Naming as Narrative Strategy: Semiotic Inversion and Cultural Authenticity in Yemeni Television Drama

Abstract

This study investigates the semiotic and cultural functions of character naming in the Yemeni television series Duroob al-Marjalah (Branching Paths of Manhood) (2024–2025). It applies onomastic theory and Barthesian semiotics to examine how Yemeni screenwriters employ names as narrative and ideological tools. A purposive sample of ten central characters was selected from a Yemeni drama series for qualitative analysis. Each name was examined for linguistic structure, semantic meaning, intertextual associations, and socio-cultural alignment. Semiotic interpretation followed Barthes’ signifier–signified–myth model to decode narrative and cultural symbolism. The findings indicate that character names function as multifaceted semiotic tools, conveying heritage, while occasionally employing stylization for satire or fostering empathy through cultural resonance. However, many lack grounding in Yemeni naming conventions, creating a tension between narrative dramatization and socio-onomastic realism. The results suggest that while Yemeni screenwriters show partial awareness of naming as a cultural and narrative tool, the creative process often privileges thematic resonance over ethnographic accuracy. This research contributes to onomastic theory, Arabic media studies, and semiotic analysis by evidencing how localized naming practices—or their absence—shape identity construction, world-building, and cultural recognition in regional television drama.

1. Introduction

Names constitute one of the most prominent cultural and social symbols across societies, playing a pivotal role in shaping individual and collective identity. They are not merely linguistic markers for identifying individuals, but rather semantic carriers that reflect systems of values, beliefs, and affiliations (Alford 1988). In literary and dramatic narratives, names are no less significant than dialogue or plot; they contribute to the development of characters, clarify social and cultural backgrounds, influence how audiences perceive artistic works, and enhance narrative persuasion and immersion in the story world (Bertills 2003).

In Arab and Yemeni contexts, naming practices are deeply tied to religious, tribal, and regional heritage. Names often signal social or sectarian affiliations, thereby enriching characters or distorting representation when misused (Kucherenko 2023; Stokes 2024). The proverb “every name has a share” reflects this symbolic dimension. Thus, names in narrative texts are carefully chosen cultural tools that condense identity and convey authorial intent.

Psychological and sociological research further confirms that names shape first impressions and can provoke bias when perceived as unfamiliar (Laham et al. 2012). In societies where tribal and regional hierarchies remain influential, such as Yemen, this dynamic is particularly salient. Kilito (2014) stress that Arabic literary names are never neutral: they carry inherited connotations of lineage, status, and values, embedding characters within cultural systems of meaning. In Yemen, names such as Saba, Balqis, and Arwa frequently evoke historical memory, affirming national belonging (Suleiman 2003). However, others may become symbolic labels linked to stereotypes, such as Dahbash in pejorative political discourse.

This semiotic and cultural weight makes naming central to the credibility of dramatic works. Names that diverge from their social context risk breaking narrative illusion, undermining immersion (Leonardi 2003), and perpetuating stereotypes (Erickson and Mattson 1981). Such challenges are evident in contemporary Yemeni drama. For instance, the television series Duroob al-Marjalah (Branching Paths of Manhood—duroob = branching paths; marjalah from Rujula: manhood in the sense of courage, sacrifice, and solidarity)—employs names such as Rashah, Miqnas, and Ramlah—unfamiliar to Yemeni audiences and often perceived more as epithets than authentic personal names. These choices sparked debates about artificiality and disconnection from lived Yemeni reality. Adopting a literary and socio-onomastic lens, we examine how such choices reconfigure narrative credibility and cultural recognition.

This study examines Duroob al-Marjalah (2024–2025) precisely because of its contested naming practices. As a recent production portraying Yemeni life, it offers a relevant case of how arbitrary or culturally misaligned names disrupt narrative credibility and weaken audience reception. The prevalence of such unfamiliar names (e.g., Haddas, Habis, Miqnas, Milqāt, Rashah) makes the series a rich site for investigating the semiotic, cultural, and narrative implications of naming. Against this background, the study addresses the following research questions:

• What are the semiotic and cultural connotations of the names used in Duroob al-Marjalah?
• To what extent do these names align with Yemeni social and cultural contexts?
• How do they influence character representation and world-building?
• To what degree are Yemeni screenwriters aware of naming as a narrative and cultural tool?

2. Literature Review

2.1. Narrative Theory and Naming

Narrative theory offers a foundational framework for analyzing how stories are structured and communicated. According to Seymour Chatman (1978), narratives consist of two primary components: story (what happens) and discourse (how it is told). Within this framework, naming is not a peripheral detail but a key element in constructing character identity and advancing the narrative. Genette (1980) also emphasizes the importance of narrative discourse in shaping the audience’s perception of time, character, and voice. Character names, in this context, act as semiotic signs—markers that carry connotative and denotative meanings, helping viewers categorize characters by social status, personality traits, or symbolic roles.

Todorov’s (1977) structural approach to narrative highlights the equilibrium-disruption-resolution model, where characters and their development are central to narrative progression. Naming plays a vital role in this development, as names often foreshadow character arcs, hint at cultural or historical associations, or introduce irony. For instance, in satirical or allegorical narratives, names may be deliberately exaggerated or symbolic to reinforce narrative themes or critique social norms (Lodge 1992).

