Literary godfathers

Filipino camaraderie dictates the character of a network that radiates as a commonwealth of godparents. One’s profession or vocation determines the choices beyond blood kinship.

Ninong and Ninang and Kumpare (compadre) and Kumare (comadre) are the principal roles in the Pinoy’s extended family, often observed for a lifetime of allegiance and support. For weddings, they usually stand among a large set of godparents that manifest a particular socio-economic or socio-political level. The more important function is for a christening, when Ninong and Ninang stand close to the baptismal font, right by the officiating priest’s elbow.

Last month, countless friends, among them a legion of writers, drew together on FB to offer prayers for the health of 11-year-old Likha, only daughter of journalists and literary authors Che Sarigumba and Joel Pablo Salud.

Though long exempt from joining the prayerful sort, I was one of these, vowing the transport of “tons of sunshine vibes” to ensure immediate recuperation. Likha had to be hospitalized for a week. Thankfully, she finally marched out of her room with her mom when she started to regain a healthy state.

Well and good. She happens to be my youngest godchild, trailing a parade of kids through decades whose parents were fellow writers.

A common friend who rallied spiritual support for her was Alma Anonas-Carpio, also a journalist, author and editor. I was a ninong at her wedding. Eventually, I also regarded her twin daughters Alesssandra Brigitte and Sabrina as my godchildren, if unofficial.

The earliest I became a godfather to a fellow writer’s child was over four decades ago, to Saira Peñaranda, first daughter of the wondrous poet Victor Jose “Bimboy” and Jo Peñaranda. We’re still in touch, of late when a friend inquired about the availability of any of her late dad’s books of poetry. And more recently, when I made sure her mom would receive my birthday greetings by repeating them through her, also by PM.

Wanggo Gallaga, son of close friends Peque and Madie Gallaga, has also been an inaanak for several decades now. Only fitting that he became a poet besides a film writer and actor. I recall gifting him with poetry books and other literary material when he was still a student in Bacolod.

Julian Syjuco, second son and bunso of writer-artists Cesare and Jean Marie Syjuco, also became a grandson with whom I communicated regularly. Since he became a visual artist and a rock-art music band player, I expect him to take an important role in helping his sisters transform their family’s Art Lab Gallery in Ayala Alabang into an atelier-museum. The sisters, all following their parents’ avantgarde footsteps, are the notable multimedia artists Michelline, Beatrix or “Trix” (painting away in Vancouver), and Maxine. They’ve become so close to me through the years that they’ve also long become my unofficial godchildren.

Denise, the only daughter of premier poet Marne Kilates, is yet another godchild. I was happy to renew face-to-face relations with her two years ago when she revisited home from Canada, even if the occasion was due to her dear dad’s demise. Once again, she reaffirmed the long-held assurance that all my female godkids have turned out to be as lovely as they are talented.

The youngest of my inaanaks has quickly turned 15, and is presently a head taller than me. Lucas or “Lucky” is the only son of the power-writing couple Sarge and Mookie Katigbak Lacuesta. Early on, he would send me comic books he fashioned with his own illustrations and invented characters, before he turned 10, and progressively, artworks painted on canvas. I suppose our relationship has been double-charged since I had also stood as wedding sponsor when his parents joined up.

Another factoid: they first met at a dinner I hosted at home. Of course I also became one of Lucas’ godfathers. No telling if that ensures the continuing success of his old folks’ creative ventures. But just a week ago, Milflores Publishing launched Angelo R. Lacuesta’s second novel, Iro: A Story in Blood.

The horror genre effort was ushered in with a film screening, a discussion on Philippine horror writing with novelist Yvette Tan and the filmmaker Dodo Dayao, and a reading by Sarge at Communa in Makati, which also houses the Good Intentions Publishing creative office run by my Kumare and Kumpare. Who, incidentally, are busy collaborating on a film script.

Come to think of it, my only bloodkin godson is Kit Lorenzo, son of a close first cousin, and who has long risen up in Tokyo’s digital world with his computer smarts.

As for my own offspring, they too have experienced relations with godfathers who are distinguished writers: the editor, journalist and opinion writer Yen Makabenta for oldest son Ayahuasca (soon to turn 53); poet-buddy Ricky de Ungria for Alyosha; the fastbreaking blitz poet, journalist and editor Juaniyo Arcellana for Alaric; and the NY-based poet and novelist Eric Gamalinda for my bunso Mirava (now serving as a Vet Med researcher at UCLA).

It appears that only Alaric, or “Anygma,” founder of the FlipTop Rap Battle League, still enjoys Yuletide gifts from his godfather — the latest being organic cigarettes or wild-herb tobacco rolled up in indigenous vine leaves. Now this may have something to do with common idolatry of Eminem. Or Snoopy Dog? Or maybe Juaniyo still yearns to blitz his way past rap emcees with his Allen Iverson hops and razzle-dazzle rhyming schemes.