Pandpieri, Kisumu. 1970s. Otis Dundos is a shy and awkward
kid. He is just another wee-wee bare foot, horny-toed boy growing up with his
dusty feet and bare chest having fun with dangerous adventures. In the ‘80s,
then, as a man-boy he tries fit in.
He is more an archetype than a
flesh-and-blood person. He tries to observe and remember, now, as a young
adult, to commit the memories to music in a lively and extensive fashion.
Providing a catharsis through comedy, lancing the lakeside city’s moral boil
with satire, Kisumu tells the life ordinary men and women trying to live
the Kenyan African dream. It’s is a story of humble beginning, awkward and
misdirected fumbling and miraculous accomplishment.
Kisumu was always a slobbering, panting, salivating hotbed of anticipation and drooling expectancy. Kisumu is as much a town of problems as it is a town of drama, subdivision of fantasy. Drama? Dreams? Did he change Kisumu musically? That’s not the issue. The issue is for all his efforts, guitarist Otis Dundos always had bigger problems here in Kisumu like everbody else.
Kisumu was always a slobbering, panting, salivating hotbed of anticipation and drooling expectancy. Kisumu is as much a town of problems as it is a town of drama, subdivision of fantasy. Drama? Dreams? Did he change Kisumu musically? That’s not the issue. The issue is for all his efforts, guitarist Otis Dundos always had bigger problems here in Kisumu like everbody else.
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