Trumpeter, flugelhorn-player, singer, composer and activist Hugh Ramapolo Masekela has passed away last year after a long battle with prostate cancer.



When he cancelled his appearance in 2017 at the Johannesburg Joy of Jazz Festival, taking time out to deal with his serious health issues, fans were forced to return to his recorded opus for reminders of his unique work. Listening through that half-century of disks, the nature and scope of the trumpeter’s achievement becomes clear.



Masekela had two early horn heroes.



<figure class="wp-block-image"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" width="594" height="380" src="https://www.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-141835647-594x594.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-40054" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-141835647-594x594.jpg 594w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-141835647-594x594-300x192.jpg 300w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 594px) 100vw, 594px" /><figcaption>SOUTH AFRICA -DECEMBER 28 : Legendary South African singer Miriam Makeba with fellow musician and ex-husband Hugh Masekela. (Photo by Gallo Images/ Avusa)</figcaption></figure>



The first was part-mythical: the life of jazz great&nbsp;Bix Biederbecke&nbsp;filtered through Kirk Douglas’s acting and Harry James’s trumpet, in the 1950 movie&nbsp;“Young Man With A Horn”. Masekela saw the film as a schoolboy at the Harlem Bioscope in Johannesburg’s Sophiatown. The erstwhile chorister resolved “then and there to become a trumpet player”.



The second horn hero, unsurprisingly, was&nbsp;Miles Davis. And while Masekela’s accessible, storytelling style and lyrical instrumental tone are very different, he shared one important characteristic with the American: his life and music were marked by constant reinvention. As Davis reportedly said:



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">I don’t want to be yesterday’s guy.</blockquote>



Much has already been written about Masekela’s life and its landmarks: playing in the Huddleston Jazz Band in the 1950s on a horn donated by Louis Armstrong; performing in the musical&nbsp;“King Kong”&nbsp;in the 1960s and at the Guildhall and then Manhattan schools of music with singer&nbsp;<a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/people/miriam-makeba">Miriam Makeba</a>; US pop successes in the 1970s and then touring Paul Simon’s&nbsp;“Graceland”&nbsp;in the 80s and 90s.



What is less discussed is the&nbsp;music, and the innovative imagination he has periodically applied to draw it fresh from the flames.



<h4 class="wp-block-heading">Breaking new ground</h4>



The Huddleston band, plus time as sideman and in stage shows, were the traditional career path for a young musician. But then Masekela broke his first new ground. With fellow originals, including saxophonist&nbsp;<a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/people/kippie-jeremiah-moeketsi">Kippie Moeketsi</a>, pianist&nbsp;<a href="https://abdullahibrahim.co.za/">Abdullah Ibrahim</a>&nbsp;and trombonist&nbsp;<a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/people/jonas-mosa-gwangwa">Jonas Gwangwa</a>, as&nbsp;The Jazz Epistles&nbsp;they cut the first LP of modern African jazz in South Africa.



“Jazz Epistle: Verse One”&nbsp;(1960) featured band compositions marked by challenging improvisation – “a cross between mbaqanga and bebop”.&nbsp;Mbaqanga&nbsp;is form of South African township jive and&nbsp;bebop&nbsp;an American jazz style developed in the 1940s.



Masekela had also joined the pit band and worked as a copyist for South Africa’s first black musical, “King Kong”.



This exposure attracted attention to his talent from potential patrons at home and abroad. Pushed by the horrors of the&nbsp;<a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/topic/sharpeville-massacre-21-march-1960">Sharpeville massacre</a>when the South African police shot and killed 69 people on 21 March 1960, and pulled by donated air-tickets and scholarships, Masekela left for London, and then New York.



In the next two decades, Masekela’s re-visioning of his music took many forms. He found America hard, but with wife Miriam Makeba (the marriage lasted from 1964 &#8211; 1966), the production skills of Gwangwa, and the support of American singer&nbsp;Harry Belafonte&nbsp;he proactively introduced audiences to South African music and the destruction of apartheid.



