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

Journey of The Heart

The morning sun casts its light over River Kuja, the water glinting like shards of glass as it flows steadily past. I stand at its edge, the familiar sound of the stream filling the silence around me. My feet sink slightly into the warm soil as I cross the narrow road leading to it, pausing to watch the ripples dance. Somewhere in this vast world, I believe, lies the love I seek, though it feels as elusive as the current beneath the surface.

Jodongo always said love is like the treasures hidden deep within Lake Victoria, hard to find, harder to keep.”hera tek tweta.” So, I search. From the shores of Usenge to the busy aswekra market in Kendu Bay, I walk, I watch, I hope. Faces pass by, some kind, some indifferent, but none answer the silent question that sits in my heart. The days stretch long, and the nights longer still.

At night, I sit under the strange sky, tracing the patterns of stars scattered above. Their soft, silvery light reminds me of the cowrie shells my grandmother, Min Ombewa used to wear, clinking softly as she told us stories of long-lost love. The stars seem to mock me now, offering no guidance, only their cold brilliance. My body grows weary, but my heart refuses to give up.

I look to the clouds that drift lazily over Got Asego. Their rough shapes hold no answers, only shifting shadows that point to nowhere. There’s a pull within me, though, urging me toward the quiet Homa Hills in the distance. When I finally arrive, I find nothing but empty spaces, my footsteps speaking in the silence. Even the wind feels indifferent.

I wander farther, beyond the lands I know. I cross into places where the language stumbles on my tongue and the songs of the people feel strange. Still, I go on, driven by the stubborn hope that the next turn, the next road, will lead me to what I seek. But each step feels heavier, each path more uncertain, until I find myself completely lost.

At the market, the women shake their heads as I pass. “hera tek,” they say with laughter, their voices laced with pity. Love is hard, they remind me, and harder still for those who chase it blindly. Their words sting, but they don’t stop me. Despite everything, a quiet ember of hope burns within me, refusing to die.

One evening, as the sun dips low over Lake Simbi Nyaima, I sit on its shore. The stillness of the place feels different, comforting even. The water is calm, reflecting the fiery colors of the sunset like a mirror. For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself pause. The sound of the lake, the warmth of the fading sun, and the stillness around me all seem to urge me to look inward.

It’s there, in that moment of quiet, that I begin to understand. Perhaps love isn’t a treasure to be found but a truth to be uncovered. Maybe it doesn’t live in the stars, the hills, or even in another person. It begins here, within me. My heart, though tired and bruised, isn’t done searching, it just needs to start looking in a new way.

As I rise to leave, a strange calm settles over me. The journey isn’t over, but it feels less like a race and more like a path I’m meant to walk. I think of my grandmother’s words, her voice steady and wise, “hera en kama rach, kendo en kama ber.” Love is both a good and a bad thing at the same time.

The scent of “kuon bel”and fresh tilapia greets me as I walk back home, the familiar sound of children playing ajuala filling the air. I smile to myself. Maybe love isn’t just in the finding, it’s in the moments along the way, in the laughter of family, the warmth of community, and the quiet lessons life teaches.

As the stars come out once more, I glance up at them, no longer searching. For now, I am content to walk this journey, guided by hope and the gentle rhythm of a heart that still believes.

@okelododdychitchats

Fading Notes of The Heart

For the first time in my once-bright life,
I feel love slip away,
draining quietly from a heart
that once brimmed with warmth and fire.

Because of her,
passion now feels like a distant memory,
her eyes, once alive like sapphire stars,
now hold no light for me.
The smile that once lifted my world
has faded into something I barely remember.

I knew love once,
I felt it in her touch,
in the way she made life seem full of wonder.
But now, that wonder feels hollow,
a shadow of something I can no longer reach.

The beauty I once saw everywhere
seems to have vanished.
Dreams feel brittle;
hope feels like a foolish story I once believed.

Her absence is a quiet void,
and love, once a tender, living thing,
is now just a ghost
I can’t hold on to.

And so I go on,
not with the joy I once knew,
but with a quiet acceptance
that the song of my heart
will now play softly,
alone.

@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

In Silent Burdens

Shadows of unspoken weight,
Silence strains and worries skate,
A storm stirs deep within the heart,
Too much to bear, it pulls everything apart.

I curse the chains of heavy thought,
Tied to a world that takes but gives not,
Every quiet worry, a cold, biting stone.
Every spark of hope, dimmed and gone.

O, faces bright with pride, so blind,
Turned from waves that drown the mind,
But beneath it all lie pools of despair,
Where empathy drifts, thin as air.

Broken spirits, voices low,
They linger where few dare to go,
With judgment’s chill, like winter’s breath,
Misunderstood, they dance near death.

Let each boy walk his own way through,
Not every step should lead to sorrow
Give him space to breathe, to hope, to dream,
To face his shadows, to stitch his seams.

Lift the burden, hear the plea,
The heart’s so fragile, longing to be free.
In kindness, strength, in softness, still,
Love alone warms the chill.

Together we rise, together we stumble,
From silence to strength, we refuse to crumble,
In the bonds we share, we heal and grow,
With open hearts, let empathy flow.

@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

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

Grip of Greed

I love my country,
Its colours and borders are chiseled deep into my dark skin,
My blood flows red, black, white, and green,
I am a proud one,
Two Kenyan bands tied firmly around my left hand,
I love Kenya, but I despise how it is led.

I don’t hate the government, no,
I hate the hands that twist its helm,
Hands that do not care,
Or do they?
Critic them, and you’ll vanish,
Stay silent, and they’ll rob you blind.
Either way, their touch is venom,
Public funds dissolve like mist in their touch,
Gone without a trace,
And we are left with shadows.

I abhor those who think power belongs to their kin,
Simply because a tribesman sits at the table,
A tribesman who feeds only his belly,
While we starve on promises.
What is this thing called tribe, anyway?
I say shut it!
I am Luo,
And I love my kikuyu babes, free from the stains of prejudice
Judge the soul, not the community !

But even with sober judgement,
Everything goes gray,
A dull, endless gray,
Because of one thing!
Poor governance.

I blame the government,
Not for its existence,
But for its grip of greed,
For the hunger that devours our future whole.

@okelododdychitchats