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

If I Fail to Wake Up Tomorrow

If I fail to wake up tomorrow,
Know that I fought with all my might
Against the demons that plagued my mind
I battled through the darkness
But in the end, I couldn’t find the light
My soul was weary, my heart was tired
And I found solace in stepping into eternity,

If I don’t wake up tomorrow,
Tell my friends I’ll miss them dearly
The laughter, the memories, the tears we shared
Will forever be carved  in my  silent whispers lost in time
I hope they find peace in knowing
That I am finally free from the pain
That haunted me every waking moment
I’ll be watching over them from above

If I fail to wake up tomorrow,
Promise me you’ll take care of yourself
Don’t dwell on what could have been
Live your life to the fullest, cling to the warmth of joy
That I could never fully appreciate
Treasure like gold every sunrise, every sunset
And know that I am always with you
In spirit, in memory, in love

If I don’t wake up tomorrow,
Tell the world my story
Let my struggles be a lesson
That mental health is not a joke
That a smile can hide a world of hurt
And that reaching out for help
Is not a sign of weakness, but of strength
Break the stigma, break the silence

If I fail to wake up tomorrow,
Know that I am at peace
No longer shackled by my fears
No longer drowning in my tears
I am free to soar amongst the stars
To dance in the moonlight, to bask in the sun
I am finally whole, finally content
In the arms of endless rest.

Let my legacy be one of love
Of kindness, of compassion
And may my journey to the beyond  bring awareness
To the struggles we all face
So if I fail to wake up tomorrow
Know that I am at peace
And that I will always be watching over you
From the heavens above.

@okelododdychitchats

Niskize

You don’t know the battles I’ve fought
The struggles I’ve faced !
You don’t realize the depth of my sorrow
So before you judge, just wait, niskize !

Don’t mock me with your words of scorn
Don’t criticize me from dusk till morn
Your harsh remarks don’t offer insight
They only push me further from the light

My pain runs deep, it’s a part of me
It’s only I who truly see
The struggles I endure day by day
So take a moment, niskize !

I may seem weak when tears fall down
But crying is my way, my sound
Of releasing the pain that weighs me down
Of letting go of the burdens I’ve found

Don’t label me as frail or meek
Just listen to the words I speak
I have a story that needs to be told
A tale of pain and  courage bold

So before you pass judgment on me
Take a moment, niskize !
The strength it takes to face each day
To keep going despite the wear out

I am not defined by my tears
But by the battles fought through the years
So next time you see me cry
Remember, it’s not a sign of weakness, but of strength inside

Don’t underestimate the power of a tear
The release it brings, the healing near
So before you speak, just listen first
To the story of pain and hurt

I may not be what you expect
But my strength lies in the tears unchecked
So listen to my words, my plea
And see the true strength in me.

@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

Be My Guest

Be my guest, come sit with me
Listen to the silent shadows play
As the sun sets and night begins to fall
Let me share my story with you
Don’t judge me too quickly
Look beyond the surface, see the real me

I may seem quiet, but my soul speaks loudly
In the echo of these silent shadows
I have been hurt, but I am not broken
I have faced challenges, but I am not defeated
I have scars, but they do not define me
I am more than the sum of my parts

I invite you to see the beauty in my imperfections
To find the grace in my flaws
To witness the strength in my vulnerability
And the resilience in my tears
I am a masterpiece in progress
A work of art still being painted

So be my guest, take a seat and stay awhile
Let me open up my heart to you
Let me share my hopes and fears
My joys and my sorrows
Let me be real with you
In this moment of pure honesty

I am not perfect, but I am trying
I am not flawless, but I am sincere
I am not without my faults, but I am genuine
I am only human after all
Travelling this wild journey called life

So don’t be quick to judge
Don’t dismiss me with a glance
Don’t assume you know my story
Until you have heard it from my lips
Until you have seen it in my eyes
Until you have felt it in your heart

Be my guest, and let us connect
Through the shared experience of being alive
Through the universal language of love
Through the power of empathy and compassion
Let us break down the walls that divide us
And build bridges of understanding

In this moment of vulnerability
In this space of openness and truth
Let us find common ground
Let us see each other as we truly are
Let us embrace our differences
And celebrate our humanity

So be my guest, dear friend
And let us embark on this journey together
Of healing and growth
Of connection and transformation
Let us be witnesses to each other’s stories
And find strength in our shared humanity

For in the end, we are all just travelers
On this vast and mysterious road
Searching for meaning and purpose
Seeking love and connection
So let us be kind to one another
And may our hearts be forever open

Be my guest, dear soul
And let us be companions
In this dance of life
In this symphony of existence
Let us walk hand in hand
And find solace in each other’s presence

For together, we are stronger
Together, we are whole
Together, we are infinite
So be my guest, my love
And let us journey together
Into the depths of our souls

Let us uncover the truths that lie within
Let us embrace the shadows
And dance in the light
For in each other, we find home
In each other, we find peace
In each other, we find ourselves

So be my guest, my dear
And let us be one
In this beautiful threads of life
For you are my guest
And I am yours
Together, we are forever.

@okelododdychitchats

Tears in my eyes !

