyond sociolinguistic readings of African anthroponyms as cultural residue, the study proposes the concept of onomastic semiotics to describe how culturally encoded names function as narrative devices within Clement Odia’s short fiction. Through close textual analysis, the essay demonstrates that names in the collection operate as thematic architecture, cosmological inscription, and ethical horizon. Drawing on African linguistic philosophy and folklore theory, the article argues that Odia institutionalizes indigenous naming practices as narrative technology, embedding Benin cosmology-divine sovereignty, moral causality, ancestral continuity, and destiny - within character construction and plot development. However, rather than enforcing rigid determinism, the stories dramatise what this study terms indigenous compatibilism: a worldview in which destiny provides structural orientation while human agency negotiates fulfilment. By theorizing naming as narrative strategy rather than decorative ethnography, this article contributes to African literary studies and expands critical understanding of how indigenous epistemologies generate formal innovation in contemporary prose fiction.

Keywords: African Prose Fiction, Benin Cosmology, Indigenous Epistemology, Onomastics, Semiotics

Introduction

Names in literary texts often function beyond their basic role as identifiers. Within many literary traditions, especially African literature, names carry cultural, historical, and symbolic meanings that contribute significantly to characterization and thematic development. In African societies, naming is rarely arbitrary; it is frequently embedded in cultural philosophy, communal memory, and social values. As Achebe observes, names in African contexts often reflect circumstances of birth, social expectations, or moral commentaries on life. Consequently, when such names appear in literary works, they may serve as important narrative devices that communicate deeper meanings within the story.

Names in literary texts are not merely referential labels but complex semiotic structures through which meaning is encoded and mediated. Within onomastics—the systematic study of names—scholars increasingly recognise that names function as interpretive devices that shape narrative understanding. As Smith observes, “proper names are meaningful linguistic signs” (p. 296). This assertion foregrounds the semiotic potential of names, repositioning them as active agents in the construction of literary meaning rather than passive identifiers.

From a semiotic perspective, names operate within broader systems of signification.   Saussure conceptualises the linguistic sign as a relationship between the signifier and the signified (p. 67), a framework that enables the analysis of how meaning is structured in language. However, Peirce’s triadic model—comprising icon, index, and symbol—extends this understanding by demonstrating that signs function through multiple relational modes ( p. 102). When applied to literary onomastics, this model reveals that names may simultaneously encode resemblance, causal association, and cultural symbolism, thereby enriching their interpretive capacity within narrative texts.

Within literary studies, this insight has given rise to the field of literary onomastics, which examines the role of names as structural and interpretive elements.  Hough notes that “names in literature are rarely arbitrary and often contribute to characterization and interpretation” (p. 4). Similarly, Smith argues that names in literary discourse serve as “condensed signifiers of cultural and ideological meaning” (p. 300). These perspectives reflect a broader critical shift from viewing names as decorative features to understanding them as integral components of narrative design.

Recent scholarship further underscores this development.  Robbins emphasises that literary onomastics has evolved into a field that explores how names function “as part of the architecture of narrative meaning” (p. 12). This shift aligns with semiotic literary criticism, which conceptualises literary texts as systems of signs in which meaning is produced through structured relationships. Within such systems, names operate as key semiotic nodes that prefigure narrative trajectories and guide reader interpretation.

Empirical studies, particularly within African contexts, deepen this theoretical understanding by demonstrating that naming practices are embedded in cultural philosophy, communal memory, and metaphysical belief systems. Bamgbose asserts that African languages function as “vehicles for the expression of culture and identity” (p. 34), while Ndlovu-Gatsheni argues that African epistemologies resist the separation of language from being, insisting on their “mutual constitution” (p. 41). Similarly, Adeyemi contends that African naming practices encode “metaphysical assumptions about destiny, morality, and communal memory” (p. 52). These studies collectively highlight the ontological weight of names within African cultural systems.

Despite these advances, much of the existing empirical scholarship remains largely sociolinguistic or ethnographic, focusing on naming patterns, identity construction, and cultural symbolism. Consequently, the formal and structural role of names within literary narratives remains underexplored. In contemporary Nigerian prose fiction, critical attention has predominantly centred on themes such as postcolonial identity, gender, and socio-political critique, often overlooking the semiotic and narratological functions of naming.

It is within this critical gap that this study intervenes. By proposing the concept of onomastic semiotics, the article synthesises insights from literary onomastics, semiotic theory, and African indigenous epistemology to examine naming as a narrative system. It argues that in Night of Intruders and Other Stories, names function simultaneously as semantic structures, narrative devices, and ontological markers, shaping thematic development, structuring characterisation, and mediating the interplay between destiny and agency.

