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

Today, I rolled out of bed, feeling a bit sleepy but ready to tackle the day. Following my usual routine, I took a quick, cold shower, dressed up in a lively outfit and headed out. The morning was chilly and serene, with quiet streets and a lack of usual sounds—no birds singing, fewer cars honking, and no hurried footsteps rushing to catch the bus for work. Blame it on the festive season; it had the city in a bit of a hush.

At the bus stop, I waited for a bus that seemed to be taking its sweet time. Eventually, an empty one pulled up, a bit unusual for 6:30 a.m. Usually, buses are packed at this hour. I got on, and after a few minutes, the bus filled up with a mix of scents-cheap and not-so-cheap perfumes, a bit of sweat, and a touch of dust. The air became a bit confusing for my nose, not to mention the burst of colors inside that could puzzle even a chameleon. The journey to Nairobi Central Business District started, and I quickly realized it wasn’t going to be a smooth ride. My seatmate, an elderly man in rather unkempt clothes, had a mouth odor that defied explanation, making strange sounds as if battling with mucus. It was a bit of a rough thirty minutes, but surprisingly, it didn’t dampen my Christmas spirit.

I’m not one to go crazy over Christmas, but this time, I’m oddly excited. Maybe because, for once, I’ll spend the entire Christmas, Boxing Day, and New Year wherever I fancy—maybe at home, any of my mother’s houses, or even some nice but not expensive spot, definitely not at work. Speaking of work, all my past independent Christmases were spent on the job, and I have to admit, it wasn’t thrilling. Imagine working while others enjoy their last bites of chicken or sips of cold coke or Singleton whiskey. We all have to work hard to earn a living, right?

Enough about me; what about your Christmas plans? I recall my campus buddy, Jojo. She was a sweetheart-polite, soft-spoken, and caring. She was  short, very light, almost radiant, and just beautifully light. Jojo loved Christmas and would start counting down the days to the next one right after 26th December at midnight. She believed Christmas is the birthday of Christ. Bible readers, is it really?

Now, let’s imagine Christmas in our African setting-a time when the air carries the lively beat of traditional drums and the aroma of delicious local dishes. Picture vibrant markets adorned with colorful fabrics and bustling with people eager to find the perfect gifts for their loved ones. In this festive season, communities come together in a dance of unity, sharing laughter, stories, and the joy that Christmas brings.

In our African Christmas, imagine children playing in the red African soil, their laughter echoing through the air as they create handmade decorations from natural materials. Families gather under the shade of age-old baobab trees, sharing meals prepared with love and care, featuring local delicacies that make the occasion uniquely African.

As we approach this special time, let’s not forget the spirit of Ubuntu-the essence of togetherness and shared humanity. In our diverse cultures and traditions, Christmas becomes a wonderful clothe knitted with the threads of unity, respect, and appreciation for one another.

So, what’s Christmas like for you in our African setup? Do you wish it lasted longer, or is a short visit enough? Is it just another day on the calendar, or does it bring a unique flavor? Why all the joy? I’m not complaining; in fact, I like it. The communal countdown, the excitement—it’s a day worth celebrating. As we gear up for the festivities, let’s have some fun. Invite everyone you can think of, visit all the places you want to, have those crazy yet fulfilling reunions. And to Jesus Christ, if you’re listening, happy early birthday! How many candles will be on the cake this year?

@okelododdychitchats

---

In the middle of this engaging world of communication, words aren’t just tools; they’re like powerful arrows, each part adding its own touch. As we explore the dance, we come across bitterness – a lingering taste that sticks around like an unwelcome after-dinner vibe, reminding us of the emotional conflicts words can bring. Quick and transformative, these words can change how we feel, making a dance from the warm hug of love to the chilly vibes of not-so-nice thoughts.

But, within the very nature of words, there’s a mysterious uncertainty, a veil open to different interpretations. Misunderstandings, like sneaky shadows, weave themselves into what we meant to say, messing up the delicate connection and leaving a bit of a mess in our relationships.

In this talk dance, where words play the roles of both dancers and storytellers, the mix of feelings becomes a painting made with the colors of understanding and sometimes mix-ups. Imagine words as nimble dancers, moving smoothly through the detailed steps of our feelings. Love gives us a cozy hug, while not-so-nice words make a kind of jarring dance. Words are like choreographers, guiding us through how we feel.

But, in this engaging dance, words also wear a mysterious cloak. Like a dance that can trip us up, people interpret words in different ways, and things get a bit confusing. It’s like a tricky balance between being clear and feeling a bit lost.

