Tears in my eyes !

I remember hearing it somewhere,
Though I can’t recall where.
It’s nothing to do with story za jaba,
You know what, forget it!

But wait, it’s choking me,
Your phone was off on the night of Girlfriend’s Day.
I tried calling, not tripping,
When you finally answered,
There was a guy’s voice and “ssssh” signals in the background.
Tears welled up in my eyes,
As my heart sank into despair.

Who was he?
Was he the one we always argue about,
Or did you switch from Total Quartz to Shell Rimula this time?
Questions raced through my mind,
Doubts creeping into my heart,
As I struggled to make sense of it all.

I thought I did everything you wanted,
I don’t even know what Girlfriend’s Day is supposed to mean,
But I tried to do something special for you,
Only to be met with betrayal and lies.
Tears in my eyes !

In a world where truths often falter,
Where promises melt like morning dew,
One whispers, against a heart’s altar,
Just cheat, if it means losing you.
But how could I ever betray myself,
And sacrifice my own worth,
For the empty promises of a love that never truly existed?

I tried to hold back the tears,
To push away the pain,
But it lingered, like a shadow in the night,
Haunting me with memories of what once was.
I thought our love was strong,
But now I see it was built on lies,
On deceit and betrayal,
Leaving me shattered and broken.

I wish I could turn back time,
To the days when love was pure,
When trust was not a luxury,
But a foundation we both stood upon.
But now, as I wipe away the tears,
I know that some wounds cannot heal,
Some scars will always remain,
And some loves are not meant to last.

So I stand here, alone and broken,
Trying to piece together the fragments of my heart,
Trying to make sense of a love that was never real,
But will always haunt me like a ghost.
I will move on, I will heal,
But the pain of betrayal will always linger,
A reminder of a love that was lost,
And a heart that was broken.

@okelododdychitchats

Is This Real ?

In every season, your beauty endures,
A light of purity that forever assures.

Your essence transcends the earthly bounds,
A celestial beauty that astounds.

When storms gather and skies grow dim,
Your presence alone makes the world brim.

Like a fruit that ripens with time’s gentle hand,
Your beauty deepens, a masterpiece so grand.

Each time I see you, my heart takes flight,
In your presence, everything feels right.

You elevate the ordinary to the divine,
In your path, the stars themselves align.

Your radiance casts a shadow of grace,
A beacon of light in every place.

Unmatched, your unique glow remains,
A beauty that no one else attains.

With every breath, your charm expands,
A wonder my heart fully understands.

Is this real, or a dream so bright?
Your beauty fills me with endless delight.

Always revealed, your beauty stands clear,
No hiding its power, drawing all near.

The world’s greatest gift is found in you,
A beauty that lifts, so pure, so true.

Perfection seemed a distant dream,
Until your radiance came into my scheme.

Heaven on Earth, crafted with care,
A masterpiece, beyond compare.

A prayer answered in a form so fair,
You are the rare beauty with grace to spare.

Over air, I’d choose you every time,
For nothing compares to your sublime.

My love, my muse, on this special day,
I celebrate you in every possible way.

In your smile, the sun finds its match,
In your eyes, the stars their perfect catch.

Your laughter, a melody so sweet,
In your voice, my heart finds its beat.

Your touch, a comfort beyond measure,
In your love, I find my greatest treasure.

Together, our moments are pure bliss,
In your grasp, I find my true wish.

Baby, you are my light, my joy, my guide,
In you, my love will forever reside.

So on this day, I celebrate you,
The love of my life, steadfast and true.

@okelododdychitchats

What An Evening !

Rain begins to fall, and the scene from the 18th floor of View Park Towers is pleasing to look at. The droplets of rainwater fall gently on the roofs of the cars in the parking lot. At this moment, I am speaking to Victor, he prefers to be called Oito. He is showing me an aesthetically pleasing seat on his phone. As I admire the seat and rethink the black hole in my bank account, Sandy calls. Sandy is my childhood friend, a lawyer working at a law firm located in Utalii House, which is just a block away from View Park. I told her I am around, and since she is a lawyer and lawyers rock suits, I am eager to make her one or a beautiful collection.