Recent narratology further expands these perspectives. Fludernik (2009) emphasizes the cognitive and experiential dimensions of narrative, where names can function as anchoring devices that support immersion. Bal (2017) underscores naming as part of focalization strategies that guide interpretation. Herman (2009) highlights how linguistic and semiotic cues contribute to the mental construction of narrative worlds; within this cognitive framework, names can be understood as anchoring devices that help audiences orient themselves and engage in worldmaking. In drama, character naming also interacts with audience expectations and cultural references. In theatre specifically, names guide interpretation and elicit responses (Elam 1980).

Despite this theoretical attention to narrative structure, relatively little attention has been paid to how naming specifically operates within Arab television drama—a genre deeply intertwined with oral tradition, local dialects, and socio-political commentary. This gap is evident in the analysis of Yemeni drama. Character names often carry cultural weight but are rarely examined through a formal academic lens. The present study addresses this gap by applying narrative theory to analyze naming strategies in the Yemeni series Duroob al-Marjalah.

2.2. The Role of Naming in Literature and Media

Within literary texts, names perform multiple functions: they identify, characterize, symbolize, localize, and may even disrupt or reinforce narrative illusion (Dvořáková 2018). For television series specifically, Gibka’s model distinguishes the naming act from the using act, and separates permanent functions (e.g., semantic, sociological, expressive) from momentary functions that arise contextually (e.g., ironic, satirical, camouflaging) (Gibka 2018). As Smith (2018) observes, onomastic scholarship has traditionally prioritized toponymy and anthroponymy for their cultural and historical significance, while comparatively little attention has been devoted to literary onomastics, even though names in the literature function as integral parts of an artistic whole and as deliberate semiotic devices within narrative discourse.

According to Algeo (1985), names in fictional texts frequently carry semantic weight beyond their referential function. They may evoke cultural stereotypes, historical references, or psychological associations. For example, Dickensian literature is renowned for its evocative names—such as Mr. Gradgrind or Uriah Heep—which immediately signal character traits and moral positioning (Lodge 1992). Similarly, in modern media, names can act as narrative shorthand, allowing audiences to infer character background, ethnicity, or social class.

Beyond this, names also serve critical narrative functions. Scholars have noted that names can reveal or shape a character’s identity, heritage, and even destiny, while also reflecting broader cultural or historical values (Kabatay 2023; Iliescu 2015). They contribute to plot structure, reinforce narrative cohesion, and help to develop thematic focus (Possa-Mogoera 2023; Signes 2020). Names often signal social status, personality traits, or even the author’s ideological stance, carrying symbolic or emotional resonance that deepens character complexity.

In media and performance studies, names contribute to both narrative economy and ideological framing. Fowler (1991) noted that language in media texts is inherently ideological, and names are no exception. The naming process may reflect dominant cultural values, resist them, or strategically manipulate them to achieve dramatic or political ends. For instance, in socially conscious television dramas, the use of regionally marked or ethnically specific names may highlight issues of marginalization, identity, or national belonging.

Naming practices can also challenge social norms, interrogate categories like race and gender, and reflect multilingual or hybrid realities within contemporary societies (Allagbé 2016; Finozzi 2024). More specifically, names function as identity markers. Hall (1996) argues that identity is not fixed but transformed within representation. Names act as linguistic anchors for identity construction, especially within dramatic contexts where the audience’s understanding of a character often begins with the name. A name may signal a tribal affiliation, religious orientation, or generational shift—particularly in contexts like the Arab world, where naming conventions carry deep cultural and historical meanings (Rahman 2016).

In Yemeni drama, this dynamic becomes even more pronounced. Names may be used to index regional dialects, tribal identities, or class distinctions, embedding layers of social meaning into the narrative fabric. However, scholarly inquiry into this subject remains unexplored.

2.3. Naming Practices in Arab and Yemeni Media

In Arab media, naming is a calculated act rooted in Arabic nomenclature yet responsive to modernity, satire, and local sensibilities (Al-Zumor 2009). It functions as a tool for identity construction, social critique, and political commentary (Webb 2021).

Names index religious/tribal affiliation and rely on contextual cues for clarity (Al-Zumor 2009; Bellagha and Zrigui 2022). For instance, characters Abu Bakr, Fatima, or Ali are commonly portrayed with moral or religious authority. Other colloquial or humorous names tend to signal comic relief, satire, or marginality (Mulloh et al. 2023; Stokes 2024). In Arabic and Islamic traditions, names often reflect moral virtues, religious heritage, or family lineage. As Demirel and Sahib (2015) point out, names are imbued with barakah, ‘spiritual blessing’, and carefully chosen to reflect cultural and religious values.

Yemeni media reflects distinctive regional naming conventions shaped by tribal culture, oral traditions, and the balance between modern and traditional identities. Yemeni names often carry tribal significance tied to hierarchy, lineage, and honour (Al-Zumor 2009). Many names originate from local objects, professions, or even weapons, mirroring the surrounding social environment and sometimes highlighting marginality or distinctive cultural perspectives (Mulloh et al. 2023; Stokes 2024). Such practices, shaped by shifting political and linguistic contexts, may also serve as subtle commentary on community life. Nontraditional or invented names, especially those that diverge from tribal or religious norms, can function as deliberate artistic or political interventions designed to provoke debate.

Television series, particularly those circulated during Ramadan, often employ symbolic, metaphorical, or exaggerated names to engage audiences. Satirical characters such as Fahd al-Sariʿ (the fast cheetah) or Nashwan al-Hamg (Nashwan the fool) transparently invite interpretation and reinforce the intended message.

