We were the Ubuntu boys – eleven spirited men from the vibrant Lakeside, always ready to champion the cause, fighting relentlessly for the rights of Multimedia University students. We were a force to be reckoned with, loud and omnipresent. People labeled us as goons, but we were warriors fighting for a noble cause.

Our name, Ubuntu boys, originated from our true-blue support for Clinton Owino, who was running for president with the slogan “Ubuntu.” We successfully propelled him to victory, only to witness a political maneuver that stripped him of power. Elly Oriko, backed by Polycarp Oliver (Buzeki) and Massu Ayallo Anthony, orchestrated a strategic retreat, flipped the school constitution, and ousted Clinton. In the end, Elly emerged as the school president.

We felt the sting of defeat but, being resilient individuals, we smiled through the pain. We didn’t succumb to despair; instead, we sought ways to survive and thrive. Elly, the new president, proved to be a good man and leader. Despite our political differences, we collaborated, showcasing the strong bond shared by the Ubuntu boys and Lakeside natives like Elly and Clinton.

Our time at school was captivating. Though we didn’t own the businesses, we controlled them. We enjoyed free meals, earned a living, and had everything we desired. From the presence of attractive ladies to what many considered wealth, life seemed like a walk in the park. We even had our own means of transportation – an old Toyota Probox.

Connections with politicians and influential figures were part of our daily lives. We’d visit Maina Njenga’s place, uttering phrases like “Comrades Power” and exchanging nods of wisdom. Uncle Oonga Tom excelled at this, ensuring we were compensated. Life was straightforward, and we rarely went home – school was our home.

We, the Ubuntu boys, were like brothers from different mothers. Originating from Luo-Nyanza, our common goal unified us. We faced life with diverse characters but shared a strong bond that prevented any of us from failing. Our unity, a lesson learned in streets, still holds us together even four years after going our separate ways.

Our shared goal extended beyond campus life. We were united against poverty, committed to building each other up. This commitment became a lasting legacy as we inspired those who followed us. Despite the challenges and labels thrown our way, we emerged stronger.

The post-campus lives of the Ubuntu boys unfolded uniquely. Stephen Ochieng (Bache) became an award-winning journalist. Tom Oonga ventured into politics, campaigning to be the next MCA, known for inventing Choma (Chapati and Soup) at Multimedia University. Brian Mark Ogutu (Chief) successfully runs Clean Roof Masters.

Seth Lazaro, Benard Otieno (Aduera), and Laurent Adongo embraced online writing in Rongai, each carving a niche for themselves. Victor Haya (Wuod Atoyo) excels as an accountant and a social media guru. Stephen Ongola (Machete) emerged as a business mogul in Rongai, delivering more than just packages, if your girlfriend lives in Rongai, he is probably her favorite delivery guy. He is good at it !

Michael Kijana (Wanjigi), a young tutorial fellow, wears the hat of a professional online writer with pockets deeper than his age. Together, these individuals made campus life unforgettable. No regrets – we made life easy for each other, showcasing the enduring friendship forged during those Ubuntu days.

@okelododdychitchats

I yearn to be the gentle breeze that swells your sails, a breeze infused with the salty scent of the ocean, carrying promises whispered through the rustle of leaves. Guiding your journey, not merely as a navigator but as a companion, a silent confidante in the vast expanse of the sea.

My touch, a delicate dance lifting your veil, a dance choreographed with the soft notes of a serenade, unveiling the layers of your soul with tender grace. Each touch, a gentle exploration, revealing the intricacies of our connection.

As the moon orchestrates the celestial ballet of your tides, imagine my presence as the gravitational force, not just shaping the waters but sculpting emotions and sentiments. A gravitational pull, not of obligation but of choice, a choice to be laced into the cloth of life .

With each sunrise, envision me as the warming light, not just illuminating your eyes but also casting a golden glow on your dreams. A sunrise not witnessed in isolation, but shared, creating a dawn of shared aspirations and mutual encouragement.

A spark igniting, not just a fleeting flame but a sustained fire, fueled by shared interests, passions, and a mutual desire for growth. In the mosaic of your dreams, picture vibrant hues not just representing wishes but embodying the shared adventures and challenges we conquer together.

