WHEN LAUGHTER FADES

WHEN LAUGHTER FADES, by Chibụike PART ONE WHEN THE HOUSE WAS FULL OF LAUGHTER In the fictional African country of Zaramoko, there was once a family whose name was spoken with smiles. People said, “If you want to see peace, pass through the home of the Dembas.” And truly, peace lived there. Their compound stood at the edge of Kawira Town, neither too rich nor poor, just enough to show dignity. The walls were not painted with foreign colours, but they were strong. The zinc roof sang loudly whenever rain fell, and instead of complaining, the children danced under it, laughing as though the sky itself was clapping for them. 1. The Father Who Believed in Sweat The father of the house was Musa Demba. Musa was not a man of big grammar or loud promises. His strength was in his hands, rough like tree bark, shaped by years of honest labour. He woke before the c**k crowed and returned home when the sun had already bowed its head. He was a carpenter. Not the kind who rushed work or cheated customers. Musa measured twice, cut once, and prayed silently before fixing the last nail. Chairs made by Musa lasted longer than friendships made in haste. Doors built by him did not cry when the harmattan came. People trusted his work. When a customer delayed payment, Musa waited. When temptation came to reduce quality and increase profit, he refused. “Money that runs faster than sweat,” he often said, “will run away faster than shame.” 2. The Mother Who Built the Soul of the House His wife, Amina Demba, was the kind of woman whose presence calmed storms. She sold cooked food at the market—rice, beans, fried yams—and sometimes palm-wine snacks. Her stall was not the biggest, but it was always clean. Children came not only because of the food, but because Amina always had a kind word. Amina believed that character was richer than money. She taught her children how to greet elders, how to sit properly, how to say “thank you,” and how to endure hunger without stealing. At night, when electricity failed and darkness took over Kawira Town, Amina gathered her children under the dim light of a kerosene lamp and told stories—stories of kings who fell because of pride, and young men who rose because they learned a skill and endured patience. 3. The Children: Hope in Human Form The Dembas had four children: Sadiq, the first son — serious, observant, quiet. Rashid, the second — charming, fast-talking, restless. Zainab, the third — disciplined, sharp-minded, obedient. Khalil, the last — playful, curious, easily influenced. In those early years, nothing seemed wrong. They woke early for school, returned home dusty but cheerful, did their assignments, and helped their parents. Sadiq assisted his father in the workshop. Zainab helped her mother cook. Rashid liked running errands around town. Khalil followed whoever promised adventure. Their neighbours admired them. “These children will go far,” people said. “Musa and Amina have tried.” 4. The Joy That Comes From Little Things Joy did not come from luxury. Joy came from shared meals—one pot, many hands. Joy came from school results pinned proudly on the wall. Joy came from Friday evenings, when Musa returned early and told stories of stubborn customers and stubborn wood. On Sundays, they washed clothes together. On festival days, they dressed simply but cleanly. Their happiness was slow, earned, and real. But joy, when not guarded, can become a place where danger hides. 5. The First Whisper of Change The change did not arrive like thunder. It came like a whisper. It came with mobile phones. At first, it was harmless. Rashid saved money from errands and bought a used smartphone. Soon, he was laughing at videos, staring into the screen late at night. Then he began to talk differently. “Papa, times have changed,” he said once. “People don’t suffer like before.” Musa looked at him calmly. “Time changes,” Musa replied, “but sweat remains the same.” Rashid smiled—but it was the kind of smile that listens without accepting. 6. School Without Skills At school, things were changing too. Teachers taught theory, not practice. Students passed exams but could not fix anything with their hands. Workshops were locked. Agriculture plots were abandoned. Skills were mocked. If you said you wanted to learn carpentry, tailoring, or welding, classmates laughed. “That is for dropouts,” they said. “We want fast money.” The phrase “fast money” entered Kawira Town like a sweet poison. 7. The New Heroes The youths no longer admired farmers, artisans, or teachers. They admired: Boys who suddenly bought motorcycles Girls who returned from the city with wigs and new phones Men who never explained what they did but always had cash Rashid noticed. Khalil listened. Sadiq remained silent but worried. Zainab prayed. 8. A Father’s Warning One evening, Musa gathered his children. His voice was firm, not angry. “My children,” he said, “this world will test you. Skills will save you when certificates fail. Patience will save you when shortcuts destroy others.” Rashid nodded again. Khalil yawned. Sadiq understood. Zainab believed. But belief is not inheritance. Each child must choose it. 9. The Seed Is Planted Unknown to Musa and Amina, Rashid had begun chatting with boys from the city. They spoke of easy deals, connections, and overnight success. They mocked people like Musa. “Old school suffering,” they said. “Why bend your back when money is online?” Rashid laughed with them. That laughter was different from the laughter of the compound. It was sharp. It was impatient. It was dangerous. 10. Ending of Part One That night, Amina dreamed. She saw their house full of laughter—but the laughter slowly turned into crying. The walls cracked. The roof fell. The children stood far apart, calling her name, but she could not reach them. She woke up sweating. Outside, the town was quiet. Inside, the danger had already entered. The house was still full of laughter. But the first stone of sorrow had been laid.