After the rain, I pick her up from the ground floor, and we head straight to Louise Carre’s humble offices on the 18th floor. Louise Carre is the company name, and yes, we tailor suits. We agree on the fabrics and styles, and as we wait for the rain to stop since it’s started again, we talk about our childhood and catch up on how easy or hard life has become. Victor is glued to his phone, probably working on a quotation. When he’s done, the rain reduces, and we get going.

We walk slowly towards Downtown, with water splashing gently on my cap. Victor has a big jacket on, seemingly unaffected by the rain, and Sandy is covering herself with an umbrella that looks newer than its age. She says she’s had it since she was in form one, over eight years ago. She’s a keeper, right? What brings us together is the water splashing on our shoes and how well we dodge the puddles. We all think it’s high time we get ourselves cars.

We reach Archives, a central landmark for people unfamiliar with Nairobi. There are always people waiting around, usually with confusion on their faces, trying to find something or someone. But this evening, we see a train long line of people waiting to board Super Metro to Thika, all standing in the rain. I look at them and think, “this can never be me!” We walk a few blocks and find another huge line of people waiting for a bus to Civil Servants, the posh name for Kariobangi South. This time, I critique out loud, saying I can’t wait that long for a bus or stand in the rain for one. Little did I know what awaited me.

Around Afya House, I bid Sandy and Victor goodbye. Sandy is picking something for her mum before heading home, and Victor is catching one of those noisy matatus, commonly called “manyanga,” to Ngong’. I walk straight to Afya Center, then take a right turn towards Utimo Sacco Bus Stop because I know with this type of rain, all Ummoiner or Salty Supporters buses are not coming to CBD. I find myself in a very long line, longer than the ones I critiqued. With no other option, I decide to make the line. Thirty minutes into the queue, not a single bus has arrived. The line hasn’t moved an inch; it’s just getting longer as more people come and complain about the lack of buses to Umoja.

I’m eavesdropping while minding my own business. At this time, there are a lot of thoughts in my head, like imagining a guy wearing a smaller shoe size than his girlfriend’s. These thoughts mix with the chaos around me: people pushing to pass, hawkers trying to catch customers, drunkards saying unwise things, and the rain offering us a free shower along the crowded Mfangano Street.

We wait, and it’s now two hours. We start talking to each other, looking with envy as Super Metro buses keep coming for passengers to Kitengela. We talk and notice people paying to hijack the line. As Godsent Gen-Zs, we intervene and fight for our rights to the next bus!

Long story short, I was at the bus stop at 1830 hrs, left town at 2139 hrs, and got home soaked in God-given water at 2240 hrs. I can’t believe it took more than four hours! That’s enough time for Victor to drive from Nairobi to Rongo. What an evening!

@okelododdychitchats

How Does the Divine Look?

Hey God,

Can we glimpse You or catch Your sound?

What shades adorn Your shape, Your attire?

Are You a man in rugged, snug trousers?

Or perhaps a woman in a skirt – floor-length or short,
With cosmetics that gleam, vivid or subtle?

What footwear would You sport on Your soles?

Do You wear Your locks long and free?

If so, why must we trim and groom,
Crop our hair, conform to norms?
Is lengthy or cropped hair improper?
Does one style win for tidiness?

You favor short hair as a mark of restraint?
Or is this neatness just our myth?

What of tight, untamed dreadlocks,
For African people – not acceptable?
Did You declare dreads label wrongdoers,
That paradise bars these individuals?

What ethics guide Your celestial design?
Does facial fuzz thrive in Your sacred realm?

Is Your face graced with whiskers so fine,
Or did humans conjure this bristly notion?

Which race claims You as its own?

