Wednesday, May 25, 2011


Considered thoughts, accidental wit, motivational quotes, book excerpts and one-liners from "Saint Alex" (License: Free Documentation )

'It's easy for me to rap because I talk fast anyway...Just add a beat and I'll be in there like swimwear.'

'These are the guys who ruined Kenyan hip hop: they jumped in like rapists when hip hop was in the middle of a seduction...In the early '90's, rap music began to gain popularity thanks to acts like MC Hammer, Vanilla Ice, LL Cool J and others. But the new guys didn't bother to understand the culture behind rap. They have for the last two decades or so been raping our ears with meaningless sonic garbage.' - Complaining about wannabe rappers who took the pimping/gangsta facade so far, they became caricatures of the hip-hop heroes

'I love jazz. I just wish it had more lyrics.' - On why his music is clearly influenced by jazz licks

'I am not wedded to any genre.' - Refuting claims that he is an aspiring hip-hop artiste

'How is Lady Gaga a "lady"? Saying "Lady Gaga" is a contradiction in terms. It's like saying "hot ice" or "Kibera millionaires".'

'I don't know why people say Madonna isn't a good singer. She's a great singer. Her work from the late '80's to the mid '90's was especially good. As a vocalist, she's right up there with Celine Dion and Mariah look-at-my-boobs Carey.'

'Kenyans are very helpful. When Michael Jackson was alive, they offered to help him find his other glove.'

'I am so old-school, I still refer to rock music as "Rock & Roll".'

‘I don’t wear bling because I have a heart of gold.’

'Yes…the memory is as bright as movie lights in the summer

All I wanted was a chance like Tom Cruise in ‘Days of Thunder’
I always knew I would be great man some day

It was no coincidence I was born on Shakespeare’s birthday'
- 'The Bookman Cometh'

'Of course Italy is a fashion capital - the entire country is shaped like a boot.'

‘Kenyan publishers are not that bad: at least when they reject your manuscript, they write the rejection (note) personally.’

‘I was born to be a storyteller – even my dreams have a full cast of characters and a twist in the tail.’

Alexander Nderitu, 'Harvest of Blood'‘One of the reasons I like writing so much is the flexibility of the hours: they bend like rubber.’ – ‘Angela On My Mind’ (short story), Angela On My Mind

‘At heart, I am just a guy who likes to tell stories.’ – On why he doesn’t stick to one genre, writing everything from stage plays to novels.

‘I will never retire from writing. I’ll probably die in the middle of (writing) a sentence.’

'As a spy writer, I approach the drama genre like a tourist, taking note of anything that’s mildly interesting.'

'I have seen the furure and e-books work.'
'I want to talk about humility. But before I talk about humility, let me reiterate that I am the greatest living writer.'

' "I write what I want." Steve Biko said that, but I use it so often, it might one day be attributed to me.'

'I have written so many books that I haven't read some of them.'

'It's not that I'm anti-establishment, it's just that I'm always looking for easier and faster ways of doing the same old things.' - On his many innovations, especially in literature

‘I’ve got all these ideas running through my head like migrating wildebeest.’ – On planning to release several books in the year 2008 alone

‘Like Panasonic, I have ideas for life.’ – On being the first Kenyan to put out a POD book / e-novel

‘The Internet made me.’ – On relying on Internet technologies for most of his earnings.

'Talent is not enough...Dreams are not enough...You have to learn to market and sell your product, even if your "product" is yourself.' - Talking to Spanish interviewer
''Makeshift goalposts were designated using pullovers or shoes and referees were as rare as European royalty at a reggae concert.'- ‘A Game For Heroes…If You Believe the Hype’ (short story)

'As all golfers and surfers know, the wind is a fickle mistress and cannot be relied upon.' - ‘A Game For Heroes…If You Believe the Hype’ (short story)
' "Exciting" is a dull word to describe the pro wrestling business.'

'These guys (politicians) lie all the time. They can tell you they buy Playboy for the articles and expect you to believe it.'

'It’s not like Western governments were doing any cheerleading for us when we were peaceful.' - Addressing Kenya's descent into chaos after the 2007 presidential election.'

'Reactions to emerging details (about the 1994 Rwandan Genocide) were slower than a striptease.' - 'Harvest of Blood', (short story), Angela On My Mind

‘I don’t remember the collapse of the first East African Community, mainly because I wasn’t born yet.’ – During the 2007 talks to restore the EAC which collapsed in 1977

'If religion is the opium of the masses, then politics is the marijuana: It is cheap, commonplace, highly addictive, can be good but is often harmful and gives people a euphoric high that only lasts for a short time before reality comes crashing in.'

'If I'm politically correct, it's by accident. Even when I was a child, I never cared much for political correctness or conformity.'

'What we need is Africa 2.0 - A new version of Africa. A United States of Africa.'

'There are 50 states that make up the US; there are 53 countries that make up Africa. If we can have a United States of America then there's no reason why we can't have a United States of Africa.'

'There's food for though here, but let us not go into a feeding frenzy. There's enough for everyone.' - On the feasibility of a United States of Africa.

'Kenyans are way too obsessed with politics. I knew this shoemaker when I lived in Lang'ata who wouldn't even turn up for work if there was a political rally to be attended. His makeshift workstation had no shelter and he lived in the nearby Kibera slum and yet, he was still content to discuss duelling politicians all day. The politicians themselves lived in mansions and were flush with money...Many Kenyans are like that shoemaker. Politics are inevitable but do we have to dwell on them 24/7? There are other things in the world - there's tourism and agriculture, there's sports and entertainment.'

‘I love people – and I have the scars to prove it.’

'I don't like know-it-alls. In other words, I don't like competition.'

‘I see things in black and white. To me, Robin Hood was a thief and Cinderella was a social climber.’ – ‘I Tell You True’ (unreleased)

'You know the world is upside down when Zsa Zsa Gabor, who never accomplished anything of note, is many times more famous than Nikola Tesla, whose inventions affect every person on earth.'

