Innocent Mujeri

As the world danced to the melodies of Oliver "Tuku" Mtukudzi, celebrating him as a father figure in African music, few knew the cold, grim reality that played out behind the walls of his home. While Tuku’s songs preached love, peace, and family unity, his daughters, Sandra and Selmor, were navigating a far darker childhood—one where they sometimes had to fight the family dogs for food and love was a rare commodity.

For years, Sandra and Selmor endured a life under the heavy hand of their stepmother, Daisy, who was more interested in maintaining her iron rule than in nurturing the two girls.

Recently, the Mtukudzi girls opened up to the world and recalled a horrific incident where they had to share the food with the family dog.

“Paibikirwa imbwa yedu Kwanai sadza, iwe ndopawaidya ipapo ndopaipakurwa rako ipapo vamwe vachidya rice (When meals were prepared, mine would be prepared in the same pot as the dog’s),” Sandra said.

Their home, rather than a sanctuary, became a battlefield where the girls were often at war with their stepmother.

Sandra and Selmor revealed that they experienced segregation and favouritism from a young age, as Daisy would only care for her own children, Samantha and Sam, leaving them feeling isolated and neglected.

“We used to be left out of everything. Kubvira tiri vana vadiki taingosiiwa, vanhu vaibuda vachienda kuma holiday naSamantha naSam isu tichinzi sarai makachengeta pamba, toda kudzoka pamba pakachena, tichisara (The rest of the family would go on vacation and we would be left behind, under strict instructions to clean the house).

“I remember this other day we were invited to a party, all of us as children, and we were so excited about it. Surprisingly, on the day of the event, only Sam and Samantha were allowed to go, and I was given some laundry to do while others were going to the party,” said Sandra.

It was clear from Sandra and Selmor that Mtukudzi, while loved by millions, left a gaping void in the lives of his daughters.

 He was a father by title but absent when they needed him most. While he toured the world and graced stages with his soulful music, Selmor and Sandra were left behind, struggling under the cold and detached rule of Daisy.

The bitter irony of it all—Tuku, the father of the nation’s music, whose songs spoke of togetherness and love, couldn’t keep his own house in order. The public adored him as the wise elder, a symbol of African pride, but his daughters lived in a house where even the dogs were prioritised above them.

The girls, who should have basked in the glow of their father’s stardom, found themselves abandoned emotionally.

Sandra and Selmor said that they hungered for his affection, a fatherly embrace that never came, as Daisy made sure they stayed at arm's length, locked out of their father's heart.

It’s ironic that Mtukudzi, a man who sang about the heart and soul of Africa, had failed to listen to the cries coming from his own home.

As the world continues to honour the musical legend, one can’t help but wonder: was Oliver Mtukudzi truly the father figure the world believed him to be? For all the wisdom in his songs, did he turn a blind eye to the wounds festering under his own roof?

If Tuku could come back from the grave, would he face the daughters he left behind, who sometimes had to share their food with dogs, and finally explain why his music reached so many, but his love couldn’t even reach his own children?

For all the beautiful songs he left us, the silence in his daughters' lives might just be his loudest legacy.