The Burden of Being

They say men drag themselves to hell,
As if each step they take is a burden,
As if the weight of their struggles,
Their pride, their pain,
Should remain hidden,
Silent, unspoken.
And when a man is wronged,
When his dignity is stripped away,
When his worth is questioned,
They turn away,
As if it’s his fight to bear alone.
No one speaks up, no one defends,
He’s left to pick up the pieces,
His bruises ignored.

Have you ever seen
What happens when a man’s life is taken?
How the story shifts,
How the reason for his death is twisted,
Explained away,
As if it’s somehow justifiable,
As if it’s easier to accept
If the pain can be rationalized,
If the wrong can be painted in a different light.
The truth is bent,
The facts contorted,
Until the sharp edges of injustice
Are softened, made palatable.

Why is it only wrong when it doesn’t fit the narrative?
When a man’s struggle doesn’t meet the approval of those who’ve never walked in his shoes?
When the pain doesn’t match their prescription of how things should be,
Why do they bend and twist the story to make it easier to understand?
Why is it that the wrongs done to a man are shrugged off,
Ignored, forgotten,
Until they can no longer be ignored?
Is it because they expect him to endure quietly?
To accept disrespect as part of his place in the world?

Why must we turn a blind eye when a man is dismissed,
When he’s disrespected,
When his value is diminished,
As if he doesn’t deserve the same empathy,
The same respect,
The same justice?
Why do we question his pain,
His frustration,
When he’s left standing alone,
Fighting battles that no one else sees?
Is it because he’s a man,
And somehow, his hurt is less?
Somehow, he’s expected to rise without the help of others?

It’s a sad, painful truth that we live in a world
Where some lives are weighed differently,
Where some struggles are minimized,
Where the wrongs done to men are excused,
Simply because they’re men.
But when will we see that pain is pain,
That disrespect is still wrong,
That when a man’s dignity is stolen,
When he’s pushed down,
When he’s wronged,
It’s just as heavy, just as real
As the wrongs done to anyone else?

I won’t stand for it.
I won’t accept it.
I believe we can do better.
I believe we can rise beyond these broken rules,
Beyond these silent expectations,
And see each other for what we truly are,
Human.
Every one of us, deserving of dignity,
Deserving of respect.
And maybe, just maybe,
When we stop justifying wrongs,
When we stop twisting the truth,
We can heal, together.
Men, women, everyone,
Equal in our worth,
Equal in our struggle,
And equal in our right to be seen,
To be heard, to rise.

@okelododdychitchats

Pieces of Me

I’m not stubborn about most things. 
I want to change, I really do, but not everything. 
There are pieces of me I just can’t let go of,
Like my accent, which always feels like home.
Or my style, which speaks for me without a word.
And my team, Manchester Red, through the wins, the losses, and the heartbreaks. I stick!
Those are pieces of me I’ll never trade. 

But some things? I’ll leave behind. 
I’ll swap the bars for church,
Trade the noise for peace, 
Let my spirit find rest in quieter places. 
I’ll keep my screen time, I’m not ready to fight that battle,
But I’ll change what I’m watching. 
No more wanking to strangers’ explicit tapes.
No more moments that leave me feeling emptier than before. 
Instead, I’ll open a Bible. 
Not promising to be holy, 
But I’ll seek meaning in verses rather than fleeting thrills. 

And that muscle, that restless, familiar muscle?
It’s time I show it some respect.
But you better behave too.

 I sit, thinking about what stays and what goes. 
The pieces of me that make me who I am,
my voice, my name, my roots,
those will always be mine. 
But I’m ready to grow. 
Not all at once, but slowly,
Like a tide reshaping the shoreline,
like a man learning to carry himself differently. 

I’m not stubborn,   
I’m just figuring it out. 
Step by step, choice by choice,
trying to become someone better
without losing the parts of me that matter most.

….. And to you all , this isn’t a series of “we listen but we don’t judge.”

@okelododdychitchats

Satan in Police Uniform

They move in the shadows, wrapped in authority, 
their uniforms a disguise for something darker. 
A badge and a gun, symbols of trust twisted into weapons. 
On paper, they protect and serve; in reality, they haunt and harm. 