'I once dated a Miss Tourism model who turned out to be more like Miss turned out that she wore padded bras."

‘I never pay critics any mind: I just let their criticisms pass harmlessly through me, like neutrinos.’
(A neutrino, in physics, is an elementary matter particle with no atomic mass. Neutrinos, shot out of the sun, pass through our bodies every day.)
‘Old age creeps up on you like a mugger on the streets of Nairobi.’

‘If men like clean girls, then how come prostitution is the world’s oldest profession?’ – Sex and the City: Kenyan Prostitutes in London (article)

'Don't make fun of women. If anything, they're the cornerstones of the community.' - Reacting to an online ad that suggested that a winged sanitary pad is the ideal pack for an Apple iPad

'I never interfere with nature unless it is absolutely neccesary. I don't even interrupt insects if I catch them mating inside my house. I do, however, wish they would be more discreet about there sexual encounters: a white wall provides very little camouflage.'

'Her eyes were as blue as the cloud-starved African sky / that arched above us like the Sistine painting by Michaelangelo.' - Someone in Africa Loves You (poem), The Moon is Made of Green Cheese

'The El Nino weather phenomenon was in force and the icy wind was as deadly as the Devil’s own breath.'- A Cold day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'
‘They were enjoying their first date at a small restaurant a few days later when a tornado ripped through the area like the wrath of God.’ - What’s Wrong With This Picture? (play)

'A blood orange African horizon, and the rising sun like a raw egg yolk.' - Life as a Disease, 'Angela on My Mind'

'It was another cold day, the morning breeze a worthy rival to arctic winds.' - A Cold day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

'...the sky was an abstract painting of purple and pink and orange.' - Kiss, Commander, Promise, 'Angela on My Mind'

'It didn't even look like the sun! It was so big and full and beautiful, it looked like a sister planet - something out of a Flash Gordon comic strip.' - A Game for Gentlemen

‘A spray emanates from the shoe and the Henchman collapses, dead as chivalry.’ – What’s Wrong With This Picture? (play)

'As we wait and watch, a sulphur-yellow Hummer 3 zooms past, sticking out from the mostly dark vehicles like an albino in the Million Man March.' - 'Kiss, Commander, Promise' (spy story), Angela On My Mind

'My first port of call was the mortuary where the MP’s cadaver lay on a slab, post-autopsy, like the victim of an alien abduction.'- A Cold Day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

'A few drunkards stagger home or lie on the filthy ground like broken dolls.' - Life as a Game (film script)

'... and although the sari she wore exposed her presentable mid-riff, her breasts were carefully concealed, like weapons of mass destruction.' - 'Rude Was the Shock' (short story), Angela on My Mind

‘A virus is the smallest parasite in the business.’ – Life as a Disease (short story), Angela On My Mind

‘There is a time to walk and a time to run; a time to spy and a time to refrain from spying.’ - 'Kiss, Commander, Promise' (spy story), Angela On My Mind

‘The police residence was densely populated – rumours would swirl around us like flies over a dead dog.’ - ‘Angela On My Mind’ (short story), Angela On My Mind

'...the seven Israeli legislators...were now sitting around an elliptical Formica table, as silent as the faces on Mt.Rushmore.' - The Tommorrow Soldiers, 'Angela on My Mind'

‘Hard words they were and they hurt like punches.’ – The World is Upside Down (poem), The Moon is Made of Green Cheese

'As the getaway car zoomed down Uhuru Highway, navigated the roundabout with Haile Selassie Avenue and headed on towards Nyayo Stadium, the Hyundai stuck to it like a cheap pair of trousers.' - 'Kiss, Commander, Promise' (spy story), Angela On My Mind

'Nonsense! I avoid cliches like the plague!' - Character in 'The Smartest Guy in the Boardroom'

'... and although the sari she wore exposed her presentable mid-riff, her breasts were carefully concealed, like weapons of mass destruction.' - Rude Was the Shock, 'Angela on My Mind'

'I don't remember saying that - but it sounds like something I'd say.' - Asked if the line 'Police intelligence is an oxymoron' is attributable to him. (He actually wrote in the script for the movie 'The War Room')

'Doctors are the gods of the new millennium.' - The Tomorrow Soldiers, 'Angela on My Mind'

'Night and day, Maggie fumed. Her mind went to and fro like a caged tiger.' - When the Whirlwind Passess

'The Mercedes lurched forward and managed to catch the tail-end of the yellow light. ' - Life as a Disease, 'Angela on My Mind'

'Tall, lean and with greying hair, he (the doctor) wore a white dustcoat and smiled like a magician entertaining kids.' - A Cold day in December, 'Angela on My Mind'

‘The press. They’re as inevitable as death and taxes.’ – A Konkodi as President, Matatu magazine (2007)

'The problem was the amount of pepper and spice in the stews. By the time that curve collection, Devi, came to my rescue, I was sweating bullets.' - Rude Was the Shock, 'Angela on My Mind'

 ‘I was born as the credits were rolling up on the Seventies.’ – ‘A Game For Heroes…If You Believe the Hype’ (short story)

'This hint should be as clear as a neon sign in a desert but some guys still miss it and keep pursuing a chick who couldn't be less interested in them.' - 'She's Just Not That Into You' (Article)

‘The city blacksmiths made more and more weapons and amours and soldiers began wearing amulets into battle but the invaders usually had the weight of numbers and when the battles were over, the bodies of the sons of the stars lay all over the Flatlands like rotting fish on a dried-up river bed.’ - The Amari Chronicles

‘I have some poems under my belt but I consider myself a prose writer. Readers of my poems will have noticed that most of them are ‘story poems’ that come dangerously close to the poetry-prose border and even threaten to jump over like illegal immigrants.’ – Alexander Nderitu Changes Kenya’s Literary Landscape

‘History records that prostitution was humanity's first profession. Before there were lawyers and doctors, there were prostitutes. Before there were soldiers and spies, there were prostitutes.’ - The Naked Truth About London's Sex Queens

(c) Alex N Nderitu

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:

Alexander Nderitu presents WRESTLING GREATEST QUOTES!!!