This phenomenon has gained traction in Yemeni drama, where works like Duroob al-Marjalah depart from traditional narrative realism by introducing unusual names such as Haddas, Miqnas, or Milqāt. These names resist categorization, disrupt audience expectations, and reflect a growing creative freedom in Yemeni media, where scriptwriters increasingly experiment with symbolism and irony. However, despite their cultural salience, Yemeni naming practices remain underexplored. While there are studies on naming or naming strategies in Arab media, such as Egyptian, Syrian, and Gulf productions, they are very limited and have not addressed Yemeni drama. This study, therefore, addresses a significant gap by analyzing the role and cultural significance of naming practices in Duroob al-Marjalah.

2.4. Symbolism and Narrative Function of Character Names

In literary and media studies, character names are more than arbitrary labels; they are semiotic tools embedded with meaning, connotation, and narrative function. Scholars of narratology and semiotics have long emphasized the symbolic power of names in constructing identity, evoking cultural resonance, and shaping audience perception (Barthes 1972; Rimmon-Kenan 2002). Names often serve as gateways into character development, offering clues about a figure’s role, moral alignment, social class, or psychological traits.

Names in fiction can perform several roles. They can anchor characters in specific cultural contexts or function as allegorical devices (Genette 1980). For instance, characters in allegorical literature or satire often bear names that reflect their personalities or ideological positions, such as Mr. Goodwill or Ignorance in Bunyan’s (1957) The Pilgrim’s Progress. In modern media narratives, names can reinforce character archetypes, emphasize irony, or challenge viewers’ assumptions.

Arabic literary tradition offers deep precedents for symbolic naming. Classical works like the Maqamat employed names rich in etymology and cultural meaning, while contemporary Arab drama continues to use names as textual shorthand for societal or ideological roles. A name like Qasi (قاسي, ‘harsh’) conveys antagonism, while Samiha (سميحة, ‘forgiving’) suggests compassion—connotations reinforced by performance, setting, and dialogue (Ahmed and Al-Gobaei 2013).

Names also structure audience engagement. In tragedies, they may foreshadow destiny; in satire, they exaggerate or parody, inviting critique of social behaviors (Bakhtin 1981). These symbolic functions are evident in Yemeni drama, particularly in Duroob al-Marjalah. Characters such as Haddas, Miqnas, Milqāt, and Habes are marked less by realism than by stylistic or satirical intent. Their unusual phonetics and associations evoke tool-like or animalistic imagery, drawing attention to the construct of the characters and the themes they represent.

The symbolic layering of these names extends to metaphorical interpretation: Milqāt (ملقاط, ‘tongs’) suggests a meddling or precise ‘picks at’ situations; Miqnas implies hunting or control; Haddas, echoing ‘hit’ or ’crash,’ evokes chaos or disruption. Importantly, such meanings are fluid, negotiated by audiences rather than fixed—a hallmark of symbolic naming in postmodern media.

Finally, symbolic names may also serve a defamiliarization function—a technique described by Russian formalists like Shklovsky (1965). In Yemeni drama, this technique has become a tool for satire and social commentary, where unusual or exaggerated names heighten irony and embed critique within the fabric of character construction.

2.5. Previous Studies

To further contextualize naming practices in Duroob al-Marjalah, it is helpful to examine comparative case studies from Arab and global media that illustrate how character names are employed symbolically, ideologically, or narratively. These comparisons reveal how naming functions across cultural contexts and underscore the creative, and sometimes controversial, ways writers use names to provoke reflection, humor, or critique.

Egyptian and Syrian television dramas have long embraced symbolic and satirical naming to reflect sociopolitical realities. For example, in Egypt, Winegar (2021) demonstrates how media titles and character naming in satirical works like al-Limby and al-Bernameg can dismantle the ‘sense’ imposed by authoritarian regimes, while simultaneously reproducing certain social hierarchies. Al-Ezzi and Al-Qudah (2023) address humour in Egyptian films, showing how wordplay, puns, and phonetic distortions, often tied to character names or nicknames, pose challenges in translation, as these linguistic choices carry cultural specificity and comedic effect.

Salamandra (2019) observes that Syrian musalsalat (series) often embed ideological critique in onomastic choices, using character names and historical references to evoke idealized pasts or signal societal decline. Zahrawi (2024) similarly shows how Mamdouh ʿUdwan’s plays employ the pejorative connotations of ‘dog’ in Arabic—reflected in titles like The Feudal Lord’s Dog and The Ambassador’s Dog—to satirize servility, injustice, and the devaluation of human life. Together, these studies reveal that literal or symbolic naming functions as a key narrative and cultural device that conveys layers of meaning, navigates censorship, and shapes audience reception. This technique of naming as satire parallels the pattern seen in Duroob al-Marjalah, where unusual names like Milqāt or Haddas heighten the comic and symbolic tone.

Outside the Arab world, symbolic naming is also a central device in storytelling. In Orwell’s Animal Farm, names like Napoleon and Snowball are chosen to carry historical and ideological connotations (Orwell 1945). In The Hunger Games, names such as Katniss Everdeen and President Snow are constructed with etymological or botanical associations that mirror character traits or ideological roles (Collins 2008).

Television also reflects this trend. In Breaking Bad, Walter White’s transformation into Heisenberg marks a shift in identity, with the name referencing a real-life physicist and symbolizing the character’s descent into moral ambiguity (Baer 2021). The power of a name to signal change, power, or hidden identity is a recurrent theme across cultures (Mittell 2015). These global examples demonstrate that naming is not merely linguistic but ideological, psychological, and political. Writers use names to encode messages, foreshadow outcomes, or destabilize viewer expectations.

