Singer. Songwriter. Actor. Writer.
Film director. Philanthropist. Human rights activist. Entrepreneur. What would
be the best description of the colossus that was Oliver Mtukudzi? One could
rightly make a strong case for music, for it was the trade that sprang the rest
them to the fore.
Mention the name Oliver and music
in the same sentence, and two names will immediately spring to my mind. The
first would be Oliver N’goma, the Gabonese Afro-zouk legend, while the second
would undoubtedly be the Zimbabwean legend Oliver Mtukudzi; both now of blessed
memory.
The latter only signed out
yesterday, eventually succumbing to a month-long undisclosed cocktail of
ailments. For a while, Oliver Mtukudzi had been battling intestinal ulcers,
diabetes and hypertension. Tuku, as he was affectionately referred to by his
fans, never fully got back on his feet after surviving a heart attack in 2018.
Born into a musical family on
September 22, 1952, Tuku would go on to create a music style of his own,
blending South African pop (Mbaqanga), Mbira, Jit, and the traditional drumming
styles of the Korekore to make a unique Afro-Jazz sound that he simply called
"Tuku music".
The Music
My most memorable song of his
remains Todii, Shona for "Why", largely because it was released at
the peak of the FM revolution in Uganda. My initial attraction was Shona, the
language in which it had been written.
It was one I could relate to,
having been sung in a bantu dialect whose message I believed I had deciphered.
When I heard the line: "Zvinorwadza sei kurera rufu mumaoko (Oh, how
painful it is; looking after someone you are sure they are going to
die!)", I had no clue what "Zvinorwadza sei" meant.
But kurera means "take care
(of someone)", and rufu means death in my native Rukiga. Maoko, Shona for
"hands", sounds similar to its Kinyarwanda and Lingala equivalents –
amaboko and maboko respectively.
When this was followed by the
rhetorical question: "What shall we do?", I imagined he was singing
about death. The cruel hand of death, perhaps. Todii sounded very emotional
with an ominous ring to it. I did not get to watch its video until about 10
years later. I chose to just sit back and enjoy the sound until google was kind
enough to get me the full lyrics and translations to the song.
Little did I know the song carried
more personal sentiments than a generic message to an imagined target audience.
Tuku had lost his only brother, Robert, and four band members to the AIDS
pandemic in a four-week period in the 1980s.
This and other efforts would
cement Mtukudzi’s place in the sphere of public awareness and philanthropy. He
had been involved in public awareness campaigns before and would go on to play
ambassadorial roles in various capacities.
His last album, the 66th of his
career, was an emotional composition called Hanya'Ga, Shona for
"Concern". It was released three months after Robert Mugabe’s ouster,
and was believed to have been directed the country’s political situation.
Varied Themes
AIDS wasn’t the only theme Tuku
sang about. From politics to child marriage and fidelity, his scope was as
varied as they came. In 2001, he released Wasakara, Shona for "You are too
old". The song was subsequently banned because it was believed to have
been a subtle diss at the then 77-year old Robert Mugabe.
Tuku’s Big Break
Although he had become a big hit
in the 1980s, it wasn’t until the 1990s that Tuku’s music transcended
Zimbabwe’s borders as he started performing at various music festivals across
the world.
He had
hired Debbie Metcalfe, a firebrand music manager to help him grow his profile.
Debbie went on to revamp Tuku’s business strategy, helping him to realize his
full potential and subsequently turning Tuku Music into an international brand.
He may
not have had the guitar-strumming dexterity of Diblo Dibala, nor the
vocal finesse of Youssou N'dour, but Tuku's allround ability to excel at all
fronts saw him stand tall amongst the continent's musical greats.
Debbie
and Tuku would go on to weave their magic until their acrimonious split in
2008. By the time parted ways, the Tuku’s transformation had taken full effect.
He was now a continental brand, gracing as many tours across the African
continent and beyond.
One of these was in our beloved
Uganda, on July 30, 2017. He had been hired as the headline act at Mavuno
Church’s sold out concert dubbed: "The Lock Down". The hall at
Imperial Royale was filled to capacity.
The Controversies
Following Debbie’s departure, the
stage was set for the eventual rouble-rouser that was Shepherd Mutamba, a
journalist who turned out more prominent for his role as Tuku's public relations
manager than anything else.
Shepherd would go on to light a
bonfire in the Mtukudzi household when he wrote: "Tuku Backstage", an
infamous 2012 Biography in which Selmor Mtukudzi, Tuku’s daughter from his
first marriage, appeared to portray him as "an irresponsible father",
blaming him for her then stunted music career.
The book was an act of revenge
after Shepherd alleged that Tuku owed he and other employees salary arrears
while he continued to live in the lap of luxury.
Sections of Tuku’s fans began to
view him as a two-faced father who did not apply the same family virtues that
he espoused in his music.
Tuku was crushed.
He slipped into depression and
began to miss some of his bookings. The eating disorder went on to affect his
health, worsening his intestinal ulcers and a long-standing diabetic
condition.
The depression would reach its
nadir when he publicly disowned Selmor. He still could not believe his own
child could say the things that Selmor had said in that infamous chat. Tuku had
seen her through school and allowed her to play in his band. This was not the
reward he had bargained for.
The feud would go on until 2018,
when Selmor eventually swallowed her pride and apologized to her father. She
blamed the fallout on a moment of naivety and betrayal. A private conversation
she had with someone had found its way into the grubby paws of a fame-hungry
journalist, she said. Tuku welcomed her back with open hands, like a long-lost
prodigal daughter. Father and daughter had finally reunited.
Tuku appeared overjoyed by the
development. He would go on to post a picture on the social media website
Facebook, where he was flanked by his daughters Selmor and Sandra.
"Children are a gift from God. Proud of my beautiful daughters", read
the caption. It would spell the end of the speculation about Tuku and the
relationship with his daughters.
His first official marriage had
been to Melody Murape in 1979. The couple was eventually blessed with two
daughters, Selmor and Sandra. But the marriage would later collapse after
allegations of extra-marital affairs refused to go away.
Before then, Melody had been
living like a diva, having been the first of Tuku’s true loves. At the height
of their bliss, she went shopping every weekend, and wore a new dress to church
every Sunday.
With a new flame in the picture,
Melody’s program had to be revised, and she was livid. It would spark the onset of a protracted seven-year divorce process that was eventually finalized in 1993. The new flame in question was Daisy Mashonga, mother to two of Tuku’s
children, and his eventual numero uno.
Daisy would go on to inherit the same demons Melody had fled.
Allegations of infidelity continued to loom, and there was always the
occasional rumor of a stray love child here and there. Daisy chose to stick by
Zimbabwe’s musical biggest export.
Officially, Tuku was a father of
five – Selmor, Sam, Samantha, Sandra and Sybil. Unofficially, two more products
of his amorous activity would come up, in Memory and Selby Mtukudzi.
A Flawed Genius?
Tuku’s transgressions, or whatever
the judging public will call them, only showed that he was human after all.
Behind the cloak of a larger-than-life persona lay the fallibilities of mankind
and the default reaction to life’s turbulent tides.
On January 23, 2019, the curtains
came down on the life of an artiste who grew up in Highfield, the ghetto neighbourhood
of Harare. The man who gave us 66 albums of musical bliss was no more. But Oliver Mtukudzi had left us with enough memories to outlast the pain of
losing his immense talent. He was 66.
Sing with the angels, Tuku.
