There could only have been one BJ in any academic setting—Biodun Jeyifo, affectionately referred to as Bee-Jay. Like an eagle soaring high, he had an unparalleled perspective on the struggles of those around him, which he chose to illuminate through literature.
BJ was not merely defined by outward appearances; underneath his unassuming exterior lay a monumental intellect and powerful oratory skills. Yet, he was approachable, reminiscent of a friendly neighbor.
BJ's impact was profound. Adopting a humble approach, he chose to depart from the earth just as he was being celebrated as an elder. Upon reaching the age of 80, I had believed this milestone was just the beginning of what lay ahead for him. The BJ that we admired at the University of Ife, as outlined in Yemi Ogunbiyi’s The Road Never Forgets, was clearly destined for greatness. The immense funeral attendance—from Ibadan to Ife, Harvard to Cornell, and extending globally—serves as a testament to his enduring influence.
As president of the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU), BJ was one of the first academics I approached when the students’ union facilitated the admissions of Segun Okeowo, the National Union of Nigerian Students (NUNS) president. At that time, the Federal Government had prohibited any Nigerian university from admitting NUNS leaders who had been expelled due to their participation in the 'Ali Must Go' protests advocating for educational democratization in Nigeria. BJ and ASUU challenged this restriction, as did the students’ union.
BJ facilitated outreach to other faculty members, such as Professor Soyinka, to ensure Okeowo could enroll in their courses despite the governmental bans that had emerged. The administration soon recognized that Okeowo had already started on his academic path at Ife prior to the ministry's erroneous directive, which had political undertones. This led the authorities to seek a formal agreement from the students’ union, ensuring Okeowo would not engage in politics during his studies—a simple document I was willing to endorse as the union's president.
Reflecting on memories, if I had attended BJ’s 80th birthday celebrated earlier in January, I would have recalled his crucial role in fortifying my resolve during tumultuous times as a student union leader.
Having just completed my term and anticipating graduation, a crisis erupted on campus following the bizarre ritual murder of a student, Bukola Arogundade, allegedly by unidentified traditionalists during the Olojo festival in Ife town. It was alleged that only non-indigenous individuals were eligible sacrifices, a rumor clouded in uncertainty.
This incident triggered widespread protests, resulting tragically in the deaths of four more students, including a student from the Associateship program and those in their respective Part II and III studies.
The discontent spread through the governance of the students' union, and in this tense environment, the Vice Chancellor, Professor Cyril Onwumechili, reached out to me via BJ and ASUU, asking for assistance in resolving the crisis. Recognizing the trust and steadfastness represented by BJ, alongside others like Yemi Ogunbiyi and Jingo (Fashina), was immensely reassuring during a crucial late-night meeting.
I was encouraged to step forward to stabilize the situation and facilitate the proper conduct of examinations, despite needing to delay my own graduation. Although it was a daunting responsibility, I was open to doing so under specific conditions.
BJ allowed me to articulate my terms clearly, requesting assured logistical support, including ceremonial arrangements for the students who had tragically lost their lives. I insisted on establishing an independent tribunal supported by ASUU, and I sought a formal commitment from the presidency that I, alongside any executive members who assisted in restoring order and supporting the tribunal, would still be able to participate in the National Youth Service Corps in July, despite not officially being graduates yet. This way, we could return to take our final examinations in September or October, allowing us to graduate concurrently with our peers in December.
It was through delicate negotiations that we fulfilled our end of the agreement, with the government honoring their commitments. This arrangement allowed me to begin my national service before graduation. My secretary- general, Greg Obong-Oshotse, supported me in this endeavor. Others in my former executive could not participate due to their courses aligning with the strict “Almighty June” scheduling, meaning any missed examinations would necessitate an additional academic year.
The Federal Government solidified this agreement legally, ensuring that I would be allowed to undertake my national service beforehand.
Not every lecturer has the capacity to approach student leaders and ask them to jeopardize their academic futures for a cause. BJ was special. Between 1984 and 2006, he demonstrated an exceptional blend of literary criticism, cultural insights, and social activism. BJ made Wole Soyinka’s monumental works and their intricate nuances comprehensible, tackling the substantial implications of Soyinka’s views with pragmatic analysis rather than with dismissive critique.
As dust returns to the earth, BJ will eternally be remembered as BJ—a teacher, friend, and sage. He was a leader who inspired many, and his essence will always resonate.
Fare thee well, BJ.

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