Warren Masemola, who was a close friend to Presley Chweneyagae, speaking on stage during the late actor's funeral.
Image: X
What began as a heartfelt tribute to a fallen friend has turned into a national conversation about grief, boundaries, and respect.
Actor Warren Masemola’s emotionally raw speech at the memorial service for fellow actor Presley Chweneyagae has sparked debate over what should — and should not — be said at funerals.
Held at the Akasia Community Hall in Pretoria, the service was a sombre farewell to Chweneyagae, beloved for his breakout role in the Oscar-winning film Tsotsi. Friends, family, and industry colleagues gathered to honour the life of the 40-year-old actor, who died last week following a short illness. But Masemola’s speech quickly took centre stage — and not for the reasons many expected.
“Presley and I fought a lot,” Masemola told the crowd. “We fought about love, money, families, and children. But we also enjoyed kissing so much.” The unexpected intimacy of the comment was met with stunned silence in the hall, followed by a wave of commentary online.
While some praised Masemola for his courage and honesty in revealing the complexities of their friendship, others felt the statement was too personal for a public event. “This was not the time or place for such a confession,” one social media user wrote. “Funerals should comfort the living, not shock them.” Another countered, “Warren was brave — he loved Presley and said so. Why should that be hidden?”
The incident has since fueled a broader discussion: What are the unwritten rules of funeral speeches? And how much honesty is too much?
Cultural psychologist Dr. Thandi Mokoena told another publication that memorial services require sensitivity and awareness of shared grief. “These are sacred communal spaces. Emotions run high, and anything said should be measured against the mood of the room, not just the feelings of the speaker,” she explained. “It’s not just about expressing grief; it’s also about respecting others who are mourning differently.”
Mokoena emphasised that deeply personal revelations — especially those that could be surprising or controversial — might be better reserved for private conversations or tributes outside the memorial context. “Words at funerals should heal and unite, not complicate or confuse.”
This is not the first time public tributes have walked a fine line. Across cultures, mourners are often advised to avoid clichés like “He’s in a better place now,” which may unintentionally cause pain. Similarly, bringing up the deceased’s lifestyle, past mistakes, or cause of death is generally discouraged, as it can come off as judgmental or insensitive.
“Sometimes, people feel pressured to say something profound,” said grief counsellor Sello Maduna. “But the most powerful words at a funeral are often the simplest: ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ or ‘I’m here for you.’”
Chweneyagae’s family has not publicly responded to Masemola’s speech. Those in attendance say the mood after the tribute shifted noticeably, with some unsure how to process the moment.
Nonetheless, the memorial remained a moving celebration of a life that had a profound impact on South African arts and storytelling.
As the country reflects on Chweneyagae’s legacy and the nature of public mourning, Masemola’s tribute stands as a potent reminder: grief may be personal, but a memorial is a shared space — and the words spoken there can either soothe or sting.