In memory of Festus Iyayi (1947-2013)

It was a cloudy day in August 2004, seated in a bus at Ojuelegba, Lagos when my eyes caught the title of a second-hand book titled Violence. The author’s name was unclear due to its faded cover.  “Iyana Ipaja! Iyana Ipaja!”  The bus’ conductor screamed. His voice rose to meet other monstrous noises that clouded the atmosphere. The cacophony presented one with varying colours of daily existence in Nigeria. Everyone was in a hurry: in a hurry, perhaps, to erase that violence gifted to the populace by a senseless societal construct.

The book stared at me while I swam in my thoughts. Suddenly, I jumped out of the bus, walked down to the shed and the named announced itself with silent voices: Festus Iyayi. The name beckoned on me and fearlessly urged me to make the purchase.  I did.

 I returned to the bus and sat down to read the book. I finished it that day. Iyayi’s photographic exposition of the horrors of deprivation through Idemudia, the main character, other indigent characters and the apathy shown by the very rich few who thrive on the deprivation makes the book addictive.

He holds the view that the Nigerian society is wrong at the root. And that root is inflicted with the moral disease of the selfish pursuit of wealth, which creates class barriers among men, and of course, undermines the security and development of the nation since the deprived class is bound to react with violence.

            Iyaya opines thus: “ . . . acts of violence are committed when a man is denied the opportunity of being educated, or getting a job, of feeding himself and his family properly, of getting medical attention cheaply, quickly and promptly.” It was in his pursuit of creating an egalitarian society that violence picked him up and sent him on a journey beyond. On the twelfth day of November, 2013 Professor Iyayi met death somewhere in Kogi state where a police escort of the governor of the state hit his car.

            Iyayi was a radical, a Marxist and an advocate for the oppressed. Niyi Osundare, his colleague, described him as “fearless but fair, courageous but compassionate, demanding but decent, Iyayi was a great leader and an even greater follower, the kind who pressed on when others were seized by trepidation and despair.” The tirelessness with which he fought for the good of general humanity is heroic indeed. Osundare in describing his death states, “We lost a gallant fighter and great patriot. Terrible. Unspeakably terrible. Behold the terrifying irony: the patriot who laboured so tirelessly to rid his country of violence has become a victim of her egregious violence. Yet another chapter in our running saga of waste.”

His literary oeuvre: Violence (1979) The Contract (1982) Heroes (1986) and

Awaiting Court Martial (1996) exposes the status quo, calls for a change, and charges the oppressed sections of our community is to take up “arms” to overthrow the present oppressive and corrupt system.

            Iyayi’s voice has been carved into Nigerian history. It is a colossal loss and another vacuum dug into our collective intelligence. The proud son of the soil, the tireless griot who sang tall tunes that shook leaders and the defender of the weak has now been swallowed by human darkness.

            Who are we not to sing his praise?

   

            For no matter how the wind howled you never bowed to it. You stood like a mountain and still stand like a mountain. You changed position for fresh air.

   

            The ones who orchestrated your early movement know not what they have done. Your voice would continue to play in their dreams making them dance to the choruses of change. They too, before their very own eyes, would leave earth only to be forgotten.

            You, who was born in Ugbegun, Esan, Edo State in 1947, who he left Nigeria in 1968 to pursue higher education, and obtained a Master’s degree in Industrial Economics in the cold land of Kiev, in the former USSR, and then journeyed to University of Bradford, England for your PhD, it is you I greet. Your voice lives in the clouds and it showers us daily with wisdom, knowledge and understanding. You have made the ancestors proud and they have called on you to come and rest. Rest well, Iyayi. I break kolanut into four places and three are for you. Rest well, Iyayi.