By comparing Duroob al-Marjalah with these regional and international examples, a shared tendency emerges toward purposeful name invention or exaggeration as a means of sociocultural commentary. However, Duroob al-Marjalah bears a distinctly Yemeni character, drawing on local dialects, rural imagery, and culturally embedded metaphors. Names such as Miqnas and al-Aqrab appear rooted in tools, animals, or figurative concepts familiar within the Yemeni context. What sets this series apart as the subject of this study is its intensified use of opaque names, which have sparked viewers’ confusion and debate over their meanings. This study aims to investigate how such naming functions within the series.

3. Materials and Methods

This study adopts a qualitative descriptive approach rooted in textual and semiotic analysis. The aim is to explore how naming practices are used in the Yemeni television series Duroob al-Marjalah. Given the interpretive nature of the research questions, qualitative analysis allows for a deeper understanding of the socio-cultural meanings embedded in character names and their relevance within the storyline.

The primary data source consists of all Duroob al-Marjalah episodes aired in Yemen during Ramadan of 2024–2025. The series spans two parts of 30 episodes each, totaling 60 episodes. It features 17 main characters and approximately 12 secondary and guest characters. Each episode was reviewed in full, and character names were systematically documented along with their attributes: name form and structure, context of introduction in the narrative, character profile, and social role.

Duroob al-Marjalah was purposively selected as the case study due to its distinct use of character names that diverge from conventional naming patterns in Yemeni culture. As elaborated in the introduction, the series presents an appropriate context for investigating how names operate beyond mere identification, instead serving metaphorical, humorous, and sociopolitical functions.

From the whole cast, ten characters were purposively selected for detailed analysis. The sample reflects the narrative and symbolic range of the series: some are protagonists who drive the story forward, some are antagonists who embody the ‘axis of evil,’ and some are characters chosen primarily for their symbolic or thematic significance. This smaller sample allows for greater analytical depth, enabling richer and more nuanced semiotic and cultural interpretations of each name. The selected characters hold narrative significance, as they are central to the plot and exemplify the series’s most creative naming strategies. Their names offer strong representations of the thematic, symbolic, and stylistic choices in Duroob al-Marjalah. The reduced number also enhances feasibility, keeping the scope manageable for detailed qualitative onomastic analysis. This purposive sampling thus ensures both representativeness and focus on the most culturally and semiotically salient names.

The analysis draws on a semiotic and onomastic framework, informed by Barthes’ theory of signs (Barthes 1972) and Algeo’s typology of names (Algeo 1985), with insights from literary onomastics (Dvořáková 2018; Gibka 2018) and socio-onomastics (Ainiala et al. 2012). Character names were coded and interpreted based on their denotative meanings, connotative associations, and narrative function. Special attention was given to the intertextual and symbolic significance of the names, as well as their potential socio-political commentary. The analysis was structured around three main dimensions:

• Linguistic Form: phonetic structure, morphological creativity, and etymological origins.
• Cultural Semantics: resonance with Yemeni dialects, tribal references, humor, and symbolism.
• Narrative Function: role in plot development, character identity, satire, or social critique.

The character analysis was conducted using a qualitative descriptive approach, focusing on both linguistic and socio-cultural dimensions. Names were examined for their prevalence in Yemeni society, semantic meaning, and symbolic connotations, while their narrative function was analyzed to uncover patterns and thematic structures. The analysis followed an inductive process (Braun and Clarke 2006), moving from detailed coding of each character profile to broader thematic categories.

To enhance the credibility of the analysis, a peer validation process was undertaken. Two academic reviewers with expertise in Arabic onomastics and media studies independently reviewed the name classifications and interpretations. Discrepancies were discussed and resolved through consensus.

4. Results

This section presents the analysis of ten selected character names from Duroob al-Marjalah (2024–2025). These names represent the series’ most narratively significant figure—protagonists, antagonists, and symbolically marked secondary characters—providing a balanced sample for onomastic and semiotic analysis. They are presented in a structured order, beginning with central protagonists (Shaheen, Rashah, Qamar), followed by morally ambivalent figures (Miqnas, Mahaawish), and concluding with antagonists and symbolically charged secondary roles (Fazzaʿ, Raʿad, Khadra, Haddas, Milqāt). This sequencing highlights the spectrum of character functions while demonstrating how naming strategies contribute to the series’ thematic complexity.

Shaheen (شاهين)

Shaheen, the male protagonist of Duroob al-Marjalah, embodies the series’ central tension between urban modernity and tribal tradition. Portrayed as an educated city-dweller seeking integration into rural tribal life, his pursuit of the sheikh’s daughter, Rashah, drives much of the narrative. While he adopts tribal customs—riding horses, engaging in customary dialogue—his actions are often marked by hesitation and performativity, underscoring his outsider status.

Semiotically, Shaheen is a Persian loanword (شاهين, shāhīn) meaning ‘falcon,’ widely used in Arabic to symbolize sharp vision, agility, and elite status in classical literature. This imagery clashes ironically with his on-screen persona, which lacks the decisive confidence the name implies. Instead, the dissonance generates both humor and empathy, positioning him as a misfit striving for acceptance.

Culturally, Shaheen is recognized in broader Arab contexts but is uncommon in rural Yemeni tribal naming conventions, where kinship-based or religiously anchored names dominate. Its urban–pan-Arab associations subtly reinforce the character’s cultural hybridity and partial detachment from the tribal world.

