No, it wasn’t a joke: Inside family feud that was captured in ‘viral’ obituary
The portrait of Elizabeth Mueni Ngotho that was placed on her casket.
What you need to know:
- A close friend to the family said the lastborn was behind the obituary, pointing to bitter disputes over family wealth.
- Cracks in the family appeared back in 1997 when Peter Ngotho, one of the two sons in the family, died by suicide.
Once we branch off on the left from the Machakos-Kitui road on a humid Saturday, we drive for about three kilometres before following a murram road that leads us to Makiliva shopping centre in Mwala, Machakos County.
Ash markings on the road direct us to a left turn on a road that looks abandoned. We drive for about 500 metres before some men direct us to park in a spinney that surrounds a homestead. Here, over 50 cars are also parked.
No car should go beyond this point, so we get off and follow a path identified by a fence of a blend of tall trees, short bushes and cacti on the left.
A rusty gate welcomes us to the home where the funeral of Elizabeth Mueni Ngotho, whose controversial obituary went viral last week after what appeared to readers as total disgust to a family member and sheer abhorrence to a woman’s lifeless body, is taking place.
“Mueni has now been united with her beloved father Anthony and her partner in crime Peter, and they can get up to their typical mischief where they left off,” read the obituary that got the whole country talking and even attracted mourners from neighbouring counties.
Two of three police officers are armed with AK-47 rifles, and are moving to and from their vehicle parked just near the gate where two mobile toilets have been installed. Hundreds of villagers have come to witness first-hand the people who wrote the emotive advert and the motivation behind it.
“I saw it trending on social media. I came to witness why,” Belta Mutindi*, who had set foot in this village for the first time today, tells us.
On the left side of the entrance to the home is a newly dug grave, Elizabeth’s final resting place, and below it is what looks like a family dam. Two rectangular cement slabs indicate the graves of her father Anthony and brother Peter, and a new wire mesh fence round the graves keeps intruders out.
The whole place looks like those woods in Netflix horror movies, as an artificial forest keeps the area cool but silent. No branches creaking, no leaves rustling, no wind whistling around trunks and it looks like birds and are not allowed to sing their songs to the departed here.
Burial ceremony
There is an austere and solemn sense of family disarray that unsettles the soul and spirit. You can tell that, were it not for the security personnel and a curious crowd, a pandemonium would have ensued.
Anthony, who passed away on November 9, 2007, was a rich businessman. An old water bowser and a ramshackle tractor attest to his opulence. All his children got their university education abroad.
After mourners have eaten, the service kicks off at 12pm. A white Catholic priest who at first speaks in English alongside a translator leads the prayers but as the prayers get intense, he proves his knowledge of the local Kamba language as he reads out the Kamba programme prayers and dirges fluently.
The public address system has been set to create a sombre mood, and make the priest’s voice sound enfeebled and empathetic. Elizabeth’s casket separates the priest from her family members, who are all donning dark clothing and a tag written “Family” that sways at the slightest touch of a breeze identifies their tent.
An animated keyboard player leads a lively church choir in singing gospel tunes. At the back, men and women speak in low tones, many gawking at the proceedings while pondering why anyone would author such an obituary in a national newspaper.
“We are not sure if the departed will go to heaven but let us pray for her soul,” the priest says. “Mercy be upon Elizabeth and may angels welcome her,” he says in Kamba.
After that, it is time for the Holy Communion and offerings amid buoyant songs by the choir. Thereafter the priest, using a whisk, sprinkles holy water round Elizabeth’s coffin then welcomes a man who identifies himself as Joseph Ngotho to speak.
Contrary to regular burial ceremonies where every kin of the departed is allowed to speak their last words to the deceased, the family has chosen Joseph to speak on behalf of all of them, perhaps to control what is said about Elizabeth and to hide whatever family feuds that are boiling below the surface.
With total disregard to Elizabeth’s life or even mention of her name, Joseph says in one minute: “I thank those who consoled us. Thank you for attending and for your help. Thank you priest and all those who travelled to come and mourn with us.” That’s it. No government or community leader is allowed to say anything.