To fulfill desires, ambitions, and all you’ve sought, imagine a journey beyond the visible horizon, exploring the uncharted territories of our shared future. It’s not merely about reaching destinations but reveling in the journey, hand in hand.

And beyond these promises, there’s still so much more, like an unwritten story with pages waiting to be filled. An endless sea of love, not static but dynamic, evolving with every wave of shared laughter, every ripple of shared tears.

In every heartbeat, every whisper, every shared endeavor, visualize me as not just a participant but a steadfast ally, contributing to the melody of our shared existence. I don’t just want to be your everything; I want to be the constant companion in the novel of our lives, scripting a story that transcends time and echoes in eternity.

@okelododdychitchats

Entering 2024, my excitement rings with the presence of an extraordinary gift from Eva Wamuyu. This remarkable tool, akin to a superpower, fuels my anticipation for a year filled with purpose and achievement.

Primarily on my radar is the aspiration for a job that goes beyond the routine. Beyond the mere act of paying bills, I envision a role that blends seamlessly with my passion, a profession that resonates with meaning and fulfillment. It’s the dream of not just working for a living but working for a life.

In the realm of creative endeavors, my dreams take the shape of publishing my first book. A literary journey commences with the artistry of poetry and prose, evolving into the nuanced narratives of short stories, ultimately culminating in the splendor of a novel. It’s a vision where words become the architects of a world waiting to be explored and shared.

Solving the financial landscape, the desire for stability is a guiding star. Beyond personal gains, I see a year where financial woes cease to cast their shadows. The wish extends beyond my own journey, encompassing the collective pursuit of prosperity for my family. It’s a shared voyage into a future where financial stress becomes a relic of the past.

Delving into the spiritual sphere, the quest for a closer connection with God unfolds. This involves a commitment to attending church more frequently and embracing a practice of generous tithing. It’s a spiritual journey, a venture beyond the tangible, in search of inner peace and profound meaning.

Family, the bedrock of my existence, is intricately woven into the plan and the  story. There’s an enthusiastic cheer for my sister’s pursuit of a job that resonates with her passions. Simultaneously, heartfelt wishes traverse the distance to my brother in Gliwice, Poland, envisioning his days filled with wonder and safety. The story is completed with hopes for the health, wealth, and enduring connections of those closest to my heart.

In the melody of dreams, a wild tune resonates—the dream of traversing borders and embarking on an adventure in the United States. The thought of unraveling new experiences and exploring the uncharted is a thrilling prospect.

The hopes extend beyond personal endeavors to encompass the aspirations of others. For Bache, the desire is not just for another award but for a cascade of recognition. Oito’s life is envisioned as reaching new heights having Louise Carre as the reigning force in East and Central Africa’s fashion landscape. Clean Roof Masters and Chief Ogutu’s shared dreams are wished into fulfillment.

Adongo Laurent, the meme generator with an incredible brain, it’s my sincere wish that you land a new job that truly reflects your exceptional skills. Nephew Azel and Niece Haven are surrounded by wishes for strength, health, and a smooth life. Turner and Turner Advocates are envisioned as the crème de la crème, leaving an indelible impact. William Eric, here’s to your career blossoming beyond your wildest dreams, envisioning a life of joy and prosperity in the salty breeze of the Coast. May success and contentment be your constant companions on this journey. Winfred, as you embark on your endeavors, may you navigate each path with resilience and grace, achieving remarkable success. Your journey is filled with potential, and I wish you nothing but the best.

As we journey into a new chapter, I extend my heartfelt wishes not only to those specifically mentioned but also to everyone else not named in this piece. May your lives unfold in the most extraordinary ways, and may the dreams you hold dear manifest into beautiful realities. Here’s to each of you, living your best and witnessing the fulfillment of your aspirations.

As the story of aspirations unfolds, 2024 becomes more than just a year—it transforms into an opportunity for dreams to take flight. A year of good vibes, good health, and the fulfillment of aspirations. Here’s to a year where every piece falls into place. Cheers to 2024!

@okelododdychitchats

In the story of us, things look pretty clear,
She pays no attention, like a dream that disappears.
Hatred takes root, and love slips away,
In how she acts, it’s crystal clear,
I stand no chance.

