Beneath the bus’s relentless hum, wheels turning in a tireless rhyme,
Her presence, an unmoving statue, rooted to the bus floor’s time,
She gazed out the window, lost in contemplation profound,
A silent observer of the trees, dancing to the bus’s rhythmic sound.

The weight of her worries etched on her rosy cheeks, clear,
Invisible burdens she carried, in the depths of her heart’s sphere,
Something had transpired, casting shadows on her soul,
Preventing her from self-care, an empty, unattainable goal.

But deep within, I sensed a hidden, authentic self,
Concealed by the veil of her suffering, a cry for help,
What were the secrets that her troubled mind concealed?
Was it despair, loneliness, or wounds yet unhealed?

Had she succumbed to the belief of her unworthiness,
Thinking she’d borne too much to deserve life’s happiness?
Yet, every soul deserves a chance to thrive, to be free,
To embrace the world’s gifts, with hope and destiny.

With trembling hands, I gently tapped her weary shoulder’s grace,
My voice trembled as I inquired, the concern in my face,
Startled, she turned, breaking the silence’s enduring trance,
For the first time in hours, she met a stranger’s empathetic glance.

Her words flowed, heavy with despair, “the world, unjust and cold,
I don’t deserve to exist,” the painful story she told,
I didn’t delve into the depths of her sorrow, but I tried,
To sow seeds of hope, purpose, and worth deep inside.

A faint smile touched her lips, and softly she said, “Thank you.”
In that moment, a connection formed, a lifeline anew.

@okeloddychitchats

Ah, the adventures of a morning commute, full of drama and surprises. So, there I was, stuck in traffic in this Ummoiner Matatu, lips shining like Wuon Song’s Mandas, thanks to that lip gloss gift from the beautiful girl who cares about me. Apparently, Vaseline just didn’t cut it for my lips anymore – now I smell like chocolate, and I’m not complaining.

As I bobbed my head to some loud Naija music, I couldn’t help but people-watch. I observed folks scurrying in pairs, trying to avoid puddles caused by heavy rains. They slowed down, attempting dramatic leaps over mini-lakes. And, a wicked thought crossed my mind: what if one of them face-planted? I mean, I’d probably laugh, not that I’m heartless, but that “Woiyee” sympathy is too real.

But then, amidst my musings on the absurdity of life, I stumbled upon a real-life soap opera – a couple in the middle of a street showdown. The man, cool as a cucumber, was clearly in the wrong; you could tell by his super calm demeanor. His apparent restraint hinted at his awareness of wrongdoing, for it was the kind of calm one adopts when words can only make matters worse. Meanwhile, the lady was all riled up, with mud-stained nightwear. She followed him, seeking justice right there on the side of Jogoo road. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. The crowd gathered around, forming an unintentional audience, blocking my view, but not my fascination.

As the lady’s voice crescendoed into a storm of unprintable words and accusations, I couldn’t help but wonder about the aftermath of this public spectacle. Who would carry this humiliation back into their home? And what about their children, if they had any? These kids didn’t sign up for a front-row seat to their parents’ relationship drama. 

And then, the lady unleashed her ultimate weapon – the bombshell accusation. “You’re sleeping around with other women, and I don’t even know if I’m sick!” Her voice echoed, and she demanded to know where the man had been the previous night. At that moment, it was clear as day – the man was indeed in the wrong.

The growing crowd only added to the sitcom atmosphere. I pondered who might play the role of the heroic interloper, hoping for a guest appearance by a caped crusader. As the lady accused her spouse of a rough marriage, I wondered if they were auditioning for a reality TV show, “Jogoo Road Drama: Relationship Rescue Edition.”

Just as I thought this bizarre episode might reach a climactic finale, the traffic began to move. My comedic soliloquy on the human condition was cut short as we approached the bustling town center. The laughter lingered, reminding me that life often serves up the most unexpected sitcom moments. Two wrongs may never make a right, but they sure can make for great entertainment.

As we arrived in the city, my thoughts turned to the couple. Though their dispute had been a public spectacle, it was clear that their love had become a three-ring circus, complete with acrobatics, clowns, and a roaring audience. I pondered the wisdom of airing one’s dirty laundry in public and the unintended hilarity that sometimes ensues. Life had moved on, but the memory of that peculiar scene would forever be etched in my comedic hall of fame.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of that couple’s surreal performance and the absurdity of it all. In the end, I realized that life’s satire moments may be fleeting, but they leave behind a legacy of laughter, reminding us that even in the midst of chaos, there’s room for a good-natured “Woiyee” and a hearty laugh.

@okelododdychitchats.

Deep within the knots of my heart’s chambers,
I cradle your love with a touch that lingers, holding your tongue and mouth in an embrace,
It is you, my irreplaceable muse, whom I crave for the most,
In a night shrouded in an abyss of darkness and the biting cold’s embrace,
Your presence radiates like a supernova, casting out all my fears,
You, my unwavering fortress of strength.