'You have to grab your competition by the throat and you gotta squeeze the life out of your competition.' - Vincent K. McMahon, wrestling promoter

'If Mr.McMahon dies, do you think the mourners will outnumber the cheering section?' - Commentator Jerry "The King" Lawler after Vince McMahon and Shane poured green paint all over "Eugene" on RAW

'This man can make a horror movie without makeup.' - Jerry "The King" Lawler talking about The Great Khali.

'If Shakespeare was alive today, he'd be writing wrestling shows.' - Wrestler Chris Jericho, promoting his book, "'Lions' Tale: Around the World in Spandex"

''Walk along one day and do nothing wrong, play by the rules, be a good person, do everything right: it doesn't guarantee anything.' - The late Owen Hart, 'The Life and Death of Owen Hart' (DVD)

'Vince Russo destroyed the Periodic Table as he only recognises the element of surprise.' - Jim Cornette, 'Ring Roasts III'

'The grass is always greener on the other side, unless Vince Russo has been there in which case the grass is most likely dead.' - Jim Cornette, 'Ring Roasts III'

'The saddest moment in a child's life is not when he learns that Santa Claus isn't real, it's when he learns that Vince Russo is.' - Jim Cornette, 'Ring Roasts III'

'He (Vince Russo) is the only booker I've seen who doesn't get people over, he gets them under.' - Jim Cornette, 'Ring Roasts III'

'Is your (Missy Hyatt's) pussy still considered a private part?.' - Al Snow, 'Ring Roasts III'

Al Snow, 'Ring Roasts III

' "Exciting" is a dull world to describe the wrestling business.' - Alexander 'Saint Alex' Nderitu, African wrestling promoter

'Only death can seperate me from the wrestling world.' - Alexander 'Saint Alex' Nderitu, African wrestling promoter

Alexander 'Saint Alex' Nderitu, African wrestling promoter  
'I go out there, I live everything in the ring...I live, eat, sleep the business and try to get better.' - Ken Anderson ("Mr. Kennedy") in and interview with the PWR show.

'It's the greatest show on earth. It's unbelievable.' - Ric Flair, retired veteran wrestler, in interview with CBS

'And what this ECW is doing is educating you people once again that there IS wrestling, spelt W-R-E-S-T-L-I-N-G, out there.' - ECW hardcore legend Terry Funk

'I believe you've got to learn to lose before you learn to win, and Brock (Lesnar) lost his share of matches and he was not special coming up in the kids' ranks and then he caught on and when Brock gets confident, he's unbeatable.' - Brock Lesnar's amatuer wrestling coach.

'I got this bad allergy - I'm allergic to bullshit.' - Jim Cornette, 'Ring Roasts III'

'Paul Heyman could shit a better wrestling format in his sleep than Vince Russo and Ed Ferrara could do if they worked on it for twenty years.' - Jim Cornette

'Picking out Vince Russo's faults could be a full-time job for somebody.' - Jim Cornette

'I spent my life - all my life - learning to wrestle. It's the only means of livelihood I've ever had and, uh, the only gimmick that I have in wrestling is wrestling.' - Lou Thesz, pro-wrestling icon

'We're the greatest athletes in the world without a doubt.' - Hulk Hogan, legendary pro wrestler

'No great success comes without risk.' - Dixie Carter, TNA President

'I got sued more times than Martha Stewart.' - Paul Heyman, Executive and spiritual guide of Extreme Championship Wrestling

'You cannot achieve success without the risk of failure...You cannot achieve success if you FEAR failure.' - Paul Heyman, Executive and spiritual guide of Extreme Championship Wrestling

'Why be second best at anything?' - Paul Heyman

'He (the Iron Sheik) loves wrestling. It's like breathing for him. He's always loved it.' - The Iron Sheik's wife

'That was my heart and that was my passion. All I ever wanted to do is wrestle. I never wanted to pitch in Game Seven of the World Series, I never wanted to throw the touchdown in the Superbowl, I wanted to wrestle...Be a professional wrestler.' - Tommy Dreamer aka "The Innovator of Violence", ECW veteran wrestler

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Angela on My Mind (Short Story)

A high-strung cop, a beautiful girl and a naive writer... After this drama, Angela will be on your mind, too!

It’s hard to explain what happened.

Even today, more than a year after the fact, I still find myself at a loss for words when I try to tell the story. But I’m a writer: I’m supposed to be able to describe people and events with devastating accuracy. So I’ll try to explain.

I first met Angela on a shimmering Saturday afternoon. (Yes, this is a love story – but it’s unlike any love story you’ve ever heard.) The sun was blazing in a barren azure sky and I had gone to purchase a loaf of bread at local kiosk. The kiosk was decorated with posters of Coca-Cola, orange juice and other products and Angela was leaning over the counter, making small-talk with the seller from whom she had bought some innocent household items. She was in her early twenties, about five-foot-five, very slim, endowed with large, golden-brown eyes and thick, sensual lips. She wore a long lemon-coloured shirt and black slacks. She had blonde hairpiece which went well with the delicate biscuit-brown of her skin. Attractive she certainly was, but no more attractive than other hotties I’ve seen around the estate.