Ultimately, this study repositions naming from a peripheral cultural feature to a central narrative mechanism. It demonstrates that within African literary contexts, names are not merely reflective of cultural meaning but constitutive of narrative form, operating as a foundational element in the production of literary significance.

Theoretical Framework: Onomastic Semiotics as Narrative System

This study is anchored on an interdisciplinary framework that synthesizes literary onomastics, semiotics, and African indigenous epistemology to formulate what is conceptualized in this work as onomastic semiotics. This composite framework enables a systematic understanding of how names function not merely as referential markers but as structural, semantic, and ontological elements within narrative discourse.

Literary onomastics, as a critical field, examines the function of proper names in literary texts. As Hough argues, “character names frequently prefigure narrative trajectories and guide reader interpretation” (103). This suggests that names are not incidental but are deliberately deployed as interpretive cues that shape reader expectations and narrative meaning. Similarly, recent scholarship has expanded this position by emphasizing that names operate as semiotic condensations of identity and ideology. According to Smith, “names in literary discourse operate as semiotic nodes through which ideology, identity, and narrative expectation are negotiated” (114).

However, to fully grasp the depth of naming in African literary contexts, literary onomastics must be read alongside semiotic theory. Classical semiotics, particularly as articulated by Ferdinand de Saussure, conceptualizes linguistic sign as the relationship between the signifier and the signified. While this framework provides a useful starting point, it is limited by its emphasis on arbitrariness. In contrast, the semiotic model proposed by Peirce expands the field by introducing a triadic structure - icon, index, and symbol - thereby allowing for more dynamic relationships between signs and meaning. Within African naming systems, names often function simultaneously as symbols (cultural meaning), indices (existential conditions), and even performative signs, thereby exceeding Saussurean arbitrariness.

This expanded semiotic understanding becomes particularly relevant when situated within African indigenous epistemology. Scholars of African philosophy have consistently argued that language in African contexts is not merely representational but also constitutive of reality. As Mbembe notes, “language in African texts is not merely expressive but constitutive of reality itself” (74). Similarly, Ndlovu-Gatsheni observes that “African epistemologies resist the separation of language from being, insisting instead on their mutual constitution” (41). Within this ontological framework, names are not arbitrary labels but active carriers of destiny, morality, and communal memory. This ontological dimension is further reinforced in African naming traditions, where names encode metaphysical assumptions about existence. Adeyemi asserts that “African naming practices encode metaphysical assumptions about destiny, morality, and communal memory” (52). Thus, naming becomes a form of ontological inscription, embedding cultural philosophy directly into linguistic forms.

Bringing these perspectives together, this study proposes onomastic semiotics as a theoretical model that understands names as: semantic structures (they carry meaning), narrative devices (they organize plot and character), and ontological markers (they encode worldview and destiny). Within this framework, names in Night of Intruders and Other Stories function as narrative engines, shaping thematic development, structuring character arcs, and mediating the relationship between destiny and agency.

Importantly, this study also introduces the concept of indigenous compatibilism to explain the dynamic interplay between naming and character action in the text. Indigenous compatibilism refers to a cosmological logic in which destiny provides structural orientation without eliminating human agency. This aligns with broader philosophical debates on determinism and free will but is uniquely grounded in African worldview systems where destiny is both given and negotiable. As such, names in Odia’s narratives do not rigidly determine outcomes but create semantic expectations that characters may fulfil, resist, or reinterpret. Through this theoretical synthesis, the study demonstrates that naming in Odia’s fiction is not ornamental but infrastructural, functioning as a core mechanism of narrative meaning-making.

Scholarly engagement with naming practices has generated significant insights across linguistics, anthropology, and literary studies. Within African contexts, naming has been widely recognized as a culturally embedded practice that reflects social values, identity, and worldview. Early foundational studies emphasize the role of language as a repository of cultural meaning. For instance, Bamgbose argues that African languages function as “vehicles for transmitting communal philosophy and identity” (34), while Yankah highlights that linguistic expressions operate as “condensed cultural narratives” (52).

More recent scholarship has deepened this understanding by foregrounding the ontological and metaphysical dimensions of naming. Adeyemi contends that “African naming practices encode metaphysical assumptions about destiny, morality, and communal memory” (2021, 52), thereby positioning names as more than sociocultural identifiers. Similarly, Ndlovu-Gatsheni emphasizes that African epistemologies collapse the distinction between language and being, suggesting that naming participates directly in the construction of reality (2022, 41).