In this world where riches are elusive, I bask in opulence through your love,
I sense it transcending the mundane,
This fervent love for you ignites a blaze within my very soul,
As I sit here, cloaked in solitude, my every waking thought consumed by you,
As dawn embarks on its journey, inching closer to its destination,
And the soft light of daybreak triumphs over the lingering shadows, inviting morning’s tender touch,
I remain a silent spectator,
Envisioning the grand tapestry of our unwritten future, a story yet to unfold.

@okelododdychitchats

The sun is setting down the hills, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a breathtaking transition from day to night.

Darkness smoothly emerges, ready to take the reins from its fraternal twin brother, the light. I find myself seated at the Jobless corner, surrounded by an ambiance of quiet anticipation. My eyes feast upon “Earthly Things,” captivated by their allure, yet not fully satisfying my inner yearning.

The weather is frigid, sending a shiver down my spine as the air swirls with a medley of scents, although it’s ultimately dominated by the pervasive perfume of dust lingering around the Multimedia University carwash. A vast expanse that has absorbed the day’s rainfall, yet still, dust lingers perceptibly in the air. In this moment, nature’s resilience and dominance over man’s creations become evident.

As the darkness settles in, my senses awaken. I perceive the world with a heightened awareness, even though my eyes alone may not suffice. My ears become finely tuned, capturing the symphony of the night. My nose seems to hear the scents better, each aroma distinct and telling a story of its own.

The rich comrades lean to my left, their laughter and banter echoing in the stillness of the evening. The weight of an empty stomach weighs on my right, reminding me that another night has arrived, and I’ve yet to partake in a meal. I remain seated, still Jobless, in the Jobless corner, observing the world with a keener sense of appreciation for the subtleties that the night unveils.

@okelododdychitchats

As the sun dipped below the horizon on this serene Saturday evening, an air of anticipation filled the atmosphere. The city was on the brink of transformation as the impending curfew loomed, and the streets were a hive of frenzied activity. Pedestrians hurried along, their hurried footsteps echoing with an urgency that defied the encroaching darkness.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the city’s pre-curfew rush, I found myself standing by a dimly lit window, my surroundings bathed in semi-darkness. It was at this very moment that a remarkable sight caught my attention – a face, delicate and captivating, was framed by the window’s edges.

Despite my natural short-sightedness and the dim light, the beauty of the face shone brilliantly. Her hair, meticulously styled, cascaded down one side, while the other side revealed the flawless, unadorned canvas of her skin. Her features were a symphony of perfection: beguiling eyes, a nose of exquisite symmetry, and lips that possessed not only a delightful shade but also an enticing allure. It was a visage that defied the limitations of my vision and left an indelible impression on my heart.

As I continued to admire this enchanting face, it felt as though time itself had paused, allowing me to savor the moment. The bustling city outside faded into a distant murmur, and all that remained was the captivating image before me.

With a gentle, fleeting smile, the face behind the window slowly turned away, disappearing into the night. In that brief encounter, I had witnessed a fleeting glimpse of beauty, a moment suspended in time. The memory of that radiant face would stay with me, an enduring spark of fascination in the midst of the city’s chaos, a reminder of the unexpected moments of grace that can be found even in the most hurried and uncertain of times.

@okelododdychitchats

In life, the threads of existence are woven with both joy and sorrow, love and loss. It is a journey that takes us through the vibrant spectrum of human emotions. In the following words, we explore the essence of life, the pain of parting, and the elusive concept of the afterlife, all through the lens of heartfelt prose and poetry.

Shilton Dinda’s departure from this world happened just the other night. Let’s pause for a moment of silence. But before I proceed, let me leave these words for you, my brother. I hope you can access and read them in the afterlife. It takes hope to believe that the departed can still see, hear, and read, even if they can’t talk.

To Shilton,

A noble soul now finds peace, at rest,
Claimed by life’s harsh and unyielding test,
In the quiet of mortality, talent’s flame subsides,
I’m speechless, my sorrow I can’t hide.

Asego Yenga mourns a profound loss,
In this grief’s depths, we’re firmly tossed,
The pain runs deep, a wound that won’t mend,
I search for words, but sorrow won’t end.

Rest peacefully, Wuod Miranga, embraced by slumber’s grace,
Your spirit soars in a better place,
Though we weep and our hearts are heavy with dread,
Your memory lives on in our souls, forever widespread.

@doddyokelo

Is there an afterlife? As a child, I heard that after death, we go to heaven, a place of eternal peace, filled with milk and honey. I hope those stories weren’t mere myths. I hope they’re true because, firstly, I want to meet God face to face and ask Him many questions. Secondly, I long to reunite with family, friends, and loved ones who left this world prematurely to join the living in heaven. I want them to welcome me with joy, guide me around, and make me feel at home. I don’t want to be a stranger in heaven.