@okelododdychitchats

Stay With Me

You see, I always say,
There’s beauty in what’s clear,
In your smile bright as day,
A charm that’s very wonderful.
Your face, an amazing work of art,
The way you sit so calm and free,
Each time you look, you take my heart,
With grace, like a dancing tree.
I know you might feel tired,
Of hearing this now and then,
But please, don’t get sad,
Take in these words, my sincere poem.
And if you’re reading these lines,
Don’t leave, stay with me,
Though I’m not your top choice now,
Someday I’ll be greater than you realize.
I’m aware I don’t fit your preference ,
But soon, you’ll realize,
My value will pave the way,
For a love made together.
Your beauty stops my world,
A fact that’s clear and bright,
In every smile, every twist,
You’re as lovely as rain in summer

@okelododdychitchats

A letter to Daddy

Dear Dad,

I hope we could meet somewhere around Nyamasaria,

I long for you to breathe again, even if it’s just one more breath,

I want to hear your voice one last time, to have it echo in my mind like a cherished songbird,

I want to see your beards, perhaps fuller than mine that stubbornly refuse to grow,

I want to touch your hands and feel their warmth,

I want to look at your face and find the resemblances between us,

I’ll ask you what you love, and what you’re afraid of losing,

I want to see your sense of style,

I want to scrutinize your smile and understand how Mum fell for you so easily,

I want to check if Stella’s shortness comes from you,

I want to study the pigment of your skin to see if my own might inherit its flawlessness,

I’ll speak to you as a man, the kind of deep, honest conversations a father and son should have,

I’ll ask you what values I should hold dear,

I’ll ask your views on polygamy,

I’ll seek your wisdom on taking care of a woman,

I want to show you my girlfriend and hear you rate her on a scale of one to ten,

With this brief moment, Dad, I’ll strive to know you better,

Please, just breathe once more, Papa.

With all my love,
Rateng’

@okelododdychitchats

See You Soon

“The ambulance cannot transport your patient to Migori,” were the indifferent words spoken by the receptionist at the hospital where my mother had been admitted for two weeks without adequate care. While I refrain from mentioning the hospital’s name, I do so out of gratitude for the exceptional care provided by some of the nurses and two doctors. Accompanied by my brother-in-law and uncle, we were in the midst of arranging a transfer to a facility closer to home for proper care. Our home is in Rongo, Migori County, and all this time, we were in the cold, unfamiliar highlands of Kikuyu town.

I know you’re wondering why we were in Kikuyu when we’re from Rongo. Just give me one second to explain. My mother was attending a women’s conference in Kiambu town, and on a Thursday evening, while heading to their hotel with her fellow female believers, she was knocked down by a speeding motorist who was drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road. I wrote about the incident, but instead of directing you to a link, allow me to paste it here!

She Loves God,

Why am I shaking in town?
I thought I was okay.
Why do I feel like crying every time my mind switches to her?

She was just smiling.
I mean, I saw her smile on that phone call.

And you know, I hear she was very happy
while joking with her mates about how they’ll receive punishment if they don’t sing for God on Sunday.

She loves God, you know.
I often hear her say how God has moved her, and I see that too….

She was at the scene from the Lord’s house, the church, of course.
She had just received that good news that she shared with me before that heartbreaking call.

That call from Daktari wa Masomo, Dr. Bernard Alaka, forget that he’s called Bernard, ‘Boy’ sounds good on him…
He told me, “Prince, Mum amepata accident. Find a cab, and I’ll send you money to come.”

I was heartbroken.
I was like, “Didn’t she just finish praying to God, and even come here because of prayer?”

You know how sometimes you can question God, not blaming Him though…
I felt mad. I was really angry.

Anyways, I took a cab and went.
Everyone was there, all worried but happy because she was alive.

I went in to see her, and she said, “Baba, Bwana Asifiwe, Umekuja ?”
I saw that from her lips; she was not able to speak.

What I saw wasn’t pleasing, but I felt hope!
And the fact that members of the church were there with me till morning kept me strong.

I didn’t call any family member until morning.
They all came; people came.

And when she saw people she knew, I saw her feeling strong.
I know you’ll be fine, Mom, thanks to all for showing the love…

It’s made the two days that I have not slept completely feel like one minute.

***




I won’t dwell on it much, but let me say all is well. Today, we’re in an ambulance, headed to a facility of our choice in Migori County. In the back of the ambulance, I’m accompanied by a paramedic from Eagles Nursing Home, her name is Patricia. She’s calm, professional, appears to be around 21 years old, wearing grey Vans shoes, and she’s scrolling  down her Samsung Galaxy Note “Something.” Beside my mother, who’s in a lot of pain and sweating profusely, sits my aunt, Nyar Seme, she looks worried. She hasn’t eaten anything since morning, and besides her concern for her sister-in-law, I bet she’s hungry and tired. I’m seated next to my mum and Patricia, the paramedic. Yes, remember her? I’m worried, asking myself when we’ll reach Rongo because I can feel my mum’s pain.

