A Name Before It Was a Choice
My name is Estandar. For years I treated that as a biographical detail, a line in an introduction. It was only recently that I stopped to actually read the meaning of the word[2].
Estândar means standard. It's the reference that organizations like ISO[3], IEEE[4], or the W3C[5] establish so that different systems can communicate with each other without ambiguity. It's the measure that guarantees a part built in one factory fits exactly into a part built in another, on the other side of the world.
The Coincidence That Isn't One
I recently wrote about cohesive systems[1], about the idea that every component needs honest boundaries and explicit contracts for the whole to work. A standard is exactly that: an explicit contract every party agrees to respect before they even try to collaborate.
I spent my childhood taking radios apart and building autonomous little cars, always trying to figure out the internal rule that makes one piece fit the next. I dreamed of becoming a mechanical engineer, then a car design engineer. I found myself in software engineering instead, but the question stayed the same: what's the standard that keeps a system working without breaking as it grows.
A Name, A Practice
Today I apply that same question to Mavula, to Fincomp, and to every line of code I write. My name is Estandar. It makes sense that it's also what I build.