| MEJA MWANGI screenplays |
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| (c) Copyright 2007 by HM Inc. + meja mwangi |
Screenplays
Meja Mwangi has written several screenplays, some on
spec and others under commission, some of them
original and others based on adaptations of his own
books. He has had some of his screenplays optioned,
the latest being an adaptation of his first novel "Kill Me
Quick" currently in development.
Among notable commissions is one from Edward
Pressman Productions to script a screenplay based on
Kenya's long distance runners. The film, slated to be
shot in Kenya after the Atlanta Olympic Games, fell
through when Kenyan runners failed to beat their arch
rival, Ethiopia's Haile Gebre Selasie.
Following is a selection of Meja's screenplays, ranging
from drama and adventure to comedy.
spec and others under commission, some of them
original and others based on adaptations of his own
books. He has had some of his screenplays optioned,
the latest being an adaptation of his first novel "Kill Me
Quick" currently in development.
Among notable commissions is one from Edward
Pressman Productions to script a screenplay based on
Kenya's long distance runners. The film, slated to be
shot in Kenya after the Atlanta Olympic Games, fell
through when Kenyan runners failed to beat their arch
rival, Ethiopia's Haile Gebre Selasie.
Following is a selection of Meja's screenplays, ranging
from drama and adventure to comedy.
Two high school graduates arrive in the big city to look
for jobs, full of hope and promise. Failing to find the
expected welcome, and riches, they drift into a life of
gangs and crime and face the consequences.
for jobs, full of hope and promise. Failing to find the
expected welcome, and riches, they drift into a life of
gangs and crime and face the consequences.
Led by a determined, selfless and tireless young
woman, a village community on the edge of extinction
by AIDS finds in her the inspiration and the strength
to fight back.
woman, a village community on the edge of extinction
by AIDS finds in her the inspiration and the strength
to fight back.
Baba Pesa is so formidable that friends and
neighbours fear him, and so rich that money calls him
'father', encounters in his own son the greatest
adversary of them all.
neighbours fear him, and so rich that money calls him
'father', encounters in his own son the greatest
adversary of them all.
Jack will do anything for gold; even smuggle guns to
a country where everyone owns several.
a country where everyone owns several.
| Screenplays |
| Gun Runner hm books, 2007 |
| ISBN 978-0-9796476-0-4 |
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ARRAKAN EXPRESS
"To check everything will to take two weeks,” said the Captain.
“With due respect, Captain, we haven't got two weeks.”
“I know,” nodded the Captain. “We don’t do it unless I suspect
smuggled guns. Do you carry guns?”
“No.”
“Not even a pocket one?”
“No.”
“Well then, you have nothing to worry about. We shoot gun-
runners.”
A woman in a flowing dress and leather sandals came in with a
huge black kettle. She passed tiny cups round, poured coffee and
left out without uttering a word.
“My wife,” said the Captain. “Your passports, please!”
For the next hour or so, the captain sat at the desk, cup of coffee
in front of him, and went through the passports. He read them as
though they were engrossing novels. From time to time he gave a
shout for Idris to go tell Salimar to bring coffee for the visitors.
Salimar came in with her steaming soot-blackened kettle, dutifully
refilled the cups and went out. The Americans sipped the sweet,
spiced coffee and watched and waited.
“You have been everywhere,” said the Captain as he studied the
various visas. “Except Bore.”
“Never heard of the place,” admitted Jack. “Where is that?”
“Bore?” he looked up, smiled. “Bore is here.”
“It's not on our maps, Captain,” said Jack.
“No,” nodded the Captain. “Bore is not on your maps. But it is a
real place all the same. You will be surprised how many smugglers
I have caught trying to sneak through Bore because it is not on
their maps.”
They thought about that. It was impossible to figure Captain
Hussein, a wind that blew cold and hot, hard and gentle, and from
all directions at the same time. He was a thoroughly perplexing
proposition. Gail spoke up. “May I smoke?”
“Outside,” said the captain. “Better still why don’t we all go out
and see what my men have found?”
They drained their coffee cups and followed the Captain into the
hot mid-morning sun. They stopped and watched as about thirty
of their Sudanese crew were herded into the police compound and
made to line up.
Hussein turned to Jack, a very faint smile on his face. “It seems
that my men have arrested your men,” he said.
Read on ...
"To check everything will to take two weeks,” said the Captain.
“With due respect, Captain, we haven't got two weeks.”
“I know,” nodded the Captain. “We don’t do it unless I suspect
smuggled guns. Do you carry guns?”
“No.”
“Not even a pocket one?”
“No.”
“Well then, you have nothing to worry about. We shoot gun-
runners.”
A woman in a flowing dress and leather sandals came in with a
huge black kettle. She passed tiny cups round, poured coffee and
left out without uttering a word.
“My wife,” said the Captain. “Your passports, please!”
For the next hour or so, the captain sat at the desk, cup of coffee
in front of him, and went through the passports. He read them as
though they were engrossing novels. From time to time he gave a
shout for Idris to go tell Salimar to bring coffee for the visitors.
Salimar came in with her steaming soot-blackened kettle, dutifully
refilled the cups and went out. The Americans sipped the sweet,
spiced coffee and watched and waited.
“You have been everywhere,” said the Captain as he studied the
various visas. “Except Bore.”
“Never heard of the place,” admitted Jack. “Where is that?”
“Bore?” he looked up, smiled. “Bore is here.”
“It's not on our maps, Captain,” said Jack.
“No,” nodded the Captain. “Bore is not on your maps. But it is a
real place all the same. You will be surprised how many smugglers
I have caught trying to sneak through Bore because it is not on
their maps.”
They thought about that. It was impossible to figure Captain
Hussein, a wind that blew cold and hot, hard and gentle, and from
all directions at the same time. He was a thoroughly perplexing
proposition. Gail spoke up. “May I smoke?”
“Outside,” said the captain. “Better still why don’t we all go out
and see what my men have found?”
They drained their coffee cups and followed the Captain into the
hot mid-morning sun. They stopped and watched as about thirty
of their Sudanese crew were herded into the police compound and
made to line up.
Hussein turned to Jack, a very faint smile on his face. “It seems
that my men have arrested your men,” he said.
Read on ...
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