In the front, we have the driver, Jeff. I met Jeff at the hospital; he was from Garissa, bringing a patient, a police officer who was badly injured in an attack. We had just been informed that the facility ambulance couldn’t take us to Mashinani, and then God brought Jeff to us in the midst of our distress after calling several service providers whose fees we couldn’t afford. Jeff had the exact ambulance we were instructed to use. He’s a good man. He’s seated with my uncle, Uncle Oloo, the kind of man who can rescue you from anything, anytime. He loves sports, was a footballer, and enjoys doing handy jobs. Isn’t that enough with my humble descriptions?

The weather is unfriendly, Oh my God ! it’s raining heavily, I mean kunanyesha very bad, the kind of rain that I would describe as “it was raining cats and dogs” in my lower primary composition. What we’re witnessing is quite threatening; soil has been swept onto the tarmac by the waters, the road is resembling a farm where vehicles are stuck and unable to move. There’s traffic, and it’s in the middle of nowhere. Thank God, we have been given way because we are in an ambulance and we’re just utilizing one of those favors of riding in an ambulance. Anyway, we need to get to the next facility, which is almost a 4-hour drive away, real quick!

My ink is depleted, as well as my creativity for now. I can’t promise to keep you posted, but we’ll catch up on my next piece, and let me give some hope that Mum will be all right. See you soon!

@okelododdychitchats

Wheel of Time

My car has been through a lot, driven by many hands,
Traveling diverse routes, facing potholes and deathly bends.
It’s been tough, surviving punctures and rough rides,
But now, it’s showing signs, secrets it no longer hides.

The steering wheel, once so familiar and warm,
Now feels distant, like facing a brewing storm.
The engine, once steady, now leaks strange oil,
A metaphor, maybe, for a love spoiled.

I’ve loved this car, but it’s failed me in a way,
It’s become a wreck, like a love gone astray.
I fear driving it, scared it might fail,
So, sadly, I must say goodbye, hit the trail.

It’s time for a change, a new start, a new lane,
Where loyalty is strong, and trust doesn’t wane.
So, with a heavy heart, I’ll let go of this ride,
And find a new one, where love will abide.

@okelododdychitchats

Rain, Go Away !

Rain, rain,
it’s not mother’s washing day,
But,
please hold off for now.

Maybe return another day,
but when you do,
come gently.

We need your nourishing touch
to keep our crops healthy
and our roads clear.

But please, be gentle,
don’t flood our homes
or harm our families.

Let us go about our business in peace,
let your presence be a blessing, not a curse.

For now,
it’s best you go away
and give the soil a chance to breathe.

Our feet need relief from the mud,
our floors from the stagnant water,
and our roofs from the constant drumming of your drops.

Let us take a moment
to recover from the losses we’ve already endured as a country.
Just Go away for now !

@okelododdychitchats

Those Days

On bad days, when my heart feels heavy and my mind is clouded by shadows,
I turn to my pen.
Each word, each line  becomes a lifeline,
a way  to find my path through the fog of my emotions.

But there are days when inspiration eludes me,
when sadness grips me tightly and refuses to let go.
On those days, I find myself crying out into the darkness,
my tears soaking into the woven knitted material of my pillows,
the only witnesses to my silent suffering.

I long for someone to understand,
to share the burden that weighs so heavily on my soul.
Yet, in the silence of my solitude,
I am left to wrestle with my demons alone.

Hope becomes a distant memory,
a flickering flame struggling to survive in the midst of an endless night.
Sleep escapes me, leaving me to wander through the darkness of my thoughts,
haunted by the specter of despair.

But even in my darkest moments, I cling to the belief
that somewhere, somehow, there is light to be found.
And so, I continue to write,
to pour out my heart onto the page,
in the hope that one day, the shadows will recede
and the sun will shine again.

@okelododdychitchats