I said, ‘Hi’, to the shopkeeper and since Angela was the only other person there, I greeted her as well. The wide ovals of her eyes studied my face for a brief moment and then she said, ‘Hi’, in return. She excused herself and as she sauntered away, I took care of my business. As I left the kiosk, I noticed Angela a few paces ahead of me, walking leisurely. I debated with myself as to whether I should catch up with her and in the end I said, ‘What the hell!’ and made my move.
‘Hello again,’ I said, drawing abreast of her and flashing a smile. She again stared at me for a second before responding and I started to despise her snotty attitude.
‘My name is Drew,’ I mumbled. ‘Andrew, actually. But everyone calls me Drew. And you are…’
She had a soft, child-like voice that I found rather endearing. Kids on roller skates and BMX bikes overtook us as we walked.
‘So…you live in this estate?’ I ventured.
She shook her head.
‘No, I just pass through it as a short cut.’
Hot air was rising from the baking ground in wavy currents and the dust stirred up by passing bikes or cars took time before settling.
‘So what do you do, Angela?’
She said it chirpy way but I didn’t like it because it didn’t make building a meaningful conversation any easier. I hoped she’d say she worked somewhere or went to college so that I could use that as the basis for my next query. You can’t make build something out of nothing.
‘What about you?’ she asked, turning to face me.
‘I am a writer. Freelance. I write feature articles on topical issues and then sell them to newspapers and magazines. Sometimes I write short stories, too. The magazines are usually interested in them.’
‘Does it pay well?’
‘Not really, but I love writing. Just being published is like part-payment to me.’
We had reached my gate so I stopped and extended my hand.
‘I guess I’ll be seeing you around,’ I said as we shook hands. And on that unromantic note, we parted.

I should have asked for her digits, I know. I should have, at the very least, asked her which estate she lived in and her house number. My main problem is that I often freak out when it comes to asking girls for their phone numbers or e-mail addresses or anything else that puts me at their mercy.
I hoped to see into Angela again but that didn’t happen for a while. I made more trips to the kiosk where we met but drew a blank. I almost asked the shopkeeper for Angela’s contact information since I had seen them talking but I decided not to until I became desperate. The thing is that, like most men, I prefer not to involve other people in my romantic escapades. Spread but the word, untune that string, and those who know you will watch your burgeoning relationship the way bored housewives watch Mexican soap operas, not to mention that they’re liable to get jealous and throw a spanner in the works.

Hence, instead of asking after her, I took long walks around the estate in the vain hope that we would bump into each other. I didn’t consider walking around a waste of time because walking helps me think out stories, especially when I’m “blocked” - when the creative juices aren’t flowing.

And then one hazy Sunday morning at around ten in the morning, I was going home from a nearby supermarket when I spotted Angela in the distance. Her shiny, blonde hair was the placard that grabbed my attention. Again, she was on her own and walking leisurely. I rushed towards her and called out her name from a few paces off. She stopped to wait for me.

I came up to her, said hello and asked her where she was headed. She said she was just about to enter her church, indicating a Baptist establishment behind her. I asked what time the church service ended and if we could meet up afterwards: churches and I don’t mix. She said that the church’s traffic would end at mid-day, after which she would be free. So I suggested that she pass by my place afterwards and I would take her out for chips or something and she agreed. The Baptist church choir struck a hymn as Angela walked into the worshipful compound.

I stuck around the house, doing little chores and hoping she’d keep her promise. After my clock’s minute hand married the hour hand in a 12 o’clock ceremony, I started to peep through the window in anticipation. Fifteen minutes past the hour, the door bell rang.

A nice time we had of it, cracking jokes and getting to know each other. It emerged, to my detriment, that she lived with a guy. He was a cop attached to a police station neighbouring our estate. (There was also an army barracks, a prison facility and military hospital in our environs but for some reason the crime rate remained high). Angela’s boyfriend was called Dave and had the unimpressive rank of constable. I asked how they met, which was probably a mistake because I didn’t like the feeling I got in my stomach as she narrated the tale. Their paths first crossed as Dave and a fellow cop were on patrol, harassing drunks and arresting weed peddlers. Dave spotted her walking around with a friend and started teasing her. First, he said something to the effect that that he was going to arrest her for ‘Loitering with intent’ for which the sentence was marriage to him. He then changed directions and said he was going to arrest her for being so beautiful as to contribute to global warming and the sentence was…marriage to him. She was laughing as he fooled around so he just kept going. He insisted, in all seriousness, that she was too fat for his taste and that if she slimmed down she might have a chance with him, which was hilarious because she was as slim as a whip while he was potbellied. After a few minutes of making her laugh, Dave and his mate moved on, Angela and her friend watching their retreating backs.

Angela and Dave’s paths crossed each other again soon afterwards and this time he accused her of stalking him. They chatted for a while and then Dave had to go and throw weed peddlers into dank police cells. In later days, Angela and Dave’s flirty interactions began to gel into a relationship and Dave asked her out on a date. It was a Saturday and he was off-duty. It was the first time she saw him without his deep-blue uniform but the bulge of his holster was still visible on the side of his jacket. He took her to a classy restaurant and asked her to order ‘anything’ which surprised her because the salaries paid out to constables were nothing to write home about. Later in the evening, he called over a young waitress, gave her a Gloria Estefan cassette tape and asked her to play it over the stereo. The waitress thought it was a romantic move and dreamily obliged. As the strains of Gloria Estefans’ I’m Not Giving You Up filled the room, Dave took Angela’s hand and smiled in her face. It was at that moment that she realized what was going on: Dave had fallen in love with her.

It was past two now and I asked Angela to accompany me to a nearby Kenchick takeaway joint. She agreed. I bought us chicken, chips and canned Coca-Colas and then we returned to my place where I sought to learn more about her.

With her legs crossed and a fork held gingerly by her slender fingers like a painter’s brush, Angela explained that she came from a small town, without the benefit of a college education, and had originally hoped to find a job as a receptionist or something while she mapped out her future. Initially, she lived in my estate under the auspices of her older sister but they fell out dramatically when her sister’s boyfriends switched their attentions to her. At the time, she was working as a shampoo girl at a local salon. When she explained to her lady boss that her sister wanted her out of the house, the salon owner gave her a place to stay. Shortly after that, Dave took her out to the trendy restaurant and later asked her to take up residence with him. Since she was drifter, she said yes.

Did she love him? She liked him, certainly. She liked him from the day they met. He made her laugh, he showered her with affection and presents, he gave her commitment. Without question, he was madly in love with her. Unfortunately, she didn’t reciprocate the feelings. Girls like her were approached by men all the time. They couldn’t fall in love with every man that fell in love with them even if they wanted to.

