Millie Odhiambo will request burial at her father’s land like Beryl Odinga, a poignant declaration from the outspoken Suba North MP that has ignited fresh debate on personal autonomy and controversial decisions when still alive, cultural evolution, and the right to dictate one’s final resting place amid Kenya’s ongoing debates over Luo traditions.
In a deeply personal social media post shared, Odhiambo laid bare her own end-of-life wishes, explicitly invoking the recent controversy surrounding Beryl Achieng Odinga’s burial arrangements as the model she hopes her family will follow.
The timing of Odhiambo’s statement could not have been more charged. Just hours earlier, the Odinga family had defiantly proceeded with preparations for Beryl’s interment at the ancestral Kang’o ka Jaramogi homestead in Bondo, Siaya County, despite fierce backlash from traditionalists who decried the decision as a blatant disregard for longstanding Luo customs.
Beryl, the younger sister of former Prime Minister Raila Odinga and daughter of Kenya’s first Vice President Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, passed away on November 25, 2025, at a Nairobi hospital after a prolonged illness.
Her burial, done on Saturday, December 6, at the family cemetery alongside her late mother, Mama Mary Juma Odinga, marked a deliberate break from the norm, where widowed or divorced women are typically laid to rest at their marital homes.
Odhiambo, a vocal defender of the Odinga family’s choice during the week-long cultural storm, had already waded into the fray with a sharp rebuke of critics on her Facebook page. “All those who firmly opine that Beryl Odinga should be buried according to Luo customs, please confirm that your six lower teeth have been removed in strict conformity to culture,” she wrote, a biting reference to the outdated practice of ohangla tooth extraction that few modern Luos still observe.
Her words struck a chord, amplifying calls for a more progressive interpretation of heritage that prioritises individual dignity over rigid rituals. Now, by formalising her own will in a follow-up post, Odhiambo has elevated the discourse from abstract advocacy to a binding personal testament.
In her declaration, Odhiambo addressed her loved ones and the public with raw vulnerability. “If I die, I’m requesting you to do me the same favour you have done to Beryl Odinga by burying me in my father’s land,” she stated, underscoring a profound sense of homecoming and agency.
The MP, known for her unfiltered takes on gender rights, political accountability, and social justice, framed this not as defiance but as an affirmation of self-determination. At 55, Odhiambo has long navigated the intersections of tradition and modernity, from championing women’s leadership in the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) to challenging patriarchal norms in Kenyan legislation.
Her will request arrives at a moment when the nation grapples with similar tensions, as seen in recent high-profile cases where families opt for non-traditional burials to honour the deceased’s unfulfilled dreams or escape abusive legacies.
Beryl’s story adds layers of heartbreak to the unfolding narrative. Born into one of Kenya’s most influential political dynasties, she endured a turbulent life marked by an abusive marriage to Otieno Ambala, the 1974 Gem MP, from which Raila himself orchestrated her escape to Zimbabwe in the 1970s.
As detailed in Raila’s 2013 memoir “The Flame of Freedom”, Beryl later divorced Ambala and remarried John Tamisayi Mungwari, who passed in 1985, leaving her a widow who returned to her roots. Critics, including some Luo elders, argued her burial at the father’s homestead dishonoured her marital ties and set a dangerous precedent for cultural erosion.
Yet, Siaya Senator Oburu Oginga, Beryl’s elder brother, countered firmly on December 6, explaining that Jaramogi had long designated the family plot as the eternal home for all his children, irrespective of marital status. “This is not rebellion; it’s fulfilment of our father’s vision,” Oburu told reporters outside the Nyamira venue, where a requiem mass had drawn hundreds, including ODM stalwarts and local dignitaries.
Odhiambo’s intervention has resonated widely, with supporters hailing it as a feminist milestone that empowers women to reclaim their narratives even in death. Legal experts note that Kenyan law, under the Law of Succession Act, grants individuals broad latitude to specify burial preferences, provided they do not conflict with public health orders.
Odhiambo, a trained lawyer herself, likely drew on this framework, ensuring her request carries enforceable weight. Her post has also prompted a wave of similar disclosures from public figures, turning a private grief into a catalyst for national introspection.
As Beryl’s funeral unfolded under a drizzling Siaya sky, the ceremony blended Christian hymns with subtle Luo dirges, a hybrid that mirrored the day’s thematic tensions. Raila Odinga Jr, who announced the burial plans on November 29, eulogised his aunt as a quiet pillar of resilience, whose life bridged eras of strife and progress.
This episode underscores Kenya’s vibrant, often contentious dance with identity. In a country where over 40 ethnic groups navigate federalism and devolution, burial disputes frequently spotlight deeper fault lines, from land rights to gender equity.
Odhiambo’s will request, by linking her fate to Beryl’s, spotlights the quiet revolutions happening in living rooms and courtrooms alike. It challenges custodians of custom to adapt or risk irrelevance, while affirming that true legacy lies in honouring the spirit, not just the script, of one’s journey.
In the end, Millie Odhiambo will request burial at her father’s land, like Beryl. She stands as more than a footnote in a family’s sorrow; she’s a manifesto for agency in an age of flux. As the dust settles on Beryl’s gravesite, Odhiambo’s words linger, urging Kenyans to pen their own chapters, tooth extraction be damned. The debate endures, but so does the right to rest where the heart feels whole.