Still, I am

I didn’t get the privilege of being born in a hospital. My mother labored in my grandmother’s smoky kitchen. They were with my late father, who tried rushing her to Lwak hospital, but I grew weary of the womb’s care for, I was eager to taste the world’s sweetness and bitterness alike, I had to step into the light and meet it head-on. I came out right outside the fence, and my grandmother, Stella or if you like Min Ombewa, delivered me.

I was born in Asembo, my paternal home. A place I hardly know, a place I hardly visit, but a place I recognize much with. That’s why I call myself Jakolal, because Kolal is my village,Kolal is in Asembo.

When I was four, wait, I didn’t get the chance to be light-skinned when I was born. Kids are often light when birthed, but the colors of their skin often change after tasting the different rays of the sun. Their skin changes, picking the shades of their parents’ skin. Biology calls it genetics. The point is, the skin changes and sometimes becomes hard with pimples on the face and sometimes with a lot of hair standing straight on the surface. They change! I was dark at birth, and still, I am. My father, Isaiah Oguta Ngesa Nyakwar Okelo found a way of making me comfortable wearing the dark skin. He called me Rateng‘. Rateng’ means black. He narrated to me during free time how well black is priceless as the first breath of dawn after a long night. I love black ! Black is beautiful. I love my skin. I owe it to my dad.

One night after his karate sessions, he complained of pains. My mother says it was sharp pains that gripped his chest, something like asthma, yet they called it typhoid. I still wonder how chest pains and typhoid dance together in the same space. He was rushed to Aga Khan Hospital Kisumu, and on February 14, 2002, he slept, closed his eyes eternally. His brain stopped functioning. Everything in his world stopped. He rested. Mama was only 26. I am told she was only earning Ksh. 1000 as a Board of Manager teacher. She had kids and a family to take care of. She remained strong, productive and everything positive. We never lacked. We never knew poverty. We saw all good and got at least everything we wanted. I just didn’t get to practice karate anymore because my company was gone! After he was gone, he took the name Rateng‘ with him. Nobody else knew me as that. Nobody called me that except my uncle, Dr. Odongo. But with that alone, I knew how priceless my skin color was. I wore it with courage growing up. I miss the one who made me comfortable in it, but fate had just brought it that way. Sad!

Forget that though. My mother left footprints of success in the sands of time. She did all a mother could and more, and that’s why I hold her dear. That’s why my best sentence begins with the word “Mum.” My definition of love begins with the word “Mum.” My definition of beauty begins with the word “Mum.” My definition of strong begins with the word “Mum.” Her display of substance and appearance makes her just the best. She is the best!

This doesn’t concern you, but I am still dark. My mum is dark too. We wear this fine melanin, black chocolata skin with beauty and pride.

@okelododdychitchats

Speak It Out

I asked how he’s doing,
He told me he was doing just fine
I didn’t believe him
Because I know the society demands strong from a man
And when he shares what he’s going through, he’ll be labeled weak
So he told me, “I am doing just fine”

I could hear the pain in his voice
The cracks beneath the surface
His words a mask for the turmoil within
He was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders
But society told him to keep it all in
To put on a brave face and soldier on
So he smiled and said, “I’m fine”

But I knew the truth
I could see it in his eyes
The way they searched mine for understanding
The way his hands trembled as he spoke
He was drowning in his own silent suffering
Too afraid to let anyone in
Too ashamed to admit he needed help

I wish he knew that it’s okay to not be okay
That strength isn’t measured by how much you can endure alone
That vulnerability is not weakness, but courage
I wish he knew that his pain mattered
That his struggles were valid
That he didn’t have to carry them all on his own

I wish he knew that he didn’t have to end it all
That there were people who cared
Who would listen without judgment
Who would hold him close and help him find his way back to the light
I wish he knew that there is always hope
Even in the darkest of nights
Even when all seems lost

So I told him, “It’s okay to not be fine”
It’s okay to break down and let it all out
To cry until there are no more tears left to shed
To scream until your voice is hoarse
To reach out and ask for help
To let others in and share your burden

Because you are not alone
You are loved, you are worthy
And your pain is not a sign of weakness
But a story to your humanity
So take my hand and let me walk beside you
Let me help you shoulder the weight
Let me be your light in the darkness

You are not alone, my friend
You are never alone
And together, we will find our way back to the sunlit meadows
Where the flowers bloom and the birds sing
Where hope springs eternal and love knows no bounds
So take my hand and let us journey together
For in our togetherness, we find strength
And in our vulnerability, we find courage

So speak it out
Don’t care what the society will think of you
Don’t be ashamed
Scream if you feel it’s best
Speak when you are at the lowest
Cry when you feel that pain
It’s worth it.

