There are two versions of the story of Adekunle Fajuyi’s death. But for my position here and elsewhere, it matters little which version is true: Fajuyi died a hero and patriot. Nonetheless, it is a sad commentary on the state of our union that the conflicting versions have been championed by the two victim groups of the counter coup of July 1966.
One, allegedly narrated by Andrew Nwankwo, the former ADC of General Aguiyi-Ironsi, indicated that Fajuyi, Ironsi’s host was arrested along with his guest and that the mutineers killed Fajuyi first before they killed Ironsi. ADC Nwankwo also submitted that before his superior was killed, he had escaped into a ditch, with the help of Bello, Fajuyi’s ADC. Yet, he could confirm categorically that Fajuyi was killed first and that Ironsi could have escaped, but for his desire to prevent further bloodshed. It is a story of Ironsi’s patriotism.
Nwankwo’s story contradicted the original narrative that Fajuyi had not been a target of the coupists who wanted Ironsi but that when Fajuyi inserted himself as a human wedge between them and Ironsi, they had no choice. They killed both guest and host. It is a story of Fajuyi’s heroism.
With regard to the first story, clearly Fajuyi and Ironsi did not kill themselves. If the soldiers that committed the act were on a revenge mission, they got the wrong guys. Ironsi told the mutineers that he was not part of that coup but was only invited to return the country to normalcy. Not that these words exonerated him. But his captors had a good reason to look for the real January coup makers while they kept him in detention. They chose instead to kill him along with his host. Both were victims of a revenge for an aggression they might not have been a part of.
What is the point of revisionists using this version to query the heroism of Fajuyi? Can the moral culpability of the coupists’ action be reversed just on the grounds that the victims did not voluntarily submit to their deaths? The fact that the revisionists’ version of the story was volunteered by one of the victim groups as a counter to the heroism of Fajuyi in the popular account, is a mirror of the state of an alliance that some still myopically see as the saviour to our current state of national hopelessness.
Turning to the second story, that Fajuyi volunteered to die if Ironsi was to be killed by the coupists, we must address the following questions: What was at stake for him dying or living? Why did he choose dying over living? He was only 40 with a loving family. If indeed he chose to die, we have to look for clues in two related locations: his philosophy of life and the cultural values that shaped it.
Meanwhile, assume that in the circumstance, he had chosen living, would he have chosen wrongly? In particular, would he have been guilty of betrayal? The answer, to my mind, is “No”.
True, Fajuyi was Ironsi’s host. As such, his guest’s safety was his responsibility. But as Head of State (HOS), the guest’s safety was the responsibility of the national security team, which HOS controlled. However, it was a troubled time, with the storm over the first coup still raging, complicated by the promulgation of an unpopular decree that established a unitary system.
The tight security provided for HOS was up against the determination of a stronger northern military rebellion against him. Fajuyi had nothing to do with this rebellion. He bore no responsibility for the actions that inspired it. For this reason, if, presented with the option, he had chosen living instead of dying with his host, his choice couldn’t be judged morally wrong. That the ADC who had responsibility for HOS’ safety chose to escape is significant.
Fajuyi’s choice to die went beyond the call of duty. It was a supererogatory act. Surely, he had a moral duty to protect his guest from harm. That duty was discharged with the tight security provided by the agencies of national security. He also had a moral duty not to conspire with coup plotters. He wasn’t part of the mutiny. But he had no moral duty to insert himself as a human shield between the mutineers and Ironsi. In doing that which he wasn’t morally obligated to do, knowing fully that it was going to cost him his life, Fajuyi made a praiseworthy choice.
What kind of human beings perform saintly and heroic supererogatory actions? People with special upbringing either by way of culture or religion excel in the performance of such actions. It is not surprising that Fajuyi chose that path given his cultural background and his faith.
First, as a young man brought up in the Catholic faith, Fajuyi imbibed the idea that the faithful need to go beyond the observance of precepts and the keeping of commandments to attain the perfection inherent in the performance of praiseworthy actions. Whether it is as small as giving one’s last Naira to a starving child (with no hope of how one will make up the loss) or it is as big as inserting oneself as a wedge between an assassin and his victim, such actions are the counsel of perfection.
Turning to Fajuyi’s cultural upbringing, the Yoruba concept of Omoluabi provides the clue for his motivation. A tii gbo o? How might it be construed? What meaning will it convey if the host were to live when his guest was killed in his presence? And what would living turn out to be like? At the individual level, an average Yoruba can relate to this moral predicament.
But something more global than personal may have motivated Fajuyi’s heroism. Given the volatile nature of the state of the republic at the time, if Ironsi was killed and Fajuyi lived, how would the average Igbo understand that scenario? Would Fajuyi consider life worth living in the circumstance that his choosing to live ignited a hatred of the Yoruba by the Igbo?
The brave soldier in him must have persuaded Fajuyi that there was something beyond life that was worth aiming for. It is called immortality, aiku in Yoruba. As the ancestors put it, Mo dogbogbo orose, emi o ku mo. Mo digba oke, mo le gboin (I have become an old ose tree. I will never die. I am 200 mountains rolled into one. I am immovable). Fifty years on, we are still appreciating Fajuyi’s heroism.
If Fajuyi died to avoid the national distress that his living could trigger, how has the nation fared since his heroic death? In particular, what is the state of the relationship between the Igbo and the Yoruba? How has it affected the Nigerian project?
In my contribution to The Road to Lalupon, I lamented the depth of animosity and resentment that still characterises the Igbo-Yoruba relationship since the end of the civil war. As Professor Achebe’s There was a Country clearly demonstrated, the strain is not just at the level of youthful bloggers and social media activists. It resides dangerously at the upper echelon of the divide.
During the crisis that followed the annulment of the June 12, 1993 presidential election, Nkemba Ojukwu made the critical observation that Nigeria was established on a tripod and one leg of that tripod must not be left out of equation. That was his ominous reflection on the Igbo position regarding the crisis. A majority of the Igbo paid attention. It did not matter that one leg had been left out of equation before. Think of 1960-66 and 1979-83.
The arch of nationality cannot bend toward unity until each group is prepared to swallow the bitter pill of forgetfulness and advance the cause of a more perfect union. The alternative is a mutual acknowledgement of an unbridgeable gulf that reasonably requires the parting of ways in a peaceful manner. The consequence of such a decision on each group is unpredictable. But I am persuaded that the capacity for survival is in the African DNA that each group proudly carries.
