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?
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.
As a young boy, I yearned for a brother, likely because I already had a sister I adored more than my prized shoe collection. Stella, the family’s lightweight champion with a smile and hair as soft as a marshmallow cloud…Before I hit the ripe age of two, we welcomed Vin, a lad born just yesterday (figuratively speaking) who’s now towering over me. Vin, the soft-spoken man, has a peculiar fondness for slim ladies, possibly because he’s as slim as a flagpole with legs darker than a midnight eclipse but a face lighter than a vanilla cupcake. He’s on a perpetual quest to look forever young with his clean-shaven face and head, convinced it’s the secret to eternal youth – not about looking neat, definitely not my style! Vin, the scholarly cyber security guru with a passion for infosec, not only admires my universal knowledge but also endorses my fashion sense to every Tom, Dick, and Aguko. His heart belongs to a slim, light-skinned Hip-Hop aficionado who sprinkles rich kid vibes like small pieces of colored paper, making me wonder how Vin copes as we, mere Village boys, attempt to blend into these urban jungles.
We, the dynamic sibling duo, grew up with the usual share of bickering, but let me tell you, I adore this brother of mine, and I’m convinced he secretly loves me back. Since completing his education, we’ve been living in a middle-class settlement in Umoja, Nairobi, indulging in our mutual fondness for each other. I practically have withdrawal symptoms when he’s away for too long, and just to clarify for the skeptics, I’m straight, and Vin is simply the son of my mother who I have every right to miss.
In this thrilling surge of chords, Vin, after enduring the nail-biting suspense of scholarship applications, struck academic gold on the illustrious date of August 1, 2023, he excitedly learned about his ticket to educational adventure in Poland. It’s almost like winning the lottery, but instead of cash, it’s a golden ticket to the world of master’s studies in some mysterious realm of information technology.
As Vin prepares to embark on this epic journey, I find myself torn between doing a happy dance for his success and composing a ballad dedicated to the impending void his absence will create in our everyday antics. The thought of him navigating Polish streets, perhaps learning to dance to a different beat in a Rhumba-less land, evokes both pride and a twinge of wistfulness.
We, the dynamic duo raised in the chaotic settlement of our shared childhood, now find ourselves at the crossroads of individual pursuits. Vin, armed with a passion for cyber security and a heart that beats in binary, is about to dive into the academic unknown. Meanwhile, I remain the proud, albeit slightly forlorn, supporter, sending waves of encouragement across continents and eagerly awaiting tales of his European escapades.
Our humble abode in Umoja, Nairobi, will undoubtedly echo with the ghostly laughter of shared jokes and the absence of late-night discussions on the profound (and the profoundly silly). While I’ll miss his kinks and our daily brotherhood, I am genuinely thrilled for Vin’s next chapter, which promises to be a tale of academic conquests, cultural revelations, and a few probably mispronounced Polish phrases.
So, here’s to you, Vin, my academic gladiator! As you march into the unknown, may you conquer each algorithm and triumph over every coding challenge. Remember to savor the taste of pierogi, dance like no one’s watching (but maybe someone is, so be careful), and make memories that will become legends we share over future holiday dinners.
As the calendar flips its pages, and the departure date approaches, I find solace in knowing that distance can’t dim the glow of sibling affection. Through the magic of technology, we’ll bridge the physical miles with virtual laughter, sharing the highs and lows of our respective worlds. Poland, get ready for the Vin invasion – it’s about to get a dose of Village charm!
Dear Vin, while my heart is brimming with farewells, it swells with pride for the fantastic journey you’re about to embark upon. So, go forth, my brother, embrace the adventure, and may the bytes of success and happiness always be in your favor. Give it your quirkiest best, and remember, no matter how far you roam, you’ll always have a Village-sized space in my heart. Safe travels, academic explorer! I love you, man!
@okelododdychitchats
This is my all village at the airport…Travel safe man! Be safe and do what you’re good at…It will only get better with time
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 !
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 