A name in two scripts

A shop fascia in Riyadh carries the name twice, Arabic and Latin on the same board, and most names were chosen with only one of them in mind.

The fascia is the first document a customer reads, and the only one they read in both scripts. The Latin name is what the boardroom approved. The Arabic name is what the customer will actually say.

A name here has to survive four trips. It has to sit on the sign without the Arabic looking like something squeezed in on the day. It has to be said aloud by a Riyadh customer to a friend without a pause to check the pronunciation. It has to be typed into the search box of a delivery app, in whichever script the thumb reaches for first, and be found. And it has to be forwarded in a family WhatsApp group by an aunt who has never seen the logo, and still be recognised when it lands.

Most names chosen in London or Dubai fail at least one. The clever English pun becomes a string of letters with no meaning behind it. The invented word that tested well lands on a sound that means something unfortunate in the dialect Riyadh speaks. The name that is easy to say in English has no settled spelling in Arabic, so it exists three ways on the delivery apps and the reviews are split across all of them.

The Arabic on the board is a second name, and it has its own job. It has to mean nothing bad, sound as though it was always here, and be spellable by someone who heard it once. That is a naming decision, and it is usually handed to a translator in the week before the sign goes up.

The tell is on the fascia. If the Arabic needs explaining, the name is a visitor.