Growing up, I didn’t fully grasp the concept of death. I believed it was an eternal slumber for those who endured intense pain, given that sickness and accidents caused it. My dad’s passing in 2002 when I was just four years old desensitized me for a while. I thought it was as natural as the sun rising and setting. I believed it only targeted adults who had lived a bit. But when my playmate and dear friend, Abubakar Sidik (Abu), left us in 2005, the pain hit me deep. It felt like someone was melting hot plastic on my tender heart. I wept, knowing we’d never meet again. However, my mom consoled me, assuring me that Abu was in a better place, and we’d meet in the afterlife. My only concern was whether he’d remember me and where I’d find him in the corners of heaven. The concept of the afterlife gave me hope.

Life went on, and people continued to leave our world, stolen away by death. The grim reality began to sink in, and I started to worry. Who would be taken next? I fear death, and who wouldn’t?

Skipping ahead, our hearts, or at least mine, continue to suffer at the hands of death. I keep questioning and trying to solve the puzzle, the enigma of death. If God loves us, why would He allow our lives to be so short? And if heaven is a better place free from suffering, why are we here on Earth if He loves us? I haven’t found the answers yet, just as I’ve never considered death to be normal.

We’ve lost many people, some in unimaginable ways, like Cynthia, Olela, Hillary, and Phill, who were here one moment and gone the next. It’s very traumatic. By the way, Phill was one of my best friends; he passed away in 2017, and his memory still lingers in my mind. I haven’t fully come to terms with it, even six years later. It’s still haunting and saddening. Death is painful, and every time a soldier falls, it’s like a piece of me breaks. It’s a long-lasting heartache.

To cut a long story short, good souls have found rest, never to return, yet I still don’t comprehend why or how. The puzzle is as perplexing as rocket science, remaining unsolved. It leaves us with nothing but pain. In these moments of reflection, we’re reminded of the fragility of life, the profound impact of loss, and the enduring questions that linger about the afterlife. Perhaps these musings offer solace and understanding, or maybe they are but stepping stones on a path to deeper comprehension. Regardless, to those fallen soldiers, we will always miss you. I wanted to mention each of you by name, but the list is long. The thought of you still brings tears to my eyes, and my heart still aches. It feels unfair, but they say it’s life, and God has a reason. Keep resting in peace, my people

@okelododdychitchats.

Memories, delicate as a caged bird, flutter within the confines of my mind, refusing to be forgotten. They wander the corridors of my thoughts, like specters, leaving no space for other recollections to find a home.

Yet, at the mere mention of her name, the specter of pain reawakens, its relentless grip refusing to let go. It’s a torment that I detest, but who truly revels in such agony?

I find myself ensnared, a prisoner to the echoes of her love. The desire to move on is there, but it’s as if invisible chains hold me captive, preventing me from escaping the haunting shadow of her affection.

It’s as if her love was etched into my very skin, an indelible tattoo, a constant reminder of what was and what can never be again. Every attempt to break free from this emotional straitjacket only leads to more anguish.

The crux of the matter is, she’s no longer by my side; her heart now resides in another’s embrace, and I’m left grappling with the lingering phantoms of our lost love.

@okelododdychitchats.

I absolutely love rhumba music, especially Fally Ipupa’s tunes. But, you know, sometimes on those tough days, I end up listening to those heart-wrenching Luo gospel songs. It’s weird how my music mood can flip so fast, just like how your day can go from happy to sad in a snap.

I’ve got this kind of funny idea that when I play those sad songs, it’s like God is nodding in sympathy up there, not really listening, but giving a little pat on the back, saying, “I get it, buddy.” It’s a bit unrealistic, I know, but we all have our quirks.

But here’s the thing, does it actually make me feel better? Does some magical miracle happen? Nope, no miracles in sight. These songs just make me even sadder and gloomier. And it makes me wonder, why do they even make such sad songs in the first place? I mean, who came up with that idea?

The toughest part, though, is how hard it is to switch from those tearjerkers to something like Fally Ipupa’s upbeat “Mayday.” It’s like going from a cozy blanket to an icy snowstorm.

Now, picture this: It was a regular Sunday, and I was just minding my own business when I got hit with a bombshell. Anna, the confidence-boosting babe of mine, suddenly drops a text bomb: “It’s over.” Then, to add insult to injury, she goes and blocks me because her phone apparently decided to join the breakup party too.

I mean, really? Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I have a sneaking suspicion that my dwindling bank balance might’ve had something to do with her swift exit. And I’m willing to bet my last dollar that she ran off to that “cousin” of hers, the one she visited every Friday to Monday morning. You know, the guy she wouldn’t stop raving about, the one she exchanged those dreaded “I love yous” with.

