Tears flowed freely at the Indukusi burial tributes in Kakamega County on Saturday, where the widow and children of beloved Mshamba TV actor Dickson Cholwa, known as Indukusi, poured out their hearts in a ceremony that blended raw grief with fond memories of his comedic spark.
Just 11 days after the 45-year-old succumbed to liver-related complications while en route to hospital, hundreds gathered under the Luhya heartland’s overcast skies to bid adieu to the man whose antics as the bumbling Zebedayo lit up living rooms across Kenya.
Angel Okonyo, Indukusi’s widow of 15 years, clutched a faded script from their last scene together, her voice cracking as she whispered, “You chased laughs until the end – now rest easy, my jester.”
His burial at his ancestral home in Navakholo unfolded like a poignant scene from the sitcom that made him a household name since 2018. Okonyo, flanked by their two young children – a boy of 10 and a girl of 7 – stood before a simple pine casket draped in Mshamba’s signature green cloth, her eulogy a mosaic of everyday miracles.
“He’d wake at dawn for village sketches, then rush home to braid my hair and teach the kids rhymes,” she shared, as sobs rippled through the crowd of fellow castmates and fans who’d driven from Nairobi’s Eastlands.
The children, wide-eyed in oversized jerseys bearing “Zebedayo Forever”, added their touches: the son placed a toy microphone atop the grave, murmuring, “Papa’s punchlines will echo in heaven.”
A viral video captured by co-star Mshamba Zebedayo, who doubled as pallbearer and videographer, showed the family in a huddle, their wails harmonising with distant church bells – a clip that’s since amassed 200,000 views on TikTok, tugging at the nation’s funny bone turned tender.
Indukusi’s journey from a Navakholo farm boy to Mshamba’s breakout fool was no scripted gag. Discovered during a 2017 talent hunt in Kakamega, he infused Zebedayo with a hapless charm that mirrored Kenya’s underdog spirit – bumbling through bar bets and bride-price blunders that had viewers howling over ugali dinners.
But off-screen, liver problems shadowed his stardom; friends like Zebedayo revealed he’d battled silently for months, waving off clinic visits with quips about “immortal livers.”
His death on October 14 hit like a plot twist no one saw coming, prompting a crowdfunding plea from the family for KSh 400,000 to cover rites, met swiftly by donors from as far as the Gulf, who chipped in via M-Pesa marathons.
Fellow Mshamba alumni turned the graveside into a roast wrapped in reverence. Zebedayo, the show’s eponymous everyman, choked back laughs through tears: “Indukusi, you owed me one more blooper – now who’s gonna trip over the hoe?”
Director Dennis Musau hailed his timing as “Luhya gold”, while fans in the peanut gallery shared bootleg clips on WhatsApp, toasting how Zebedayo’s gaffes got them through blackouts and bailiff knocks.
Beneath the chuckles lurked a sombre nod to showbiz’s fragility – Indukusi’s passing was the third in local comedy circles this year, spotlighting the grind of gigs that pay peanuts amid soaring medical bills.
As soil settled on the mound, Okonyo vowed to channel his legacy into a youth drama club, “so no kid chases dreams on empty stomachs.”
Kakamega’s elders blessed the site with millet beer, invoking ancestors to guide Zebedayo’s spirit to greener pastures.
For Kenya’s comedy faithful, the Indukusi burial tributes weren’t closure – they were a cue to cue up reruns, letting his laughter linger like smoke from a village fire.