<figure class="wp-block-image"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" width="925" height="612" src="https://www.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Hugh.png" alt="" class="wp-image-40056" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Hugh.png 925w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Hugh-300x198.png 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Hugh-600x397.png 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/Hugh-768x508.png 768w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 925px) 100vw, 925px" /><figcaption> Jazz legend Dorothy Masuka, who died on 23 February 2019 attends Hugh Masekela&#8217;s memorial service. At the back is Sibongile Khumalo. Picture: Motlabana Monnakgotla </figcaption></figure>



On the ironically titled 1966 live&nbsp;“Americanisation of Ooga Booga”, he demonstrated the creative possibilities of “township bop”. Masekela did this by mashing up repertoire and playing styles from the South Africa he had left and the America he had landed in.



But he was also looking in other directions: in collaborations with other African musicians; towards fusion (with&nbsp;The Crusaders), rock (with&nbsp;The Byrds) and even pop at the&nbsp;Monterey Pop, festival.



That list captures only a fraction of his projects in the 1960s. Some bore instant fruit: his 1968 single,&nbsp;<a href="http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=8369">“Grazin’ In the Grass”</a>, topped the Billboard Hot 100 list and sold four million copies; the previous year’s “Up Up and Away” became an instant standard.



In 1971, he teamed up with Gwangwa and Caiphus Semenya for another pan-African vision:&nbsp;<a href="https://www.allmusic.com/album/hugh-masekela-the-union-of-south-africa-mw0000625550">The Union of South Africa</a>. In 1972 he explored a stronger jazz orientation on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.allmusic.com/album/home-is-where-the-music-is-mw0000789812">“Home is Where The Music Is”</a>&nbsp;with, among others, sax player&nbsp;<a href="https://www.allmusic.com/artist/dudu-pukwana-mn0000210863/biography">Dudu Pukwana</a>, bassist&nbsp;<a href="https://www.allmusic.com/artist/eddie-gomez-mn0000794244">Eddie Gomez</a>, keyboardist&nbsp;<a href="https://www.allmusic.com/artist/larry-willis-mn0000114935/biography">Larry Willis</a>&nbsp;and Semenya.



<h4 class="wp-block-heading">Sixties counterculture</h4>



But as the title of “Grazin’ In the Grass” suggests, Masekela was also bewitched by other aspects of Sixties counterculture. He dated his addiction back to the alcohol-focused social climate of his early playing years in South Africa, but by the early Seventies he admitted:



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">I had destroyed my life with drugs and alcohol and could not get a gig or a band together. No recording company was interested in me…</blockquote>



That depression inspired the song that achieved genuinely iconic status back home in South Africa: the 1974 reflection on migrant labour,&nbsp;“Stimela/Coal Train”.



Foreign critics have handed that status to other Masekela songs, such as “Soweto Blues”, “Gold” or the much later “Bring Him Back Home”. Yet powerful though those are, it is Stimela, with its slow-burning steam-piston rhythm that captured the hearts of South Africans in struggle back home, and still does today. And of course the lyrics:



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">There’s a train that comes from Namibia and Malawi /there’s a train that comes from Zambia and Zimbabwe/ from Angola and Mozambique…</blockquote>



Masekela said:



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">For me songs come like a tidal wave … At this low point, for some reason, the tidal wave that whooshed in on me came all the way from the other side of the Atlantic: from Africa; from home.</blockquote>



Shortly afterwards, Masekela headed off to Ghana, hooked up with&nbsp;Hedzoleh Soundz, and was soon back in the charts. “Stimela” received its first outing on the album&nbsp;“I Am Not Afraid”, with West African and American co-players including pianist&nbsp;Joe Sample.



By the mid ‘80s, the hornman was back in southern Africa, recording&nbsp;“Technobush”&nbsp;at the mobile&nbsp;Shifty Studio&nbsp;in Botswana, and performing for the Medu Arts Ensemble with a Botswanan/South African band,&nbsp;Kalahari. His music shifted again: roots mbaqanga came strongly to the fore to speak simply and directly to people now openly battling the apartheid regime just across the border.



<h4 class="wp-block-heading">Returning home</h4>



After liberation and his return home, Masekela once more chose fresh directions. In 1997 he banished his addictions and began to showcase the virtuoso player he could have been 30 years earlier without the distractions of the West Coast. He fronted big European jazz bands, and benchmarked a long musical friendship with Larry Willis with the magisterial&nbsp;Friends.



But his shrewd ear for the music of today, rather than yesterday, also took him into younger company. He collaborated with current stars – including singer&nbsp;<a href="http://www.thandiswa.com/">Thandiswa Mazwai</a>&nbsp;– often encouraging them to take centre stage. Just before the recurrence of his cancer, he was&nbsp;planning&nbsp;a festival collaboration with rapper Riky Rick.