Within literary studies, attention has also been given to the function of names in narrative texts. Hough observes that names often provide insight into “character identity, narrative expectation, and cultural context” (98). Expanding this perspective, Richardson argues that “meaning in narrative fiction is often pre-inscribed at the level of naming before plot unfolds” (89). This suggests that names serve as interpretive frameworks through which readers engage with narrative development.

In addition, contemporary studies in literary onomastics have begun to emphasize the semiotic complexity of names. Smith notes that names function as “semiotic nodes through which ideology and narrative expectation are negotiated” (114). This aligns with broader semiotic approaches that view literary texts as systems of signs in which meaning is constructed through symbolic interaction. Despite these advances, much of the existing scholarship on African naming remains largely sociolinguistic or ethnographic in orientation. Studies such as Odikpo-Okafor (2023) and Oduola and Okekunle (2024) focus primarily on naming patterns, identity construction, and social relationships, offering valuable insights into cultural practices but paying limited attention to the formal and structural role of names within literary narratives.

Furthermore, while semiotic and onomastic approaches have been applied to literary texts, there is a noticeable gap in studies that integrate these frameworks with African indigenous epistemology to examine naming as a narrative strategy. Existing analyses such as Izuu (pp. 1-17), and Kwesi and Bonsu (pp. 30-49), often treat names as supplementary details rather than as central mechanisms that organize plot, encode thematic concerns, and shape reader interpretation. This gap is particularly evident in scholarship on contemporary Nigerian prose fiction, such as Enmin and Nkansah (70-79), and Ojebode (232-242), where critical attention has largely focused on themes such as postcolonial identity, gender, and socio-political critique, often overlooking the formal significance of naming practices. Consequently, the role of names as structural narrative devices remains underexplored.

This study addresses this critical gap by proposing the concept of onomastic semiotics as a framework for analyzing naming in Night of Intruders and Other Stories. By examining how names function as narrative strategies that encode cultural philosophy and structure character development, the study moves beyond descriptive accounts of naming to foreground its aesthetic, structural, and epistemological significance in African literary production.

Names as a Thematic Architecture

In Night of Intruders and Other Stories, naming operates as structural scaffolding upon which thematic meaning is constructed. Odia’s anthroponyms function not merely as cultural embellishments but as compressed philosophical propositions that anticipate narrative directions. This technique aligns with what may be termed thematic prefiguration: the inscription of narrative tension within linguistic form. In the opening story in the collection, “The Other Wife”, the story shows how Odia employs onomastic technique to develop themes. The story begins on a note of apprehension, uncertainty and anxiety for the parents of the main character, Oduwa. Their economic condition thrusts them into deep philosophical agitation as to why things have remained difficult. The wife cursed the day she got pregnant. “It was at this moment that they agreed/ to call the baby Imakpokpomwan which/ in Benin means, I did not trouble anyone, let no one trouble me”. (Night of Intruders, 1).

Owing to the prevailing circumstance, they give the new child “Imakpokpomwan”, a Benin circumstantial name. This name sums up the folkloric worldview of the parents. They believe poverty, hardship and adversity to be products of human and spiritual forces. This theme resonates through the story as it undergirds the Benin worldview. This explains why the parents feel agitated that their impecunious condition can only be a product of an evil spiritual force. The parents give the baby this name to show their innocence on the one hand and their disgust at their predicament on the other. Thus, this name initiates the suspense in the story. The reader becomes aware of the family’s need for some divine intervention. Characters in the story change their names when their circumstances or economic situation improves: “When Imakpokpomwan grew to be an adult, his parents changed his name to Oduwa, meaning ‘the path to wealth’. He became prosperous and everyone who wanted help thronged his office. (1)”

The second name which the reader encounters in the story is “Oduwa” which functions thematically as well as ironically. The name “Imakpokpomwan” is later changed to Oduwa when the child grows into an adult. As the speaker explains in the story, Oduwa means the path to wealth. This coincides with the prosperity of the family and the young man. With the benefit of a hindsight, Oduwa in the context of the story is an excellent example of an irony. At the thematic level, the story also cautions against illegal and unorthodox paths to wealth, noting that the only true source of wealth is through divine blessing. This assumption is drawn from the next crucial name in the story,” Osayuware”, which means that God is the bringer of wealth or who blesses one with wealth. “Ten years had passed since Oduwa became wealthy, his wife, Osayuware, had remained barren. There was no place she didn’t visit for help. She went to Spiritualists and prophets but all to no avail” (2).

The names of Oduwa and Osayuware are complimentary to each other in terms of meaning. Oduwa is a short form of Osagioduwa, which means God is the one who shows and guides one to the path of wealth. Osayuware also figuratively means God is the creator of blessing or wealth. By implication, if one needs wealth, one should run to God. It is ironic that Osayuware forgets the meaning of her name when she frets because of her barrenness. She forgets that only God can give barren women children. She also forgets that children are also blessings or wealth from God.