From a narrative perspective, the name is a deliberate marker of liminality—projecting aspirational masculinity while revealing its fragility. This duality suggests some screenwriter awareness of naming as a symbolic tool, yet the lack of grounding in Yemeni onomastic norms may weaken cultural authenticity. In world-building terms, the choice enriches thematic complexity but risks alienating audiences attuned to local naming traditions.

Rashah (رشة)

Rashah, the sheikh’s daughter in Duroob al-Marjalah, disrupts conventional portrayals of tribal women by embracing activities like hunting, herding, and weapon-handling while rejecting domestic labor. Her romance with Shaheen anchors her to the main plot, yet her independent agency and defiance of gender norms drive her narrative significance.

The name Rashah is unusual in Yemen. It is derived from the root رش (r-sh-sh) ‘to spray/scatter,’ with associations ranging from water droplets to bullets. It conveys lightness, force, and sudden impact. This aligns with her energetic, unpredictable character while also marking her as disruptive to the established social order.

Culturally, Rashah is absent from Yemeni naming records and anthropological surveys, signifying symbolic invention rather than rooted authenticity. For some viewers, this enhances her memorability and thematic role as a tradition breaker; for others, it risks undermining the drama’s cultural credibility by introducing an implausible tribal name.

From a narrative-design perspective, the name operates as a double-edged device: it sharpens her symbolic identity while distancing her from the realism expected in a culturally anchored tribal drama. This reflects both the screenwriter’s creative intent and the broader tension in the series between symbolic expressiveness and ethnolinguistic accuracy.

Qamar (قمر)

Qamar, a nine-year-old mute girl, enters Duroob al-Marjalah after surviving the desert murder of her parents by bandits. Rescued by Shaheen and cared for jointly with Rashah, she serves as both a symbolic and emotional anchor in the narrative. Her muteness, counterbalanced by intelligence and fluency in sign language, underscores alternative forms of agency and non-verbal communication within a violent setting.

Qamar comes directly from the Arabic noun قمر (qamar) ‘moon,’ carrying layered symbolic associations. The moon’s associations with light in darkness, serenity, and cyclical endurance mirror her silent resilience and ability to illuminate the humanity of others. Her muteness deepens this lunar metaphor—present and observant, yet profoundly impactful without speech.

Onomastically, Qamar is rare but culturally resonant in Yemen, more often appearing in poetic registers. For the audience, it likely evokes folkloric archetypes of innocence and unspoken truth. Symbolically, Qamar represents silenced victims of tribal and patriarchal violence, while also standing for the fragile yet enduring hope of the next generation.

Through Qamar, the series embeds a critique of violence and a vision of resilience, using silence not as absence but as a narrative and symbolic force.

Miqnas (مقناص)

Miqnas is a morally ambivalent figure whose arc in Duroob al-Marjalah charts a shift from highway robbery to attempted social reintegration. While repentance is central to the current storyline, his liminal status—neither fully trusted nor entirely rejected—sustains dramatic tension and interrogates tribal notions of forgiveness, memory, and reputation.

Etymologically, Miqnas derives from the root قنص (q-n-ṣ), ‘to hunt,’ evoking skill, cunning, and opportunism. Though absent from formal Yemeni naming registers, the term exists in oral discourse as a laqab (nickname), particularly for hunters or resourceful individuals. In this sense, the name functions as both a symbolic residue of his outlaw past and a constant reminder to the community of his capacity for strategic action—qualities equally applicable to hunting and banditry.

The name’s non-standard onomastic status reinforces his marginality: it places him outside formal genealogical identity while anchoring him in the idioms of tribal slang. This linguistic positioning mirrors his narrative role—an insider to the rhythms of oral culture yet an outsider to institutional belonging.

From a cultural perspective, the metaphor of ‘hunting’ extends to his social journey: Miqnas is portrayed as hunting for redemption, legitimacy, and a stable place in a skeptical community. The choice to use a nickname rather than a formal name subtly encodes social distance, enabling the audience to perceive him as both familiar and other, a character suspended between past transgression and aspirational reform.

Fazzaʿ (فزّاع)

Fazzaʿ, the principal antagonist of Duroob al-Marjalah, leads a gang engaged in murder, looting, and highway robbery. Unlike morally complex figures such as Miqnas, Fazzaʿ embodies a consistent archetype of destructive violence, functioning as the narrative’s clearest symbol of anti-tribal values and social breakdown. His villainy sharpens the audience’s identification with communal ideals of justice and order, while offering no prospect of redemption.

The name Fazzaʿ, derived from the Arabic root فزع ‘to rush to help’ or ‘to rescue’, traditionally connotes bravery, generosity, and swift aid in tribal contexts, especially in Gulf Arabic. This creates a deliberate semiotic dissonance: the label of a rescuer is borne by a man who rushes only to harm and kill. Such inversion may serve as dark irony or critique moral collapse in lawless spaces.

Sociolinguistically, the name is rare in Yemen, more commonly appearing in Gulf naming patterns as a poetic epithet or nickname rather than a formal personal name. Its foreignness reinforces the character’s outsider status, both culturally and morally. For Yemeni audiences, this mismatch between name and deed may either undermine authenticity or deepen the sense of symbolic estrangement.

Ultimately, Fazzaʿ’s construction leverages the tension between linguistic meaning and narrative function. By inverting a name associated with noble rescue, the series transforms it into a marker of corrupted values—embedding moral irony in the act of naming.