Let’s break the silence
Let’s shatter the stigma
Let’s create a world where it’s okay to not be okay
Where vulnerability is embraced
And compassion reigns supreme
Let’s build a community of love and understanding
Where everyone feels safe to share their truth
And no one ever has to suffer in silence again.

Together, we can make a difference
Together, we can change the world
Starting with one voice, one heart, one soul
Reaching out in love and empathy
To lift each other up and stand together in our brokenness
For in our brokenness, we find strength
And in our unity, we find healing

So let us be the change we wish to see
Let us be the light in the darkness
Let us be the hope in the despair
For together, we are stronger
Together, we are invincible
Together, we are love personified

And in that love, we find our salvation
In that love, we find our redemption
In that love, we find our peace
So let us choose love
Let us choose compassion
Let us choose to be there for one another
No matter what

For in the end, love is all that really matters
Love is the answer to all our questions
Love is the key to our salvation
So let us love each other
Let us be there for each other
Let us hold each other close
And never let go

For love is the greatest gift we can give
To ourselves and to each other
So let’s spread love like wildfire
And watch as it burns away the darkness
And lights up the world with its brilliance
For love conquers all
And in love, we shall find our peace.

@okelododdychitchats

Why

Why does misunderstanding want to steal my love for you
But why does myopicness cloud my vision of our future
Why does laziness rob me of the riches I wish to share with you
And why does ego deceive me into thinking listening is a weakness
Why does society label submission as toxic masculinity
Yet everything appears hazy, not from desire, but from perception

Why does social media pressure me to doubt our worth
Why does society foster division between our tribes
When our chemistry is as seamless as water mixing with wine
Why do these barriers threaten to break us apart

Misunderstanding lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike
Myopic eyes fail to see the beauty in our shared destiny
Laziness creeps in, stealing the potential of our union
Ego whispers lies, poisoning my willingness to listen
Society’s expectations weigh heavy, clouding my judgment
Yet deep down, I know our love is pure and true

Social media may try to plant seeds of doubt
But I know our worth, our bond unbreakable
Society’s labels cannot define the love we share
Our tribes may be different, but our hearts beat as one

So I will fight against the forces that seek to tear us apart
I will silence the doubts and fears that threaten our love
For in the end, it is only you that I see
And nothing will ever come between you and me.

@okelododdychitchats

Black is Beautiful

I am a black kid, they say, a child of the night
With skin as dark as the ebony sky
But is black truly beautiful, or just a lie?
A lie told to comfort those who fear the unknown
I am rich in melanin, they say, but is it a gift or a curse?
My rough, hairy skin a canvas of deep brown hues

They say black ain’t good enough, sio rangi ya thao
That beauty lies in lighter tones, like vanilla or cream
But what about the beauty in diversity?
In the rich shade of colors that make up humanity
Should I be bold with my blackness, embrace it with pride?
Or hide in shame, letting their words pierce my fragile heart

I try to see beauty in my reflection, but all I see is darkness
Ugly thoughts creeping into my mind, telling me I’m less than
Forget my big ears, they say, it’s all about my skin
My skin that marks me as different, as other
They call me a monkey, comparing my hair to fur
As if my blackness makes me less than human

I walk the streets with my head held low
Feeling the weight of their stares, their judgment
They see a criminal in me, not a child
A child with dreams and hopes, just like any other
Do I not belong to this world, to this society?
Or am I destined to always be an outsider

But I refuse to let their words define me
I am more than just a shade of black
I am a child of the night, yes, but also a child of the sun
I am rich in melanin, my skin a testament to my roots
I am beautiful in my own right, in my own way
And I will walk with confidence, no matter what they say

So let them call me black, let them call me ugly
I will wear my darkness like a crown
For I am a black kid, proud and unapologetic
A reminder that beauty comes in all shades
And that true beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder
I am a black kid, and I am beautiful.