The writer also uses proverbial names which have thematic resonances.

“I am Iroghoma, and these are my children. That one is Ukuse,”

pointing to the taller of the two boys.” She continued, “this one

is Egogo.” She spoke on” they are tired and sleepy. Please help me

to take care of them.” (3)  

The above speech is addressed to Osayuware, the barren woman. Iroghoma is the spirit wife of Oduwa, while Ukuse and Egogo are their spirit children. Iroghoma is also a mythical character (the myth of the spirit wife). By the way, Iroghoma means a situation when a discussion yields a positive outcome. Thus, it is a proverbial name which means an instance when a thought or a discussion yields a positive result when one finds the right person with whom one shares it. The character of Iroghoma is significant in several ways. The prosperity of Oduwa, as revealed in the flashback, conveys in the revelatory dream the importance of Iroghoma. She employs evil power to enrich Oduwa as compensation for agreeing to get married to her spiritually. Their spiritual union leads to the birth of two sons: Ukuse and Egogo. These names are also significant. They are names of Benin musical instruments. Egogo means a bell, while Ukuse means a maracas. They are symbols of entertainment, happiness and delight. These children entertain and delight Iroghoma. These human emotions are however lacking in Oduwa’s union with Osayuware. Thus, children in Benin worldview provide entertainment, happiness and delight. This explains why couples who lack children mourn.

There is the motif that runs throughout the story “The Other Wife”, which assumes the theme of: the punishment of the innocent. This idea is demonstrated through Oduwa’s narration of how he has stolen a loaf of bread from a shop and how the shop owner accuses Enibokun, a complete innocent woman (Night of Intruders, 2).

In Benin onomastics, Enibokun is a rare and exotic bird or a cattle egret or even a white bird which signifies purity, innocence and beauty. Similarly, the innocent undergoes severe punishment through no fault of theirs. The anger of Iroghoma is directed at Osayuware who is completely oblivious of the existence of Iroghoma in Oduwa’s life. Her childlessness which she suffers from Iroghoma demonstrates this punishment of the innocent. Thus, Enibokun and Osayuware are archetypal innocent characters who bear the brunt of the other’s anger and pain.

Equally significant is the author’s deployment of names which are indicative of positive ideas and portend good for the future. The names are: “Ofumurengbe, Alaghodaro and Etin-osa” (6). These names belong to the children of Oduwa and Osayuware after they have undergone deliverance from Iroghoma’s scourge. The names chosen by Oduwa and Osayuware convey their expectations. “Ofumwengbe”, for example means peace. They believe in the termination of Iroghoma’s control over their lives, and henceforth, they would experience peace. “Alaghodaro” on the other hand means progress. They want to make progress. Lastly, “Etin-Osa” means Gods power or Etin-Osarere, which connotes that God’s power is supreme. These names when viewed from the way Oduwa’s life has ended, are ironic. Oduwa’s new found Christian faith leaves him in the mire of penury and pain. For this reason, he longs for re-union with Iroghoma and craves without end for financial blessing and restoration to wealth. Thus, Oduwa loses his peace when he loses his ill-gotten wealth and comfort. Also, he is unable to make any progress. Lastly, he does not believe in God’s power to bless and protect him. This prompts him to return to Iroghoma who has come to exact revenge on him.

This story in its entirety is written to affirm the power of spirit wives in the lives of humans. As can be gleaned from the story, Oduwa’s struggle to end his marriage with the spirit wife, Iroghoma, ends on a tragic note. Thus, the death of Oduwa underscores the revenge motif which Iroghoma has successfully carried out. The overriding theme in “The Other Wife” is the love of money and its devastating consequences of sorrow and death. The absence of contentment and the failure to work hard brings untold bondage to the life of an individual. This appears to be the case with Oduwa. He represents the archetypal greedy character who wants to get wealth and retains it even when he has denounced the source of the wealth. His spiritual wedding and eventual marriage bring to his physical marriage with Osayuware a long period of childlessness. It takes divine intervention to expose the nakedness of Iroghoma’s affliction on Oduwa and Osayuware’s marriage. Even when the spirit and power of Iroghoma has been exorcised, he is unable to believe in God for financial turnaround. This is even more disheartening, if not, ironic, as his name ought to remind him. His failure to heed this onomastic philosophical warning leads to his end. The story also interrogates the rationale behind promise making and promise breaking. Oduwa and Iroghoma make a promise to be together.  The pressure from Oduwa’s parents for him to get a wife leads him to renege on his promise to Iroghoma. At the fundamental level, it must be pointed out that the real fraudulent person in the whole agreement scandal is Iroghoma. She has a pact with Oduwa but visits childlessness on Oduwa and Osayuware’s marriage. This wicked act shows that she has broken the tenent of their agreement. What this means is that when a promise is broken, it leads to even greater consequences. Oduwa’s inability to adhere to the pact with Iroghoma brings him poverty and sorrow. He is later deceived by Iroghoma to destroy his life.

