In moonlit dreams, Adhiambo dear,
Your absence whispers, drawing near.
Stars reminisce in the night’s embrace,
Yet, your laughter’s echo, time can’t erase.

Through the canvas of time and space,
I long for the warmth of your sweet grace.
In the cadence of silence, I confess,
Every heartbeat echoes your name, no less.

Your essence lingers in each gentle breeze,
A melody of longing, carried with ease.
I miss you like the ocean craves the shore,
Adhiambo, my love, forevermore.

In the gallery of memories, vivid and true,
Painted in hues of love, a portrait of you.
Distance may linger, but love persists,
In the heart’s gallery, where eternity exists.

@okelododdychitchats

In the ballet of qualities that spin beneath her existence, she stands as a masterpiece, a mosaic woven with threads of unparalleled beauty, wisdom, and understanding. Her physicality is a canvas where beauty finds its home, defined and embraced in every curve, every glance.

In the corridors of intellect, she navigates with the grace of a modern-day Solomon, each word a pearl of wisdom strung on the necklace of her eloquence. Her understanding, a gentle current that flows effortlessly, enveloping those around her in a warmth that transcends spoken language.

Love emanates from her like an unceasing river, reaching the very core of those fortunate enough to be embraced by its currents. She doesn’t just express love; she embodies it, making you feel not just acknowledged but wholly accepted in the sanctuary of her affections.

A go-getter, she charts her course through legal avenues, a trailblazer in the pursuit of her goals. She’s not just a dreamer but a diligent architect of her destiny, making ends meet with a tenacity that leaves an indelible mark.

As a culinary artist, she wields her prowess in the kitchen like a sorceress, concocting flavors that transcend the ordinary. Yet, her culinary talents extend beyond the confines of the kitchen, encompassing the art of nurturing, not just her man, but also herself and the sacred space she calls home.

Respect is the currency she trades in, and her interactions with the collective community are a testament to the reverence she imparts. In her presence, respect is not demanded; it is willingly given, a natural response to the authenticity that defines her character.

Easily likeable, she becomes the magnetic force in any room, drawing hearts towards her like moths to a gentle flame. Her allure lies not just in her external charms but in the richness of her soul, a mosaic of virtues that elevates her to a realm beyond ordinary.

In her, all virtues converge, creating a harmonious symphony that resonates with a question that lingers in awe: What else could one possibly ask for, when everything is harmoniously encapsulated under the roof of her being?

@okelododdychitchats

From the very beginning, wrapped in the warmth of love and surrounded by affectionate kisses, life begins its journey. As childhood joy gives way to the stern lessons of community judgments and discipline, the narrative takes a turn. In the carefree days of playful antics, bones are broken, and the repercussions of late-night adventures are felt. The teenage years arrive, bringing physical changes and the discovery of adult preferences. Yet, amidst these transformations, the question echoes: what’s the next act in this unfolding story?

Post-school, life unfolds a series of choices – marriage, starting a family, or embarking on the daunting job hunt. The allure of quick wealth through shady deals lurks in the background. The persistent question persists: what’s the next chapter in this evolving drama?

With the security of a job comes financial stability and a multitude of possibilities. Choices abound – pursue love, revel in singlehood, build a home, or extend support to parents. Once again, the query surfaces: what’s the next move on this life chessboard?

As the years progress and children age, thoughts shift to the prospect of grandchildren and the blissful days of retirement. The fear of death looms, prompting contemplation about what lies beyond the final curtain. What awaits us in the great unknown?

And then, the ultimate mystery: what unfolds after death? A heartfelt plea to God for guidance through the enigma of the afterlife. The persistent inquiry resonates through the ages: what else awaits us in the vast unknown?

@okelododdychitchats

In the whispers of time, they talk about our generation,
Painting a picture of us as a bit off, morally.
We dance to the beat of societal pressures,
But not in doing shady stuff, just feeling lost.
It’s like a dark place, even darker than coal.

