OF the hundreds of songs that her father composed, Memory
Mtukudzi’s favourite track from the iconic musician is Hazvireve.
It is easy why Memory would choose this as the one closest
to her heart. It is the one joint that speaks to her, the one track that feels
like a six-minute summary of her life. Over an intoxicating mix of neatly
arranged instruments, the late Oliver Tuku Mtukudzi tells the story of a
regretful man calmly telling his child that his absence from their life does
not mean he did not love them.
When Memory told Sunday Life this, she had a distant look in
her eyes and she did not bother to further explain her choice. There was no
need to. Her face was explanation enough.
With that short answer, what was an emotional interview was
over. For the Sunday Life news crew, that answer was the end of a search that
had many starts and stops.
In 2015, Memory emerged and claimed that the iconic
Mtukudzi was her father. She insisted that she was not the gown-up result of a
one-night stand, revealing that the relationship between her father and mother
only ended when she was five years old. Her mother, Barbara Siziba, passed away
when Memory was eight years old.
Mtukudzi never denied her claims and according to Memory,
their relationship had normalised by the time he passed away earlier this
year. Since his death however, she had
been elusive. Three months ago a Sunday Life crew went in search of her over
several days at Bulawayo’s Mzilikazi suburb where neighbours said she had since
moved house. They did not know her new place of residence.
Some said that she must have changed names because they had
known her by another when she was growing up. She could not be contacted
through her old numbers with the assumption being that she did not have a
phone. With that, the trail had grown cold. When Sunday Life finally tracked
her down last week, she said her phone had been smashed by her husband in a fit
of rage.
Along Khami Road, there’s a café that always seems to
attract more flies than customers. With very loud blaring in the background,
Memory took us through her troubled life and relationship with Tuku, a man she
had learnt to love from afar.
The absent father
Memory said that despite their problems in the past, she
had somewhat resolved things with her late father. After a dramatic
confrontation with him outside a show at the ZITF at the end of 2017, he had
sent emissaries to cool his daughter’s temper. This was after he had seemed to
once again lose interest in her life after they had initially established
contact in 2015.
“That other time
when we came from Mberengwa in 2015 Tuku came here to Bulawayo. At that time
Sam Mataure was still his manager and everything was not really going well. We
didn’t greet each other and then he came this other time to perform at the
Trade Fair. That was when there was that great scandal.
“At the time he told me that he couldn’t talk to me at work
and he could only do so at home. I told him that we can’t work things at home
because some people did not want me there. He insisted that he would see me at
home. After some time he sent people. He sent two men and I told them that my
life has never been good since my mother passed, in fact life had not been good
ever since he left my mother,” she said.
By the time he passed on, Memory said that her relationship
with Tuku had stabilised.
“We got along fine but the only problem was the person who
had power in his life. But whenever I needed help he was there for me. If he
was in Bulawayo and I told him that the children had not paid their school fees
he would pay it and if I needed anything he would give me money for it. We only
had problems when I got pregnant. He didn’t approve of my husband,” she said.
After they had mended their relationship, Memory said Tuku
had lived up to his promise of making up for lost time, and had purchased a
stand for her by the time he passed on.
“He gave my mother’s sister money to buy me a stand in
Cowdray Park. The house has so far been built to window level,” she said.
A heartbreaking farewell
Things came to a head earlier this year when Memory went to
attend her father’s funeral. Unwanted and shunned, she was on the receiving end
of abuse by some relatives.
“When he passed on it was a Wednesday. So I went to Harare
on a Thursday and when I got there a lot of people had already gathered. I
couldn’t find anyone willing to welcome me. So I was taken to a private room
and that’s when they asked if I’m memory from Bulawayo and I said yes I was.
“The person that caused me the most pain during the funeral
called me when I was sitting outside with other mourners and said Memo you now
want to be known by people after you had been abusing my nephew when he was
alive, I can make sure that you don’t even go to the body viewing ceremony or
even be there when he is buried. I didn’t reply her. She said I should behave
myself because they didn’t want children from the bush,” she said.
After being told that she might not be allowed to bury her
father, Memory had to think on her feet as she realised that she would not be
able to bid her father farewell if she wallowed in sadness.
“When I went outside the other aunts asked me why I was
crying and I told them that there was someone that was bothering me saying that
I will not be able to bury my father. That woman had shouted at me and said
they don’t want children of prostitutes at the funeral. That’s when there came
some buses that were taking people from Pakare Paye to the stadium.
“I saw that they were people that were climbing on top so I
realised that if I didn’t do that I wouldn’t be able to bid him farewell. I
finally got where relatives and high class people were seated and I managed to
see my father. When I went to his home during the funeral it was my first time
inside that house. It was my first time to be welcomed by the aunts and other
relatives,” she said.
After the funeral speculation was rife, as many wondered
who would get what from Tuku’s estate. As one of the alleged five illegitimate
children she counted at the funeral, Memory only took a shirt and a straw hat
from his many belongings.
“I was there when people were giving out his clothes and
they said his children should come and get his stuff. Some people were putting
stuff in bags and Selmor was there too and I said I wasn’t interested in the
clothes but she said I needed to get something and that’s when I took one shirt
and put it in my bag. Then my son said that he wanted his straw hat and that’s
when I got up and went to get it as well.
“Afterwards the most senior aunts got up and said that
since my father was a travelling man, he had children that were not yet known
to the family and so they needed to be welcomed home. Then another aunt got up
to complained and said that they couldn’t just accept everyone who walked
through the door claiming to be a part of the family. I counted four of us. I remember
Felix, Clive and Kelvin. They are from different areas but I was the one that
was a bit known,” she said.
Memory’s personal tragedy
Memory said that her life had already seen a lot of
hardship. It is a tragedy that her first born son, who she had when she was 15,
seems to be troubled by as he grows older.
“My first born son is 14 years old and he is grown and
sometimes he would sit me down and say mama how long are you going to continue
living this kind of life?,” she said.
The 29 year -old hinted that she had also grown
disillusioned with marriage, as she sometimes felt that it compounded her
problems in life.
“I’m talented in traditional dance but my husband doesn’t
want me to do any of that stuff. Sometimes I struggle to understand what kind
of a man he is. There was a time that I wanted to go to Harare and I didn’t
have money so I boiled eggs and sold them the whole day then he took that money
and went off with it. So the life that I lead is extremely hard but there’s
nothing that I can do,” she said. Sunday
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