Don’t look at your phone. The urge is there, gnawing at you, but you resist. You know how it happens always. She hasn’t called. She hasn’t left a message either, not even a one-word reply to that carefully written text you sent. But she’s read it. The double blue ticks glare back at you like tiny daggers, taunting you with their silence.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. Maybe she’s busy. Maybe her phone died. Yet deep down, a faint warning whispers, something is off. The red flags you once ignored are now bold and unrelenting, waving in your face. But no, this isn’t even orange yet, you rationalize. She’ll call later. She always does, and when she does, there will be excuses. So many excuses. Weak and hollow, they tumble out like rehearsed lines in a bad play.
You’ve heard them all before. “I was caught up with something.” “I didn’t see your call.” “You’re overthinking it.” And yet, every excuse chips away at something inside you. Still, you stay. You try to trust, to believe. But the lateness, the nonchalance, the dismissive tone, they sting. When the responses come, they’re lukewarm at best, indifferent at worst. And when they don’t come at all, you’re left to sit with your thoughts, drowning in a pool of “what-ifs.”
And when you dare to question it? The tables turn. She doesn’t apologize or explain. No, she gets angry. She calls it “female empowerment” or “girls in male fields,” her right to do as she pleases. But somehow, your feelings don’t matter. Your concerns are labeled as misogyny, your hurt as bias. Her anger flares, fiery and unrelenting, until you’re forced into silence, swallowing your words like bitter pills.
It’s funny, though, how the rules seem different when the tables turn. When you’re the one who doesn’t pick up, doesn’t reply, doesn’t explain, the world implodes. Her hurt becomes righteous indignation, and your silence, a personal betrayal. Suddenly, you’re the villain in a story you didn’t write. You’re made to feel guilty, selfish, unworthy. And yet, you understand. Or at least, you try to. Because if you don’t, she gets mad.
You’re not stupid. You see the pattern, the game, the manipulation cloaked in pretty words. You know the imbalance is more than unfair, it’s toxic. But you hold on, clutching at the tiny string of hope that maybe this time will be different. Maybe she’ll see you. Maybe she’ll call. Maybe she’ll stop making you feel like an afterthought.
But how long can you hold on? How many excuses can you stomach before the weight of her indifference crushes you? You wonder if love is supposed to feel this way, like walking on eggshells, like a one-sided battle for validation. Deep down, you know the answer. You’re just too afraid to admit it.
And so, you sit there, resisting the pull to check your phone again. You tell yourself this is the last time you’ll let her silence hurt you. But even as you make the promise, you wonder if it’s one you’ll keep. After all, the heart rarely listens to reason. And yours, stubborn and bruised, still beats for her, despite everything.
Ah, Wacha Ikae Bwana ! Don’t wait to confirm the obvious with a great sense of discovery
@okelododdychitchats
Tag: short-story
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
We are no longer Babies
It’s 1:58 AM, and Azel is crying. Blood is oozing from my nose, it’s a lot. We’re in the middle of wheat bushes and dry, soft sand along the Bomet-Narok road. Azel has never seen this much blood come from someone’s nose before. A neighbour from the seat beside us heads up to the driver and asks him to help somehow, and he honors the call. A group of ladies and gentlemen from the bus volunteer to offer first aid. I don’t know any of them, except for my five-year-old nephew. But for what you’ve all done, thank you, I truly appreciate each of you and I love you all.
Azel has stopped crying now, though he still looks worried. We’re on our way to Nairobi, and I’m anxious about the second half of this journey. We’re traveling at night ! Kumbavu zangu, mbwa mimi, what was I thinking? I made a mistake.
I had been in the village for Azel. I love this kid, people think he is a rock of my sling. He was graduating from PP2 to Grade One on October 22nd, two months after his birthday. The number 22 seems to be a blessing for him, so I’ll get him a Gor Mahia jersey with that number on the back. I would’ve initiated him into Manchester United fandom, but I don’t want him stressing over his blood pressure every game!
We’re moving down the hill toward the isolated polytechnic outside Narok Town, near Ntulele, where there’s little but a footbridge, well-made tarmac, and an animal crossing. The place is rich with all kinds of trees, baboons, monkeys, and possibly other wild animals hidden in the bushes. At this hour, it even smells of charcoal. Are they teaching students to make charcoal at night? There are no homes here, just bushes. Multimedia University has got nothing on this polytechnic for natural surroundings!
