"Ah yes, Sara, we have this name too..."

Those readers who followed my journey on a study abroad trip in the middle east two years ago may remember that I learned on that trip that although names like Kirsten, Annika and Shannon are nearly impossible for Middle Easterners to pronounce, my name has currency in Turkish, Arabic and even Ancient Egyptian. Turns out there is a heiroglyph for Sara, meaning daughter of the God Rah. Pretty awesome right? On that trip, I was told over and over, "ah yes, Sara (pronounced Sah-rah, with a flipped r), we have this name too".

Well it turns out that this remains true in Israel/Palestine. Sharing a name with the matriarch of Christianity, Judaism and Islam is pretty useful because it means that many people understand my name. While Palestinians here struggle with my friend Courtney's name (Courrrrrrttt-ney, Corney or Corty) and remark at how exotic is Alma's name, they recognize my name as one of their own. There are three kindergartner's named Sara in my class and everyone I know, knows a Sara.

My Arabic tutor, Muhammad, told me that traditional Arabic names for women always end in the tah marbuta, a special letter making the "ah" sound that is only used at the end of words. The addition of the tah marbuta at the end makes a masculine adjective feminine and makes some plural nouns singular. Some examples of traditional Arabic women's names ending in the tah marbuta are Fatima, Aisha and, of course, Sara. Plus the tah marbuta in connection with the rah coming before it in my name, makes a cute little smiley face in Arabic script:

سارة

I love the way Sara rolls of the Arabic-speaker's tongue; a soft S, a wistful "ahh", a flipped r and a short little ah to finish it up. Sometimes Arabic speakers will say my name the way Americans do, "Seh-rah", but I actually prefer when they say it the proper Arabic way, "Sah-rah". 

"Sara" in Arabic, written by my guide in the Sahara Desert in Morocco.

I like that my name is a common name, both here and back home. In the US it makes me feel very much a part of my generation; I have a certain affinity for all Sara and Sarah's alike. Here I feel connected to Arabic-speakers when I meet someone and my name is met with a look of recognition, "Sara, it's an Arabic name". My name reminds them of people they know and folds me into their stories, whether familial,  Biblical, Talmudic or Islamic.

Like Sarai turned Sarah, I too am traveling into new lands in the Middle East and am eager to find a place for myself here. Having a recognizable name makes me feel more a part of this place where I so often feel like the foreigner I am. Thank you again Dad and Mom, for naming me Sara!! I'm sure you didn't guess when you named me that it would come in handy when I decided to come to the Middle East. :-)