Dear Tuku Project Interview

I discovered Oliver Mtukudzi in a South African restaurant in Brooklyn called Madiba. The song Ndima Ndapedza was playing, and I was so captivated by it that I asked the staff who the artist was. I was shocked because I had never heard of him before. This was probably due to the fact that I was raised in France, where we were more exposed to African artists from French-speaking countries.

I believe I started working on this project around October 2018.

I remember we moved back to London from NYC at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. During that time, I was discovering more and more of Oliver Mtukudzi’s immense talent by listening to his songs daily. I became completely immersed in his music.
One day, my 8-year-old son said to me, “Daddy, I know why you like him so much.” I was curious to hear his answer, and he said, “You guys kind of have the same voice.” It hadn’t crossed my mind before, but that moment planted the seed of an idea—to sing one of his songs.
I started translating his lyrics and watching every video I could find of him on YouTube. I noticed many similarities between Oliver Mtukudzi and Bob Marley in their approach to music. Both artists were deeply connected to their roots, and their authenticity resonated with me.
What struck me most was how Tuku managed to express the beauty and nostalgia of the past while grappling with the fast pace of the modern world. But it was after watching a series of videos called Zim Rural and discovering another great song, Ivai Navo, where he speaks about his family connections, that I was fully convinced to start this project.
Seeing Oliver Mtukudzi in his element—building a home for his parents and sharing the story of how his father passed away as he was finishing it—revealed the depth of his soul. In a world where so many of my heroes had passed away, I had found another one, and I dreamed of seeing him perform live one day.

That’s a great question. I fell in love with Oliver Mtukudzi’s music because of the instant connection I felt with his voice and melodies. But after translating his songs, I felt an even deeper connection to him.
I was born in Douala, Cameroon, so my initial idea was to try and sing those melodies in my native language. I tried a few songs, but I wasn’t satisfied with the results. I realized that the true power of his melodies came from their deep connection to the Shona language.
When I heard of his passing in 2019, I was devastated. I didn’t want to get entangled in legal challenges to translate his songs, especially since he was no longer here to give his blessing. From that point, the project transformed into a pure tribute—to the man, his music, and his legacy, using his own words.
I became determined to learn Shona so I could sing his songs authentically. Some people told me it would be impossible, but I reminded them that I had learned to speak French and English, so why couldn’t I learn another African language?
Interestingly, I started noticing similarities between Shona and my father’s dialect, Bodiman, from Douala. For instance, the word for “child” is mwana in both languages. So, while it was definitely challenging, it was not impossible.
I was so obsessed with perfecting my Shona pronunciation that I would visit the Zimbabwean Embassy in London to have Zimbabweans listen to my work-in-progress and ask them for feedback on my accent in the early stages of the project.

The mission of Francis Jocky’s Elephant is to preserve and keep a record of great music that is disappearing right before our eyes. In that sense, my greatest inspiration is Real World Music, founded by Peter Gabriel—a label I have always admired because they share that same mission.
I understand that the new generation may not be as interested in learning to play instruments to make music. But it pains me to see these great artists leave this world, taking with them knowledge that was passed down through generations. The artistic loss is immeasurable.
Francis Jocky’s Elephant acts as a torch, passing this legacy to the next generation. To me, there will never be another artist like Oliver Mtukudzi. He had his own unique way of playing the guitar, composing songs, and expressing himself through his one-of-a-kind voice.
Just as I did with the first Francis Jocky’s Elephant album called "African Tale", which focused on the roots and traditions of Douala music, I was drawn to Oliver Mtukudzi’s older material for this project. Songs like Ndotagira Poyi and Pss Pss Hallo blew my mind. They were unique in their approach, deeply rooted in Zimbabwean culture, and the musicianship was of the highest level. But the legend had more than 66 Albums in his long career, so for sure it was not easy.
Interestingly, while I was constantly listening to these songs, my now 14-year-old son still considered them “grandpa music” because of their old-school sound. I tried to explain that this was exactly what made them so unique, but he couldn’t grasp it at first. Now, he sings those songs all the time in the car, and the album has become one of his favorites.
And you have some songs that are just beautiful. Ivai Navo was the first one I recorded, and it really drew me into the whole project. I also watched a heartbreaking video of Mr. Oliver Mtukudzi singing Mbabvu Yangu to his wife, Daisy, on that boat—a truly touching moment. From that moment, I knew the song had to be part of the album.
The ultimate purpose of this project is that, if I can inspire even 10 people from the younger generation to seek out Oliver Mtukudzi’s original versions after hearing my tribute, then I will have succeeded in keeping his legacy alive—just like his family is doing so beautifully at the Pakare Paye Arts Centre.