As we chat in our everyday dance, let’s understand that words can be a bit complex. Each word is like a stroke on the palette of communication, adding to how we connect. By knowing how words work, we can chat more smoothly, building better connections and avoiding the bumps that might mess up our relationships.

In the big chat room of life, where words move like both poets and regular folks, we’re part of a chat dance that shapes how we connect. Through the twists and turns of understanding, this chat dance is like an art show, creating a picture of how we get each other or sometimes get a bit mixed up. So, let’s enjoy the chat dance, seeing how words can be nice and sometimes a bit tricky but always a part of how we talk and connect with each other.

@okelododdychitchats.

In each day’s passing, I discover reasons to step back,
A quiet wish to go away, to fade into the background.
Your words tell a story of hurt and anger, hidden in what you say,
No love shines through, just a script that’s lost its gentle way.

When you talk about him, it’s more than just liking or thinking he’s great,
There’s a deep love, a feeling that’s hard to articulate.
I’m left wondering why I’m here, what’s the point of my stay,
Thinking of leaving, letting you find happiness your own way.

I don’t want to be a barrier, holding you back,
So, I contemplate saying goodbye, keeping my love on the track.
There was a time when love was easy, a simple stream,
But now, it’s become a painful dream.

As we part ways, let the memories stay,
A reminder of what was, but couldn’t find its way.
In the midst of our goodbye, I hope you find peace,
As I step into tomorrow, seeking a love that won’t cease.
Goodbye…

@okelododdychitchats

Imagine strolling through the village streets at dusk, a time when darkness engulfs the surroundings, and our quaint village lacks the comfort of streetlights and fancy shops. Instead, it’s adorned with ominous bushes resonating with the eerie cries of starved insects, potholes deep enough to serve as pools for newborns, and a darkness that conjures up scenes rivaling the suspense of a Tanzanian epic film, Shumileta. Those paths, more haunting than a ghost-infested house at night, evoke a childhood fear that’s etched in our memories.

Now, fast forward to the present, where the fear we experience isn’t confined to the spooky paths of our village but permeates every aspect of life. I’ve come to realize that, much like that childhood fear, life itself carries a touch of fear in every step we take. It’s not external threats that I fear, but fear itself – that lingering uncertainty that accompanies every decision, like a specter lurking in the shadows.

Before embarking on any endeavor, we grapple with the fear of the unknown, a fear that stealthily sabotages our potential for success. The haunting question of “what will happen next ?” becomes a formidable barrier, hindering progress and achievement. Personally, the fear of failure has led me to abandon aspirations prematurely, paralyzed by the anticipation of undesirable outcomes. It’s a self-imposed obstacle, a barrier that prevents us from discovering what could be on the other side.

Yet, overcoming this fear is crucial. I’ve realized that confidence is the key to pursuing our dreams. It’s better to start and face the outcome, even if it means encountering failure, than to be immobilized by fear and remain in the dark about our true capabilities. The struggle to move forward echoes the childhood hesitation on those ominous paths, where legs falter but perseverance prevails.

The fear doesn’t stop at personal pursuits; it extends its grasp into the intricate realm of relationships. The fear of being hurt, of betrayal, hinders us from loving wholeheartedly. In a world where loyalty is often disregarded, the scars of betrayal linger, making it challenging to invest fully in love. The prevalence of cheating in contemporary relationships adds an extra layer of complexity, sowing seeds of doubt and eroding trust.

These challenges, whether experienced firsthand or observed in the tales of others, create a reluctance to give our all in love. It’s a fear that shadows the potential beauty of genuine connection, leaving us guarded and hesitant. Overcoming this fear in relationships becomes a testament to resilience, a decision to love despite the haunting echoes of past disappointments.

In drawing the curtains on this exploration, life unfolds as a perpetual journey through dimly lit paths and intricate relationships, each step wrapped in the pervasive embrace of fear. Yet, as we navigate through these shadows, embracing the unknown transforms from a courageous act into a transformative endeavor, akin to venturing into the darkness with an unwavering spirit.

To truly conquer the fears that threaten to hold us back, we must acknowledge that fear extends beyond the visible, permeating the intangible spaces of our psyche. It is in these concealed realms that our true strength is discovered. Thus, we embark on this journey not merely to conquer fears but to unveil the brilliance that awaits beyond the shadows – a brilliance that radiates from the resilience, growth, and unwavering courage cultivated in the face of fear’s multifaceted challenges.

