I’m Elijah Omondi from a tiny village in Siaya. Growing up, everyone nicknamed me “mzee wa kanisa” because I basically lived at church – drumming during praise and worship, sweeping the compound at 6 a.m., leading youth fellowships, and carrying chairs for the old mamas. People swore on their lives I’d end up in the pulpit wearing a shiny suit and a cleric collar. But the joke was on them – and on me – because life decided to beat me senseless. Prayers, fasting, night vigils… nothing worked.
Every single plan I made just crumbled like ugali left in the sufuria too long. Finished college, packed my bags, and ran to Kisumu, thinking city air would change things. Tried selling mitumba at Jubilee, worked in a hardware, and even rode a Black Mamba bicycle doing deliveries till my knees screamed. Every hustle died before it even started. Jobs I was 99% sure were mine? Someone else’s name appeared on the contract last minute.
Back home, my age-mates are roofing permanent houses, cruising second-hand Proboxes, and posting baby pictures. Me? Still sleeping on the same creaky bed I’ve used since Class 8. Villagers now laugh behind my back: “Hata Yesu amemkataa!” Those words sting worse than slaps. Deep down I knew something spiritual had locked my progress tight. I just didn’t know where to start unlocking it. Read More https://drbokko.com/?p=34933