@okelododdychitchats

Bikram Yoga

I won’t name this story after the person it’s about, Laura Kabaara, just as the Joluo people name their children according to the season and time of their birth. I admit I’m not great at coming up with titles, but trust me, this will be different from the rest. I promise to do my best, my people.

We’re finally here. I’ve been pursuing Laura for two weeks, eager to get to know her and perhaps use my pen to brush the dust off my notebook and write about her. We’re seated in the office lounge, a tastefully decorated space behind the Little App Board room. The view is stunning; we can see the neatly parked cars, the scene resembling a beautifully crafted artwork.

Laura is the cheerful one, always radiating happiness. She has the knack for turning your mood from gloomy to jubilant in an instant; she’s simply good at it. She’s exceptionally intelligent and incredibly stylish. She effortlessly elevates braids to a level of elegance that surpasses even human hair. And before I forget, please don’t judge me; I’m just appreciating one of God’s creations, and I won’t dwell on it to avoid raising suspicion, even if there isn’t any. She possesses captivating eyes, accentuated by her natural eyelashes, and a slender face that’s simply flawless. I know my girlfriend might be furious when she reads this, but “Kufa dereva, kufa abiria” let me say it: Laura is beautiful.

She sips water from her unique water bottle. It’s not just any water bottle; it exudes class. Everything about Laura is exceptional. Her lip gloss looks expensive, her hand lotion is a rare find, and unlike most Kenyan girls, she’s unfamiliar with the “Wajesus Family,” Milly Wa Chebby, and the famous Terrence Creative. I think she’s a cool kid. She’s Luhya, but you wouldn’t know unless she tells you. Her English is not only well-spoken but also fluent. Laura is simply Laura.

There’s a quiet pause between us, where neither of us speaks or stirs. It’s as if we’re both lost in our own thoughts., I break the silence and inquire, “Who is Laura?” I’m curious to hear her describe herself, not in the rehearsed manner of a job interview, but in a more engaging, casual, and honest way. After a brief pause, during which she fidgets with her nails, searching for the right words, she begins to speak.

“I see myself as someone who possesses a keen sense of self-awareness,” she begins. “I would describe myself as lively, self-aware, and confident.” She goes on to explain that her journey towards self-awareness began during a period of meditation, where her spirituality took on new significance. There was a time when she was not religious, when she did not believe in God. However, certain events in her life led her to embrace spirituality in a different form. From 2016 to 2023, she believed in a higher power represented by the universe rather than a specific deity. She believed that the collective energy of humanity contributed to this higher power.

This journey, which I am tempted to inquire further about, led her to profound reflections and a newfound perspective on life. It required deep introspection, ultimately shaping her into the self-aware person she is today.

I mentioned this earlier, Laura is consistently cheerful and lively, spreading joy to those around her. Her happiness and bubbly nature seem to have no particular trigger; they’re simply a part of her, evident even early in the morning. I’m curious about what fuels her mood.

Honestly, Laura doesn’t fully understand what happens. When she returns home, she retreats to her room and her energy changes. She becomes quieter, and she doesn’t actively control this shift; it’s like a switch that flicks on and off. She only knows that she loves life and mostly maintains a positive attitude at work. Oh, I forgot to mention, she’s my colleague in the Corporate Sales Department. I was drawn to her because of her vast knowledge, sense of style, and love for books-things that resonate with me. Interestingly, her energy at work differs from elsewhere. She feels a sense of worthiness and believes her hard work has led her to this point, subconsciously triggering her brain to think positively. Laura’s liveliness is appreciated by everyone in the department; it rejuvenates and lightens the atmosphere. It’s just her vibe, you know?

Let’s talk about her style… At first, I thought she might have OCD because of how meticulous she is with her arrangements, especially at her desk. However, that’s just a passing thought. Laura’s style is truly distinctive and unique. It exudes a strong sense of fashion. Her style is inspired by her belief that art is a form of self-expression.

One notable aspect of her style is her stance against the objectification of her curvy body. She’s adamant that her fashion choices should not invite unwanted attention or reduce her to a mere object of desire. She prefers clothing that is both fashionable and comfortable. She seems to have mastered the art of dressing for her body type. In fact, in 2023, she even won the Best Dressed Employee award at Llittle. She strives to represent the ideal black woman in the corporate world through her clothing and hairstyle, she says…

Sales is undeniably one of the most challenging jobs out there, a form of rocket science in its own right. However, Laura excels at it. She not only performs well but also enjoys the challenge it presents. She finds it intellectually stimulating, pushing her to think creatively. While she may not immediately admit to loving sales, she believes it’s an essential aspect of every business, one that cannot be hated because it underpins every industry.

