The things that I love/hate/love

 Growing up, one of my favorite shows on T.V. was "The Wayan's brothers". For those unacquainted, it was a show based on 2 brothers, Shawn and Marlon Wayans, who lived together in Harlem, New York, trying to "make it big" in the world. Now, like any show, it would've been incomplete without the colorful assortment of cast members, particularly those billed as "Family". In this case, the "family" was their father, played by John Witherspoon, who played his role to perfection with his outdated clothes and his odd demeanor, which in retrospect, was quite hilarious.
 Shawn and Marlon are elements of a dynasty that's spanned the better part of 2 decades, starting from their collaborative work with the rest of their siblings (Damon, Keenan Ivory & Kim) on "In Living Color", to their individual films such as "Requiem for a dream" and collaborative films, like "White Chicks", "Little Man" and my personal favorite, "Don't be a menace to south-central while drinking your juice in the hood" (a mouthful, I know). The point is, no matter where they went and what they did, they always came back, full circle, to each other. Because, no matter where they went in life, they knew that family would always be their for them.
 In my life, one constant has always been that. The presence of my family. And while I wish I could say we had some fond memories of playing kick ball in the backyard or having barbecues on a summer day or sipping hot chocolate together on Christmas eve, while anticipating what Santa had brought us, knowing full well that any present we got would not only be the wrong one, but would also be completely inappropriate to our respective ages, genders and even ethnicity, but hey, you gotta give props to the parents for trying.........and once again, a left turn in an otherwise heartwarming story.
 Eritreans, as a whole, have a common belief. "Fiqri America b' seldi, Fiqri Hindi b' derfi, Fiqri Habesha b' tserfi". Rough translation, Americans show love with cash, Bollywood shows love through intricate song and dance and Habseshas (the people of North-East Africa, including Eritreans) show their love with utter disrespect and disregard. And my family is no exception.
 We don't do hugs and kisses. We don't give compliments and encouragement. No, what we do is continually make attempts to traumatize each other for simply one reason and one reason only.......because we can.
 Case in point, after a night of heavy drinking, I had woken up one morning with the Queen Mary of hangovers and regrets, completely forgetting that we had a family gathering to go to. Insisting that I be present, I was dressed and accessorized with a suit and a pair of dark glasses, with both my sister and little brother having to guide me, partly because the glasses were so dark and partly because I was basically a zombie at that point. Of course, upon arriving their, when asked what was wrong with me, they made the appropriate excuses to other family members. But, to total strangers, they "confided" that I was a celebrity. They informed these newcomers that I was "musician", that I was a musically-gifted, yet slightly diminished savant. According to my siblings, I was "Stupid Stanley" (despite the humiliation of it all, I actually have to give those two props for being so quick on their feet).
 Looking back on those times, as I sit here, writing this entry, I come to a realization that I constantly keep coming back to full circle. I miss my family. Sure, most of us do. I'm no different. But, it's not simply that. I don't simply miss the good times, but I also miss the bad things. More so, I miss the bad traits, the horrible pranks, the terrible jokes, the mean comments. I miss the bad stuff, because even that was done with love.
 So, in the end, that's family. Ultimately, family is all about love. It simply takes some a bit of time to find the traction required to adequately express it and even more time to fully comprehend and appreciate it. But, in the end, they're the ones you got, they're the folks you have to look forward to, for better and for worse.

 I like to think that we're a lot like the Wayans. Not just with the quintessential comedy that we sprout out at every venue, but with the fact that behind every joke, there's a great deal of love. And truth be told, I'd rather have my folks beat on me, than have some total stranger "love" me without really knowing me. Weird, ain't it??