<div class="wp-block-image"><figure class="aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" width="475" height="594" src="https://www.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-99309818-594x594.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-40055" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-99309818-594x594.jpg 475w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-99309818-594x594-300x375.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/gettyimages-99309818-594x594-240x300.jpg 240w" sizes="auto, (max-width: 475px) 100vw, 475px" /><figcaption>NEW YORK &#8211; AUGUST 20: South African jazz trumpeter Hugh Masekela poses for a portrait on August 20, 1968 in New York City, New York. (Photo by Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images)</figcaption></figure></div>



To cap the transformation, the individualistic rebel of the 60s and 70s became an elder statesman of social activism. In 2001, he established a&nbsp;foundation&nbsp;to help other musicians escape addiction. Once more he foregrounded the music of continental Africa, to campaign against xenophobia. And the return of his own illness became the cue to&nbsp;exhortother men to get checked for prostate cancer.



Other South African musicians have succeeded overseas; many have made one mid-career image switch – but few have shown us, in only one person but more than 30 albums, so many of the faces and possibilities of South African jazz.



Hugh Masekela, musician, activist. Born: 4 April 1939; Died: 23 January 2018



-Gwen Ansell; Associate of the Gordon Institute for Business Science, University of Pretoria



-The Conversation



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Remembering Hugh Masekela: the horn player with a shrewd ear for music of the day

In January, Africa lost Oliver Mtukudzi. His friend and
fellow musician Yvonne Chaka Chaka fondly remembers the global icon.&nbsp; 



In October 2012, Zimbabwe’s Oliver Mtukudzi, South Africa’s
Yvonne Chaka Chaka and Kenya’s Suzanna Owíyo produced Because I Am Girl with
musicians from around the world.



It was released to promote the global launch of Plan
International’s ‘Because I am A Girl’ campaign, marking the first UN
International Day of the Girl Child, on October 11.



READ MORE | <a href="https://www.forbesafrica.com/arts/2019/01/25/tribute-to-oliver-mtukudzi-zimbabwes-man-with-the-talking-guitar/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" aria-label="Tribute To Oliver Mtukudzi – Zimbabwe’s ‘Man With The Talking Guitar’ (opens in a new tab)">Tribute To Oliver Mtukudzi – Zimbabwe’s ‘Man With The Talking Guitar’</a>



Dressed in African prints, they sang together, spreading the
word about the empowerment of the girl child. 



Mtukudzi’s bass and Chaka Chaka’s soulful voice in harmony,
they became more than co-artists; they become brother and sister. It was the first
performance of many for the two.



Seven years on, Chaka Chaka is teary-eyed about Mtukudzi’s death 23 days into 2019, when not just she, but Africa lost a music legend.



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">In a strange coincidence, Mtukudzi died the same day the continent lost the father of South African jazz, Hugh Masekela, last year.</blockquote>



On the phone for this interview, Chaka Chaka describes
Mtukudzi as a soldier at work. 



“When he was on stage, he was a totally different man. When
he had his guitar, it was like a soldier. Like a soldier who has a gun at
work,” she tells us.



“I think there were two different people. Offstage, he was
just an ordinary man, and on stage, people ate out of the palm of his hand.



“I’ve never known Oliver to never be fit. He has been a
skinny man and he would just twist that body with a guitar and that gravel
voice of his. A big voice in a small body,” she says.



“He has never called me Yvonne, he has always called me
Fifi… Fifi means sister.



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">“The man was always humble, he never raised his voice, I have never seen him angry and all he has ever wanted is just to see Africa thriving. He wanted to see Africa beautiful. He wanted to see Africa with less disease, less hunger, less corruption, a happy Africa – that was his wish.”</blockquote>



One anecdote Chaka Chaka shares is when Mtukudzi was made a
UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador in Zimbabwe in 2011.



“You know he sat there with me and asked, ‘so, what does
this entail, my sister? You have been a goodwill ambassador for a long time.
You will tell me what needs to be done. How should I act? How should I react?
How should I do things?’



“And I’m like, ‘no, but you know, you are more of a star
than me and you have been in this industry long before I’. He was just so
down-to-earth and had no chip on his shoulder.”&nbsp;




The last performance the two did together was in October
last year in Harare during the Jacaranda Festival, attended by more than 2,000
people and other artists around the continent.