For Laura, sales keeps her on her toes, and its quantitative nature allows her to measure her contributions concretely. She acknowledges its importance, even if she doesn’t particularly like it. When we discuss sales, we also touch on passion, which she sees as both an art form and a means of self-expression, much like fashion.

She dreams of pursuing something in the fashion industry in the future. However, she worries that she might lose motivation if she doesn’t see instant results, as patience isn’t one of her strongest virtues. I encourage her to pursue her fashion-related aspirations and to trust the process, even if it requires a bit of patience.

When it comes to the desire for a family, Laura speaks from the heart. She longs for companionship and envisions having a family of her own. Despite her concerns about finding love again and occasionally falling into the trap of trying to change herself to fit someone else’s expectations, she remains steadfast in her desire to marry and start a family. Yet, she sometimes worries about becoming the proverbial “aunty wa madoo” to her nieces and nephews based on a few past experiences.

My phone rings, it’s my sister calling, I text her to call after 30 minutes. Meanwhile, we find ourselves grappling with questions of morality as members of Generation Z. Laura and I often discuss the state of our society and our shared belief in the importance of doing what is right, even when it seems that immorality is becoming normalized. Despite our youth, we are firm in our conviction that our actions have consequences, and we strive to act in a way that will make us proud in the future. We understand that the choices we make today will shape the legacy we leave behind, standing as a testament to our values.

Our conversation swiftly transitions from morality to cars. Laura has a soft spot for cars, particularly the Volkswagen Golf GTI. Interestingly, her first boyfriend owned this car and sparked her interest in automobiles. Her dream, however, is to one day own a Mercedes G-Wagon G63. I share her enthusiasm for this vehicle; just thinking about it keeps me up at night.

As the clock ticks toward 5 PM, we all start feeling the pull to head home. In our final moments together, Laura shares that she doesn’t have a single hobby per se; she enjoys a variety of activities, from reading to listening to music, depending on her mood. I nod in agreement, admitting that I, too, don’t have a specific hobby for the same reason—I love trying out different things.

It’s fascinating to learn that Laura and her best friend are planning to venture into activities typically associated with the affluent. They’re considering starting Bikram yoga. I had no clue what that was until she mentioned it! Honestly, I haven’t looked it up yet, but from what she’s described, it seems like one of those things that won’t appeal to everyone, much like rap music or rhumba. What’s Bikram Yoga Anyway ?

@okelododdychitchats

St. Patricia

In 2008, following the post-election violence, my sister and I joined St. Patricia Memorial Academy, one of the best primary schools in Rongo, Migori region at that time. We were both in grade five. The school boasted of quality education, but it was not reflected in its infrastructure. The buildings were old, windowless, floorless, and poorly planned. In simple terms, the school was an eyesore and not well-built.

When we enrolled in the school, my sister and I stood out as cool kids. Stella was a well-dressed, soft-spoken lady with class. Boys thought she was super beautiful, which she was and still is. I was a neat, well-dressed young man with good writing skills, and well-spoken. We were disciplined and had a unique habit of greeting and receiving things from the teachers by two hands while bowing down. We even said thank you after being flogged, which was ridiculous.

One incident that I’ll never forget from those early days of St. Patricia was when I got punished for writing a good composition. I had written it so well that it was beyond the writing skills of a grade five student. Instead of congratulating me, they decided to punish me and make me write another one. I was disappointed, and I wish they had a plagiarism checker back then. Long story short, I wrote an even better composition, and the teacher responsible had to apologize to me and my dad, who was a senior education officer at that time. He didn’t strip them of their powers, though he could have. Instead, he warned them against doing something like that again. My dad believes in understanding and listening to both parties and didn’t want to act rashly.

Despite the challenges, I enjoyed my stay at St. Patricia. The school made me brave and naughty, and I loved the freedom it offered. On Thursday afternoons, we used to sneak away from school to swim in River Misadhi. It was a welcome escape from the nonsensical debates that often ensued during that time. Seriously, who cared about arguing whether a teacher was better than a farmer or vice versa? A good fraction of boys from my class joined me, and we had fun swimming in the river. Those were good days, and we were doing our internship on sneaking out of school.

