If My Life Had a Soundtrack – By Agie Opondo

I’ve been obsessed with music for as long as I can remember. I grew up in a house where music wasn’t just background noise, it was basically a relative. My mum had Country music on lock (a genre I still can’t stomach to this day; sorry, Dolly Parton), while my dad was all about Ohangla and Rhumba. Guess who won? Let’s just say, Ohangla has somehow crawled its way into my top playlists.

At fifteen, I was convinced my destiny was to live inside music. My plan was simple: become a singer, an entertainment lawyer, a producer, or if all else failed, marry a top producer and call it career adjacency.

In my head, I was destined to be a Nairobi-born powerhouse vocalist, a little Jazmine Sullivan, a little Jennifer Hudson, but with extra sauce and a Nairobian edge. Picture this: I perform at some random talent show, and out of nowhere, a shiny-shoed record exec appears like a musical fairy godparent yelling, “You! Beyoncé’s next album features! Now!” Next thing you know, I’m Africa’s next big thing. Poverty? Blocked! “Naomba nijitoe tu!” Fame and money? Accepted with thanks.

In this fantasy, I’m touring the world, looking hot, owning my masters, breaking charts, winning Grammys, and yes, still looking hot. Consistency is key.

My family is thriving too. My dad, who spent a small fortune on my education, doesn’t die of shock; he just complains, “All this school and you went to sing?” But I buy him a double-cabin pickup and build him a palace, so his tears dry fast. He keeps working because, well, he’s a proud Luo boomer who believes ‘man must sweat for food’. Suit yourself, pops. My mum becomes ‘Mama Ya Msanii’, bragging like she birthed Rihanna. She’s a spoilt queen. Mama Lao! Meanwhile, my siblings are out here casually brunching with Tems and Zendaya.

But real life had other plans. While I did end up working in music, I’m not exactly the African Beyoncé. Heck, I can’t even dance to save my life, but I sing pretty well, thank you very much.

Being a music executive is fun, chaotic, and thankless all at once. I get to meet incredible creatives, some who inspire me, others who make me question my life choices. My world is a mix of industry events, listening parties, brand shindigs, late nights, early mornings, gallons of coffee, project management tools, and just enough alcohol to survive the networking. Throw in social battery drainage, repressed anxiety, and emotionally exhausting (yet fulfilling) projects, and that’s a week in my life.

Some days are full of gratitude and passion. Others? Self-doubt, sabotage, and a sprinkle of hate. I can go from “I love this life!” to “I hate music!” faster than you can say “playlist pitch.” They say the dream is free, but the hustle? Oh, it’s sold separately, with no refunds.

But here’s the part that stings: my dad never got to see this version of me. He wanted me to be a pharmacist so badly that my switch to a Communications degree nearly broke his soul. But once he got over the shock, he became my loudest cheerleader, the guy who always had the right advice during my quarter-life meltdowns.

I hate that he’s not here to see me now. I’d give anything to get him a ticket and backstage pass to his favorite artist’s concert. I know he’d love it. Music was his heartbeat, and I’m pretty sure I inherited that rhythm from him.

I miss how he hyped me up every time I doubted myself. “Ndes Ndes! Ndelarus! Nyandelo!” he’d call out, all his pet names for me. I’d give anything to hear him gas me up before a red-carpet event, because honestly, he’d make a perfect red carpet date. His social battery was endless. I’m pretty sure we’d be TikTok partners-in-crime, he’d love that app way too much. Together, we’d build a top-secret meme arsenal, only to be shared with the chosen few who truly get our sense of humor.

There were times we roasted people together, God, those roast sessions were therapy! I still laugh when I remember the things we said. He was the greatest comedian I ever knew. If you ever annoyed me and/or my Dad, just know we roasted you proper. Well…. Apart from our exes, we never talked about boys and crushes.

Not that my mum and siblings don’t support me, they do, and I love them for it, but we all agree: his presence would’ve made everything brighter. Losing him meant losing our hero, our provider, our comedian, our glue.

If fifteen-year-old me could see me now, she’d be a little bummed that I didn’t become a Grammy-winning artist, but she’d still be proud. Because I’m in entertainment. I work with artists. I help them chase their dreams. I still live and breathe music every single day.

Sure, I’m not the pharmacist my dad once envisioned, but I’m a constantly evolving, slightly caffeinated music executive, and trust me, I’m only just warming up. And as my forever fave AKA once said, “I’m coming with the heat, don’t cool me down. Ice in my teeth, and in my cup. Blessings they gon’ follow me for a while.”

That right there, is my current soundtrack.