Why Bahati’s Launch of a Betting Website Clashes with His Gospel Roots

Kelvin Bahati, once celebrated as a beacon of hope in Kenya’s gospel music scene, has recently stirred controversy with the launch of his betting platform, Bahati.bet, on March 1, 2025. For an artist whose career was built on songs like “Mama” that inspired faith and resilience, this move into the gambling industry feels like a jarring departure from the values he once championed. While Bahati has long blurred the lines between gospel and secular pursuits, launching a betting website crosses a moral threshold that undermines the integrity of his gospel legacy and the trust of his Christian fanbase.
Gospel music, at its core, is more than a genre—it’s a ministry. It’s a vehicle for spreading messages of hope, redemption, and moral uprightness, often aligned with biblical teachings. Gambling, however, occupies a contentious space in Christian doctrine. Scriptures like 1 Timothy 6:10 warn against the love of money as “the root of all kinds of evil,” a caution that many interpret as encompassing the temptations of gambling. Betting thrives on chance, risk, and the lure of quick wealth—values that starkly contrast with the patience, faith, and stewardship gospel artists are expected to embody. For Bahati to tie his name to Bahati.bet is to implicitly endorse a practice that many of his fans, particularly devout Christians, view as ethically dubious or outright sinful.
Bahati’s journey complicates this narrative. Over the years, he has openly distanced himself from the gospel label, citing frustrations with the industry’s hypocrisy and judgmentalism. In interviews, he’s expressed a desire to transcend rigid categories, positioning himself as an entertainer and entrepreneur first. His shift to secular music, reality TV, and now business ventures like Bahati.bet reflects this evolution. Yet, his foundational identity as a gospel artist—the platform that elevated him from Mathare slums to national stardom—carries a responsibility he cannot fully shed. Fans who once saw him as a role model for their faith now feel betrayed, questioning whether his success has come at the cost of his principles.
The timing of this venture amplifies the dissonance. Kenya’s betting industry is already a double-edged sword: wildly popular yet linked to social ills like addiction, debt, and family breakdown. Studies have shown that gambling disproportionately affects low-income communities—precisely the demographic Bahati once inspired with his rags-to-riches story. By launching Bahati.bet, he risks profiting off the vulnerabilities of the very people who lifted him up, a move that feels exploitative rather than empowering. His wife, Diana Marua, has framed the platform as a way to “support sports in Kenya,” but this justification rings hollow when the primary outcome is financial gain through wagers, not grassroots development.
There’s also the issue of influence. Bahati’s celebrity status, built on a gospel foundation, gives him a unique platform to shape young minds. Launching a betting site doesn’t just normalize gambling—it glamorizes it, leveraging his fame to draw in impressionable fans. For an artist who once sang about overcoming hardship through faith, this pivot suggests that material success trumps spiritual integrity. It’s a message that clashes with the gospel ethos of prioritizing eternal values over fleeting gains.
Defenders might argue that Bahati’s personal evolution justifies this move—that he’s a businessman free to explore new ventures like any other celebrity. After all, secular artists like Sauti Sol or Diamond Platnumz face no such scrutiny for their entrepreneurial pursuits. But Bahati’s case is different. His brand was forged in the crucible of gospel music, a space that demands a higher standard of moral consistency. To abandon that legacy for a betting platform isn’t just a career shift; it’s a rejection of the principles that defined his rise.
In the end, Bahati’s launch of Bahati.bet isn’t wrong because gambling itself is inherently evil—reasonable minds differ on that point. It’s wrong because it erodes the trust and inspiration he cultivated as a gospel artist. It’s a betrayal of the fans who saw him as a symbol of faith-driven success, not a purveyor of chance-based profit. Bahati may no longer call himself a gospel musician, but he can’t escape the expectations tied to that identity. By stepping into the betting world, he’s not just rolling the dice on a business—he’s gambling with the legacy that made him who he is.