The central motivation for Iroghoma’s action is Oduwa’s inability to keep his word. Here is an excerpt: “Iroghoma, I have something to say to you, “Oduwa said”. Do not say it. I know already, “She replied.” You promised me that you wouldn’t leave me. Isn’t that what you told me? She reminded him” (6).

The entire dialogue is a flashback which Oduwa recalls to show that he has broken Iroghoma’s trust. Based on this, she decides to avenge it by luring him into getting married to her thus: “Iroghoma, you and I are good friends. My parents want me to marry Osayuware and I can’t refuse her.” Then Iroghoma said, “Let us get married first, under the mango tree”. (6) An exploration of Iroghoma’s reasoning will show that she is deliberately misleading Oduwa or luring him into the marriage. Although Oduwa may not have known what he is getting himself into, he is later to know the intractable bondage he has entered. As a way to punish Oduwa, for marrying Osayuware, Iroghoma says: “That man over there is Oduwa, as you see. He is nailed to the wall. He is mine. He cannot impregnate you as long as he is bound over here. He is my prisoner.” (4).

Thus, trust is an important quality in spiritual marriage. Breaking it brings one into spiritual bondage. Although Oduwa is happily married and in prosperity, he is unable to impregnate his wife because of the spiritual imprisonment: he has been kept in a spiritual prison - “nailed to the wall”. The onomastic technique in Odia’s story emerges as a potent narrative device that skilfully conveys the complexities of Benin culture and worldview. Through the strategic development of names, Odia masterfully encapsulates the essence of Benin identity, tradition and experience, imbuing the stories with depth and richness that resonate with readers. This analysis has demonstrated the significance of onomastic technique in Odia’s work, highlighting its role in shaping thematic resonance. Significantly, the study underscores cultural context and literary devices that underpin Odia’s narratives, offering a nuanced understanding of the ways in which literature reflects and shapes our understanding of the world.

Onomastics and Benin Cosmology

Odia’s naming practices encode core dimensions of Benin worldview: the divine sovereignty, the anthological centrality of children, and the inevitability – but negotiability - of destiny. Name are central to Odia’s short stories especially in “The King’s Man.” Two names stand out in the story: “Evbakoe” and “Ewansiha”. The central character is Evbakoe, which is a philosophical name that means “reap what you sow”. The anthroponym, Evbakoe, compresses a jurisprudential cosmology into two lexical units. It does not merely predict consequences; it presupposes a universe in which causality is ethical rather than accidental. The narrative’s deployment of reincarnation transforms the name from linear retribution to cyclical jurisprudence, thereby embedding cosmology within plot structure. The Benin people have a distinctive vision of the world, which manifests in the choice of names given to individuals and places. In this paper, we shall concentrate on four aspects of Benin worldview namely, God, children, destiny and virtues.

Benin people believe in the supremacy, wisdom, blessing and goodness of God almighty. These virtues reflect in the names that parents give to their children. In Odia’s Night of Intruders and Other stories, many characters bear such names. In the story, “Tabernacles of Bribery”, the central character bears the name, Nosadeba, which literally means the one God joins. Figuratively, it means the one backed, supported or defended by God. On the surface, this name appears to have nothing to do with the story but on a deeper level, it underscores the prevailing theme in the story. Nosadeba is an Assistant Superintendent of Police (ASP) in charge of special Anti-Robbery squad in Ugbekun Police Station, Benin City. He is a notorious Police officer who coordinates other younger squad members to collect bribes from members of the public. He is in cahoots with big time criminals. The narrator recalls how Deba (short for Nosadeba) recovered a stolen car belonging to his brother-in-law:

That evening, Deba put a call through to all the gang heads under his control. “Hello, Oscar, this is Scorpion”, he called. “Yes Boss, Good evening.” “Ask your boys if they were the ones who stole a white Toyota Venza. That car belongs to my brother-in-law” (9).