I remember hearing it somewhere,
Though I can’t recall where.
It’s nothing to do with story za jaba,
You know what, forget it!

But wait, it’s choking me,
Your phone was off on the night of Girlfriend’s Day.
I tried calling, not tripping,
When you finally answered,
There was a guy’s voice and “ssssh” signals in the background.
Tears welled up in my eyes,
As my heart sank into despair.

Who was he?
Was he the one we always argue about,
Or did you switch from Total Quartz to Shell Rimula this time?
Questions raced through my mind,
Doubts creeping into my heart,
As I struggled to make sense of it all.

I thought I did everything you wanted,
I don’t even know what Girlfriend’s Day is supposed to mean,
But I tried to do something special for you,
Only to be met with betrayal and lies.
Tears in my eyes !

In a world where truths often falter,
Where promises melt like morning dew,
One whispers, against a heart’s altar,
Just cheat, if it means losing you.
But how could I ever betray myself,
And sacrifice my own worth,
For the empty promises of a love that never truly existed?

I tried to hold back the tears,
To push away the pain,
But it lingered, like a shadow in the night,
Haunting me with memories of what once was.
I thought our love was strong,
But now I see it was built on lies,
On deceit and betrayal,
Leaving me shattered and broken.

I wish I could turn back time,
To the days when love was pure,
When trust was not a luxury,
But a foundation we both stood upon.
But now, as I wipe away the tears,
I know that some wounds cannot heal,
Some scars will always remain,
And some loves are not meant to last.

So I stand here, alone and broken,
Trying to piece together the fragments of my heart,
Trying to make sense of a love that was never real,
But will always haunt me like a ghost.
I will move on, I will heal,
But the pain of betrayal will always linger,
A reminder of a love that was lost,
And a heart that was broken.

@okelododdychitchats

What An Evening !

Rain begins to fall, and the scene from the 18th floor of View Park Towers is pleasing to look at. The droplets of rainwater fall gently on the roofs of the cars in the parking lot. At this moment, I am speaking to Victor, he prefers to be called Oito. He is showing me an aesthetically pleasing seat on his phone. As I admire the seat and rethink the black hole in my bank account, Sandy calls. Sandy is my childhood friend, a lawyer working at a law firm located in Utalii House, which is just a block away from View Park. I told her I am around, and since she is a lawyer and lawyers rock suits, I am eager to make her one or a beautiful collection.

After the rain, I pick her up from the ground floor, and we head straight to Louise Carre’s humble offices on the 18th floor. Louise Carre is the company name, and yes, we tailor suits. We agree on the fabrics and styles, and as we wait for the rain to stop since it’s started again, we talk about our childhood and catch up on how easy or hard life has become. Victor is glued to his phone, probably working on a quotation. When he’s done, the rain reduces, and we get going.

We walk slowly towards Downtown, with water splashing gently on my cap. Victor has a big jacket on, seemingly unaffected by the rain, and Sandy is covering herself with an umbrella that looks newer than its age. She says she’s had it since she was in form one, over eight years ago. She’s a keeper, right? What brings us together is the water splashing on our shoes and how well we dodge the puddles. We all think it’s high time we get ourselves cars.

We reach Archives, a central landmark for people unfamiliar with Nairobi. There are always people waiting around, usually with confusion on their faces, trying to find something or someone. But this evening, we see a train long line of people waiting to board Super Metro to Thika, all standing in the rain. I look at them and think, “this can never be me!” We walk a few blocks and find another huge line of people waiting for a bus to Civil Servants, the posh name for Kariobangi South. This time, I critique out loud, saying I can’t wait that long for a bus or stand in the rain for one. Little did I know what awaited me.

Around Afya House, I bid Sandy and Victor goodbye. Sandy is picking something for her mum before heading home, and Victor is catching one of those noisy matatus, commonly called “manyanga,” to Ngong’. I walk straight to Afya Center, then take a right turn towards Utimo Sacco Bus Stop because I know with this type of rain, all Ummoiner or Salty Supporters buses are not coming to CBD. I find myself in a very long line, longer than the ones I critiqued. With no other option, I decide to make the line. Thirty minutes into the queue, not a single bus has arrived. The line hasn’t moved an inch; it’s just getting longer as more people come and complain about the lack of buses to Umoja.

I’m eavesdropping while minding my own business. At this time, there are a lot of thoughts in my head, like imagining a guy wearing a smaller shoe size than his girlfriend’s. These thoughts mix with the chaos around me: people pushing to pass, hawkers trying to catch customers, drunkards saying unwise things, and the rain offering us a free shower along the crowded Mfangano Street.

We wait, and it’s now two hours. We start talking to each other, looking with envy as Super Metro buses keep coming for passengers to Kitengela. We talk and notice people paying to hijack the line. As Godsent Gen-Zs, we intervene and fight for our rights to the next bus!

Long story short, I was at the bus stop at 1830 hrs, left town at 2139 hrs, and got home soaked in God-given water at 2240 hrs. I can’t believe it took more than four hours! That’s enough time for Victor to drive from Nairobi to Rongo. What an evening!

@okelododdychitchats