Angela and I spent the whole afternoon together, that cloudy Sunday, talking and eating. Somewhere along the avenues of conversation, she asked me whether I smoked. I used to smoke but I had since given up the habit.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Why do you ask?’
Because she liked the way men smoked, she said. She enjoyed watching the blue smoke curl out of their mouth. It was like Angela to say things like that. She wasn’t the smartest girl on the block and was very much taken by small things.
At round seven in the evening, we left my place for Angela’s. I asked her if it was safe for me to visit heart her boyfriend’s place and she said, ‘Sure’. Dave was away throughout the day so I could turn up any time during those hours. She had stopped working at the salon because she didn’t like job description.
One had to enter the police station compound to get to the cops’ residence so I bid Angela farewell at the main gate and returned home.

One of the reasons why I like writing so much is the flexibility of the hours: they bend like rubber. The following Monday morning, I finished up an article I had been writing on Human Genetic Cloning and e-mailed it to my main client, a general-interest magazine called The Informer. I then shut down my computer, bought a packet of Marlboro cigarettes and went off to Dave’s house. The area was rather crowded with clotheslines everywhere and kids running up and down between the semi-detached houses. I located Dave’s house and knocked on the door, ready to say I was an insurance salesman should Dave open the door. (I had real insurance forms left for me to fill by an Alico agent). Angela opened the door in a T-shirt and shorts and invited me in. She had been watching TV and the set was still on. We had orange juice and then I pulled out the smokes and asked Angela if I could light up in the house.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Dave smokes all the time.’
I offered her one stick but she declined, saying she wasn’t a smoker herself. I lit up the cigarette and proceeded to entertain her with the peculiar smoke signals I could blow out of my mouth and nose. She especially liked it when I closed my mouth and puffed out streams of nose smoke the way a raging bull puffs out hot breath.

Afterwards, I started kissing her around the neck and we ended up making love on the sofa. I have to say I was rather surprised at how easily I nailed her. I had expected my seduction to last at least one month. She must have been bored with just hanging about the house all day. Later, we had more orange juice and then I left.

Over the next five months, Angela and I engaged in a passionate love affair. I didn’t go back to Dave’s house because it was more discreet for her to visit me at my place. The police residence was densely populated – rumors would swirl around us like flies over a dead dog.
To spice up our sex life, I talked Angela into bringing along one of Dave’s spare police uniforms when she came to visit. We’d wear the deep-blue uniform in turns. Imitating the detectives on TV, I’d feign seriousness and tell Angie, ‘You have the right to remain silent…Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…’ Angela would burst out laughing while I fought hard to remain stone-faced. She loved my Oscar-deserving performances almost as much as I loved seeing her in nothing but the unbuttoned police shirt and the peaked cap. It created a lust in me like the Devil’s own. Once, Angie even brought along a set of shiny handcuffs. She deliciously arrested me, read me my rights and then made love to me while I was helpless.

I won’t go into graphic detail concerning my intimacies with Angie, not because I’m a gentleman but because I don’t want to create distractions or downplay the gravity of this tale. Suffice it to say that those lazy summer days I spent with Angela were the best days of my life. I even toyed with the idea of marrying her. She may not have been overburdened by brains but she didn’t have as many issues as most women, the kind who enter union with a man still carrying baggage from as far back as childhood.

So one day, as I pondered the question of marrying Angela, I offered to buy her French fries and soda at a nearby sports club. The sun was beating down on the earth with hammer blows of heat as we walked out of my estate and onto the main road on which busy vehicles criss-crossed each other. We were passing a roadside grocery when a fat woman buying onions and tomatoes greeted Angela. She didn’t greet me but her beady eyes flashed at me from above sagging cheeks and I knew that she had taken a mental picture of me and filed it under ‘PEOPLE TO INVESTIGATE’. Even as the distance between us and the woman widened, I could sense her gaze on my back.
‘Who was that?’ I asked Angela, further on.
‘Just a neighbour,’ she replied in a dismissive tone.
We reached the sports center which had, among other amenities, two gyms, two Olympic-size swimming pools, three tennis courts, a restaurant and a members-only bar. We entered the restaurant and ordered fries and chilled sodas. The large windows gave an engaging view of one of the swimming pools and every now and then we would watch a swimmer launch himself from the high-up diving board and plunge into the blue water with a mighty splash. After we had had our fill, we walked unhurriedly back to my place, the looks from men we passed leaving no doubt that Angela was very easy on the eyes.

Angela took a nap while I tapped on my keyboard. Towards evening, she announced that she had some errands to run. We kissed and she left.

The very next day, Angela unexpectedly turned up at my place. She looked distraught and I immediately sensed that something was wrong. She informed me that Dave had been asking questions about me. Apparently, the woman at the grocery store was as nosy as she was fat and had spread the word around the neighbourhood. She had actually commissioned a small boy to follow us and report back to her.
‘What did you tell him?’ I said.
‘First, I told him you were just a friend but he said that he had suspected I was cheating on him for a long time now because there were many times he passed by the house during the day and missed me. So I told him everything.’
‘I told him that it was true that I was seeing someone else.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘Well…He was hurt.’
‘Did he beat you up or anything?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘What do you mean, “am I sure”? Dave can’t beat me. He loves me.’
‘You mean he didn’t react at all? Most guys I know would have gone ballistic.’
‘Well…He was hurt and he didn’t want to talk to me after that. But it’s not like we’re married or anything.’
I was relieved that he hadn’t hit her but I now began to fear for my own safety.
‘So what will we do now?’ Angela was saying.
‘Er…er…Tell you what – why don’t you just come and stay with me? I mean, you can’t continue staying with someone who knows you’re cheating. Dave won’t have it. Ok? Will you come and stay here?’
‘So when do you want to move in?’
She shrugged.
‘Even today,’ said. ‘But I have to tell Dave first.’
We parted.
Angela never did move in with me.

She packed her bags and waited for her policeman lover to come home. She told him that she was leaving him. He asked why. She confessed that her feelings for him had never been that strong; that she thought of him more as a friend than a husband. He controlled his emotions and asked for just one last favour – that she would dine with him at that restaurant where they had had their first date. She agreed.

