Who Owns Your Heart ?

Tell me, how many souls are graced with the tender name “babe” upon your lips?
How many hearts beat to the rhythm of your love songs?
Do you truly hold us all, all eight of us, in your heart ?
Does fear not grip you, knowing the potential storms of entwined destinies?

I tremble.
Do Kemunto’s confessions, laid bare on her Instagram stories, not sow seeds of doubt and fear within your own heart?
How do you define love amidst the thorns of suffering that line your path?
Your love seems a storm, lacking in solace, a relentless force that scars the soul. It could be that your love is but a riddle, a confusion of torment.

I ask again, to whom among us do you pledge your eternal troth?
Am I but a pawn in your daily theater, a recipient of hollow promises and veiled deceits?
Your justifications ring hollow in my ears.
Who reigns supreme in the kingdom of your affections, and what pleasure do you glean from this complex dance of emotions?
Does guilt not weigh heavy upon your soul?
How do you go about this hammer-and-tongs sea of passion?
In the end, I concede; it is your prerogative to chart your course as you see fit. My role in this drama reaches its final act.
Who claims dominion over your heart?

@okelododdychitchats

Fear and Desire

Loving someone deeply, it’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling the exhilarating rush of emotions while simultaneously trembling with fear of the unknown. You can sense the depth of your love, like a warm hug wrapping around your soul, but expressing it feels like navigating a puzzle of uncertainties.

The words “I love you” hang heavy on your tongue, like precious gems waiting to be unearthed, yet somehow they remain lodged in the depths of your heart, hesitant to escape. The thought of losing her sends shivers down your spine, like a chilling gust of wind sweeping through your core, leaving you breathless and anxious.

The titles of boyfriend or husband seem like weighty crowns, heavy with expectations and responsibilities you’re not sure you’re ready to bear. The idea of promising forever feels like building a castle on shifting sands, unsure if the foundation will hold against the relentless tides of time.

And the thought of her bearing your name, becoming Mrs. Okelo, feels like drawing a line in the sand, a boundary between the known and the unknown, between comfort and vulnerability. You know you want to be with her, to share your life and dreams, but something holds you back, like invisible chains tethering you to your fears and uncertainties.

You’re haunted by the specter of failed relationships, like ghosts from the past whispering tales of heartbreak and betrayal, leaving scars that refuse to fade. The fear of watching love turn to hate, of seeing the once cherished title of Mrs. Okelo into the bitter resentment of a proud Miss, cuts deep into your soul, a wound that never seems to heal.

But amidst the darkness of doubt and fear, there is a glimmer of hope, a flicker of courage burning bright within you. You want to confront these fears, to unravel their tangled web and emerge stronger on the other side. You may not know how to tackle it, or how you’ll survive it, but you’re willing to take that leap of faith, to face the unknown head-on, because love, true love, is worth every ounce of fear and uncertainty.

@okelododdychitchats

Betrayed !

Who says a typical African man cannot cry?
I’ve shed tears countless times,
The pain was overwhelming,
It cut deep into my soul.
I gave my all in love,
Only to be hurt,
Like searing drops of plastic on tender skin,
Like the agony of removing a tattoo.
It felt as if a dagger pierced my heart…
She deceived me all along,
And I, blinded by love, believed her empty words.
I mistook her companions for friends, for allies,
Yet they were all feasting from her pot,
Or what I once thought was mine.
Was I inadequate?
Or was I simply not enough for her?
I am exhausted,
I cannot endure this any longer.
Even in my realization, I cannot welcome you back,
I’ve become wary after being bitten twice.
Your presence no longer comforts me,
Your touch, once tender, now feels abrasive.
I recoil from your hug,
It’s as though I’m being pricked by thorns.
I cannot continue like this!
I am weary and worn, I am tired !

@okelododdychitchats

The Shoe Shiner

I didn’t grow up sticking to one spot; I’ve got the privilege of recalling three to four places where I spent my childhood. This journey made me lose a few friends along the way, but it turned me into a social butterfly. Making friends has become my forte, and even though they’re not countless, I hold them close to my heart. This weekend, I reunited with buddies I hadn’t seen in thirteen years. Kelline, the always cheerful guy with a deep Luo accent, remembered me for my knack for cleanliness. It’s amusing to think that at the tender age of eleven, I was already a master in the art of shining shoes, making beds, styling uniforms, and harboring a soft spot for the ladies!

Yesterday, I bumped into Apopo Powel, a hilarious pal from high school. He reminded me of our shared past, especially how neat I was. The funny part was how he described everyone else getting stains of uji on their clothes during breakfast, while I miraculously stayed in mint condition. He chuckled about my well-shined shoes and my “don’t touch” trousers. He even marveled at my impressive collection of uniforms in just my first year of high school. Quick recap: I was the shoe shiner back then, and I still know how to keep my kicks looking sharp. Hence, the title of this piece – “The Shoe Shiner.”

I’ve always known I’d leave a lasting impression, akin to a scar reminding you of how you got it. This mark I leave is meant to jog memories of the things I did.

People tend to remember me for various reasons – my pride, persuasive arguments, potential as a lawyer (I plan to pursue this), my shyness around those I hold dear, and my keen sense of style. I find joy in being remembered for positive and impactful qualities. Forget those unrelated things I mentioned earlier; I’m not here to toot my own horn. The point is, I strive to make an impact, and I love it because those close to me also try to leave a memorable mark, something you’d want to cherish if it were physically tangible.

In this era, forming relationships – not just romantic ones but strong friendships and close-knit families – is sometimes seen as old-fashioned. People give it skeptical looks, associating all relationships with potential betrayal. I get it; Gen-Z and millennials can relate. They treat marriage and reconnecting with hometown friends cautiously, fearing envy and potential harm. The village WiFi supposedly has better bandwidth; you can’t hide from it. I don’t blame them; caution is not fear.

Yet, there are still those who believe in robust relationships and hold them dear. What about you? What do you think your close ones remember you for – good or bad? If you’re skeptical about relationships, what caused the trauma? Is there a way to mend it? Let’s have a chat, my friends. We could even explore topics like “Relationships and Betrayal” or “Friendships and Betrayal.” What’s your take?

@okelododdychitchats