“Oliver was not in his changing room or at home. He stayed
there and watched other artists perform, which was so great,” says Chaka Chaka.



“This year, he promised that we would do it [the Jacaranda
Festival] in Bulawayo,” she said. They had planned to make it a big show and
use their status as goodwill ambassadors to encourage and inspire more youth.



&nbsp;But sadly, that
promise will never be fulfilled.



“The legacy he will leave behind is a legacy of love, the
legacy of pro-African and I think for me he was a pan-Africanist. That’s what
he was,” she says.



READ MORE | <a href="https://www.forbesafrica.com/arts/2019/01/23/zimbabwes-oliver-mtukudzi-dies-at-66/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener" aria-label="Zimbabwe’s Oliver Mtukudzi Dies At 66 (opens in a new tab)">Zimbabwe’s Oliver Mtukudzi Dies At 66</a>



To this day, Neria is still one of Chaka Chaka’s favorite
songs by him.



&nbsp;Mtukudzi, who died
aged 66 of diabetes, was laid to rest on January 27 in his home village of&nbsp; Madziwa.



Thousands sang and danced to the melodies of his songs.



President Emmerson Mnangagwa declared him a national hero,
posthumously, a status that has previously been reserved for ruling party elite
and independence veterans.



He may be gone but his music will live forever in the hearts of the fans that loved this legend who soldiered on until the end.

Music Midtown 2002

Oliver Mtukudzi The Soldier With A Big Voice – Yvonne Chaka Chaka

Musician&nbsp;Oliver Mtukudzi, who died at the age of 66, was a great cultural ambassador for Zimbabwe. Known to his fans as Tuku, he was a cultural icon for the southern African country. His aura and presence had a global resonance with fans around the world, yet the man remained humble and magnanimous.



I once boasted to some international colleagues that he was Zimbabwe’s gift to the world. But on closer scrutiny, he was the perfect gift for Zimbabweans especially during their&nbsp;tumultuous times.



Mtukudzi died in Harare after a long battle with diabetes, ironically enough on exactly the same day as his friend, the musician&nbsp;Hugh Masekela, who passed away on 23 January 2018.



READ MORE | <a href="https://www.forbesafrica.com/arts/2019/01/23/zimbabwes-oliver-mtukudzi-dies-at-66/">Zimbabwe’s Oliver Mtukudzi Dies At 66</a>



He was also a businessperson, activist, philanthropist and a goodwill ambassador for Unicef in the southern African region. But it was his innovative music that made him deeply loved. Dubbed “Tuku music”, it was a&nbsp;blend&nbsp;of southern African music traditions, including mbira, mbaqanga, jit and the traditional drumming styles of the Korekore.



Tuku released his debut single in 1975. As a solo artist, Mtukudzi had his first successes shortly after Zimbabwe declared its independence in 1980. His debut solo album, Africa. The prolific Mtukudzi released his 67th album in 2018 –&nbsp;Hanya’Ga (Concern), saying it was “meant to share a message of introspecting and I’m hoping people learn a thing or two from it”.



Celebrated as “the man with the talking guitar”, Mtukudzi&nbsp;learned&nbsp;by experimenting: I looked for a sound the guitar couldn’t make in a guitar – that is how I learned to play the guitar. Professional guitarist at the time use to laugh at me. I used to look for a mbira (music instrument) on the guitar strings. I’ve always been experimental. But it was a blessing in disguise because I went on to pioneer a sound that was later labelled Tuku music.



<h4 class="wp-block-heading">A wide canvas</h4>



But Mtukudzi was more than just a popular singer. In his song “Todii” (What shall we do?), Mtukudzi reflects on the challenge faced by communities as a result of the scourge of HIV/AIDS. The song gives cadence and sympathy to those who provide care. At the same time it magnifies how despicable those in positions of authority are for violating their responsibility.



He ends the song with a solemn appeal for help and for ideas in view of this challenge. This is Mtukudzi, the social activist.



In another song “Mabasa” (The works) Mtukudzi paints a dire picture of how young people are the first to die, leaving the elderly to fend for themselves. For me this song attests to Mtukudzi reminding us all to be cognisant about how we live.



Mtukudzi also acknowledged the existence of deity and spoke against the attribution of success to luck or happenstance as he did in the song “Raki” (luck).