From the above, it is ironic that this dishonest character bears the good name, Nosadeba. How can God back or defend this terrible officer? This is the philosophical part of the name. God knows everyone and He supports and blesses even the worst among us. As the story unfolds, it becomes clear why this name is given to him. The turning point is when he decides to turn over a new leaf. Soon he abandons his dishonest ways and embraces change. This culminates in his transfer to the Police Headquarters where God uses him to rescue the life of Nehikhare who is falsely accused of committing a crime. God later rewards him for his honesty:

Nehikhare was released and he went  home praising God. As they were in the canteen, Deba ordered a bottle of soft drink. The seller asked him to check the crown, informing him of the on-going promotion. As he checked, he saw five-million-naira cash prize. (Night of Intruders, 13)

This is the first of the several rewards that he enjoyed for being honest. When he was a terrible officer, God did not bless him. His name begins to manifest blessing when he has changed his ways. Firstly, he is transferred to the Headquarters. Secondly, he is rewarded with five million naira from the promo. Thirdly, his life is spared when protest erupts in the city. “Deba was glad he had turned a new leaf because he would have been consumed by the fire of the protest. He reads in the newspaper that several “tabernacles”, of his friends who loved and encouraged ‘bribery’ were razed down without mercy” (14).

This short story reveals the dynamic bond between onomastics and narrative plot. The story is carefully written to underscore the power of names in expressing Benin worldview which is centred round the belief in God Almighty. The ending of the story shows that when God supports an individual, that person is bound to be successful.

In the story, “The Burden Bearer”, Odia expresses the Benin worldview of Almighty God. The central character bears the unisex name, Osagioduwa (shortened as Oduwa), which means “God is the one who shows the path to wealth”. In the previously discussed story, “The Other Wife”, Oduwa is a male character but in the present story, Oduwa is a female character. She cuts a pathetic figure who shoulders the financial burden of her immediate family. As the narrator mentioned, “she started her life as a young chorister in a church in Benin” Then the fear of God was at the root of her growing life” (38). She soon completes her education and gets a job at an auditing/consulting firm in Lagos. Oduwa soon drifts off God and begins to use her sexuality to earn more money to take care of her family. From one man to the other, she savours it all. Later, Oduwa gets entangled in a relationship with Barry Bumper, the internet fraudster.

Someone has introduced Oduwa to Barry, and as time went on, they became like five and six. By the fourth month, Oduwa was married to Barry. It was the type of wedding she had dreamed of. After their wedding, Barry bought cars for Oduwa’s brothers and their father. Barry changed their lives. (41)

Oduwa is a character in search for a path to wealth. She has explored several possibilities without success. Ironically, her name has expressed it to her but she does not pay heed to it. She has explored the path of prostitution, depending on her male suitors for financial survival. At one point, she tries framing Bayo with a pregnancy because he is from an affluent family. After her painful ordeal with a terrible affliction, it is Bayo who rescues her and marries her (44). As shown, the story revolves round the name - Osagioduwa. The reason is that it offers the text a didactic power with which to sustain the reader. It also reveals the irony of life. Oduwa bears the name, Osagioduwa, but she goes to all the wrong places in search of wealth. Also, intriguing is that Barry joins a secret cult because he needs wealth. He too does not understand that God is the path to wealth. The plot has the semblance of a cycle. The story begins with Oduwa as a teenage girl serving God in the choir but later derails only to suffer some affliction and turns back to God. Her quest for wealth moves her away from God, before she learns that God is the only true way to wealth and pleasure in life.

Benin names also reveal the Benin people’s belief in children as source of blessing. In fact, the value attached to children resonates in the various names given to them. For example, in “The Burden Bearer”, we encounter names such as Omogiate and Omosivie. Also, in “Mother’s Shadows” there are names like Omozogie; in “The Burden Bearer”, there are Omogiate, Omosivie and Omoragbon (Oragbon for short) in “Sacred Fruit”.  These names express the value Benin people place on children. In “Mother’s Shadow”, Otote the lead character recounts a painful experience: “I have married at an early age to Omozogie and we had waited for a child for over six years…” (48). Omozogie can be broken into three parts, namely “Omo”, “zo” and “gie”. Omo means child, “zo” means several things: choose, make and produce while “gie” or “ogie” means King. Literally, Omozogie means ‘it is a child that makes one king’. However, literally it means something beyond that. Omozogie actually means ‘it is a child who makes a woman to enjoy royal status in the marriage’. According to Otote, he gets married to Omozogie at an early age but unfortunately, she is denied the fruit of the womb. This situation heightens tension and anxiety. It explains why Omozogie contrives a deceitful ploy to fake her pregnancy knowing the value Benin parents place on children.

