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, chairperson of the South African Guild of Actors (Saga), told the BBC.

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, who was born in 1950 in Kliptown, Soweto, began her acting career in the 1970s during apartheid when opportunities for black actors were severely limited.

Despite this typecasting, she made her mark first in theatre and then on television and film. Known for her powerful roles, including an HIV-positive nurse in the hospital drama Soul City, she tackled significant societal issues through her performances.

Yet, her challenges later in life highlighted systemic failures in the support structures for artists. Legislative efforts to reform the industry have stalled, leaving many like Nyembe to struggle.

The government, amidst rising scrutiny, faced criticism for its lack of support, with calls for meaningful policy changes echoing at memorial services following her passing. Culture Minister Gayton McKenzie defended government efforts but acknowledged that changes for artists are needed urgently.

Nyembe's story underscores the vital conversations about valuing creative contributions and ensuring that artists are supported throughout their careers.