@okelododdychitchats

In the captivating dance of yearning, your absence orchestrates a crescendo of desire within me. Each passing moment magnifies the echo of your presence, a melodic composition that resonates with profound emotion.

I ache for the tender caress of your fingertips, a sensory masterpiece that stands the fur on my hands at attention, akin to soldiers in immaculate formation. It’s a touch that transcends the ordinary, forging a connection that echoes with depth.

The allure of your kiss unfolds like a narrative, commencing with a gentle peck on my forehead and culminating in a profound and boundless exchange on my lips. My hands, like skilled artisans, embrace the contours of your well-shaped waist, crafting an intimate masterpiece.

A shared breath, warm and cool in its duality, breathes life into the canvas of my face, illuminating the dark pigments of my cheeks. It’s a breath that not only revives but paints our shared moments with a palette of tenderness.

In the embrace where our bodies synchronize as one, there’s a yearning for unity that surpasses the physical. Every meeting of skin is a convergence, a testament to the artistry of connection.

As we gaze upon our reflections, marveling at the divine craftsmanship that paints our hues in perfect opposition, the question lingers like an unsolved riddle. What divine brushstroke did God use to etch our uniqueness, ensuring that even thorough washing can’t wash away the vibrancy of our colors?

Our mirrored glances, adorned with fulfillment, radiate happiness and joy, creating a shared gaze that transcends mere acknowledgment. It’s a glance that whispers of contentment in the gallery of our shared existence.

Pillow talks unfold like a dialogue of soft innocence, your voice a lullaby that serenades my senses, akin to the tender cadence of a baby’s cooing. These moments weave a tapestry of intimacy, threads of connection binding us closer.

The gaze we exchange is a ballet of beauty, innocence, and seduction. It’s a look that defies simple description, an intricate dance of emotions that speaks volumes in its subtlety.

And in the solitudes of your voice, the endearing term “love” becomes a melody that resonates through the chambers of my heart. Each utterance is a sweet refrain, a reminder of the symphony that unfolds when our souls harmonize.

In your absence, these yearnings become a narrative, a testament to the profound beauty that resides in the simplicity of our shared moments.

@okelododdychitchats

I proudly embrace my Luo identity, marked by initiation—a testament to the intricate fabric of my cultural journey. While circumcision is an age-old rite of passage for some tribes, not mine, my uniqueness shines through the preservation of my six lower teeth, challenging conventional norms. Does this deviation diminish my Luo essence? The tradition of extracting six lower teeth appears antiquated, while circumcision, thought to have health benefits, is said to reduce HIV risk by 60 percent. The question lingers: Is circumcision a fading tradition or a lasting shield against affliction? I yearn for enlightenment in this captivating dance of tradition and health.

*****

*****

In the rhythmic dance between cherished Luo traditions and the sweeping Western influences,
I find myself intricately navigating the rich mosaic of my identity, embodying the essence of “I am Luo.”
At the right side of my father’s homestead, a symbolic “simba” takes shape,
A familial stronghold where the whispers of ancient customs seamlessly intertwine with the comforts of the modern.

Clasping the homestead gate, my hand meeting the main door’s call,
A chorus of echoes fills the air—an artful fusion where traditional norms harmonize with contemporary comforts.
Within the sanctuary of my bedroom, I assume the role of a lookout man with unwavering pride,
Positioned at the edge of the bed, next to the door, embodying courage and guardianship in a visual symphony.

Essentially, I see myself as a pillar of guidance, protection, and provision for my Luo family,
Resolutely rejecting any role that veers into aggression, embracing a more noble and expansive essence.
As a Luo, I carefully sift through the layers of our cultural narrative, discerning the toxic threads,
Rejecting practices like sleeping with the departed, an idea that my sensibilities simply cannot endure.

The notion of marrying a brother’s widow starkly contrasts with my deeply held Luo beliefs,
These misguided aberrations threaten to tarnish the otherwise noble motif that defines my Luo identity.
A fervent defender of our Luo community’s honor, I stand tall as a sentinel,
Vocalizing my commitment against unfounded allegations, a passionate guardian of our Luo collective identity.

While my love for Luo tribe and community is profound and unwavering,
I resist the gravitational pull of groupthink, standing firm in my Luo individuality.
Assertively navigating the currents of decision-making with a sense of Luo empowerment,
I am not a mere echo but a vividly painted Luo soul, contributing to the symphony of Luo identity in a uniquely authentic Luo melody.

@okelododdychitchats