Power courses through their veins, 
but it’s not the kind that uplifts or safeguards. 
It’s a corrosive kind, the kind that feeds on fear, 
the kind that turns innocence into prey. 

On the streets, they’re hunters, 
eyes scanning for someone to corner, to crush. 
False evidence is their craft, lies their currency. 
They prey on the vulnerable, pushing them into shadows. 

The weak, the forgotten, the ones who can’t fight back,
they bear the brunt of this corrupted force. 
Bribes line their pockets, alliances with criminals keep them untouchable. 
Justice isn’t blind here, it’s gagged and bound. 

Protests ignite, voices rise, demanding change. 
But the response? Tear gas. Batons. Intimidation. 
They smother dissent, silence the brave. 
Their version of order is built on control, not fairness. 

Yet, amidst the suffocating darkness, 
there’s a pulse, a defiance, a refusal to submit. 
The people are waking up, shedding their fear, 
realizing the strength in their numbers, their voices. 

For every tear shed, every injustice endured, 
a reckoning grows closer. 
Their power is borrowed, fleeting. 
The truth is louder. Justice is inevitable. 

And to those cloaked in uniforms, wielding corruption,
your time is running out. 

@okelododdychitchats

Lost in Her Eyes

I sat down beside her, not thinking she’d notice, 
But as soon as I settled, her eyes found me,
Piercing and intense, they seemed to see through, 
I couldn’t meet her look, my heart didn’t know what to do. 

Her eyes were like fire, burning bright and clear, 
I felt myself drawn in, overcome with fear. 
What did she want from me? 
I couldn’t read her expression, I felt so weak. 

Minutes passed like hours, I couldn’t look away. 
Her stare held me captive, I wanted to stay. 
But the pressure was too much, I had to break free, 
I finally looked up, into eyes that could see. 

They were pools of emotion, deep and sincere, 
I felt myself falling, pulled closer, drawn near. 
Her eyes spoke volumes without a sound, 
I was lost in their depths, nowhere to be found. 

I tried to speak, but my voice betrayed me, 
Her stare held me frozen, I couldn’t break free. 
Was this a dream, or was it real? 
I couldn’t tell, how did she feel? 

Her eyes carried a story, one untold, 
I wanted to understand,
But fear held me back, kept me at a loss, 
Her eyes were a mystery, with paths to cross. 

As I sat beside her, lost in her eyes, 
I knew deep down I was caught in a tide. 
But I couldn’t resist, I wanted to know 
What secrets her eyes held, where they might go. 

The minutes turned to hours, the hours to days, 
I was lost in her look, a mesmerizing haze. 
But as time went on, I began to see, 
Her eyes held a truth, a key to me. 

They were windows to her soul, a reflection of light, 
I saw myself in them, with newfound sight. 
I sat down beside her, not thinking she’d notice, 
But in the end, her eyes unlocked my focus. 

So I sat beside her, lost in her eyes, 
And in that moment, I finally realized,
Her stare was a mirror, reflecting me, 
And through her eyes, I could truly see. 

As I looked deeper, into her soul, 
I found a connection that made me whole. 
Her eyes held a power, a pull so strong, 
I knew in that moment where I belonged. 

I sat down beside her, not thinking she’d notice, 
But in the end, her eyes brought me solace. 
I found myself there, in her steady look, 
And in her look, my own reflection shook.

@okelododdychitchats

I can See It

The tunnel feels never-ending
A vast expanse of darkness
Thick and suffocating
But I keep pushing forward
Searching for that distant light
That flicker of hope in the distance

My feet are weary
My heart heavy with doubt
But I press on
For I know that the light
Is my salvation
My guiding star in the abyss

I stumble over rocks
And trip on my own fears
But I pick myself up
Dust off my doubts
And keep moving forward
Towards that glimmer of hope

The wind howls around me
Whipping through my hair
Stinging my cheeks with cold
But I am undeterred
For I know that the light
Is worth every hardship

I close my eyes
And imagine the warmth
Of the sun on my face
The gentle caress of a breeze
And I am filled with renewed determination
To reach the end of this tunnel

I remember the words
Of those who have gone before me
Those who have faced their own darkness
And emerged into the light
Their stories give me strength
And remind me that I am not alone

I cling to their words
Like a lifeline in the storm
And I push through the pain
The doubt, the fear
With every step, I feel closer
To the light at the end of the tunnel

I feel it calling to me
Beckoning me forward
Promising me peace
And I know that I must keep going
No matter how hard it gets
No matter how long it takes

For I will not be defeated
By the darkness that surrounds me
I will emerge victorious
Into the glorious light
At the end of this tunnel
And I will be forever changed

So I press on
With newfound resolve
With a fire in my soul
And a song in my heart
For I know that the light
Is waiting for me
At the end of the tunnel.

