Thirdly, Kongi has himself been a distinguished leader in the advocacy for democracy in Nigeria and beyond. Apart from his stout support for and association with such groups as the CLO and the CD, he was himself the founder, during the darkest days of the regime of General Sani Abacha, of the National Liberation Council of Nigeria (NALICON); the proprietor of the pirate radio station, Radio Kudirat and the all round Svengali of the coalition that made it impossible for the regime to achieve the international legitimacy it was desperate for.

Fourthly, Kongi has been an implacable advocate for the dignity of the African life based not merely on accurate historical memory but also of accountability. This perhaps is the earliest strand of his life as a public intellectual, dramatized in his A Dance of the Forest, which at once recognized the mixed value of Africa’s history but cautions against the tendency to uncritically lionize this past as reflected in the works of such earlier African writers as Leopold Senghor.

Above all, Kongi’s contribution as a public intellectual has been emblematized by his willingness to endure privation and make sacrifice in defence of his views. For this, he has been arrested many times, detained, imprisoned, prosecuted, persecuted and been exiled. Yet, on each occasion, he has returned to the beat with his voice louder and his appeal broadened. Not too far away from the present venue, in Sandgrouse, Lagos, as recently as May 2004, a 70 year old Kongi was gassed and arrested by agents of the government for marching in protest against “the inhuman policies” of the Obasanjo administration.” The full extent of the price he has paid and the trophies in scars collected, is evident from his prison diaries, The Man Died and from the two chapters in his most recent autobiographical work, You Must Set Forth at Dawn devoted to “Nation and Exile” and “Homecoming”.

It has been suggested that Kongi’s “approach to the question of exile in You Must set Forth at Dawn is one that goes a long way at suggesting the expediency of agency even when it bears its attendant costs including exile for the writer or the intellectual. The tension that results from the taking on of agency by writers in most African countries or even the developing world in general becomes one of the major precursors to nomadism on the part of writers and intellectuals with its attendant consequences on both the society as well as the individuals who become so alienated.”

Before the Day after Eternity….

Kongi’s record demonstrates the worldliness of the public intellectual; his otherworldliness and alienation from his immediate surroundings and the permeability of both worlds. The former role entitles us to always claim him as one of us. The latter has saved and spared him for us, offering him escape into exile when our limitations proved too intolerant of his spirit and our institutions threatened to suffocate him and his agency. It is in this sense that his many privations, especially, his exiles, count as part of the trophies from his life as a public intellectual. For these we are entitled to be grateful that he has lived beyond four scores and there is good reason to celebrate.

Some would suggest that Kongi’s qualifications for this are mostly genetic because he is the nephew of Rev. I.O. Ransome-Kuti and his wife, Funmilayo; and the elder cousin of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti and Beko Ransome-Kuti. Yet, there are multiple ironies in the trajectory that has been pursued by the life of this man educated on government scholarship, who broke the bond that bound him to return to the public service in our little geography in order to become a global exemplar for a life of leadership, conscience, and service.

We would all, of course, wish that he could hang around and enrich us with his presence, wit, wisdoms, courage and moral leadership until the day after eternity. But even as we pray that he should continue to enjoy many more years of robust health and productivity, we are duty bound to recognize, as Nelson Mandela acknowledged in his eulogy to Walter Sisulu in 2003, that Kongi will someday approach “the age when (any) of us would protest against the brevity of life.” For the moment, we are yet unwilling to do so.

The risk we run in our unwillingness so to do, however, is that we defer the task of accepting the responsibilities he has bestowed on us. We may not be able to fill Kongi’s literary or theatrical productivity. But we will be irresponsible to squander the legacy of his life as a public intellectual. While, therefore, we remain grateful for the many gifts that Kongi has given us, we must also accept the responsibilities that come with his legacies of striving, of agency, of selflessness and of sacrifice – to work tirelessly for a better country and to defend humanity in the fullest majesty of its diversities.