The tale of “Ninong” Jay

It was quite a curious day for me today, and to be honest I’m not really sure how to process it all. I suppose, first of all, let me get this out of the way–I’m now a Godfather to a second child. The first time I was asked to be a Godfather was many years ago for a cousin’s kid. By now he should be in his teens–I’m glad he’s doing well. Anyway, the main story is a little bit convoluted. This time around it’s for my father’s friend (a kababayan…a paisan!) whose daughter just gave birth to a child. See, at the time they had more female Godparents for the child’s upcoming baptism than male ones. I’m not sure what was going on, but I’ll assume that they just couldn’t find another guy to fill the role, so my father’s friend asked me to be a Godparent. Maybe it was just because the friend genuinely liked me. I’m not sure. Now, when I heard the news through my own parents, that’s when I first learned of the custom for a child to have many ninongs and ninangs (Godparents). Heh. I suppose it’s a cultural thing. My mind is used to the role being one conferred to just two people, you know? In any case, yes, I was honoured to do so–puzzled, but honoured. Thing is, even though I knew my father’s friend, I didn’t know her daughter at all. I haven’t even spoken to her. Thing is, how can I say no?

For this event, I knew I didn’t have that many (kind of formal) clothes which is why I went to Moores last weekend. My original intention was to wear the new shirt, my dark jeans, new shoes and the new blazer. I put it all together this morning, only to notice that my jeans smelled like hot pot from this past Friday. I tried airing it out in the dryer with a fabric sheet. When I wore everything together, I looked exactly how I wanted to look, but when I sat down my pants smelled like chicken broth. Yeah, that prompted me to make other plans. I switched to another pair of jeans, but they seemed too casual. Twitter people suggested that a baptism required me to lean more formal, so I switched to pinstripe pants which are really the only pair of formal pants I’ve got that aren’t a size too big. Bah. My big fear was overdressing, but no matter, I had no choice.

The baptism itself was fascinating, though awkward for me. I recognized maybe…a handful of people in our party. Those people were all my parent’s contemporaries. As for my contemporaries…yeah, no clue. The whole thing about pairing off ninongs and ninangs? Nope…didn’t happen. As I was there I couldn’t help but think that I was so clueless about this cultural thing. There were two other families there that had just a limited number of Godparents. I understood those families. For our party it was sort of an amusing melee. Even though I was confused I just smiled and followed the lead of everyone else. It was only in the church when I first saw the daughter and her baby. The baby was so cute! It took me a while before I figured out who the father was among the many people. Up to this point I still don’t know his name. Awkward!

By the end of the ceremony everyone was taking pictures. I was told to pose with the baby. I was so reluctant but they were insistent. I got my turn and awkwardly held the crying child. With so many flashing lights, I can see why he was crying. God, I had no freaking clue how to hold the baby. All I could do was hold him awkwardly (apparently) and grimace. Soon enough I’m sure someone was like “get the damn baby away from that guy!” When I passed him on, I just went back to the pew with my parents. I looked over to mom, and she understood. Someone commented that I didn’t know what I was doing. Duh.

So, in the end, I fulfilled my role. I still don’t think the baby’s mother knew who I was. Did it really matter? It’s more important for her to cater to people that she actually knows, no? I don’t think I’m going to have any role in this life, to be honest. Though, due to what happened I guess that even if I don’t see him again I will have a spiritual connection to him. As much as I’m confused about what happened, I do know that I’m going to keep baby JB in my thoughts. May he grow up strong, loved, and of strong faith.

Possibly related posts:

1. Gutter mind
2. The fear behind the smile
3. A tale of four cabs