By Chinyere G. Okafor
“Why
did the beautiful one leave.” These words uttered by Mrs. Grace Iyayi in my
conversation with her after the sudden departure of her loving husband make a
befitting title for my tribute to this great being, Festus Ikhuoria Ojeaka
Iyayi, whom I call “Osondi-Owendi”; a name taken from Osita Osadebe’s music
that refers to somebody loved by many and disliked by some. Festus Iyayi was such a man whose dogged focus on
principles and fight for human rights were not appreciated in some quarters.
At
the height of his popularity for his activism in the Academic Staff Union of
Universities (ASUU), he was arrested and interned because he refused to
compromise and betray the struggle. On his return to the university he
continued to fight and was thrown out of his job and his residence. Clearly,
this man was hated by the powers but the love of the people sustained him. When I called him “Osondi-Owendi” he laughed
in his characteristic buoyant manner like it was the best name. Humorous and
friendly, he was good at telling anecdotes and jokes.
Principled and tough,
cheerful and down-to-earth, Iyayi was a gentleman.
An
avid writer who won national and international awards that include the
Commonwealth African Regional Prize, the Commonwealth Prize, and the Association
of Nigerian Authors’ (ANA) Prize for Literature, Iyayi was a supporter of the
arts and he mentored young and struggling writers. I remember purchasing his
novel, Violence (1979) from a Benin
Airport book-stall and was so impressed by the unique expression of class
disparity and struggle that I recommended it to my project students, not
without some opposition from canonists who argued that he was “an unknown
writer.”
Little
did we know that another novel, Heroes
(1986) based on the Nigeria-Biafra war would soon win the Commonwealth Writers’
Prize in 1988. This “unknown” drama led to my students’ “discovery” of the
writer in our midst at Ugbowo campus of the University of Benin, the beginning
of the rich appreciation of his works, and my association with this gifted colleague.
He
was the first male colleague who called himself a feminist at a time that many
did not understand its meaning as a promoter of women’s rights. He had a passion for defending the rights of men
and women plagued by the system and he dared to say what many feared to say,
wrote about them and engaged in collective struggle for a better Nigeria, which
is best exemplified in his leadership of ASUU at local and national levels.
In
my biographical entry on him in
Postcolonial African Writers (Parekh and Jagne 1998), I emphasized that his
concern for ordinary folks yielded classics that exposed neocolonial
contradictions such as the brutalization and dehumanization of the masses, but
his input went beyond writing to his determined and persistent war against
oppressive forces.
The
award for the “protection of welfare of academics and the common man” given to
him in 1988 by the University of Nigeria (UNN) branch of AASU speaks volumes. His
plight under local and national regimes is well-known so I will not go into all
that here. I’ll just say that under the regime of the military junta, he
perfected his “disappearing” and “appearing” acts as his armor against threats
of his imminent arrests and “road clear” signals.
The
harassment of this action man and his refusal to stop engaging the status-quo
do not make for an easy life, but he was certainly fulfilled by his choice to
keep fighting. We sometimes wondered why he never cracked.
His wife, Grace, was his doppelganger (his double} and his channel
of grace.
Armed
with university degrees, enough theory to support progressive ideas, a load of
faith and love, this resilient woman of passion and conviction never told
Festus to stop. She once told me how she turned down the offer of a political
position made to her husband even without consulting him since he was far away.
She did not see any loss in the opportunity of becoming the wife of a political
juggernaut with the promise of all the gold and chauffeur-driven cars. Festus was delighted by her action. He had
the joy of a man married to his soul-mate and compatriot. Festus was a happy
man.
While
we abhor the rudeness and ruthlessness of death that took him, we also praise
the Most High who blessed him with a rich legacy not only through his
publications and a large constituency of compatriots, but also in his
astounding family. All his children – in a phone conversation, Oria reminded me
that they are no longer kids – are successful.
With
degrees in different fields that had propelled each of them to higher grounds,
they had washed their hands with clean water and made their father proud before
he left them. What else does a man pray for? Festus Iyayi had it all in life.
No
doubt he has joined the ancestors with full account of his contribution to
society. Grace (wife), Omoye (daughter)
Omole, Ehieianem and Oria (sons), I pray that God and the good memory of
Festus, the hero of family and patriots, will be your strength.
“Osondo-Owendi”,
Ojeaka,
Festus Ikhuoria Iyayi,
Professor par excellence,
Writer extraordinaire,
Prince
of the arena of struggle,
Defender
of the voiceless,
Mentor
of struggling writers,
ASUU’s
Pathfinder,
ASUU’s
Juggernaut,
Distance
and the heck of life kept me away for years and I have so many questions in
store for you, but death has snatched the opportunity from me and all I can now
say is: I pray that you rest with the Ultimate Spirit of God and as you like to
say, “The struggle must continue for a better tomorrow.” Ise-e, Amen and So be it.
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