Nigeria’s First Republic did not fade quietly. It collapsed in the early hours of 15 January 1966, when a group of young military officers launched a coup that sent shockwaves through the country. In Lagos, fear spread quickly through official circles, elite neighbourhoods, and homes linked to public life. That night produced both documented killings and stories that would be retold for generations.
One of those stories is attached to Dr Moses Adekoyejo Majekodunmi, a prominent physician and former senior public official, and to a warning remembered in stark words, “you go die”.
Lagos on the edge
By early 1966, Nigeria’s political climate was fragile. Regional tensions, disputed elections, and growing distrust in government had pushed the country towards instability. When the coup began, it unfolded unevenly, striking different cities with varying intensity.
In Lagos, the atmosphere was tense and uncertain. Senior military officers were attacked, rumours moved faster than confirmation, and people with public profiles feared they might be next. The city did not sleep easily that night. Homes were watched, phones rang, and silence itself felt threatening.
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Ikoyi Hotel and the killing that anchored the night
Among the events most often cited from the Lagos strand of the coup is the killing of Lieutenant Colonel Abogo Largema at Ikoyi Hotel. The hotel appears repeatedly in accounts of the night as a site where the violence of the coup became unmistakably real.
The killing of Largema gave Lagos a focal point for the fear that spread through the city. It was no longer only a matter of rumours from other regions or radio announcements. A senior officer had been shot in one of the city’s most prominent locations. The message was clear, the coup had teeth, and no position guaranteed safety.
Dr Moses Adekoyejo Majekodunmi
Dr Moses Adekoyejo Majekodunmi was already a well known figure by 1966. Trained as a physician, he had also stepped into the centre of national politics earlier in the decade. In 1962, during the Western Region crisis, he served as sole administrator of the region, a role that placed him at the heart of one of Nigeria’s most volatile political moments.
That experience made him visible, recognisable, and associated with power at a time when power itself was dangerous. By the mid 1960s, his name carried weight beyond medicine.
The warning that entered public memory
Over the years, a story linked to Majekodunmi has circulated widely. In it, he is said to have received warnings during the period surrounding the coup, suggesting that his life was in danger. The warning is remembered in blunt language, “you go die”, a phrase that captured the fear of the moment and the lack of formality that defined violence during coups.
The story gained further reach because Majekodunmi later published an autobiography, My Lord What a Morning, in which he reflected on his life and the turbulent periods he lived through. From this foundation, the warning became part of Nigeria’s wider coup folklore, repeated in articles, discussions, and online posts whenever January 1966 is revisited.
Fear inside the home
For readers, the power of the Majekodunmi story lies not in gunfire or uniforms, but in its domestic setting. A home, a telephone, a long night, and the belief that armed men might arrive before dawn. It reflects how coups are experienced not only in barracks and government buildings, but in living rooms and bedrooms, where waiting becomes its own form of terror.
That sense of fear was shared by many that night, whether or not their names appeared on any list, written or imagined. Lagos was full of people who listened for engines, footsteps, or knocks, knowing that others, including senior officers, had already been killed.
Life after the coup years
Majekodunmi survived the coup era and went on to shape a lasting legacy in Nigerian medicine. In 1968, he founded St Nicholas Hospital in Lagos, an institution that grew into one of the country’s most respected private hospitals. Over time, his public identity became increasingly associated with medical leadership and philanthropy rather than political crisis.
He lived through multiple military regimes, a civil war, and Nigeria’s eventual return to civilian rule. When he died in April 2012 at the age of 95, he was remembered not only for surviving a dangerous night in 1966, but for decades of contribution to public life and healthcare.
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Why the story endures
The phrase “you go die” continues to surface because it compresses an entire national trauma into three words. It speaks to the bluntness of violence, the uncertainty of coup nights, and the vulnerability of even the most prominent citizens.
Alongside the documented killing at Ikoyi Hotel, the Majekodunmi warning story helps explain why January 1966 still matters. One event shows what happened. The other shows how it felt.
Author’s Note
January 1966 is remembered not only through official records but through the memories that survived it. The killing at Ikoyi Hotel anchors the night in violence, while the Majekodunmi warning captures the fear that spread through Lagos homes. Together, they remind us that history is lived as much in private moments as in public acts, and that survival itself can become part of a nation’s story.
References
“1966 Nigerian coup d’état”..
St Nicholas Hospital, “The Founder”.