Raʿad (رعاد)

In Duroob al-Marjalah, Raʿad is a tribal sheikh whose covert alliance with Fazzaʿ’s criminal gang marks him as a figure of internal betrayal. While tribal sheikhs in Yemeni tradition are expected to protect justice, mediate disputes, and embody moral authority, Raʿad’s collusion devalues these norms, positioning him as a narrative symbol of corruption within leadership structures. His duplicity destabilizes community trust and serves as a pointed critique of the erosion of traditional authority under greed or coercion.

Onomastically, Raʿad appears to derive from the root رعد (r-ʿ-d) ‘thunder,’ with the added internal letter (alif) creating a heavier, more stylized phonetic form. This imbues the name with associations of power, impact, and storm-like authority—qualities that stand in stark contrast to the character’s moral cowardice. The dissonance between the name’s connotations and Raʿad’s actions heightens the irony, echoing the deliberate inversion seen in Fazzaʿ’s naming.

Sociolinguistically, the name is rare in Yemen and appears more as a dramatic construct than an authentic tribal name. Its phonetic exoticism distances the character from ethnographic realism, inviting audiences to read him allegorically rather than as a culturally grounded figure. For local viewers, this may weaken immersion but amplify symbolic resonance: Raʿad becomes less a believable sheikh and more a personification of corrupted authority.

By pairing a storm-laden, authoritative name with treachery, the series embeds a critique of failed leadership in the very act of naming—turning Raʿad into a cautionary archetype of power’s moral collapse.

Mahaawish (مهاوش)

In Duroob al-Marjalah, Mahaawish serves as one of Sheikh Saqr’s trusted aides, positioning himself as the tribe’s self-proclaimed protector. Styling himself ‘the desert wolf’ (dhīʾb al-bawādī), he projects an image of bravery. However, his actions reveal a less confrontational and more dutiful character, creating a tension between self-perception and actual behavior. His marriage subplot—with Khadraʾ’s persistent suspicions about his fidelity—injects comedic and relational dynamics, softening his macho façade.

Onomastically, Mahaawish is derived from the root هوش (h-w-sh) ‘to quarrel,’ ‘to brawl,’ or ‘to provoke’ conflict. In some dialects, it is an informal nickname for someone argumentative or troublesome. This meaning contrasts with his relatively measured and protective role in the series, creating a mild semiotic dissonance. His self-ascribed title ‘desert wolf’ further functions as performative branding, reinforcing themes of masculinity, performance, and tribal self-mythologizing.

Sociolinguistically, the name is rare or absent in Yemeni naming conventions, more likely to appear as a descriptive epithet than a formal personal name. This rarity may strike audiences as culturally inauthentic, although the ‘desert wolf’ persona taps into recognizable folklore archetypes of the lone desert fighter. While the name’s aggression contrasts with his more tempered actions, the narrative compensates by grounding him in interpersonal relationships, thereby sustaining believability.

Through Mahaawish, the series explores the gap between projected heroism and lived reality, using onomastic choices to comment on identity construction within tribal settings.

Khadra (خضراء)

In Duroob al-Marjalah, Khadra, Mahaawish’s wife, occupies a dual role that intertwines domestic tension with wider tribal disruption. Domestically, she embodies the archetype of the suspicious wife, persistently fearing her husband’s pursuit of another marriage—a narrative motif rooted in Arab oral traditions. Socially, she functions as a conduit of sensitive information, leaking her husband’s confidence and indirectly exposing Sheikh Saqr’s affairs.

Khadra is derived from the root خضر (kh-ḍ-r) ‘green,’ a term laden with positive connotations in Arab and Islamic culture, including fertility, prosperity, and divine blessing. However, her behavior—marked by jealousy, suspicion, and gossip—contrasts sharply with this serene symbolism, generating a deliberate semiotic dissonance. The color’s alternative associations with envy align with her character’s emotional drivers.

Onomastically, Khadra is rare in modern Yemeni naming conventions, more common in historical, poetic, or rural contexts. As such, audiences may read it as either folkloric, reinforcing her archetypal quality, or as a stylized, slightly comedic choice, amplifying the contrast between name and behavior.

Khadra’s role ultimately serves as a vehicle for social commentary, highlighting how private domestic disputes can ripple outward to disrupt tribal cohesion, expose vulnerabilities in patriarchal secrecy, and challenge the perception of controlled masculine authority. Through her, the series critiques the porous boundaries between household dynamics and broader socio-political structures.

Haddas (هدّاس)

In Duroob al-Marjalah, Haddas is introduced as Fazzaʿ’s second-in-command, positioned to be a menacing force within the gang hierarchy. This expectation is rapidly undercut when he is captured by the tribe early in the series and spends most of his appearances physically restrained. His narrative function shifts from potential threat to comic spectacle. This inversion transforms Haddas into a parody of the outlaw archetype, embodying the collapse of performative masculinity under communal justice.

The name Haddas—virtually absent in Yemeni naming traditions—derived from the root هدس (h-d-s) ‘to trample’ or ‘to crush.’ Its doubled consonant phonologically conveys aggression. This name is a feminine given name of Hebrew origin. Symbolically, it promises dominance and violence, yet the character’s impotence creates a sharp ironic contrast. This semiotic dissonance positions him as a satirical figure, critiquing the gap between self-image and actual capacity for action.

Culturally, the name’s unfamiliarity suggests it was crafted for dramatic or symbolic purposes rather than drawn from authentic Yemeni onomastics. Audience reception indicates that some may have read the portrayal as intentional satire of hollow bravado, but others found the character redundant or inauthentic.

Ultimately, Haddas operates less as a driver of the plot and more as a thematic device. His exaggerated self-assertion, paired with visible helplessness, exposes the fragility of reputational power in outlaw culture and the futility of masculine posturing when stripped of agency.