@okelododdychitchats

Judge Me If You Must !

As I walk through the valley and the shadows of poverty,
I feel the weight of judgment and expectation,
From those who cannot understand the struggle,
Of trying to survive in a world that seems to offer no salvation.

I fear not death, but the harsh words and stares,
Of those who see only weakness in my plight,
Who do not know the battles fought within,
To simply make it through each day and night.

Their understanding is as shallow as a thief’s eulogy,
Their empathy as scarce as a drop in the sea,
For they cannot comprehend the depth of despair,
That grips my soul and refuses to set me free.

They speak of my weaknesses, my failures,
As if they were born from choice,
But they do not see the tears I shed,
Or hear the silent cries of my voice.

They do not know the sleepless nights,
The hunger that gnaws at my gut,
The loneliness that haunts my days,
The pain that refuses to be cut.

They judge me for my lack of success,
For my inability to rise above,
But they do not see the barriers in my way,
The obstacles that push me down and shove.

They say “mara he is weak, mara he went to school passed but now he is failing in life,  mara what”,
But they do not see the struggles I face,
The constant battle just to survive,
In a world that offers me no grace.

I try to explain, to make them see,
The darkness that surrounds me,
But their eyes are blind, their ears deaf,
To the cries of a soul longing to be free.

So I walk alone, through the valley of despair,
Through shadows that cling to my every step,
Knowing that in this world of judgment and expectation,
I can find no refuge, no solace, no reprieve.

But still I walk, with head held high,
Knowing that I am stronger than they can see,
For I have faced the worst that life can offer,
And I am still here, still standing, still me.

So judge me if you must, with your eyes of scorn,
But know that I am resilient, I am strong,
And though the valley may be dark and long,
I will walk through it, fearless, proud, and headstrong.

@okelododdychitchats

Through Guarded Eyes

I never really know how you feel
Your emotions are a mystery to me
I try to understand, but it’s like trying to read
A book written in a language I don’t know

I look into your eyes, searching for a clue
But they remain guarded, giving nothing away
Do you feel the same way I do?
Or am I just a passing fancy to you?

I can’t read your mind, no matter how I try
I wish I could see into your heart
To know if I truly have a place there
Or if I’m just a temporary distraction

I just keep waiting, hoping for a sign
That you feel something for me too
But the silence is deafening, the uncertainty overwhelming
I’m left wondering if I’m alone in this love

Take me to your heart, show me where to start
Lead me on the path to your true feelings
Let me be the one you turn to in joy and sorrow
Let me play the part of your first love

I try to be patient, to give you time
To let you come to your own conclusions
But the waiting is agonizing, the doubts growing
I long to hear the words that will set me free

Oh, I know deep down you love me
I can see it in the way you look at me
In the gentle touch of your hand, the warmth of your smile
But are you ever gonna love me
The way I love you?

I pour my heart out to you, laying it bare
Hoping you’ll see the depth of my feelings
But you remain closed off, keeping your secrets
I wonder if I’ll ever break through to you

I dream of a future where we are together
Where our love shines bright for all to see
But reality keeps intruding, casting doubt
Am I just a dreamer, hoping for the impossible?

I long to hear you say the words I crave
To know that you feel the same way I do
But until that day comes, I’ll keep waiting
Hoping that our love will find its way

I never really know how you feel
But I’ll keep trying to understand
I’ll keep waiting for the moment
When you open up your heart to me

And until then, I’ll hold onto the hope
That one day you’ll see me as I see you
And our love will finally be free
To bloom and grow for eternity.