Conversely, in “Ndagarwa nhaka” (Inheriting) he brought attention to a Shona cultural practice of a widow being married off to the late husband’s elder or young brother. In this song Mtukudzi, using the voice of the widow, appears to praise the status quo as enabling the widow to get solace and protection given her loss.



A stark contrast, though, is found in the movie “Neria”. Mtukudzi crafted the soundtrack detailing the tribulations of a widow trying to survive past patriarchy in all its forms.



In the song “Dzoka uyamwe” (come and suckle) Mtukudzi bemoans the experiences of a person suffering prejudice based on how they look. Given this sad experience, the mother urges her child to come back home and suckle. The song then becomes philosophically charged, reminding us all that the core of all prejudice emanates from the mind and the heart. This theme of a concerned parent appears to reverberate in the song “Chengetai” meaning “to keep”.



This time, a role reversal: children are being urged to take care of their parents.



Some of Mtukudzi’s songs were sources of contention and deemed anti-establishment. For instance “Wasakara” (You are old) was interpreted by some as a reference to former President Robert Mugabe, given that a character in the song was in denial of age creeping up on them. In later years as a consultant, I would use the song in driving home the importance of succession planning for effectual and efficient organisations.



Mtukudzi also continues to give the same admonition to the elderly in the song “Mkuru mkuru” (the elderly leader).



Mtukudzi would also pen “Mutserendende” (the slide) and draw comparisons between two generations. From the first generation, Mtukudzi idolises how life was easy and pleasurable for children, a stark contrast to his generation’s life of toil and hardship in climbing the mountain. The solace, as argued by the song, is continued perseverance and determination.



In “Magumo” (the end), Mtukudzi raises some poignant life lessons on the importance of ideals such as humility. The most important question we should ask in everything we do, Mtukudzi argues, is: what will be the end of this that I am doing?



In the song “Kunze kwadoka” (the sun has set, it’s dark), Mtukudzi presents the questioning parent and the precarious situation of a child who has stayed out on a date for a long time. Giving advice to the boyfriend, “perekedza mwanasikana, perekedza bhebhi iro zuva ravira kunze kwadoka” translated “accompany the girl, accompany that babe the sun has set, it’s dark out”.



Now the sun has set on Oliver Mtukudzi. He leaves the world his greatest prized possession, the gift of song. Thank you, maestro par excellence.- The Conversation



-Willie Chinyamurindi: Associate Professor, University of Fort Hare



-Chinyamurindi is an avid narrative researcher. This piece was written using Oliver Mtukudzi’s Greatest Hits album – The Tuku Years (1998-2002).



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Geoffrey Kent’s Book Launch Celebrating: “Safari: A Memoir Of A Worldwide Travel Pioneer”

Tribute To Oliver Mtukudzi – Zimbabwe’s ‘Man With The Talking Guitar’

Zimbabwean jazz musician Oliver Mtukudzi has died at age 66 after a
month long illness. 



There are reports that Mtukudzi’s record label, Gallo Record Company
confirmed his passing.



Mtukudzi died in Harare on January 23 at Avenues Clinic. His musical
peer, South African jazz artist, Hugh Masekela died on the same day last year.

