Synopsis
Life for the OSK means coping with a constant succession of hiccups, such as an electricity generator that gives up the ghost right in the middle of a concert, which it overcomes with a consummate gift for problem-solving - thanks, for example, to a first violin who just happens to be an electrician. Its musicians lose concentration sometimes: it is difficult to sing when you are hungry. They include single mothers who get up at the crack of dawn in order to pay obscene rents and young hairdressers who no longer want to continue in the orchestra because of scarves that damage their hair. Not to mention Trésor the tenor, who proclaims his pride in belonging to the only symphony orchestra in the world made up entirely of black people, or Joseph, who repairs violin strings with bicycle brakes.
But the true magic of the OSK is not to be found in the sacrifices, ingenuity, enthusiasm, or even the passion of its members, but in how it shares music of universal appeal with the residents of Kinshasa's poorest districts. The magic of the OSK is a crowd erupting in joy, leaping to its feet as one from its plastic chairs in order to vigorously applaud the finale of Carmina Burana.
