Paul Williams, Contributor

He lived a tormented life, for the most part. His classmates had no mercy on him, his neighbour laughed behind closed doors, and his working colleagues whispered about him, about his name.

His name was Ethelbert St Aloysius Hogg III, but he was brilliant. He became a bookworm and won scholarships at every level of his academic life.

At every graduation when his named was thundered, there would be silence, then laughter, but Ethelbert would collect his certificates with poise and dignity.

Despite the taunt, his father, Ethelbert St Aloysius Hogg II, a retired professor, was proud of his son. He knew Bert, as he affectionately called him, would be great, as he, Bert, and Bert's grandfather were named after Ethelbert, King of Kent, the first Christian Anglo-Saxon monarch.

Deep down, Bert himself detested the names, and he prayed for the day to come when he could change them.

That day came several times, but he could not bring himself to do it. He could not dishonour his grandfather and his father, his mentors. But, he hated being referred to as 'The Third Hogg'.

Professor Hogg himself had his fair share of torture, but he was no walkover. His jovial demeanour won him many friends, and more than that, he belonged to a more genteel generation, where people did not make a big ado over something as basic as a name.

He was now retired, spending his last days reading of the conquests of English kings and vagabonds. The last time he spoke with Bert over the phone Bert told him he wanted to talk with him. Professor Hogg wanted to get right into it, but Bert insisted it would be a face-to-face talk.

From a living room window the widower, Professor Hogg, watched his only child drive into the yard. He parked in front of the veranda, exited, rushed to the passenger door and gently opened it. Out stepped a tall, dark brown girl with the bearing of a beauty queen. He showed her the stairs and closed the door. He did not park in the garage, as was customary.

He led her into the living room. Professor Hogg beamed warmly. He had met them on the veranda. The men embraced as the beauty smiled.

Bert turned to his father and said, 'This is Julianne, a good friend of mine, well, more than good.'

Juliane shook hands with Professor Hogg, who invited them to drinks.

After much chit-chat and catching-up, Third Hogg excused himself. He went to the library to gather his thoughts once more. Fifteen minutes after, Second Hogg joined him. Julianne had gone to the ladies'room.

'So when is the big day?'

'What big day?'

'The wedding!'

'What wedding?'

'But aren't you kids getting married?'

'Well, Julianne and I met just a few months ago.'

'But you seem to adore each other.'

'Yes, but there is no need to rush.'

'So what was it you wanted to tell me?'

'Dad ...'

'Dad what?'

'I have been struggling ...'

'Struggling?'

'Yes, struggling all my life with ...'

'With what?'

'If and when Julianne and I get married she won't be Mrs Hogg.'

'You mean she won't change her name?'

'Yes...'

'But, what are you talking about?'

'She will be Mrs Akintola Babatunde!'

'You mean she will be married to some African. So why the big show boy, why did you bring her here?'

'Dad, I am Akintola Babatunde!'

Professor Hogg gave Akintola a long, piercing look and stormed out of the library, nearly knocking over the future Mrs Babatunde, who was eavesdropping behind the door.

Akintola grabbed her hand and they fled through the hall and down the steps. When they reached the car, he stood and looked up at the dark middle second-floor window and waved goodbye.

He knew his father was looking down. As the car slowly drove out of the yard, Akintola smiled triumphantly, and sighed heavily.

But unbeknownst to him, at the dark window, Second Hogg's right hand was raised, with the thumb up, and a wide smile took over his face. Finally, he said to himself, somebody got the courage to get the Hogg out of the family.