Similarly, in the “The Burden Bearer”, Odia uses names to affirm the Benin people’s belief in the great value bestowed on children. The name Omogiate means ‘a child that makes it impossible for one to fade out of people’s memory’. What this implies is that as long as one has children, one cannot be forgotten. The children will help preserve one’s name. Similarly, the name, Omosivie means ‘a child is greater in value than beads or any other ornament for that matter’. This can be viewed against the backdrop of a barren woman. No matter the value of the ornament given to her, that cannot take the place of a child in that marriage. In this story, both Omogiate (male) and Omosivie (female) are characters in the short story.

Benin names reveal the people’s belief in the power of destiny. Some names include Evbakoe as “King’s Man”, Atekha as in “Tabernacles of Bribery”, Ayowie in “Sacred Fruit” and Nehikhare in “Tabernacles of Bribery”. All these affirm the place of predestination in human existence. For example, Evbakoe is the main character in the “King’s Man”. He reincarnates, not exactly as he was - a king, but now as an ordinary friend of the king - Ewansiha. His name reflects his fate. As his name implies, he reaps the fruit of wickedness. The wealth the king bestows on him is stolen from him spiritually just as he deprived and stole from the weak in his former life. He pays dearly for his sins and feels every pain he meted out on others in his former life. This goes to show that people actually reap what they sow. No matter how one runs, one’s destiny cannot be averted, whether bad or good.

The priestess explained that the name, “Evbakoe”, means retribution or better known as ‘reap what you sow’. “Your parents knew you have reincarnated after divining  the fate that awaited you, they decided to name you, Evbakoe. (Odia, 22)

The people believe in ritual consultation as a way of seeking spiritual guidance. At the birth of Evbakoe, the parents suspect that he may have brought an ill fate, hence they give him the name Evbakoe to remind themselves and anyone who cares to listen to always be of good behavior because one reaps whatever one sows in this life, no matter one’s social status.

Another important name in the collection of short stories is Atekha. It is a short name from a Benin proverb which means ‘whoever believes that a man suffering from enlarged scrotum will ever give birth let alone raise children’. This name is unmistakably reinstating the power of divine providence as well as one’s destiny. This is the name of the character in “Tabernacles of Bribery”. Atekha is a sergeant in the Nigerian Police Force. He is the one who recognizes that ASP Deba has changed:

Sergeant Atekha said, “something must be wrong. “Corporal Ifaluyi had a different view. “Can’t you see? The boss is now born again,” he said. If Scorpion can repent and be forgiven, then God can forgive any person,” Constable Iyoha added. (Odia, 10)

This name is more than a character’s means of identity in the story. It functions as a technique through which the author conveys Benin worldview. Just as the name says, no one can imagine that Deba can ever turn over a new leaf. This is the whole point about the name. It expresses the power of destiny. He is destined to watch that TV programme on that day where he encounters the transforming power of God who not only saves him from his sins but also makes him a new man. Thus, corporal Ifaluyi and Constable Iyoha are witnesses to Deba’s transformation and to what Atekha has observed about him.

Closely related to the above is the Benin belief in the power of destiny. This is conveyed through the name, Nehikhare - which means, what one’s destiny says. This is also found in “Tabernacles of Bribery”. The power of this name is not in the character’s action but in the author’s expression. The name Ayowie in “Sacred Fruit” is proverbial. It means no one can predict how one turns out in life when one is a child. Two polar realities of morning and evening are used to symbolically construct the idea of childhood and adulthood. In Benin, Owie means morning, while Ota means evening. Thus, Ayowie is a short form of Aiyowierhen. This predisposes one to accepting the power of destiny that one should not judge anybody because no matter what, it is too early in the morning to predict how one turns out to be in the evening.

This name helps to establish Odia’s deployment of onomastic technique as a way of expressing and entrenching Benin worldview. Ayowo is the priestess of Imakpule, the God of sorrow and vengeance, on whom Uhuanmen casts aspersion. Ayowie is the only daughter of Ayowa. The paradox of this story is that both Uhuanmen and Abrasa had five children early in life but in the end, they lost four of them to death; even Uhuanmen lost her life too.       

Naming and Character Construction

Beyond the theme of cosmology, naming also shapes psychological depth and reader perception. Odia uses names to frame characters before they act, inviting readers to interpret behaviour through semantic expectation. In the story, “Mother’s Shadows” Odia presents his characters through the onomastic technique, using names of characters to comment on their behaviour in the story. Key names in the story are Otote, Omozogie, Aimuanmwosa, Enahen, Efosa and Aigbodion. These names mean different things. Firstly, Otote is a short form of a deep and philosophical name. It means someone under the protection of someone or God. Throughout the entire story, Otote enjoys the protection and guidance of his mother, Mrs Aimuanmwosa. Secondly, Aimuanmwosa means ‘no one argues or contests the word of God, either conveyed through his ordained priests or coming from ghosts functioning as His messengers’. Thirdly, Omozogie means ‘it is a child that entitles one for the throne’. That means, the childless cannot be honoured as king or queen. This name is powerful. Another name is Enahen, which means ‘the one we know’. Efosa and Aigbodion means ‘God’s wealth’ and ‘a younger sibling is forbidden from fighting the elder’, respectively.

