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The Story

A Wild Ride Through Benga Music and History

Otis Dinos, a gifted yet tormented guitarist, claws his way from the smoky dens of Kondele’s backstreet clubs to the cutthroat Nairobi music scene. But fame comes at a price. As his raw talent thrusts him into the limelight, he’s consumed by a whirlwind of greed, lust, betrayal, and ruthless competition. Haunted by his demons and pursued by shadows, Otis spirals deeper into Kisumu’s gritty underworld. In the end, only one question remains: will his music save him, or destroy everything in its wake? This is benga music as you've never known—or felt—it before.

In 1976, Otis Dinos, still a boy teetering on manhood, stumbles into music when a guitar, almost by fate, finds its way into his hands one bright day in Kisumu. This moment becomes the catalyst for a raw, untamed journey through the chaotic world of music. By 1980, he drops out of school, hoping to carve out his place in a world that seems to have no space for him. Performing with Nico Opija and the KDF Band in the rough-and-tumble streets of Kondele marks the start of his life as a musician. But for Otis, the road ahead isn’t just a musical one—it’s a dark, spiritual trial. KDF’s sound is not just about hitting notes; it’s a descent into a demonic underworld.

Desperate to break free from the filthy, low-end clubs of Kondele, Otis believes true success lies in Nairobi. But Nairobi, with its heartless pop culture and cutthroat industry, does nothing but corrupt his soul, turning him into a spoiled artist drunk on fame but hollow inside. When he returns to Kisumu with a new band, the city’s dark pulse pulls him deeper into a swirling storm of corruption, backstabbing, feuds, and moral decay. His fame can’t shield him from the ugly realities of greed, envy, and betrayal.

As Otis crafts his extraordinary backmasked benga music, he faces a deeper question: what happens when a man spirals so far into the darkness that his art becomes the only thing holding him together? For Otis, the music is loud, but the problems roaring within him are even louder.

REVIEWS

“I have never read a book that connects so well with me in my life... as a musician.”

BIEN, SAUTI SOL

“A generous and encyclopedic, deeply-felt knowledge of music and pop culture.”

TABU OSUSA, KETEBUL MUSIC

In BENGAMAN, Otis Dinos' journey from a hopeful guitarist in Kisumu to a haunted music icon is both thrilling and tragic. The novel masterfully weaves the intoxicating rhythms of benga music with the gritty realities of fame, betrayal, and survival in Kenya’s underworld. Author Okang’a Ooko paints a vivid portrait of the human cost of ambition, offering a gripping narrative filled with emotional depth and cultural richness. It’s a dark, unflinching exploration of the music industry’s highs and lows that will leave readers spellbound. 

LAKE VICTORIA READERS GROUP, KENYA

CHAPTER EXCERPT

One night at Olindas as we were winding up, a girl wandered in. No one paid much attention as Opija casually joined her, and they sat in one of the booths. Ten minutes later, Opija bade us farewell for the night and took the girl with him, and they disappeared in the abominable night of Kondele.

Freaked? To us, this had now become normal. This was Opija. Dr. Nico Pedhos ja mach, the sperm shooter, the incorrigible womaniser with small ass and shameless audacity—the horniest man in Kondele. He delighted in boasting about his conquests. You probably see many dirty men like him here in Kisumu. This guy was a chick “magnet”. He wasn’t particularly good-looking, remember. You are probably holding your breath thinking about his bad breath and saying yak! imagining him kissing some soft lips with that sewer mouth. Hard to tell how he did it without Listerine, but he had a chain of women. KSK said he had a very outgoing type ‘A’ personality. Maybe. Onyata opined he had a charm; that he carried ther nyang (female croc’s genitals) in his wallet, a chick-magnate charm given to him by a witch doctor from Obunga. According to the Kondele grapevine, Opija’s conquests were frequent (several times each week) and as diverse as the market women at Kibuye on a Sunday. From the Plain Jane of Manyata to the most exotic and sophisticated Atienos and Moraas and Nafulas and Mrs. So-and-sos. He was a kind of “hero” in a strange way. Don’t get me wrong, I always had girlfriends (and an occasional Mama Iva), but I just didn’t have that magic, charisma, (mojo?) or whatever it was he possessed. Did I mention access to large quantities of controlled substances like Mo? Well, he didn’t need any substances because I saw him first-hand in action numerous times at parties and gigs. Women would approach him and start conversing. They would have some laughs and he and the new conquest would get close, touching and fondling. It was freaking uncanny.

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