The death of a much-loved star is normally followed by an outpouring of grief, but in South Africa last week's loss of 75-year-old actress Nandi Nyembe also came with an outpouring of anger.
People were distressed that in the last months of her life, an obviously sick woman was reduced to appearing on videos appealing for financial help.
Sitting in a wheelchair, with thin, grey hair, wearing a loose T-shirt and fleece pyjama trousers, she said she did not like people feeling pity for her, but she needed money to cover the basics. Her biggest plea was for more work so she could support herself.
This was a far cry from her more famous screen appearances.
As the lead in some major television series over recent decades, her face was beamed into the homes of South Africans and she became a familiar weekly presence.
Respectfully known as mam'Nandi, her passing, for some, felt like losing a close relative.
A tribute jointly released by her family and the government hailed her as the very soul of South African storytelling.
She was far more than an actress but also a teacher and guide who broke barriers and inspired young actors in villages and townships to dream beyond their circumstances.
Given that status, the way she appeared late in life was all the more shocking.
Her death, after a long illness, has reignited the debate about the lack of support available to South African artists who are unable to work and has shone a spotlight on the struggle many face behind the scenes.
After an initial appearance fee, actors in South Africa do not receive any royalties for subsequent broadcasts of their work.
They are employed as freelancers and as a result, they get none of the possible benefits - such as a pension and health coverage - which may be available to regular employees.
This means that every single actor who is active in this country right now is on an inevitable path to where mam'Nandi was, Jack Devnarain, South African Guild of Actors (Saga) chairperson, told the BBC.
He said it had been painful to witness Nyembe's struggles in those final videos, knowing that this was not going to end well.
Because there is no amount of charity in the world that's going to fix the structural problems within the creative sector.
An actor himself, Devnarain fondly remembered Nyembe's glory years, saying how welcoming and warm she had been towards him as a young artist.
Nyembe was born in 1950 in Kliptown, the oldest part of Soweto - the black township just outside Johannesburg. Her mother was an actress and tap dancer and her father was a boxer, according to the online publication Actor Spaces.
Her acting career began in the 1970s at the height of the apartheid era, when the state legally enforced racial segregation.
Despite this typecasting, she would later go on to make her mark, first in theatre and then in various TV shows and films by the 1990s.
Among the television roles she was best known for was the recurring character of an HIV-positive nurse in the hospital drama Soul City, which ran from 1994 - the year of South Africa's first democratic election, at a time when people struggled to discuss HIV/Aids.
On the big screen, she captivated audiences with her role as a sangoma, or traditional healer, in the 2004 Oscar-nominated South African film Yesterday.
Nyembe's family noted how she faced challenges towards the end of her life while stating that they did all they could to support her.
The actor's guild Saga has been at the forefront of pushing for legal changes to prevent such situations. Two bills were introduced to parliament in 2017 aimed at giving actors the right to earn royalties for the first time in South African history.
After years of back-and-forth, they finally ended up on President Cyril Ramaphosa's desk for his signature in 2024, but he has since referred both bills to the Constitutional Court.
This has left actors stuck in limbo.
At a memorial service in Johannesburg, actress Lerato Mvelase also criticized the government for offering little more than a lullaby to actors.
Much of this has sparked significant anger and renewed calls for change, but any changes now are too late for Nyembe.
Renowned filmmaker Angus Gibson described how she would ask him for work during difficult times, a stark reminder of the struggles faced by many artists.
