Laughter In My Family

I still remember clearly my first pair of shoes. It was brown suede, size seven and had a stripe that ran from the toes to the shoelaces. I was fifteen years old when I wore my first pair of shoes. It coincided with my departure from the village to the city. I was born in a small village called Kebisoni in Southwestern Uganda.

I walked in a strange way with my first pair of shoes. When I lifted my feet, my knees would come very close to my chest.

This made my brother, Eric, laugh at me so much that he would bend over with laughter. When I saw that it made him laugh so much, I would exaggerate my walk just to see him laugh.

Laughter was the soup with which we ate words in my family.

When my father passed away, I gave a eulogy. I started by saying, “I want to share with you how I remember my father.” As I was talking, I recalled how my father enjoyed laughing. When you told my father a joke, he would laugh long and hard, then stop and ask you: “what did you say?”

I often wondered what he was laughing at if he didn’t hear what I said the first time. But as I reflected back on his life I realized that laughter was a central part of his character. Not only did he laugh but he loved making other people laugh. He would always draw a crowd around him wherever he was. He told many jokes about people and people told many jokes about him.

He encouraged his children to tell good funny stories. There was always a battle between him and his mother-in-law. She considered…