Our adventurous spirit did not stop at swimming. We ran away from teachers and even confronted them when they were too much. We took without permission mangoes from people’s farms, and I became good at researching and finding the farms with good yields. I was a great market researcher, and we executed our plans. Ronny and Allan were good at finding banana farms, and we also ran off with unripe bananas and hid them in the thickets around River Onyife. We waited for them to be ripe so that we could dig in and enjoy the contents. Arnold, aka Nyangoma, was good at finding bitches that had just given birth, and we would find a way to get beautiful puppies from them. We did all these for fun, and we enjoyed it. The most interesting part was when we were caught, and we needed to escape. They couldn’t catch us; we were fast, slightly faster than an airplane, and slightly slower than lightning. That’s how I could describe our speed. Those were fun times.

At St. Patricia, we also had beautiful girls. Victor Juma was always winning them, and I envied him. I didn’t know how to talk to a girl, and I would literally cry when a girl I did not want was put to sit beside me. I would remain completely speechless when a girl I wanted was put to be my deskmate. When Cynthia Atieno, the slim, beautiful, and soft-spoken girl, was put to sit next to me, I felt happy, anxious, and confused. I liked Cynthia; she was a bright lady, very shy yet very tactical. I admired her from afar, yearning for her despite my complete lack of understanding about relationships or how to be a boyfriend. I was clueless about what it meant to have a girlfriend, what was expected of me, or even what to do. Unfortunately, I never found the courage to express my feelings to her until we both left St. Patricia. It’s a regret I carried with me, and I vowed never to let such an opportunity slip through my fingers again. Nowadays, I go for it! I have never seen Cynthia since then, and I don’t know how she looks like or who she is now. She escaped my mind too after some good time.

My experiences with my boys were just us being boys and enjoying it while it lasted. However, my teachers and parents took it as indiscipline, and I had to leave the school. My sister and I had to go to St. Benedicts Sony, where I could be monitored more. However, this story is not about St. Benedicts Sony Academy in Awendo, so I won’t tell its story. That was it at the school next to the stream, St. Patricia

@okelododdychitchats

Just Drop a Comment

When do you find yourself grabbing that pen and paper? Is it during tough times when emotions are running high, and writing feels like a way to tackle the challenges life throws at you? Or is it in moments of pure joy, when even the ordinary things bring happiness, and you catch yourself smiling at everyone, even someone you’re not too fond of? Personally, I used to think I was most creative when feeling a bit down, not necessarily to express my feelings but to capture what I saw in small gatherings at barazas, the lively conversations in tailoring shops, the buzz in barbershops, or even the snippets of life heard in matatus. Writing about these observations used to be a kind of therapy for me. However, recent realities have hit me hard, filling my once-bright mind with empty thoughts that have taken away my usual good vibes.

I’m not looking for sympathy here, I’m just curious about how your year is going. Is it turning out to be good, or are you facing some challenges? While it might be early to ask, haven’t they said that you can sense the quality of a day from the morning? Let’s think of that metaphorically. From talking to a few people, it seems that, despite some initial confusion, many are finding this year to be interesting. What’s interesting is the lack of the usual flood of boring “happy new year messages” and the absence of big unachievable resolutions. Instead, people seem to be having more practical discussions, focusing on solid financial plans and pursuing their interests with passion.

Going through the current situation is a bit of a challenge for me, with the uncertainty of tomorrow hanging over. I’ve never been one to predict the future, and while it might seem a bit tricky, there’s a sense of hope pushing me forward. My plan is simple: prioritize things that bring me joy and stay away from things that bore, drain, or stress me. Essentially, I want to create a happy space for myself and those around me….

How’s your year going? Share your thoughts in the comments! Let’s connect every Tuesday or on any day that suits you (we can vote a day). I am thinking about throwing in some interviews and sharing stories about different places. Just drop a comment to let us know what you’re enjoying and experiencing this year, and also, what topics you’d like us to dive into. I’m thinking of adding some opinionated sections. So, drop a comment – your input is crucial in shaping our conversations. Feel free to join the discussion! Just drop a comment !

@okelododdychitchats