The Godfather

It’s a good feeling to be home again. This is almost always the case with trips: no matter how much fun traveling abroad is, returning home is always a very welcome thing. There and back again in one piece loaded with souvenirs, pictures, and fond memories that will linger long after the souvenirs are handed out and forgotten and the photos relegated to a CD among a stack of many.

This trip was special in many ways that will be remember for years to come. Sure the Maya ruins were wonderful as was the unique feeling of living in Central America for a couple weeks amidst coconut palms, banana trees, and other botanical/ecological interests of that region. But what will make this trip memorable are the kids: both in the context of the previously mentioned “Santa Rounds” on Christmas Eve and the rather unexpected occurrence of me becoming the godfather to a four week old boy named Kenneth Alejandro Garcia.

The boy’s father, Adan, works as a handyman and night “watchyman” (watchman) at one of the local restaurants we frequented in Copan. Like so many people of his age (early 20s) he only finish the primary school of six years and earns about five dollars a day. However, unlike so many people is age, he’s married and is a responsible father. The norm in this part of Honduras seems to be for guys to father kids here and there with very little interest in the responsibilities that come with such a position. Adan is different. He is devoted to his wife and child; when he’s not working, he’s generally home with them and/or working on his small, one room adobe house where he will raise his family. I met him one of my first nights in Copan and over the course of the vacation we became friends through my host who served as interpreter. Nonetheless, it came as a surprise when he asked if I would be the godfather for little Kenny Alejandro. I’ve never before served in this capacity and wasn’t sure of what expectations it entailed. To buy a little time to think things over, I set up a time a few days later to go out to his house to meet the family.

My take on “meeting the family” turned out to be far different from what Adan evidently had in mind. I expected to meet him, his wife, and Kenny, but when we arrived at his little house on the outskirts of Copan, Adan pretty much had everyone there. His wife and son (expected), as well as his mother and brother, his wife’s blind grandfather, along with other assorted family members whose exact relation escaped me at the time (all unexpected). For them it was a big affair, much moreso than I was expecting. Adan had even dressed up to the best of his ability. Within a moment, my visions of a casual meeting turned into this rather large social event for which I seemed to be the guest of honor. Mind you, this is by no means an attempt at self-aggrandizement. Merely stating the facts and I was certainly uncomfortable in this new situation. I’ve always hated being in the spotlight and all eyes were on me that day. So after the round of formal introductions (in my very bad, broken Spanish) we retired into Adan’s house to get down to the godfather business. As the house had no furniture save for a crude baby crib, some random girl brought in two plastic lawn chairs for us followed shortly thereafter by two small glasses of Coke for my host/interpreter and I. The glass wasn’t necessarily all that clean (ok….I work in public health.. I notice such things), but knowing the significance (both practical and symbolic) that such a refreshment provided by the very poor entails, it was perhaps the best glass of Coke I’ve ever had.

The actual process of becoming godfather was simple. Viewing and playing with the baby amidst some small talk about how handsome he was and so very strong for only four weeks old and how the proud and grateful the parents were about their little gift from God. I told them that I would be honored and humbled to be Kenny’s godfather. This was met with smiles and handshakes and sincere “mucho gracias” and other words of thanks. Certainly very touching for them and to be honest for me as well. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting and since that afternoon I’ve been trying to put it all into context, to wrap by brain around this event. I think I understand it better now thanks to subsequent discussions with my host who has lived in Honduras the last seven years and knows better the culture and the people, though it’s still very alien in many ways.

Certainly my godfather status is very significant for them. And not for the potential financial gain either, though that‘s what I originally thought. My host told me that I am under no obligation to send money, though it may be a good idea to send five or ten U.S. dollars maybe once or twice a year, particularly on Kenny’s birthday (Dec 3). The real gain for them is status and prestige. To have a godfather in the United States is very significant, particularly for those living in extreme poverty. I could not send them a dime and it wouldn’t lessen my status as godfather. From taking part in this experience and observing the life and culture down there, I’m going to take my role as godfather as seriously as they do. Though it’s far from any major obligation, financially or otherwise, it’s still a commitment for which I’ll do my best to fulfill.

Late the night before I returned to the States, we ran into Adan seated outside the restaurant where he was serving as night watchyman. He was all smiles, repeatedly shook my hand, and rambled at length about how happy he was, how grateful to have me as not only a friend, but a part of his family. He asked whether I would return to Honduras and when I do, he’ll throw me a fiesta. He spoke away for a very long length of time, and my host had to work to keep up with the translation. As to the impassioned monologue, my host later explained that Adan couldn’t express, didn’t have enough words to convey his appreciation for the godfather business. He was trying in every way possible to convey his sincere appreciation. Though I hate to admit it, I almost became a little misty-eyed at this point. That something I thought was more or less a casual thing could mean so much was touching on many different levels and I don’t know who is more fortunate: Adan’s family or me. Perhaps we both are in our own ways.

Afterwards, as we walked down the street towards home, my host told me that I had made Adan and his family perhaps the happiest people in Honduras. This may be true, but I would certainly count myself up there as well. It’s a newfound connection not only with a young family in a foreign country, but also with reality. When I get distracted with this and that, those little things that somehow receive a degree of attention far beyond their worth, thoughts of little Kenny Alejandro, the smiling mother, and Adan’s heartfelt gratitude will bring me back to what’s truly important in life. The thoughts and feelings of becoming godfather, and the newfound responsibility are the elements of the time in Honduras that will live on in memory long after everything else.