The rest of the story is gleaned from a hodgepodge of eyewitnesses. Dave and Angela arrived at the restaurant a little past 7 PM. They ordered drinks which neither touched. Dave did most of the talking, speaking in the low tone of a bereaved person. He presently handed a passing waitress a Gloria Estefan cassette and asked her to play it over the speakers. The love song, I’m Not Giving You Up, suddenly imbued the diner. Dave reached into his jacket. The waitress who had taken the tape was passing by again and thought that the romantic cop was about to present an engagement ring. Instead, Dave drew his service revolver and trained it at Angela who was seated across from him. Her eyes widened into orbs but that was her only visible reaction. The sound of the blast filled the diner, drowning out Estefen’s ballad. So great was the force of the bullet that Angela toppled backwards in her chair and hit the floor, arms outstretched, a red magma of blood flowing down her bust. Dave then placed the muzzle of the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Another volcanic explosion of blood erupted, mottling the waitress and an old couple sitting behind the crazed policeman.

Chaos erupted. Patrons, waiters and waitresses all scrambled for the exits, screaming. A crowd of curious onlookers gathered at the windows. Traffic on a nearby road ground to a halt. Before long, a police car rolled up, followed by two more, sirens wailing. The law enforcers parted the crowds like Moses parting the Red Sea and studied the mess. Man, the place looked like a slaughterhouse! The most nauseating aspect was Dave’s bulk as it lay in a pool of its own blood. The face, including the mouth through which the bullet entered, looked as calm and innocent as a sleeping man’s - but the exit wound was another story. Half the back of his head was missing and blood-soaked brains littered the shiny floor. Shaking their heads at the spectacle of their fallen colleague, the cops secured the area and set about recording statements from witnesses.

So that’s what happened. Dave the cop put a bullet through the girl he loved and then blew his own brains out. The story sounded so unbelievable to me when I first heard it that I would wake up in the morning hoping it was all a bad dream. I have tears for Angela – and Dave too. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just loved too much.
I haven’t been the same since the incident, as you I might suppose. To expunge my guilt, I keep telling myself that it wasn’t my fault. That people cheat on each other all the time. The trick is not to turn love into an obsession the way Dave did. It’s ironical that Dave spent most of his short career arresting drug dealers without ever knowing he was himself addicted to a potent drug – love.

I now smoke more than I ever did and think more carefully about the consequences of my actions. Right now, I’m alone in my house, tapping on my computer, with a packet of Marlboro cigarettes on the desk, a sense of loss in my heart and Angela on my mind.

(c) Alex N Nderitu

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:


If I Were a Calypsonian (Poem)

If I were a Calypsonian, like David Rudder,
I would write a love song for my lover
And dress it up with colourful descriptions
Of her beauty and grace and sense of fashion.
Sweet lyrics I would compose for my Significant Other;
To make her blush and forget her anger.

If I were a Calypsonian, like Mighty Sparrow,
I would compose a vibrant song for the Carnival;
With a horn section and strong African beats
That would have all the girls dancing in the streets
In their outlandish costumes and accessories.

If I were a Calypsonian, like Lord Kitchener,
I would tell a hundred tales, all in Calypso,
Of love and life and matters political,
In order to educate and entertain the listener.
I would be the poor man’s newspaper.

If I were a Calypsonian, like Lord Melody,
I would be the leader of a big steel band.
And I would sing funny songs about moms and dads,
Sons and daughters, sexy women and crooked politicians.
My band would tour all over Trinidad
And revive the Calypso art throughout the Caribbean.

(c) Alex N Nderitu

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:

APPRENTICE FEVER: The Art of Being Like Donald

It’s brutal, it’s tough – it’s business.’ – Donald Trump

When New York property magnate Donald Trump (Estimated net worth: $USD 4 billion) decided to produce and star in his own reality TV show, “The Apprentice”, some years ago, few would have guessed how successful the marathon job interview was going to be. It not only became the highest-rated show on NBC but inspired a slew of other corporate reality TV shows. Global in its appeal, “Apprentice” fever has reached Kenya and young entrepreneurs can be heard discussing the show in their offices and elsewhere. But too much of any good thing can be poisonous: A couple of beers at your favourite pub after work may be par for the course but more than that and you’re likely to take out one of Esther Passaris’ street lamps on the drive home. So if you notice the following signs in your behaviour, then you’ve been watching TOO MUCH ‘Apprentice’:

  1. When you’re breaking up with a girlfriend / boyfriend, you say: “You’re fired!”
  2. Before making a major decision, you always consult two people (a man and a woman.)
  3. Whenever you meet a friend, the first thing you do is give him a summary of what you did last week.
  4. Your favourite song is ‘Money, money, money…money!’
  5. It takes you more than ten weeks to hire a single employee.
  6. You keep separating the male and female employees at your workplace in order to see which group is tougher.
  7. When your child annoys you, you tell him to meet you in the boardroom later on.
  8. Each week, you assign tasks to your children and ask them to choose their own project managers.
  9. You have moved from the suburbs into a luxury apartment in the middle of the city.
  10. You have blocked out all the windows of your office / boardroom and dimmed the lights.
  11. You have redecorated your office in red and gold to resemble Trump’s. You have even gone as far as hiring a new receptionist called Robin.
  12. Before firing an employee, you ask him how many people he’d like to bring to the boardroom.
  13. You have emblazoned your name on all your property (house, car, lawnmower, tea cups etc)
  14. Every time your company develops a new product, you name it after yourself.
  15. You have started writing business books whose major theme is to “think big.”
  16. You get sick every time you the name “Ivana” (Trump’s controversial ex-wife.)
  17. You quite often wear a red “power tie” to go with your dapper business suit.
  18. More than once, you’ve appeared in the office in a tuxedo (to show that you’re often invited to formal events.)

(c) Alex N Nderitu

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at:

Thursday, May 5, 2011


I'm about to shed some light,
Cause each and every night
You gotta do it right '
- Ludacris, 'Splash Waterfalls'

If somebody asked me which gender is currently ahead in the unfortunate 'Battle of the Sexes', I'd have to say: WOMEN.