Milqāt (ملقاط)

Milqāt is a minor yet symbolically loaded figure in Duroob al-Marjalah. He serves as an informer for the bandit gang. His role is defined by betrayal—secretly leaking sensitive tribal information that enables criminal manipulation of communal affairs. Far from being a strategist or power holder, Milqāt is portrayed as an easily exploited pawn, opportunistic yet morally weak, and devoid of the honour codes that govern stronger characters like Shaheen or Rashah.

Milqāt is derived from the root لقط (l-q-ṭ) ‘to pick up’ or ‘to collect,’ metaphorically indicating his narrative role: as tongs pick out small objects, Milqāt “extracts” secrets and delivers them to the gang. This mechanical, impersonal function reduces him to an instrument—cold, utilitarian, and replaceable—stripping him of individuality. In Yemeni and broader Arab cultural contexts, such descriptive nicknames are often derogatory, mocking a person by reducing them to a single, unflattering trait.

Onomastically, Milqāt is not a personal name in Yemen, but a pejorative label more suited to gossip or ridicule. This immediately symbolizes his low status and moral unreliability for the audience, inviting derision rather than respect.

Through Milqāt, the series underscores the dehumanizing nature of opportunism within tight-knit tribal structures.

The comparative analysis in

Table 1. Comparative analysis of character names in Duroob al-Marjalah.

Character	Semiotic Meaning	Cultural Authenticity	Narrative Function	Observed Name–Role Alignment
Shaheen (شاهين)	Falcon; symbol of strength, agility, elite status	Low–Medium: known in Arab world, rare in rural Yemeni tribes	Educated outsider seeking tribal acceptance	Ironic: name connotes valor, character shows hesitation
Rashah (رَشّة)	Spray, scattering; associations with sharpness, transience	Very Low: absent in Yemeni naming records	Bold, unconventional sheikh’s daughter defying gender norms	Partial: name’s energy matches personality, but cultural fit weak
Qamar (قمر)	Moon; beauty, illumination, calm	Medium: rare but known in poetic/rural Yemen	Mute orphan, moral catalyst	Strong: name’s calm, luminous imagery fits character
Miqnas (مقنّص)	Hunter; skilled in pursuit	Medium: plausible as tribal nickname, rare as formal name	Former outlaw seeking redemption	Strong: name metaphorically supports redemption arc
Fazzaʿ (فزّاع)	Rescuer, brave helper	Low: more common in Gulf; rare in Yemen	Gang leader, violent antagonist	Inverted: valorous name contrasts with criminality
Raʿad (رعاد)	(Variant of Raʿd) Thunder; power, impact	Low: unfamiliar in Yemeni tradition	Corrupt sheikh allied with criminals	Inverted: forceful name masks moral weakness
Mahaawish (مهاوش)	Quarrelsome, combative	Very Low: functions more as nickname	Self-styled “desert wolf,” loyal aide	Partial: aggressive name clashes with moderate behavior
Khadraʾ (خضراء)	Green; life, fertility, blessing	Low: rare modern usage; older poetic form	Suspicious wife, gossip spreading tribal secrets	Inverted: serene name contrasts with disruptive actions
Haddas (هدّاس)	Trampler, crusher	Very Low: absent in Yemeni records	Captured gang lieutenant with no real power	Inverted: aggressive name undercut by impotence
Milqāt (ملقاط)	Tongs/tweezers; tool for picking	Very Low: purely descriptive nickname	Informant betraying tribe	Strong: name perfectly matches functional role

reveals a clear dominance of inverted name–role relationships and low to very low cultural authenticity across the majority of characters. Seven of the ten names lack a firm grounding in documented Yemeni naming traditions, with several (e.g., Rashah, Mahaawish, Haddas, Milqāt) appearing entirely invented or borrowed from non-Yemeni contexts. Furthermore, five characters (Fazzaʿ, Raʿad, Khadraʾ, Haddas, Shaheen) exhibit semiotic inversions, where the symbolic meaning of the name directly contradicts the character’s actions or moral stance. This pattern suggests that the series writers’ privilege symbolic, ironic, or satirical resonance over ethnographic realism, using names as tools for thematic contrast and dramatic commentary rather than as authentic cultural markers. While such strategies can enhance narrative distinctiveness, they also risk undermining audience immersion—particularly for Yemeni viewers attuned to the social and genealogical functions of naming. In this sense, the onomastic choices in Duroob al-Marjalah reflect a hybrid aesthetic, merging local genre conventions with a more stylized, pan-Arab or even theatrical naming sensibility.

5. Discussion

The onomastic choices in Duroob al-Marjalah reveal a layered negotiation between cultural realism, narrative function, and symbolic intent. Using Algeo’s typology, names like Shaheen, Miqnas, and Qamar fall into the symbolic and metaphorical category, drawing on animal, occupational, or natural imagery to encode identity. These names are semiotically rich, aligning with Elam’s semiotic theory, where names act as signs that carry surplus meaning—beyond referential function, they signal morality, role, or transformation. In Barthesian terms, these names operate as mythic signifiers: they move from the level of denotation (a bird, a celestial body) to connotation, where cultural narratives of heroism, purity, or moral virtue are inscribed and reinforced. Shaheen ‘falcon’ invokes leadership and nobility, reinforcing his heroic arc, while Qamar ‘moon’ is a poetic embodiment of silent empathy, underscoring her morally significant presence. As the youngest character, Qamar also functions as a metaphor for hope. In a context of conflict, roadblocks, and social breakdown, the child’s name—associated with light in darkness—becomes a symbolic anchor of renewal and resilience, contrasting with the violence and betrayal encoded in other characters’ names.

