AS visitors drive through the seemingly-endless fields of sugar cane and the small towns that dot Mauritius, they can be forgiven for thinking one of the most common names on the island is 'Ah'. There is Ah Tat's shop and Ah Fat's restaurant. Ah-Chuen is one of the most powerful clans in the Indian island nation.
Thank the British immigration officers of the 19th century. When waves of Hakka migrants and indentured labourers began arriving after 1840, the bureaucrats were bewildered by Chinese names.
So someone called Wong Man-fat, for instance, would walk down the gangplank at Port Louis, unable to speak anything but Hakka, and a red-faced British official would bellow: 'What's your name?' 'Name,' an aide would say in Chinese.
'Ah Fat,' the newcomer would say. It was Ah Fat that appeared on his landing certificate as a family name.
The confusion lasted until 1908 when, in despair and to try to regularise new arrivals, the colonial authorities handed over the chore of registration to the Chinese Chamber of Commerce.
Chamber chairman Vincent Ah-Chuen gives a beaming smile and a hearty chuckle as he explains his name. In his card, it's plainly written in Chinese, Chu. When his grandfather arrived a century ago, his papers were stamped with his nickname, Ah-Chuen.