To be exact, the 'Battle of the Sexes' is like a worldwide nuclear war - there can be no real winners. Men and women shouldn't be racing for superiority - they should be working side by side. But the feminists don't want to hear that. All around the world, feminists, man-eaters, women's NGOs and die-hard lesbians are fronting the war on men - and they're winning.

They're getting ordinary wives and girlfriends to turn against their men. These days, if your wife beats you, women laugh and call you a wimp. If you beat your wife, you're arrested, tried for 'Assault and Battery' and possibly jailed while delegations of feminist organisations visit your wife to 'comfort the victim.'

The dating scene has become another battlefield for this unholy war. Women are going all-out to 'tame' men and even more alarming is the fact that men are not fighting back effectively.

Bookstore shelves and magazine racks are dripping with information on 'how to trap/keep a man' but there's hardly a single book on how men should attract or keep women. The few places you can find good dating tips for men include, and, of course, this website - . Meanwhile, women are reading books like 'The Rules' which blatantly teach them how to manipulate men. Magazines such as 'SATURDAY' (Kenya's largest-circulation magazine), are not complete unless they carry articles with such headings as 'He's Not Interested in You, Baby' and ' Finding Mr.Right - Why it's Time to Change Tactics'.

Recently, A MAN wrote a book titled 'HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU' which tells a woman the signs to watch for when a man is playing her (To the author, I'd like to say: 'Thank you, Judas. Come collect your 30 pieces of silver'). The book became a worldwide bestseller after it was featured not once but twice on the Oprah Winfrey show. The irony is that men need this kind of book much more than women because women are more subtle in their communication (Like giving you the silent treatment instead of just telling you that she's annoyed about something you did.)

So, to even the playing field (battlefield?) here's a list of tell-tale signs that will tell you when a chick is wasting your time (and money).

1. She Makes Endless Excuses

'Amarosa, I don't like excuses... You're fired!' - Donald Trump, 'The Apprentice' Season 1

You may be familiar with this scene. No date you arrange with her ever materialises because:
- she has a class
- she's going to the salon
- she already promised her girlfriends she'd go someplace with them
- her parents won't let her leave the house
- she's not feeling well
- she's not dressed for the occasion
- she's washing her cat
- There's a lion in the streets
- She's afraid of catching Ebola.................and a million other excuses.

I once read an agony aunt column where a young Kenyan dude was complaining
that he's dating a chick who loves going out to expensive hotels but whenever he asks her to come over to his house, she gives endless excuses. Look here, son. If she always has an excuse NOT to be alone with you then show her your back: she's not feeling you. You're wasting your time (and, evidently, your hard-earned money as well.) If she was into you, she'd be making excuses to see you, not the opposite. I know many university girls who regularly miss lessons to spend time with their boyfriends. I know of one girl who left WORK at noon saying that she was feeling sick when the real reason was that she wanted to 'prepare herself for Sean Paul' when he held a concert in Nairobi (The concert started at around MIDNIGHT).

2. She's Never Available - Especially On Weekends
This is closely related to MAKING EXCUSES. The chick simply won't avail herself to you. She might even agree to a date but she won't turn up. Women love going 'out'. If she's not available on weekends and other fun days, then she obviously has other options. Women make themselves available to guys they're interested in. That's why you should ask a chick out only once .If she doesn't accept, then move on.

3. She Wants You To Be 'Just Friends'
Never agree to be relegated to the 'friendship zone'. Never. Don't accept to just flirt with her (or even buy her food and gifts) and then watch her walk into the arms of her boyfriend (you know - the one who shags her every time he feels like.) NEVER ACCEPT CRUMBS (handshakes, chaste pecks, quick hugs etc). If she doesn't want to give you what you want, then don't give her anything, either. Move on.

4. She Tries to Hook You Up With Her Girlfriends
There you are, trying your damndest to win her over and what does she do - she tries to unload you on her friend. She introduces the friend and even 'builds her up' for you saying things like, 'She's into rock music like you' or 'You have so much in common.' If you're in a club, she tries to make you dance with somebody else. Women are very protective of the people they care about and are easily aroused to jealousy. If she happily unloads you onto ANOTHER GIRL, then as sure as eggs is eggs, she's not into you!

5. She's Cheating on You

'Maybelline,why can't you be true?
Oh, Maybelline,why can't you be true?
You started back doing the things you used to do!'
- Chuck Berry, 'Maybelline'

Some time ago,I read an agony aunt column where a man was confused about a lady he loved (I told you men are being massacred out there!) You see, he wanted to marry her but the lady was a tramp. He went to the US for further studies and while he was away, he was informed that she was cheating on him. True enough, by the time he got back, she had given birth to somebody else's kid. He took her back nonetheless but it wasn't long before he caught her in bed with his cousin. On a later date, she was seen entering another man's house at night and leaving in the morning. When he confronted her with the issue, she explained that it was raining and she had gone into that man's house to 'protect her hair'! Despite all this, she claimed that she loved him and wanted to get married. (Our advice to this particular guy is: Ditch the bitch. If she's a serial cheater, then what do you want her for?)

The truth of the matter is that there's no excuse for cheating. Even if you're seeing other women, that doesn't give her a carte blanche to sleep around - after all, if you took a gun and murdered ten people would she also take a gun and kill ten more? Of course not. According to Judge Mablean Ephraim of TV's Divorce Court, saying that your partner was also cheating is just an EXCUSE that women give in order to 'JUSTIFY their infidelity.'

6. She Won't Sleep or Engage In Intimate Behaviour With You

'It's not a space shuttle launch - it's sex.' - American Pie 1

Girls LOVE intimate behaviour. They spend a lot of time reading stuff on 'how to drive your man wild in bed', how to French-kiss etc. They like to be good in bed (all the guys with super-sexy girlfriends, give me a silent nod there.) They don't spend years learning this stuff for nothing. They also like to cuddle, be stroked and caressed. So if she doesn't want to do any intimate stuff with you then it's time to take a hike. When she meets someone who tickles her fancy, she'll shower him with affection. For some reason, you didn't spark attraction in her.