@okelododdychitchats

Holy Hypocrisy

Why did I stop going to church? One of the funniest reasons I’ve heard is, “My pastor was crippled and healing cripples. Like, why not heal yourself?” It’s a dark statement, but I get where they’re coming from. Let’s be honest, are these people God’s messengers or money makers in Poverty Pulpits ?

I believe in God, but I have a million questions. My friend and colleague, Evans Asudi challenges me every time we have a discussion about religion and the existence of God, he argues that the design of the universe, nature, and everything in it must have an origin. My question is, is that origin the God of the Christian Bible, Allah of the Muslim Quran, or the supernatural forces in Buddhist texts like the Tripitaka? I’m not saying these religions worship entirely different gods. They argue as if they do, but interestingly, they all seem to agree on the same devil. Crazy, right? Anyway, I believe in God and identify as Christian, but I rarely go to church. I have my reasons !

As a kid, I always questioned my existence, and while that hasn’t changed, I now find myself questioning the origins of religion. Who created it, and what was it really meant to achieve? History shows how religion has been used to create divisions, often for political gain, and it still happens today. Different religions hold varying beliefs, and even within Christianity, denominations clash. Paul even addressed this in Corinthians, questioning why Christians were divided when they were all baptized in Christ’s name. These divisions are often exploited for political purposes, given the strong influence religion has on society and politics.

I was raised in a strict Christian background where questioning the church or its leaders was off-limits. It was considered disrespectful and even thought to bring curses. Looking back, I laugh at how much I used to fear that. But, even as a kid, I could see pastors giving in to “earthly” temptations, sins they were never held accountable for. They seemed untouchable, immune to any form of criticism. Over time, this made me start questioning things more deeply, and now it’s part of why I find it difficult to step inside just any church today.

To make sense of where we are, let’s start with the history of Christianity. It began in the 1st century after Jesus’ death as a Judaic sect with some Hellenistic influences. The Catholic Church claims to be the original, with the first church said to be in Jerusalem. Over time, Christianity branched into several groups like the Church of the East, Oriental Orthodoxy, Eastern Orthodoxy, Roman Catholicism, Protestantism, and Restorationism.

In its early days, the traditional churches built schools, hospitals, and provided services that genuinely benefited the community. They did this without exploiting their congregants. But as time went on, evangelical churches started popping up what one of my great of all time writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls “mushroom churches” in her book “Purple Hibiscus”. I’m not generalizing all evangelical churches, but many sprouted after the colonial period, often without any regulation, and some have become quite problematic.

These churches often target vulnerable people, especially our mothers. With this, sometimes, I tend to believe that the colonialists had a plan,  schools for the children, prisons for the fathers, and churches for the mothers. Anyway, that’s just a detour, let’s get back on track…A lot of these churches manipulate their followers, brainwashing them into accepting whatever the pastor says without question while reasoning that questioning will lead to the unthinkable,absurd! When pastors claim that questioning them will lead to whatever, it’s really just a way to manipulate their followers. You don’t fail or fall by speaking up or seeking answers for God’s sake !

Times without number, I’ve also heard pastors glorify poverty, insisting that wealth distances you from God, they say that having money makes you less inclined to pray. These same pastors live in luxury, strikingly paradoxical ! Some even discourage their followers from seeking medical help, claiming that doing so demonstrates a lack of faith in God, despite the Bible stating, “faith without action  is dead.” Are they referring to something who’s content they do not understand or did it change overnight ?

It’s ironic how these extreme churches often have the largest followings. And what really frustrates me is the constant fundraising, with no transparency on where the money goes. I’m tired of seeing congregants grow poorer while pastors grow wealthier. Churches should be shaping and speaking up for the community, but many stay silent when it doesn’t affect them…I am just sick and tired of this top tier deception, emotional control, psychological tactics, coercion, gas lighting, name it all! let me take a break! One day, we’ll go deeper into this, especially on how pastors are now called “Daddy” and their wives “Mummy.”

@okelododdychitchats

Bad Man Bache

“Larry Madowo fascinates me! Someday, I’ll be like him-maybe even better! I adore him, I love watching him, let’s go watch The Trend.” These were Steve’s words. Back then, Larry was still just a journalist working for Nation Television (NTV) and hadn’t yet risen to the heights of his career. Steve admired him deeply and loved how he did his journalism. The first time I watched “The Trend” by Larry Madowo was because of Steve. I loved it, except for the time slot-10:00 PM on a Friday! Despite that, it became a weekly routine. Steve influenced a lot in my life, he rekindled my love for football, got me into PlayStation, and would even walk me through the ladies’ hostel just to do nothing! (This is unnecessary information for sure) Steve is a good man, he’s going to heaven for sure.”

