HAVIT M3.

I hate silence.

Silence is not peaceful. Silence is loud. Aggressively loud. It creeps into your thoughts, starts asking personal questions, reminds you of unfinished emails, unpaid bills, and that one awkward thing you said in 2014. That’s why I always have a radio by me. Always.

In the house.

In my home office.

In the car.

At picnics.

While camping.

If there were a way to carry a radio into my dreams, I would.

Sound is my comfort blanket. Noise is my therapy. If my surroundings are quiet for more than five minutes, my brain starts doing jumping jacks.

Now, I do have serious sound infrastructure. There’s a proper living room sound system. A respectable home office stereo. A car stereo that tries its best despite the potholes. But life is mobile. Life moves. And that’s where the Bluetooth speaker comes in — the unsung hero of modern living. The musical nomad. The portable peacekeeper.

Unfortunately, my relationship with Bluetooth speakers has been… traumatic.

Let me tell you.

A Father’s Love, Stolen

My first-ever Bluetooth speaker was a gift from my dad. You know how those ones hit differently? A proper gift. Not “I was passing by the shop” vibes, but intentional. That speaker meant something.

Enter: a friend I trusted.

Past tense intentional.

The speaker was stolen. By a friend. A friend! Someone who knew my playlists. Someone who had laughed in my house. Someone who had asked for tea and sugar like they belonged.

That loss hurt in a way I cannot properly explain. It wasn’t just the speaker — it was the betrayal. The music stopped, and so did the friendship. That speaker left with trust, innocence, and a little bit of my heart.

Painful.

Family Fraud

After licking my wounds, I acquired Bluetooth speaker number two. Acquired is the word I’ll use here because gifted would be inaccurate.

This one belonged to my baby sister.

I took it “temporarily.”

For “repairs.”

For the charging system.

Those of you with siblings already know how this story goes.

Anyway, fate was watching. Closely.

One day my car broke down. Battery flat. Completely lifeless. The car was parked at Rubis (Aviation – Embakasi). The watchmen were entrusted with its care. I left the speaker inside the car because, frankly, the car looked unlovable. No one steals from a car that looks like it’s given up on life.

I underestimated humanity.

The speaker was stolen.

Gone.

Vanished.

Just like that, Bluetooth speaker number two joined its brother in the afterlife. Two speakers. Two separate crimes. One common victim: me.

That one hurt differently. This was not betrayal by a friend — this was betrayal by the universe. I stood there staring at my car like, even you?

Year of Losses

By this point, 2025 had already taken a lot from me. I actually have a mental list titled “Things I Lost in 2025 That I Intend to Recover.” It’s not written down, but it exists vividly in my soul.

A Bluetooth speaker sits proudly on that list.

Because silence? Silence had started winning.

Redemption

Then came Tuesday, January 20th.

A good day. A memorable day. A day history will remember — or at least I will.

I got a Bluetooth speaker.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce: HAVIT M3.

My new baby.

I’m not even exaggerating when I say this speaker healed something in me. The moment I turned it on, the world made sense again. The walls relaxed. The air breathed. Silence retreated into a corner where it belongs.

Now, I walk around with confidence again. I move from room to room with background music like a man whose life is under control. I carry it like a prized possession. I don’t leave it unattended. I don’t trust easily anymore. Trauma teaches lessons.

The HAVIT M3 goes where I go. We are bonded. If I’m charging my phone, I’m checking its battery too. If I leave the house, I count: phone, wallet, keys, speaker.

Priorities.

Final Thoughts

Some people enjoy silence. I respect them… from a distance.

For me, sound is life. Music is companionship. A Bluetooth speaker is not a luxury — it is a survival tool. And after everything I’ve been through, after betrayals, theft, car breakdowns, and family “borrowing,” I feel like I’ve earned this one.

So yes, I’m a happy man.

If you see me somewhere with music playing softly in the background, mind your business. I’m not showing off. I’m healing.

And if you touch my HAVIT M3 without permission?

We will have a very loud conversation.