After Joseph’s speech, it is straight to the grave for Elizabeth’s remains. And the directions from the emcee are now loud and clear: “Only family members are allowed in the burial area.”
Elizabeth Ngotho’s casket during her burial in Makiliva village, Mwala, Machakos County, on April 24, 2022.
A woman carrying Elizabeth’s portrait walks briskly to the grave followed by dozens of other family members with wreaths in their hands. Pallbearers follow with the coffin.
It’s 3pm and the casket is lowered into the grave as the choir switches to sombre Swahili dirges. Villagers crowd outside the barrier to get a glimpse of the casket, but cannot see anything because family members have surrounded the grave area. Wreaths are laid, starting with Elizabeth’s mother, siblings, relatives, friends and the church.
“Man shall go back to soil,” says the priest before he announces that the service is over. But immediately after that, the emcee’s voice, now very strong and with deeper conviction, is heard saying: “Everyone shall be judged by their own actions. If you lived a bad life, wait for judgment day.”
Family members now leave the grave with scowling faces as if to say “good riddance.” Burial equipment is returned to a hearse branded Lee Funeral.
“Let us tolerate one another. We should stop judging others. Let us pray for Elizabeth’s and her father’s souls,” one man in his 70s tells us. Half an hour after the burial is over, villagers are still milling about the home.
At 46 years, Elizabeth was unmarried and childless. After leaving the lavish Hillcrest Secondary School, she attended the University of Manchester, where she studied architecture before enrolling for a degree in hotel management at the Les Roches International School of Hotel Management in Switzerland.
She would later join Le Cordon Bleu Culinary School in London for a diploma, then the University of Prince Edward Island in Canada for a conflict resolution degree. In 2005, she received her masters degree from the University of Sydney.
She loved the hospitality industry, and would hop from job to job in the United Kingdom and Australia before settling for a food and beverage manager position at the Panafric Hotel. She later joined Sarova Whitesands Beach Resort and Spa Mombasa.
Until her death, Elizabeth had been ailing for years but had ventured into real estate and had even told friends that once she passed on her body should be preserved at a funeral home she was building in Kitui town.
Cracks in the family
A close friend to the family who begged for anonymity confided in us that the last born in Elizabeth’s family was the mastermind of the newspaper advert, pointing to bitter disputes over family wealth running for over two decades.
“I think sometimes he is under drugs. He defended himself that he wanted to sound very close to Elizabeth with some little humour, but it ended up looking clumsy for the whole family,” said the source. “In African societies you don’t do that even if the deceased was a murderer. We should show respect to the dead.”
To redeem itself from the mishap, the family designed a 10-page eulogy booklet that describes Elizabeth as artistic, humorous, intellectual, extroverted, bold, kind and organised. Six pages have been spammed with photos of Elizabeth’s life to convince the world that they loved her, the family friend said, adding: “Only the opposite is true. They loathed her in life and in death.”
Cracks in the family appeared back in 1997 when Peter Ngotho, one of the two sons in the family, died by suicide. He had been sent abroad to study business related courses so that he could help the family patriarch manage his vast business empire. Instead, Peter chose to follow his passion — music and art.
His father was shocked to learn that Peter had chosen to study a different course when he attended his graduation and that created animosity between the two, which escalated when Peter asked his father to buy him a Play Station gaming console but the latter declined.
Depressed, Peter is said to have taken his own life.
There were already deep divisions within the family with Elizabeth, Peter and their father in one faction, while their mother and the rest of the siblings stood on the other. When the family patriarch passed on in 2007, Elizabeth was left in control in the administration of her father’s multimillion-shilling estate, which, till now, has cases pending at the Machakos Environment and Land Court as well as the Milimani Law Courts in Nairobi.
Now that members of one faction are all dead, no one left in the family has access to property and wealth that Elizabeth controlled. This is said to be the cause of the melodrama that was exhibited on the pages of a national newspaper.