Wait, I was telling you about Azel’s graduation… He got to school early for practice, and we followed a bit later. I can see him in the crowd, my young, handsome guy with his friend, he is scanning around to find us. He looks tired and weak, probably still worn out from that malaria he’s been fighting. All I want in that moment is to knock that malaria out myself. When he loses hope and starts heading back to the training area, I quickly send a friend to bring him over to where we’re sitting, me, Mum, and my “sisters,” Millie and Mercy.
When he gets to us, I can tell he’s hungry just by the look on his face, so I hand him his favourite combo, tomato crisps and vanilla yogurt. But he gives me a polite, “No, thank you,” which hits me right in the heart. I ask him what he actually wants as he tugs on my arm, pulling me up. Turns out he needs money for his graduation badge, so I cover it and get him some ice cream too, he’d asked for it.
Parents watch the “Holistic Space Academy” pupils perform. “Holistic Space” is Azel’s school, and these kids are talented! The music club is fantastic, truly entertaining… Soon, Azel’s class, PP2, is welcomed by the music band, led by their teacher, Teacher Rose, who organizes them into two neat lines, girls in front, boys at the back, all by height. Brave little souls, each of them, dressed in black and yellow gowns with badges neatly fastened on the left. They perform songs and poems, with one that stands out, “We Are No Longer Babies.” They say goodbye to kindergarten. The school really lives up to its name, they’ve created such a well-rounded environment here. The event is beautiful. Azel is back to his happy, playful self, he gets his certificate, they cut the cake, and then we head home.
Everything’s good at home, Azel’s happy, schools are closed, and he’s officially no longer a baby. Next year, he’ll be in Grade One, and he’ll be traveling to Nairobi soon!
Finally, it’s the big day. Azel’s up just after 5 AM, barely slept, ready to go, even though we’re technically not leaving until 8:45. You’ll understand why I say technically.I get up around 7, and I can already hear him by the front door, singing, “Ninaenda Nairobi.” It’s the little things that make kids happy. We finish preparing, and before we leave, Mum gathers us for a prayer, she prays for the things made with the hand of man to allow us arrive safe. After that moment, we say our goodbyes and leave for the booking office.
But when we arrive, I realize I’ve booked us on the night bus instead of the morning one. Frustration bubbles up, especially with Azel along for the ride, so I call my mum and my sister Stella, Azel’s mum. They both seem okay with us traveling at night, which eases my mind. I call my Okada man, Babgy, and we head back home to wait for the night.
At this point, Azel can’t afford to lose sight of me, he thinks I might pull a fast one and leave him in the village. What keeps his hopes high is the fact that we left his bag at the booking office. My little guy, who’s no longer a baby, is happy, and when he’s in a good mood, he praises everyone around him. He calls me “Ado,” calls Millie “Amillo,” and the best moment comes when he sees our neighbor Ada. He moves closer to her, saying, “Eiii Ada, Jaberrrr,” in his best Luo accent. Hearing this from a kid is just wonderfully fantastic.
The time comes to say goodbye and Azel’s dream of travelling to Nairobi is finally a reality!
@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
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
Just Look at her !
Look at how good-looking she is
A vision of beauty, a sight to behold
Her melanin is well spread in her skin
A rich, deep tone that shines like gold
Her nails are perfectly straight
A subtle detail that adds to her charm
She takes care of herself, that much is clear
Every part of her exudes grace and calm
Her skin shines like a beacon of light
Radiant and smooth, like silk it gleams
A labor of love, a gift from above
She treats it like a treasure, in her dreams
Her choice of lipstick is flawless
A shade that complements her every smile
Kissable and inviting, it draws you in
A temptation that’s impossible to defile
Her figure is a work of art
Curves that flow like a gentle stream
Aesthetically pleasing, perfectly crafted
By a maker who knew just the right scheme
She is my crush, my sulwe
I can’t help but long for her
I want her to be mine, to hold her close
To cherish her beauty, to never erase
I don’t want this to end in heartbreak
I want our love to blossom and grow
To see her smile, to make her happy
To cherish her always, to let our love flow
For who would want to waste such beauty
On pain and sorrow, on tears and strife
I want her by my side, forevermore
To walk together in this beautiful life
So look at how good-looking she is
And see the love that shines in her eyes
I am captivated, I am enchanted
By this girl who has captured my skies
I want her to be mine peacefully forever
To hold her hand, to never let go
To be her rock, her safe haven
To love her endlessly, that much I know
For she is my type of girl
The one who makes my heart sing
The one who completes me, who makes me whole
My love for her will forever cling
So let’s cherish this beauty, this love divine
And let’s make a promise to never let go
For she is the one I’ve been searching for
The one who makes my heart aglow.
Just look at her !
@okelododdychitchats
okelododdychitchats 