But think about this for a moment—
Why go down this confusing path when there are other options?
I’m from this time, and let me tell you,
It’s not like it used to be.
Remember when finishing school meant a good job and a comfy life?
Now, it’s more like finding out life’s not what you were told.
Sixteen years in school, and all I got is a ticket to being broke.

So, they do what they do for the money,
And I’m not judging. It’s their life, you know?
At the end of the day, the results matter,
As long as they’re not taking from us.

They dive into TikTok and memes,
Doing their thing in a way that’s just us—the meme generation.
In all the jokes and funny stuff, there’s comfort,
A break from the loudness of real life.
So, let them do their thing, let us do our thing.
Hold off on the judgments,
Because in this big picture of life, our stories
Will unfold in their own time.

In the face of all the opinions out there,
We stand strong, waving the flag of our generation.
We find comfort in the short-lived joy of memes.
Don’t be too quick to judge,
Because as we journey through life,
We’re just looking for a laugh that echoes
Through the hallways of our shared experiences.

@okelododdychitchats

Ah, the chronicles of Wednesday, the day that wore the ominous cloak of horror and draped it upon our hapless protagonist. It wasn’t just the run-of-the-mill not-good; no, it was the kind that sends shivers down your spine, the sort that makes you question your life choices and contemplate the meaning of existence, all before lunch.

The aftermath of Wednesday left our hero in a state of unproductivity, weariness, and an alarming lack of fulfillment. It was as if the universe itself had declared a midweek crisis, with life feeling like a poorly rehearsed play hurtling towards its dismal end. But fear not, for today is Thursday, a day that beckons for redemption and renewal.

Summoning the strength of purpose like a motivational wizard, our protagonist vowed to seize the day, because, let’s face it, if they don’t do it for themselves, who will? Thus, Thursday unfolds, and our intrepid hero issues a command to the universe: “Be good!”

Drawing wisdom from the proverbial well, “siku njema huonekana asubuhi” (a good day is recognized in the morning), the day seems to dawn with promise. A cautious optimism fills the air, as if Thursday itself is whispering, “Fear not, I come in peace.”

Today’s checklist includes avoiding the peculiar ritual of bathing twice, once voluntarily and the other not so much. The rain, mercifully, has refrained from turning the morning into a dusty spectacle. The delicate alchemy of coffee, sugar, and milk has been mastered, offering a moment of caffeinated nirvana.

And lo and behold, smiles have replaced the migranous and tensionous headaches that plagued yestermorn. At least for now, Thursday seems to be behaving, not putting up a struggle against waking up, and allowing a sip of water to be a simple pleasure, not a battle.

Ending well is the grand aspiration. No fear, no stress; a departure from the feeling of life slipping through fingers. Productivity and fulfillment are sought, with a desire for fewer melancholic messages. Thursday is not just another day; it’s a transformative force, a catalyst for redefining the very essence of ‘good’ in the dictionary.

May Thursday usher our protagonist through its realms with the utmost politeness, offering a taste of enduring goodness. Let it be a day so divine that it could be mistaken for a celestial gift, a respite from the chaos of the week. Thursday, be the beacon of benevolence, the godsend that turns the tide of fate in our hero’s favor.

@okelododdychitchats

With an artist’s tender touch, I’d sketch a portrait of your essence, a masterpiece revealing to the world the poetry etched in your beauty.

In melodic whispers, my voice would be a serenade, a tribute echoing the divine artistry that sculpted you to perfection.

Within the symphony of words, I’d pen an ode, each line a brushstroke intricately woven, crafting a tapestry that captures the wonder of your being.

As a dreamweaver sculptor, I’d mold your likeness into tangible art, placing it on the streets—a public gallery celebrating the blessing of the living masterpiece among us.

If my voice echoed like Jeff Koinange’s, I’d employ it as a poetic instrument, broadcasting praises for your world-class beauty through the rhythmic waves of radio and television.