Years passed, and I took a skeptical leap,
Bought love like shoes in the dark,
Love hit me, no time to think it through,
But it turned out painful, and I now know,
A painful fact echoing loud,
I stand no chance.

Describing love is like catching a breeze,
Feels like a big mental squeeze.
I apologize to those who warned,
She talks to someone secretly,
In those whispers, the truth,
I stand no chance.

Her kindness vanished, replaced by a fake show,
She’s sometimes rude, thinks I’m worth zero.
I wonder if it’s money or my lack of touch,
Each answer hits hard,
I stand no chance!

When she’s near, her actions are strange,
No effort in cooking, she sleeps estranged.
Love’s dimmed, a clear circumstance,
In this fading love,
I stand no chance.

In her absence, especially on Fridays,
Calls unanswered in mysterious ways.
Returning at dawn, her lipstick betrays,
The evidence is clear, etched in faded hues, someone else has tasted the sweetness that was once mine
It’s weirdly clear,
Facing reality,
I stand no chance.

Letting her go is a painful task,
Shared moments linger,
The hurt persists, and it’s time to unfasten,
For in this turmoil,
I stand no chance.

@okelododdychitchats

2013 was an interesting yet very challenging year for me. I was in form two, scoring mediocre marks in all subjects but English and Kiswahili. I was at the peak of my adolescent ages and despite developing an unending interest and thirst for ladies who I thought were beautiful, those that Biko Zulu would describe as “a lady who any lady would want to be and a lady who any man would want to be with.”  I lacked the confidence to approach them. The reason was that I thought my ears were abnormally big, and that type of bigness made me look more like an elephant than a human being. I mean, I did not have the confidence that I shyly portray nowadays. I am told by some people that I am confident, but I believe I am that type of shy that can make you fall when you see a beautiful lady – that type of shy that Marius Weyers portrayed in the Comedy, “The God’s Must be Crazy” as Dr. Andrew Steyn anytime she met Kate Thompson…I mean, I don’t know, but I believe I am still very shy…

Anyways, I was shy but I still kind of achieved what any young man at that age would want to achieve. Back in school, that is the Great Homabay School, we had our times when we did nothing but share our stories, and we from small villages enjoyed listening to what the Nairobians (students who lived in Nairobi) were saying. We believed they set the trend and were good in everything, including fashion, music, and women saving academics and discipline. We also believed that all who came from Nairobi were rich, though these were just beliefs and not close to any reality.

One time, as I was listening to one of them, I had him say that he got good looking girls in church, and he explained how easy it was to win a girl from church with her knowing that you are also a spiritual freak. So, I had to join a church. I found myself in the front row of the church my mother attended – this time at will. I must say this time everyone was not only shocked, but they were also happy. They knew the famous village party boy and one whose name was used as an example anytime indiscipline was mentioned had turned to be a good boy – a God-fearing one. Little did they know that I was just a man on a mission who had to do anything the Romans were doing and even do extra to be safe and to win…

My mum liked me even more, and because I am told I am easily likable, my pastor liked me. My pastor is a simple man, and I like him to date. I believe he is one of the few genuine pastors left on earth – those pastors who preach to build you spiritually and not to empty your pocket by insisting that the hand that gives is the hand that receives. My pastor and his whole family liked me, and speedily, the whole church liked me. I remember one-time women were having a meeting, and I eavesdropped only to hear one saying how much I had changed to be a good boy and how she loved how I carried out myself. She even said how my mother, Mary, who was absent in that meeting, was blessed to have a son like me.

In my errands as an active church boy who did everything in the church, including washing the church and waking up at 5:00 AM to attend morning glory services, I spotted a young beautiful lady. She was quite tall, light-skinned, had beautiful eyes, and always kept short hair. I believed this lady was beautiful in my perspective, and my friends too believed she was beautiful. Her name was, still is  Atieno. I started developing feelings for the lady but kept the information within myself. I was shy enough not to even say hi to her, but I admired every bit of her. I constantly lost attention when she walked, especially when she walked towards the church pulpit to pay her offerings or to receive a prayer of blessings from “daddy” – in African Mushroom churches, we call our spiritual fathers “daddy” and spiritual mothers “mama”.