Conversely, Rashah, Raʿad, and Fazzaʿ are symbolic but lack sociolinguistic grounding in Yemeni culture. Their meanings—linked to scattering, thunder, or heroic rescue—resonate metaphorically, yet their unfamiliarity may alienate local audiences. This tension echoes Hall’s theory of cultural identity, where names function as sites of contested meaning—shaped by both representation and recognition. Rashah, for example, disrupts gender and cultural norms, signifying agency but also risking detachment due to her name’s nontraditional usage.

In broader socio-political terms, these naming choices can also be read allegorically. The series unfolds in a war-torn landscape where roads are cut off, travelers become vulnerable to bandits, and social trust erodes. Thus, names such as Haddas ‘to crush’ or Miqnas ‘to hunt/control’ may reflect the crushing of social cohesion and survival tactics in dangerous conditions. As such, the naming strategy can be viewed not only as a narrative technique but as a symbolic mapping of the sociopolitical environment of Yemen during war.

Alignment with local onomastic norms is inconsistent. While some names, such as Shaheen and Qamar, can be plausibly situated within a broader Yemeni or pan-Arab context, others—Mahaawish, Haddas, Raʿad, and Milqāt—are either uncommon, regionally external, or entirely fictional. This hybridity suggests that the series prioritizes narrative symbolism over ethnographic accuracy, resulting in names that sometimes feel detached from tribal or genealogical naming practices.

Meanwhile, names like Mahaawish, Khadraʾ, Haddas, and Milqāt lean into satirical and ironic naming, sometimes drawn from colloquial nicknames or exaggerated descriptors. These names construct identity through contrast—Haddas ‘to crush’ ironically fails to embody strength, while Milqāt (tongs) becomes a metaphor for passivity and betrayal. These ironic names, in the context of the war-impacted setting, could be read as coded critiques of power relations and the frustration citizens feel during conflict. From a Barthesian lens, such irony creates a second-order signification, where the surface label is undercut by the cultural narrative beneath, generating a coded commentary on power, gender, or tribal masculinity. Such choices enrich the symbolic texture of the drama but also risk undermining cultural immersion when the names’ origins are unclear to local audiences.

The inconsistent cultural grounding suggests that Yemeni screenwriters possess partial awareness of naming as a narrative and cultural tool. The repeated use of metaphorical or ironic names reflects an understanding of their symbolic and satirical potential. However, frequently selecting culturally unfamiliar names (Milqāt, Haddas, Mahaawish, Raʿad, Mqnaṣ) indicates a weaker engagement with local naming conventions. This hybridity, however, mirrors the larger condition of Yemeni society—caught between tradition and survival strategies under the pressures of war. In this fractured landscape, names oscillate between authenticity and stylization, reflecting both dislocation and creativity. Qamar’s presence as ‘the moon’ balances this dynamic: a reminder that amidst fragmentation, there remains a horizon of hope.

From a classificatory perspective, most of these names fall under non-genealogical or fictional onomastics, favoring metaphor, irony, or symbolism over realism. Ultimately, the show employs a hybrid onomastic strategy: blending culturally rooted names (Shaheen, Mqnaṣ) with more stylized or invented ones (Rashah, Fazzaʿ, Milqāt), revealing a dynamic tension between narrative dramatization and sociocultural authenticity. This duality mirrors Hall’s concept of identity as both ‘being’ and ‘becoming’—fixed in cultural codes yet open to reinvention through language and representation—and Barthes’ notion that names, like other cultural signs, operate simultaneously on denotative and connotative levels, constructing myths that shape audience perception. In the Yemeni context, they do more than construct characters: they mirror the socio-political realities of war, embedding both despair and resilience into the fabric of narrative representation.

6. Conclusions

The naming practices in Duroob al-Marjalah reveal a creative but uneven engagement with Yemeni cultural and linguistic traditions. The analysis demonstrated that while some names—such as Miqnas and Qamar—successfully integrate symbolic resonance with ethnographic plausibility, others adopt rare, foreign, or overtly metaphorical forms that create a disconnect between the character’s social world and the lived naming conventions of Yemeni tribal culture. This unevenness suggests a creative but inconsistent engagement with cultural authenticity.

This study underscores the role of names as cultural artefacts and storytelling instruments. By aligning naming strategies more closely with the sociolinguistic realities of the represented culture, Yemeni screenwriters can strengthen world-building, enhance character credibility, and preserve the ethnographic integrity of their narratives while still exploiting the symbolic and satirical potential of onomastic creativity.

The findings reinforce the conceptualization of names as more than referential markers, positioning them as layered semiotic constructs operating at denotative, connotative, symbolic, and intertextual levels. The tension between realistic and stylized naming reflects broader negotiations between ethnographic fidelity and narrative artistry in fictional portrayals of tradition-bound societies. This work contributes to cultural semiotics by illustrating how onomastic choices in visual media can function as sites of both cultural preservation and transformation.

For screenwriters and producers, the results underscore the narrative and cultural value of embedding names within documented local traditions—particularly in genres grounded in realism. While symbolic or satirical naming can enrich storytelling, it should be employed deliberately to enhance audience immersion, rather than disrupt. Industry practice could benefit from structured collaboration with cultural historians, linguists, or local informants to ensure ethnographic accuracy without limiting creative scope.