Empowered to own the streets, I’d transform them into a canvas, every corner adorned with visual hymns—captured fragments of your essence for the world to behold.

Given the chance, I’d unveil you to the world, not merely as a canvas of physical allure but as a living narrative, a chronicle of character deserving widespread praise and admiration.

@okelododdychitchats.

I find myself trembling in fear,
A fear so profound, it’s akin to a deaf bat’s unease,
Or a fish ensnared in the suffocating grasp of plastic,
Perhaps, like a rabbit trapped in a wolf’s menacing den.

My anxiety extends even to my own shadow,
A lurking concern that it might betray me with a sudden stab.
Each step I take is a cautious dance on the precipice,
Afraid that the ground beneath might crumble,
Leaving me with a shattered leg, forever unable to walk.

Boarding a car becomes a harrowing gamble,
Uncertainty whispers that it might plunge into an abyss,
Consigning me to an unforeseen, tragic end.

Even the act of eating becomes a nerve-racking ordeal,
A simple banana transforming into a potential choking hazard on an ominous day.

In this symphony of fear, everything seems to be a threat,
A relentless cascade of worry that leaves me pondering,
What will transpire next in the unpredictable theater of life?

The pendulum swings between joy and sorrow,
Life’s unpredictable metamorphosis from existence to oblivion,
From elation to despair, from love to bitter hatred,
A rollercoaster that petrifies me to my core.

My feet, as if weakly glued to the ground,
Tremble with an intensity that mirrors my inner turmoil.
I stand on the precipice of uncertainty,
Anxious, as if pleading for a divine manual,
A roadmap from this moment to the inevitable finale.

The very essence of living becomes a source of cold sweat,
As I grapple with the unknown that awaits me.
Yet, even in the midst of this fear, there is a desire to break free,
To escape the confining shell that restrains me.

@okelododdychitchats

---

Picture this: on a night colder than your ex’s heart, Cornelius and I found ourselves in our favorite drinking spot, nursing the last sips of our German beer, the kind that’s darker than my dating history. But there was nothing amusing about Cornelius – the guy who usually radiates happiness looked like he just binge-watched a season of sad movies.

So, being the good friend and amateur therapist I am, I asked Cornelius what in the world had him looking like the star of a tragic romance novel. Turns out, his four-year love story with Shiko had hit a plot twist that even Shakespeare would find a bit much. Love had done a 180 on him – from a rom-com to a horror show. Happiness was on vacation, and acceptance had filed for divorce. Love had turned into its evil twin: hate.

Let me paint the backdrop here: Cornelius, our man, had just landed a cushy accounting job after what felt like a never-ending era of being broke. Naturally, he thought, “Time to bring Shiko into the picture!” Enter the ‘come we stay’ relationship – the budget-friendly edition of marriage. No dowry, no wedding, just two people, a house, and hopefully, some shared Netflix passwords.

Now, here’s the kicker – Cornelius, a proud Luo from the village, was dancing the tango of love with Shiko, a Kikuyu. In Kenya, that’s like mixing oil and water or trying to unite cats and dogs. But hey, love knows no tribe, right? Their parents, surprisingly progressive, gave the thumbs up, breaking stereotypes faster than a speeding bullet.

Fast forward to the sitcom part of the story: Shiko started acting like she was auditioning for a role in a soap opera. Moody, rude – basically the opposite of the woman Cornelius fell for. She even had a mysterious “uncle” on speed dial, disappearing every weekend like she was part of a witness protection program.

Despite the red flags waving like crazy, Cornelius, in true African man fashion, endured silently. Days turned into weeks, and he went from ‘Loving Husband’ to ‘Detective Cornelius.’ Long story short, he discovered Shiko’s secret messages and realized he was starring in a drama he never auditioned for.

So there we were, Cornelius and I, drowning his heartbreak in beer darker than the turn of events in his love life. As he poured out his woes, I couldn’t help but think, “Man, Shakespeare would’ve loved this tragic comedy.”