Steve, drop that! Let’s call him Bache. Bache is now a three-time award-winning journalist. He began his journey right after campus in 2021, starting with the BetKing Premier League (The Kenyan Premier League (KPL) was rebranded as the BetKing Premier League due to a sponsorship deal with BetKing, a sports betting company), then moving to Mozzart, and now he’s at Sportpesa making history. He loves sports. He has become my favorite journalist, so natural and creative! He writes and hosts the “Match-Xperience” segments. What I’ve learned from his journey is that it’s all about passion, sticking to the plan, and being focused. It’s less about being a jack of all trades and a master of none! Bache is amazing. I love his minimalist nature, how he goes about things, how carefree he is, and his sense of humour. Honestly, I love how he manages to do it all, from work to managing his finances-he’s quick at thinking and solving problems. The only thing he might struggle with, though not badly, is style and fashion. He’s a bit basic in that department. And oh, I almost forgot, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Or Bache, do you have one now? If you do, I’ll gladly accept her, just make sure she doesn’t drop the name Bache! And to any ladies reading this, Steve is a good man!

Bache was the first one to attend class, it wasn’t his problem! He was just doing the right thing by showing up, kwani nini ilitupeleka shule ? But for the Logic and Critical Thinking lecturer, Ochieng Jaffas (I hope I’m spelling that right), having only one student for the first class was a big deal, infact a sacrilege. His comments afterward really set the tone and filled us with dread. We were first-years, after all, we had to fear! Jaffas was a Cold-hearted atheist who didn’t believe in God or Thomas Aquinas’ theories on God’s existence, despite having once wanted to become a priest. His way of teaching tickled the funny bone. But I’m getting off-topic. Jaffas instilled fear in us, making us believe we would all fail-except Bache, who attended class. That fear changed a lot of people’s views on higher education. Eventually, Bache joined us in our antics, and despite being jokers, we all passed our exams. We mastered the content in class and watched UEFA Champions League matches during the exam period. You could say we were geniuses!

Oh, and there’s something else, Bache is actually my cousin. I didn’t even know until a coincidental, and somewhat unfortunate moment. It’s one of those stories I’ll tell someday, but for now, let’s just say it’s a part of what makes our bond special. Life has a funny way of connecting the dots, doesn’t it?

I could say a lot more about Bache, but I’ll stop here for now. We’ll continue this conversation once I master the art of speaking confidently in front of a crowd!

@okelododdychitchats

You Don’t Care !

Wrong is only wrong 
When it doesn’t work for you. 
Walk with me,
Remember Gabriel Oguda? 
Where did he go? 
He doesn’t speak against the government anymore. 
No more clever words, no more truth on X. 
What happened?

I hear they want to sell our airport, 
They’ve just transitioned NHIF into SHIF, I got that depressing message!
They Pass bills quietly, now they’re law. 
And suddenly, they distract us with Gachagua’s impeachment. 
But we aren’t fools, we see the game.

Where was public participation on the finance bill? 
On the Adani deal, SHIF, housing levy? 
The things that actually affect us! 
Gachagua is tribal, yes, 
But he’s just like the rest of you !
A puppet, a decoration. 
Send him home, but don’t stop there, take Ruto with him.

I wish you, in the National Assembly, 
Cared about the people, not just your wallets. 
Now you’re playing games, 
Asking for public participation on things that don’t matter to us. 
Pretending to care.

Just like tissue paper, you use us, then throw us away.
We have Mastered your game !
We know when Gachagua falls, 
You’ll say, “It was your choice, your voice!” 
But we know, you don’t really care.

And even if Sifuna claims politicians are different, 
I tend to think you’re all the same !
Because why did you all go silent when Raila joined hands with Ruto? 
The once “bad” Ruto, the one you called corrupt, 
Suddenly turned good overnight !
Because now it works for you! Huh ?

But none of you actually care.

@okelododdychitchats