Zachariah Kariuki, better known by his stage name KK Mwenyewe, has passed away, and with him goes one of the most naturally funny voices of this generation, a university student turned national comic who built his name from scratch without a budget, without PR, and without fake accents or studio lighting, just raw timing and a borrowed shirt.
The Kikuyu comedian, who became known across the country for his pitch-perfect impressions of former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua, died at Kiambu Level 4 Hospital after a short illness, and while many are just now remembering him, those who watched his rise from the start know exactly what Kenya lost the moment that news came out.
He made people laugh by copying the way Gachagua talked, walked, dressed, and moved his lips, and he didn’t need punchlines or clever editing to pull it off, just a shaky camera, a thrift shop necktie, a plastic belly, and a deep understanding of how comedy works when it meets politics in a country where seriousness wears a badge.
He wasn’t just pretending to be the Deputy President for laughs, he was making a point, and the point was that power doesn’t always need to be feared, sometimes it needs to be copied badly, slowed down, exaggerated, and fed back to the public as a joke until it becomes too obvious to ignore.
KK’s face started showing up everywhere just after the new government took over, and at a time when people were still trying to figure out who was who, KK showed up as the guy who could already speak like the Deputy President, dress like him, and even hit the same awkward pauses, making millions laugh without being mean or fake.
He gave the name Riggy G a body, a voice, and a walk, and even though Ivy Chelimo was the one who came up with the nickname, it was KK who turned it into a thing you could see, share, remix, and send to your auntie, your neighbour, or your cousin in Qatar, and for a while, it felt like he had finally made it.
But while Chelimo ended up with a fancy job in the Deputy President’s communication team, KK kept waiting for a call that never came, and even after Gachagua said on national TV that he had seen the guy imitating him and would look for him, that meeting never happened, the promise remained just that — something said, then ignored.
In an interview with Jeff Kuria, KK explained that he called the office many times, was told the Deputy was either at a funeral, at an event, or outside the country, and each time they said a meeting would be arranged at Anniversary Towers, but months went by and it just became another empty story on the long list of promises made to young Kenyans.
People around him started saying maybe he should dress differently, that maybe the rugged trousers, fake belly, and odd ties were giving the wrong idea, and maybe if he cleaned up his look, he’d be taken more seriously by the same people who were privately enjoying his videos while publicly pretending not to know his name.
So he changed how he dressed, toned down some of the rough edges, waited again, called again, followed up again, and still nothing happened, because in this country, sometimes talent gets applause but never support, and by the time it does, the person behind it is already gone.
A Life of Laughter, But Not of Reward
KK started posting content in 2020 while studying Computer Engineering at Kisii University, and what began as a simple skit called ‘Mtazamaji’ slowly turned into a stream of impersonations, sharp parodies, and political sketches that gave him a following of over 77,000 TikTok followers and over 600,000 likes, all built with no sponsor, no fancy setup, and no team.
His impression of Gachagua wasn’t just funny, it was weirdly accurate, right down to how he pronounced words like Kenya, Man, Demorolized, and Mwai Kibaki, and it got to a point where you could close your eyes and hear the actual Deputy President speaking, then open them and see a skinny kid from Nyeri with a second-hand coat and a broken mic.
He became an online hit, got reposted by celebrities, mentioned by journalists, and even caught the attention of Martha Karua, who shared one of the skits and praised the female actor in it, and yet, even with all the reach and love, KK still struggled to make the kind of money or progress that people assumed came with that kind of attention.
He wasn’t doing club shows or corporate gigs, he was just uploading, editing, replying to comments, and hoping something would come of it, and every time people assumed he had finally broken through, the reality was that he was still hustling for airtime, still on campus, still waiting to meet the man he had made a household nickname.
A Missed Opportunity for the Country
What happened to KK has happened to many others before him, where someone becomes famous for making the country laugh, cry, or think, only to be remembered too late, and the silence from those in charge is never loud, just quiet enough to feel like a shrug, like they watched and moved on.
He could have been brought on to do national content, school tours, civic campaigns, voter awareness, or even just been given a job in a content team somewhere, but instead, he was promised a meeting, sent into a loop of calls, left hanging, and now the only thing being arranged is his funeral.
It’s the kind of ending that no one plans for but somehow keeps happening, where the people who make the biggest impact are treated like background noise, and the only time they get flowers is when someone else is laying them on a casket.
Final Tributes
Since news of his death broke, people online have been sharing his skits again, laughing through tears, and pointing out the bitter truth that he deserved better, and the same people who ignored his calls will now probably show up at the funeral and say things like “he was talented” or “he had potential,” as if that changes anything.
Someone posted, “KK made us laugh during some of the most frustrating moments,” and that line sums it up, because while the rest of the country was being squeezed by rising costs, bad news, and empty speeches, he gave people something to smile at, and now that smile is gone.
May he rest in peace
Zachariah Kariuki, aka KK Mwenyewe
2002 – 2025