I reassured him that this messy chapter in his life was just a plot twist, not the whole damn story. We’d flip the script, turn the page, and one day, we’d reminisce about this bizarre rom-com that had more twists than a rollercoaster.

As we clinked our beer mugs in a toast to new beginnings, I told Cornelius, “Life just handed you a lemon-flavored plot twist, my friend. Let’s make some damn good lemonade – the kind that’s so good, it overshadows the bitter taste of heartbreak.”

And so, with laughter as our soundtrack, we embraced the uncertainty of tomorrow, because, after all, nothing dulls life’s drama like a good dose of humor and the promise that the best stories are yet to be written. Cheers to the next chapter, my friend – may it be filled with more love, laughter, and a plot that even Hollywood would envy.

@okelododdychitchats

Last eve draped in shadows and frost,
Embraced by a haze of haunting echoes,
No solace found, only nightmares persist,
Yet, not the loss of kin,
Nor the parting of the love intertwined,
Nor the sacrifice of limb on an oily road’s cruel whim.

Upon waking, the dreams clung tenaciously,
A relentless encore of enigma,
Was it the arboreal neglect on National Tree Planting Day,
A penance for not sowing seeds of green benevolence?
I pondered, lost in the maze of surreal cognition,
What cosmic symbol does this foretell?

Restless, my limbs adhered to the icy ground,
Head turned, fixated on the wardrobe,
Blood cascading from my nostrils, forming the mysterious number 11.
A tableau of confusion painted before me,
Questions echoed in the silent chamber,
What sorcery is this?
What metamorphosis engulfs my essence?

Fear, a voracious predator, devoured reason,
I stood, paralyzed by my own shadow,
Averse to the embrace of slumber,
Terrified of the unknown, even within the realm of dreams.
What cryptic message lies within this enigmatic sequence?

@okelododdychitchats

Bana, let me tell you, times are tougher than trying to open a packet of crisps with greasy fingers. I mean, I just checked my wallet, and it’s so empty, it echoes when I scream into it. Money has decided to take a marathon with these economy legs, sprinting away like it’s in a cash Olympics. We can’t keep up – it’s like playing tag with a gazelle, and I’m always ‘it.’

I’ve been living on the edge of brokeville for days. My pocket is so barren; even the dust bunnies have packed up and left for greener pastures. But fear not, my friend, Ogutu Brian Mark, the financial savior, emerged from the shadows today, sending me a whopping 30 bob. International folks, that’s a solid 0.21 dollars, or as I like to call it, “economic confetti.”

With that 30 bob, I became a budgeting ninja. I spent 20 bob on a ngumu and a sachet of sugar to concoct a cup of tea that could raise the Titanic – tea for the strong-hearted but financially feeble. That meal, my friend, handled my hunger like a quarterly report, leaving me with a victorious 10 bob.

But seriously, what in the name of a government is going on? It’s like they’re taxing everything, including the air we breathe. I heard they’re considering taxing daydreaming; you close your eyes for too long, and there goes another shilling. I even heard they’re taxing taxes; pay a tax for every tax you pay. It’s so confusing; I feel like I need a tax consultant just to navigate my way to the bathroom.

And don’t get me started on the job market; it’s so dry, even the Sahara is jealous. People are graduating left and right, but there are fewer job opportunities than there are uses for a chocolate teapot. Investors are fleeing the scene like it’s a sinking ship, and who can blame them? Trying to make a profit here is like trying to find a needle in a haystack during a solar eclipse.

In conclusion, bwana, it’s clear you can’t tax a nation into prosperity. It’s like trying to water a plant with soda – it might look promising at first, but in the end, you’re left with a sticky mess and a plant that’s more confused than a chameleon in a bag of Skittles. So, let’s all hope for a brighter financial future, where the only thing taxed is our patience.

@okelododdychitchats