Zimbabwe’s Oliver Mtukudzi Dies At 66

It is a windy day in Johannesburg, South Africa. Thick dark clouds assemble in the sky; the wind is as swift as rush hour. As we meet, Oliver Mtukudzi carries a brown bag, full of his life, on his shoulder. He carries the bag everywhere, just as he wears his trademark poor boy cap. Dressed in a black jacket and grey pants, he stands high up on the stairs to welcome us. He is in South Africa to promote his 65th album, Eheka! Nhai Yahwe, which features South African jazz legend Hugh Masekela. It’s a remarkable career stretching back some 41 years with songs that have enlivened parties all over the world with hits like Neria, Todii and Wasakara.
“I never decided to be in the music industry. It was in me. My mother said ‘you are a good singer but you will never surpass your birth cry. Your birth cry was so beautiful’. So I believe that’s when I started singing, from my first breath,” says Mtukudzi.
Born in 1952 in Highfield, a suburb in Harare, Zimbabwe, on September 22 at 3AM; music runs in his blood. Both his parents were musicians. They met at a choir competition and the competition never ended. They competed at home and the children were the judges.
“If we needed a favor from dad, then dad won and if we needed a favor from mum, mum won.”
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-5541" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Oliver-Mtukudzi-018-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />
It wasn’t long before he followed.
“I made a three-string guitar for myself from a tin around 1969 or early 1970s with the help of a [relative]. I was always playing it. My father didn’t like it and he broke the guitar,” he recalls.
It wasn’t going to stop him. He made up songs as a child and sang everywhere.
“One day, I decided to perform for my parents standing on the table and they enjoyed it so much I didn’t get smacked for standing on the table. I remember my mother noticed I had been standing on the table, two or three days later. That’s how good it was,” he chuckles.
Mtukudzi followed his passion. In the 1970s, he joined Wagon Wheels, a band which included yet another Zimbabwean star, Thomas Mapfumo, the man who wrote Nyoka Musango and is known as the king of Chimurenga music.
“I love what I do. If I was doing a career, I would be worried about how much money I can make. I am yet to decide on a career to take on. This is not a career for me. I am just doing me. This is about understanding the purpose of a song, to bring life and hope to the people and to heal broken hearts. If you do it right, there is more in appreciation than getting paid.”
His skill is appreciated from Angola to Zimbabwe. He has won many awards; among them, the National Arts Merit Awards, Zimbabwe Music Awards, KORA Awards and South African Music Awards.
“All my songs are my favorites. If it’s not one of my favorites, I will just throw it away. You won’t get to hear it. It won’t make it to my album. Awards are an appreciation. They shouldn’t put any pressure on me, otherwise I will lose the purpose of the song,” he says.
The deep voice of Mtukudzi has brought music to the next generation. Taught by their father, his children Selmor and Sam Mtukudzi became music stars in their own right.
“One day, in March 2010, I was in Johannesburg and my son, Sam, was supposed to pick me up in Harare at the airport.”
Mtukudzi sent Sam a message telling him he was no longer coming. Unfortunately, the text didn’t go through. Sam drove to the airport to pick him up. And tragedy struck.
“I got a call that evening and they said he had been in an accident on his way home from the airport. They were taking him to the hospital and I was to come as soon as possible. They wouldn’t give me the details,” says Mtukudzi.
When he arrived at the airport all his close friends and family were there.
“I realized something was really wrong. They were all crying and I knew my son had passed on. I couldn’t believe it. My last words with him, we joked and now he was gone. I am still learning to live with it.”
This is a big loss for Mtukudzi. Sam performed and toured with his father.
“He was always on my left side when he was on stage with me. That alone, when I’m on stage, it makes me remember he is not there. Every time I am on stage, I feel the emptiness but it is also therapeutic because I feel him the most when I’m on stage.”
After Sam’s death, it was hard to sing again. In 2012, after two long years of grief, Mtukudzi released Sarawoga – in his mother tongue, it means “left alone”.
“Some of the songs in the album were meant to be in collaboration with my son so this was some kind of therapy for me. I didn’t want to throw away the work we had sweated on. I had to finish it off,” he says.
One of the songs in the album is Shamiso, named after Mtukudzi’s daughter.
“Sam was more of a friend than a son. One of the songs we were working on was Shamiso. She was getting married and we were going to sing the song at her wedding.”
It hasn’t been an easy journey. According to Mtukudzi, for as long as there are people, there is something to talk about and if there is something to talk about, then there is something to sing about.
“My music comes from the people, the environment and some of it from personal experiences. Things come up when I’m driving and I park on the side and write it down, you don’t budget time for a song. This is a tough industry. There are a lot of obstacles but you have to be strong. There is no shortcut, you just have to go all the way and remain true to yourself,” he says.
As Mtukudzi learns to live with the loss of his son, he is trying to break barriers. He is adapting a famous 1961 Zimbabwean book, Pfumo Reropa, spear of blood in chiShona, by Patrick Chakaipa.
“I’m not going to retire. I can’t run away from myself. I noticed that some of our literature is being thrown away. It is being ignored probably because there are no visuals to them, so I felt I should take one of the popular books at home and script it into motion picture to encourage our youngsters to be more interested in African literature.”
Through the loss and the pain, Mtukudzi is trying to build something of substance for Africa out of the ruins. Surely, that is a tribute to the loss of a loved son.

Tag: Oliver Mtukudzi

FORBES AFRICA SOCIAL MEDIA

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