"Maahleeey!"

I like names.  Correction: I love names.  It is an odd fascination that I have had since I was a very young child. I would pick up Baby Name books in stores, ask all of my classmates and friends not only their middle names but their parents' middle names, their siblings' middle names, etc. etc.  To this day, names are one of the first topics I bring up when I meet someone new (albeit it takes them off guard at times); once I hear their full name I think of their monogram and I tend not to forget - even for years to come (wish I had this same ability with legal texts).   I am not sure if it is the strong Arkansas accent or the syllable placement, but for some reason in South Africa, people have trouble understanding the pronunciation of my name.  I never thought Molly was particularly difficult, but I've noticed here it takes a few times of my saying it for it to catch. "Maybe I should go by my formal name of Mary Catherine?" I thought to myself.  So, I asked Nicky the native South African and my fellow Clinton School classmate, what I should do.  She grabbed a pen and paper and wrote my name out "Morley" and said to pronounce it like that.  Heck no! I told her - I'm not a Morley; I am a MOLLY.  I write about my enthusiasm for names and the difficulties with my nickname in Cape Town not to provide you all a glimpse into one of my idiosyncrasies, but also to  share the story of my first meeting with Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

The room where Nicky, Kate, and I work is literally feet away from the Arch's office.  Pretty neat in and of itself, but knowing I would meet and have tea with the Archbishop himself - INCREDIBLE. My first week, Father (as he is affectionately referred to by the staff) was traveling so my introduction came yesterday.  Words cannot describe the joy he exudes.  Much like the way I felt (even surrounded by 18,000 people) when I heard the Dalai Lama speak at the University of Arkansas in May, I was struck by the Archbishop's spiritualism.  One is calmed in their presence.  It is the custom of the office to greet the Archbishop and we gather in a circle with him to do so.  He goes around to everyone with hugs and kisses on the cheek. When he got to me, I smiled and said "Father, I am Molly.  What a honor."  "Malley?" he responded, clearly puzzled by my name.  "MO-LLY" I answered as I began to blush and my South African friends tried to translate on my behalf.  Then, in a moment I shall never forget, the Arch threw his hands back, let out an extraordinary laugh, and with a twinkle in his eye, exclaimed, "Oh Mahhhleey!!!"  In a word, it was, spectacular.