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As Eddie remains in Calabar, unable to attend BJ’s funeral due to failing health, he feels the weight of time. They entered this ideology together more than half a century ago. They watched movements rise and fall. They endured repression, victories, defeats, exile, and internal fractures. Through it all, they did not renounce their fundamental commitment.
(From the records and testimonies of Comrade Eddie Madunagu)
Comrades, friends, and the younger generation to whom the future belongs,
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What I present here are not merely written words. They are drawn from the spoken reflections, personal testimonies, and historical recollections of Comrade Eddie Madunagu — a man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Biodun Jeyifo (BJ) for more than five decades. Because ill health prevented him from standing physically at this moment, I stand to transmit what he has consistently affirmed about his comrade, collaborator, friend, and brother.
From Comrade Eddie’s testimonies, one truth is unmistakable: BJ was not merely a friend. He was not merely a colleague. He was not merely a comrade in an abstract ideological sense. He was, in his own beautiful formulation, a “friend of my spirit.”
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And when BJ once named four friends of his spirit — Femi Osofisan, Niyi Osundare, Yemi Ogunbiyi, and Eddie Madunagu — Comrade Eddie understood that what bound them together was not geography, not convenience, not professional alignment, but conviction.
Their story did not begin in 1975. It began earlier — in 1968, in the heat and bitterness of the Nigerian Civil War, at the University of Ibadan.
From Eddie’s account, the atmosphere was tense. The country was fractured. Suspicion was everywhere. Ethnic identities were politicised and weaponised. It was in that climate that he first encountered BJ, who was contesting for the position of Public Relations Officer under the National Union of Nigerian Students (NUNS).
What impressed Eddie was not merely that BJ contested, but how he campaigned. His campaign was radical — unapologetically progressive, intellectually sharp, ideologically bold. He did not dilute his message to seek comfort. He articulated conviction in a period defined by fear. Eddie admired him.
The second decisive encounter came when Eddie himself contested for the position of General Secretary of NUNS. BJ was among the panel of executives assigned to interview candidates. The war had deepened divisions. Eddie was an Igbo-speaking candidate seeking national office during a civil war. Opposition to his candidacy carried ethnic undertones that were difficult to ignore.
From Eddie’s testimony, BJ privately confirmed his Igbo identity — not to disqualify him, but to confront the political terrain honestly. And having done so, BJ supported him radically. In a climate poisoned by suspicion, BJ chose principle over prejudice. He chose ideological clarity over ethnic opportunism.
Eddie still lost that election. But what he gained, as he repeatedly testified, was a lasting understanding of BJ’s character. BJ was capable of separating historical tension from moral judgment. He understood that class solidarity must not collapse under ethnic pressure. That lesson endured.
The third decisive stage of their journey came in 1975.
In the second half of that year, following their release from military detention, APMON — the Anti-Poverty Movement of Nigeria — was engulfed in internal conflict. The debate that triggered the rupture had begun even while they were still in detention. The question was simple but profound: When freedom came, would they take a revolutionary leap, or would they proceed gradually within the limits of the existing order?
Comrade Bene Madunagu and Comrade Eddie Madunagu opted for the revolutionary leap. They believed that moments of rupture demanded boldness; gradualism, under certain conditions, risked accommodation.
At that decisive point, BJ entered APMON — brought in by Bene and Eddie — through a student member, Femi Gbamiloye. He aligned with their faction. From Eddie’s testimony, BJ’s entry strengthened them intellectually, morally, and organisationally. During the internal struggle, his clarity sharpened arguments and his courage reinforced resolve. They emerged victorious — or declared themselves so.
The victorious faction — BJ, Bene, and Eddie — constituted what they named the Revolutionary Directorate. It was not a boast. It was a responsibility. That marked the beginning of a 51-year ideological journey together.
In 1976, Eddie embarked on what he called an extraordinary expedition, lasting from June 1976 to May 1977. During that period, Bene had moved to Calabar. At the end of the expedition, Eddie joined her there. He remains in Calabar till this day — anchored not merely by geography, but by history.
BJ’s path later carried him into global academia. Yet from Eddie’s consistent reflections, BJ never abandoned the ideological ground from which he rose. His scholarship was never neutral. It was partisan in the most principled sense. He understood that literature is not innocent, that culture is not detached from the class struggle, and that intellectual work divorced from the oppressed becomes sterile.
BJ was brought into APMON’s Socialist and Marxist tradition by Bene and Eddie. He embraced that commitment fully. For 51 years, they stood within that ideological framework together.
From Eddie’s testimony, his own ability to operate as a professional revolutionary Marxist was deeply shaped by his relationship with both BJ and Bene. Bene departed first. BJ has now joined her. The impact, Eddie has said, has been devastating.
To lose comrades, he insists, is to lose fragments of oneself. Shared memories — detention debates, strategic disagreements, laughter after fierce ideological exchanges — do not disappear; they echo differently.
Yet, as Eddie repeatedly affirms, grief must not paralyse the revolutionary.
BJ believed struggle was not a ritual but a necessity. He believed capitalism’s brutality could not be softened by appeals to conscience alone. It required organised resistance, ideological clarity, and generational renewal.
To the younger generation, Eddie’s charge — which I now transmit — is clear: Do not romanticise them. Do not turn them into relics. Study them critically. Surpass them. Where they hesitated, move boldly. Where they were divided, build unity. Where they faced repression, develop strategy. Above all, refuse neutrality in the face of exploitation.
The debate that defined their early struggle — leap or gradualism — remains before us today in new forms. Will we accept cosmetic reforms? Or interrogate structural inequality? Will we seek comfort within the system? Or question the system itself? BJ chose the leap.
He chose alignment with the oppressed. He chose ideological discipline. He chose friendship grounded in shared historical responsibility.
From Eddie’s recollections, BJ possessed immense intellectual generosity. He could argue fiercely and embrace warmly. He valued disagreement as a means of sharpening thought, not as a weapon of destruction. In a political culture often infected with ego, he balanced firmness with humility.
BJ named Eddie a friend of his spirit. Eddie returned that affirmation publicly and eternally.
As Eddie remains in Calabar, unable to attend BJ’s funeral due to failing health, he feels the weight of time. They entered this ideology together more than half a century ago. They watched movements rise and fall. They endured repression, victories, defeats, exile, and internal fractures. Through it all, they did not renounce their fundamental commitment.
He stands today diminished in number, but not in conviction. His pledge — which I faithfully convey — is to continue the struggle for an egalitarian society; for socialism grounded in the concrete realities of our people; for a Nigeria liberated from class exploitation and intellectual cowardice. This is not nostalgia. It is continuity.
BJ has not been defeated by death. He has been transferred to history. And history, as Eddie reminds us, is both unforgiving and generous. It remembers those who aligned with justice.
The Revolutionary Directorate was never merely three individuals. It was a spirit of refusal — refusal to accept poverty as destiny, refusal to normalise injustice, refusal to substitute intellectual comfort for commitment.
If we wish to honour BJ, we must not merely praise him. We must organise. Study. Debate. Act.
The journey that began in 1975 did not end with his passing. It continues — in us.
Farewell, Comrade BJ.
Friend of the spirit.
Revolutionary collaborator.
Brother.
The struggle continues.
Ikenna Edwin Madunagu is a research and documentation officer at the Socialist Library and Archives (SOLAR), Calabar, Cross River State, Nigeria.