I even changed my areas of strolling, I began strolling around the area where they lived, hoping to catch a glance of her. I kept this feeling within me for months till one time I felt I was courageous enough to say hi since I did not know and had never talked to a lady into becoming my girlfriend. I went straight to the point, and these were my words that day, “Hi Atieno, my name is Prince. I think I like you. Can we be friends, like can you be my girlfriend?” I saw her smile shyly, all I wanted was a chance to call her my girlfriend. I wondered if she would make my day, and she did make my day. She said yes and added by saying she admired me too and she told me I was handsome. From that day, I started thinking of myself as a handsome man because Atieno had said that. That gave me a confidence boost, and I am not bragging, but since then, beautiful ladies have been telling me of how handsome I am, Si ni mimi nakushow

Atieno was my first girlfriend, and after that second-term holiday, I went back to school bragging about how I had a beautiful girlfriend. She was slim yet meaty in the appropriate places, well-curved, and with the most beautiful face, I told my peers. I felt more like a man – my fellow men can relate to how fulfilling this feeling can be. I could now call someone’s daughter mine – not mine but could use the possessive “my” while referring to Atieno. I felt good, and what even made me feel better was the first time she sent me that well-written, calligraphed, and perfumed letter saying how much she missed me. I had now joined a group of people with girlfriends.

The relationship continued, and we visited each other during holidays, but since I was shy enough not to sin by even giving a mere kiss, we kept it cool by hugging, holding hands, and smiling back at each other – not making people have another perspective of me. I continued going to church and participating in church activities. The relationship continued until the time I joined campus. At this time, I admit things changed, and an unusual distance began to create itself, and it kept so till at some point we lost touch.

Since then, I’ve encountered other girls, experiencing heartbreaks both ways. Atieno, too, has met other men, but she remains a friend whom I deeply respect. It’s worth noting that our relationship never progressed beyond hugging, holding hands, and exchanging smiles. Atieno is and has always been a good person. By the way, I’ve become more spiritual than religious; nowadays, I rarely attend church. Long services focused on sowing seeds rather than spiritual growth are just not appealing to me.

@okelododdychitchats

In the quest for change, the question echoes loud and clear: “Who’s counting on you, my niggar?” As I paused to absorb the gravity of this message, a sip of humble, yet free water, and a deep breath became more than a routine. The words from “Every Niggar Deserves” resonated deeply, forcing introspection and a profound consideration of personal impact.

The inquiry, “Who’s counting on you?” transcends mere acknowledgment; it delves into the why and the what. It’s not merely about being counted on but understanding the purpose behind that trust. The lingering question surfaces: What impact am I creating for someone to place their count on me? The burden lies in evaluating the depth of that impact, questioning whether it is transformative, something worthy of discussion and remembrance.

Reflecting on past actions, I acknowledge instances where I’ve touched lives. Yet, the pressing concern remains: am I consistently generating that impact? Recently, my thoughts have been consumed by the plight of needy children in my village. The image of these children, clad in tattered attire and worn-out shoes, on their way to school is heart-wrenching. It’s a discomforting realization that their struggle is one I can intimately relate to, having metaphorically walked in their shoes.

This discomfort births a commitment to change. The focus shifts from the self to a collective effort, a recognition that together, change is possible. The desire to alleviate the struggles of these children fuels a plan—an aspiration to provide them with more than just clothing but a chance at improved self-esteem, a shield against lasting negative impacts.

The vivid scenes of children in attires they cannot control prompt a deeper consideration of the trauma inflicted upon them. If it troubles me, how much more does it traumatize them? This empathy becomes a driving force for action, a catalyst for change. It’s a call to arms, a plea for collective responsibility to rewrite the narrative for these children.

In response, I propose a tangible initiative: a plea for funding to make a lasting impact. The vision is clear—a complete school uniform, including socks and a pair of shoes for each child. It’s more than material assistance; it’s a gesture to empower these children with a smile, to imbue them with the energy to pursue education without the hindrance of inadequate clothing.

Together, let’s embark on this journey to change lives. The call is not just for financial contributions but a collective commitment to reshape destinies. Every donation becomes a brushstroke in the larger canvas of transformation, a testament to the belief that, indeed, every “niggar” deserves a chance at a brighter future. Let’s be the architects of that change, one uniform, one smile, and one child at a time.

@okelododdychitchats