So, naturally, on that lovely Sunday, it felt like the perfect time to indulge in my go-to sad song, “Dag gi geno.” I reached for the remote, ready to switch from my brother Vin’s Ferre Gola obsession, “Court Circuit.” I thought maybe, just maybe, God would see my pitiful state and send Anna back like he did with manna from heaven for the Israelites.

But then, as I was about to make the switch, it hit me like a lightning bolt. I was essentially asking for divine sympathy to help me break a few commandments yet again, to give in to the temptations of the flesh. Where do these thoughts even come from during such trying times? Guiltily, I dropped the remote, letting Ferre’s “Court Circuit” take over, and I scurried off to my bedroom to have a premium crying session.

So, in conclusion, my journey through the realms of rhumba, tear-jerking Luo gospel, and heartbreak has taught me a thing or two. Life’s like a musical rollercoaster, and our tastes can flip faster than a pancake in a hot skillet. We may think God’s up there, giving a sympathetic nod to our musical woes, but in reality, it’s just us trying to make sense of it all.

But when the music dies down, and the tears flow, there’s a silver lining. Sure, Anna left, and my heart aches, but I’ve found solace in singlehood. It turns out you don’t need a thick babe to groove through life. Sometimes, the best company is your own, your tunes, and a carefree heart.

As for those crazy thoughts that pop up in challenging times, well, they’re just a part of being human. We’re all a little weird sometimes, especially when our emotions are on a rollercoaster ride. It’s all about finding your way back to sanity, even if it means shedding a few premium tears.

So, my friends, embrace the symphony of life, ride the emotional waves, and remember, it’s okay to dance to your own rhythm, with or without a partner. After all, in this journey of life, the music keeps playing, and the show must go on.


@okelododdychitchats

He fell in love again, bright, cheered up and full of hope he looked
Into her eyes, a 24-year-old Luo girl, skin kissed by the sun
She bore the grace of neither slim nor fleshy, a blend of beauty and curves so divine
Her legs were exquisite, he marveled at her legs, and the elegance of her sculpted neck

He kept gazing at her neck, like an artist captivated by his muse
An obsession that knew no bounds

Was it truly an obsession?
He couldn’t tell, but he found himself lost in thoughts, whispering her name in the oddest of places
In the depths of his slumber, her name slipped from his lips
Pictures of her adorned his screens, her presence etched in his mind
He dared to declare, “I love you,” a phrase once imprisoned, now released with ease

Pet names, the kind lovers share, began to flow from his lips
He transformed from a “Taliban” to a simp, inching closer to saving her name with heart emojis
Yet, a teasing laugh from his friend, Laurent Adongo, brought him back from the edge
Leaving the name hanging, emoji-less, out of a blush of shame

He fell in love again,
Defying his firm resolve, he had sworn never to love again
He had even said, “Over my dead body,” but destiny had other plans.

For in the unpredictable dance of fate, where hearts and souls entwine,
He discovered a love more profound than he’d ever known,
A love that defied his expectations and reshaped his very being.
In this unfolding chapter of life, he learned that sometimes, our hearts lead us down uncharted paths,
Guided not by choice, but by the unseen hand of destiny.

@okelododdychitchats

At the tender age of four, my father departed,
Leaving an enduring ache within, reality had me thwarted.
I questioned God’s love, in moments of despair,
Why would He cause such sadness ?

I knew so little then, innocence held my view,
Unaware and exposed, my young heart feeling askew.
I thought he slumbered, within that closed domain,
But why in a wooden box, in silence’s long chain?

I called to him, my pleas unanswered, left me sad,
Why doesn’t Daddy respond? A feeling, so bad.
Rejection’s sting, it struck me, a pain so sharp,
He was gently laid to rest,
Beside my grandmother’s house, in a rectangular hole he lay,
I gazed around, grown-ups weeping, their tears held at bay.
I wondered who had hurt them, for in my childlike view,
Crying meant someone was beaten, but why were they all so blue?

Confusion wrapped my thoughts, my sister by my side,
She whispered, “Daddy’s gone,” a truth I couldn’t hide.
“What is this death?” I asked, in my innocence so sweet,
Soon, I grasped the truth that Daddy couldn’t wake from his sleep.

Love for him, aching within, his care so complete,
He signed me up for karate, I wanted to be like him.
But now we were a family with one hand, forever incomplete,
My mother, at twenty-six, a widow’s fate to meet.

I still miss him, his presence in every way,
But fate can be unkind, taking loved ones away.
It’s why I both fear and don’t, the concept of our end,
But our mother, she stepped in, as our rock, our dearest friend.

To Dad, may your soul rest in eternal peace’s embrace,
Life with you would have been different,
You chose a strong woman, and in her, we found grace,
A superwoman, both dad and mom, in one loving face.

@okelododdychitchats