Kenyan music sensation Akothee has bared her soul in a raw Instagram post detailing her Akothee burial wishes amid health struggles, urging loved ones to bury her swiftly within 48 hours if death strikes abroad and spare the family the ordeal of repatriating her body.
The 43-year-old entertainer, whose real name is Esther Akoth, dropped the poignant plea late Friday, capping weeks of cryptic updates on her battle with a critical illness that’s left fans holding their breath.
“Please bury me in 48 hours; if it (death) finds me abroad, don’t struggle to bring my body back,” she wrote, her words slicing through the glamour of her safari queen persona like a machete through thicket.
It’s a forceful declaration of mortality from a woman who’s danced through life’s tempests, from single motherhood to boardroom battles. Akothee’s health odyssey isn’t new, but this latest chapter, revealed in an August YouTube confessional, has cranked the volume to eleven.
She’s been grappling with severe complications, including what insiders whisper are lingering effects from past fibroid surgeries and a fresh wave of undisclosed ailments that sidelined her from stage lights and Rongo University gigs.
“Live your life; every day you are walking towards your death,” she philosophised in a parallel Facebook musing just hours earlier, blending defiance with a newfound serenity that’s rippling through Kenya’s digital diaspora.
From Mombasa’s beaches to London’s high streets, her followers, over 5 million strong, flooded comments with prayers and fist emojis, turning vulnerability into viral solidarity.
This isn’t Akothee’s first tango with the reaper’s shadow. Back in 2020, amid COVID’s early grip, she prepped her send-off, quipping about a ready-made coffin and banning crowdfunding stunts for her farewell bash.
“I’ve sorted my exit, no drama,” she laughed then, but today’s tone carries heavier gravel, forged in hospital corridors and midnight doubts. Philanthropy queen that she is, Akothee pivoted her pain into purpose last January, vowing aid for orphaned kids burying kin in dusty village rites, a heartwarming gesture that netted her headlines and quiet donors.
Now, as October’s harmattan winds sweep the Coast, her burial wishes amid health struggles feel like a manifesto: honour the living, not the logistics of the lost.
Reactions cascaded like Nile cataracts. Daughter Vesha, the 21-year-old firecracker who’s manned the family fort, reposted with a single broken heart, while ex-hubby Omosh posted a teary selfie from his cab: “Warrior mom, we’re fighting with you.”
For Akothee, whose empire spans Akothee Safaris and a foundation that’s schooled 500+ girls, the outcome is chapter-and-verse resilience.
She’s jetted to India for check-ups before, emerging with war stories and wigs, but the abroad clause in her burial wishes amid health struggles nods to the chaos of cross-border grief, visa snarls, flight fees, and customs quagmires that bankrupt families.
“Bury me where I breathe last; let my kids grieve in peace,” she elaborated in replies, her emojis a shield against the abyss. As Kisumu’s sun dips low, Kenya pauses: What if the unkillable one falters? Her foundation’s already buzzing with contingency plans, scholarships in her name, and perhaps a health fund for hustlers like her.