Refusing to sleep with you is a big issue. Virgins are so rare these days, they should be protected under the 'Endangered Species Act'. If an adult female is not sleeping with you, she's probably sleeping with someone else - or will be sleeping with someone else in the near future. Don't believe me? Then analyze this: An average woman has about 3 thousand sexual encounters in her lifetime but she only has about 3 kids at the end of it all. And since there are 6.5 billion people alive, take out your calculator and tell me how many sexual encounters have taken place in the last one hundred years or so! Everyone does "it".

Some reasons chicks give for not handing over the goodies are:

- I'm a Christian and have to wait until I'm married to have sex
- I'm just not ready
- We'll be caught
- Nime "Chill"
- It's too early
- It's painful
And so on and so forth.

Why should these excuses be disregarded? Because if Usher Raymond came to Kenya, that same chick who was pretending to be holier than Archangel Michael will be throwing her panties and bras at him. And as far as the holier-than-thou religious girls are concerned, remember that even prostitutes claim to 'saved' these days. They say that they only engage in prostitution to feed their kids etc. Of course a babe could have genuine reasons for avoiding sex eg. You have no protection, she's on her periods etc.(And, by the way, players use protection - don't proliferate the city with kids and then blame me!)

If all the girls you meet claim to be celibate, then it's high time you stopped looking for girls at the local convent. And as for the prude who wants to wait for the 'the right place, the right time, the right moment', calmly remind her that it's not a space shuttle launch - it's sex.

7. She Avoids You
This hint should be as clear as a neon sign in a desert but some guys still miss it and keep pursuing a chick who couldn't be less interested in them. There are various kinds of avoidance:
- Physical (not wanting to sit next to you, be seen in with you etc)
- Not answering your phone calls / not returning your sms's
- Asking a friend / sister to answer the door when you visit
- Switching off her cellphone when you're calling
- Cutting off the connection when she hears your voice over the phone
- Claiming to be too busy to meet you even for a few minutes (How busy can she
possibly be? Is she Oprah Winfrey or Hilary Clinton?)
If she's avoiding you, then GAME OVER. Hit the road, Jack!

8. She Keeps Referring to Her Boyfriend
If she keeps telling you about her boyfriend (where they go, what they do, what he does for her etc), it may be a hint that she's not looking for a new relationship. Women tend to talk a lot about guys they're attracted to or in love with . Also watch out for Freudian slips (verbal errors that reveal what someone was REALLY thinking) - especially calling you by somebody else's name.

Finally, here's something I came across in The Sunday Nation's Buzz Magazine. This kid has a problem and he was asking a FEMALE columnist for help instead of coming to the experts (that's us, Sparky). Check out this poor wanker's story:

I am a boy of 18 in Form Four. I have a girlfriend in Form 1. I have known her for a year. We love and respect each other. She promises me a date almost every Sunday but she never shows up. When I go for her from home, she tells me she has a lot of work to do. How do I get her to give me a true date?


'The promises of women, like those of maniacs, are not safely relied upon.' - Jospeh Heller, 'God Knows'

First of all, she's just not that into you. Second, you are displaying true wussy symptoms. By making so many requests for a date and even going for her at her place, you're telegraphing that YOU HAVE NO OTHER OPTIONS.

Lesson One: Women Like Guys With Options.
You are also giving a single girl TOO MUCH ATTENTION - a classic dating mistake. Always remember that there are over 3 billion women alive - why should you keep chasing the same one?

Lesson Two: In the Dating Game, Less is More - Familiarity Breeds Contempt.
When she stands you up, you simply forgive her and ask for another date. Stop that. Get angry. Demand an explanation. This is actually the 4TH RULE OF DATING: Do not
tolerate intolerable behaviour .
If you keep putting up with her nonsense, then you come across as a WUSSY (weak guy) and that is very, very bad for attraction.

Lesson Three: Women Are Not Attracted To Wussies. You say, 'We love and respect each other'. That's the biggest load of crap I've heard since Bill Clinton said, 'I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinsky.' If she respected you, she would treat you better and if she loved you then she would be glad to go out with you.

Lesson Four: Forget What Women SAY - The Truth is in Their Actions.

As you can see, you've messed up your chances with this gal pretty bad, but there's still a glimmer of hope. First of all, you need to stop acting like a sissy (desperate, weak, luckless). It's okay to be a NICE GUY but that won't get you the girls, as I'm sure you've noticed by now. ATTRACTION ISN'T FAIR OR LOGICAL.

Second, you need to get more options - talk to more girls in the neighbourhood, at
school (if its mixed), get out of the house more often. Interacting with more girls will give you confidence and practice and you might meet a truly great gal who deserves your attention. And next time you meet a chick you like, try to spark attraction at the beginning, not over a long period of time.

To make your current chick notice you, be seen with another chick or claim to have met
someone else. Become scarce. Make her wonder who the new girl is. Women are not logical: you look more attractive to them if you're unavailable (married, have girlfriend, belong to royalty, are a celebrity etc). Make a date with her and then cancel it (shows you're busy, have a life). End all meetings, phone calls, dates and conversations first (VERY IMPORTANT: Shows you're the one in control) . And where were you planning to take her for the first date? A big hotel? That would be a HUGE blunder - don't try to buy her love. You are young and you have a lot to learn if you're to be a hit with women.

At your age, I was such a WUSSY that if there were Olympics for wussies, I would have won several gold medals. I was so dateless that I resolved to do something about it - I started to learn how to attract gals. Now, I'm a dating expert. To quote Ma$e, 'I win so much, they wanna know who I'm coached by' ('Welcome Back' Album)

To get your own coaching, watch the forthcoming stage play ‘THE PLAYER ACADEMY’ by Alexander Nderitu ( )

(c) Alex N Nderitu

Buy Alexander Nderitu's prose and poetry books at: