In the city where I reside, they have a culture far different from what I grew up with. When a family gives birth, the naming ceremony is more like a family meeting, while when the child is taken to church for dedication, cows, fowls, and even elephants are slaughtered. Meanwhile, in my hometown, it is the naming ceremony that is the big deal, and no one gets to know about the dedication.
Some time around two months ago, my neighbour, a guy, told me to follow him to the naming ceremony of one of his younger brothers. This brother was once taken before the family panel of judgment because he was considered not mature enough, and the lady — or rather, let me say the girl — whom he impregnated was still very tender in age. Hence, the both of them faced serious questioning. But abortion was not an option, so they allowed them to give birth to the baby. They're not married, the girl got pregnant through the "enjoyment" which is popularly known as fornication in my part of the world and it used to be a sin until people started outsmarting the olden day beliefs.
Meanwhile, the girl’s parents were still not satisfied with the boy’s actions because, just as the social construct has it, if a girl gets pregnant, the boy — I mean, the "impregnator" — is to be held responsible.
So, when my neighbour told me about the upcoming naming ceremony, I agreed to follow him, but deep down, I knew I was not going to attend. This is because, over here, naming ceremonies are more like private family gatherings; they do not usually invite outsiders. I also did not want to go to a place where the pregnancy issue might be brought up, and it could turn into another panel of judgment to amend things, especially since both families had not yet fully agreed on the young, intending — and technically illegal — couple getting married.
Guess what? When Sunday — the said day we were to attend the event — was approaching, my neighbour informed me that it had been postponed until further notice because the mother of the baby(the girl that gave birth) had started bleeding abnormally and was rushed to the hospital. While I sympathize with him over what his brother was going through, I was also quietly relieved that the naming ceremony was canceled.
After about two weeks, on one Sunday afternoon, while I was trying to take a nap after a tiring duty in church, my neighbour suddenly came and told me to dress up because it was the naming ceremony day.
“Haaaa! Today? Why didn’t you tell me earlier, like yesterday? I won’t lie, I’m so tired, and I will not be able to go out today. If you had informed me earlier, I would have planned my day better.”
Mehn, the excuse was not entirely nice, but honestly, I felt it was the best excuse I had ever given in my life. I saw his face and the dumbfounded reaction, but well, there was nothing he could do. He could not have expected me to just jump up from my bed and get dressed for a party when he knew very well that Sundays are the only days I get to enjoy my room — and especially my bed — during the daytime. He eventually left and attended the event by himself, and honestly, I did not really feel bad about my decision.
Thanks for reading.