Each of these names help the reader to understand the characters. Otote appears to know the power behind his name. With the benefit of a hindsight, it is clear that his usual practice of pouring libation and ritual offering of sacrifices and food to the ancestors are in recognition of the power his ancestors wield in his life. He never fails to do these rituals:

Otote took the drink that Mama Nkechi had offered him and poured it on the ground saying. “Mother, this is for you and every one of you who have gone ahead of me. Keep watch over me as I drink”. After pouring the libation, he took a morsel of the foo foo and smeared it generously with the egusi soup, then he flung it to the road and said, “That too is for you. Eat with me and withhold not your blessings”. (47)

As someone who knows he is under the protection of his ancestors, it is not shocking therefore to see him act out the meaning of his name. Odia’s artistic depth is evident here especially his ability to combine onomastic quality with literary ability. Otote maintains this tradition throughout the story. His ritual awareness sustains his relationship with the ghost of his mother, who guides and protects him. The opening scene depicts Otote when he was six years. He has fled from the oppressive power of his stepmother to take shelter at Oka market, where his mother used to sell food items. It is the ghost of his mother that leads him to live with his grandmother.

Therefore, it is not strange for the young Otote to understand that although his mother may not be alive physically, he understands that he is under her spiritual protection and guidance. This explain why he does not doubt his mother when she said:

My son, this thing your wife is carrying is not pregnancy. In fact, she had phantom pregnancy. Otote was stunned. Then his mother took him by the hand and led him to their bedroom and told him to look at the edge of the wall. Otote obeyed and saw a small fetish pot. (48)

Otote does not argue with the ghost of his mother because she leads him in the right path. It is ironic that Otote’s wife bears the name Omozogie. In actual sense, this name helps the writer to depict the character of Otote. He is passionate of having children of his own. At the end of the story, we get to read that Otote’s wife, the one his mother direct him to marry, Nurse Enahen, gives birth to six children. Before this, Otote’s realization that his wife, Omozogie, has betrayed him, leads him to excessive drinking of alcohol, in order to forget Omozogie. Otote knows that with children, one is more than a king. Therefore, Omozogie’s action of denying him children is too much for him to bear.

Another point to remember is that names carry so much power, especially as they help to present characters in a story. For example, Animuanmwosa, as the name goes, requires humans to refrain from disobeying God’s word. Mrs. Aimuanmwosa continues to lead Otote as long as he obeys her words. Thus, she is the archetype of God’s representative in the story. At the hospital where he is admitted for three months, it is his mother who “injected some liquid into his head and how he had received strength afterwards” (50). This explains why after the miraculous injection that healed him, Otote does not refuse his mother’s advice to get married to Nurse Enahen who later gives birth to six children as compensation for heeding his mother’s word. This shows that heeding God’s word is profitable.

In exploring Benin onomastics in character presentation, Odia’s stories weave together intricate narratives that highlight the significance of names and their cultural context in Benin society. His use of language and character development serve to enrich the plot structure, providing insights into the complexities of human experience. The stories offer nuanced explorations of identity, culture and societal dynamics, making Night of Intruders and Other Stories a compelling read for those interested in Arican literature and Cultural Studies.

Conclusion

This article has demonstrated that the naming convention in Night of Intruders and Other Stories functions as a narrative strategy rather than a cultural ornament. Through what has been theorised in this study as onomastic semiotics, Clement Odia transforms indigenous anthroponyms into structural devices that organise, and embed Benin cosmology, as well as shape character development. Names operate as thematic blueprints and ethical horizons, generating narrative tension when characters align with – or deviate from – their semantic inscriptions. Importantly, the stories in the collection resist rigid determinism. While names encode ontological direction, they do not eliminate agency. Instead, the stories dramatise an indigenous compatibilism in which destiny provides orientation but remains negotiable through action. By converting naming philosophy into narrative infrastructure, Odia demonstrates how African epistemology can function as formal innovation. Naming, in this collection, is not merely a cultural memory – it is narrative machinery.

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This article is published in ALQALAM: A Journal of Language and Literary Studies, FUGUS, Volume 1, Issue 2 - June 2026