Bridging generational gap in our history
The word “history” derives from the Greek noun “historia” meaning “research or inquiry”. Aristotle regards history as “a systematic account of a set of natural phenomena, whether or not chronological ordering was a factor in the account”. History simply refers to any narrative account (oral of documentary) that deals with the past of mankind. Will […]
The word “history” derives from the Greek noun “historia” meaning “research or inquiry”. Aristotle regards history as “a systematic account of a set of natural phenomena, whether or not chronological ordering was a factor in the account”. History simply refers to any narrative account (oral of documentary) that deals with the past of mankind. Will Durant describes history as “a narrative of what civilized men have thought or done in the past time”. One definition which fits into the theme of this piece is that by E. H. Carn who interprets history to be ‘an unending dialogue between the present and the past’.
History avails us with the opportunity to see how daily life has changed over the years. It preserves family ancestry. Knowing the history of one’s family gives the person a sense of history and identity. History makes individuals better people. Today’s generation could get inspired by listening to the travails and sacrifices of great men and women.
As defined by fate, myself and all those born after me to our father were like his grandchildren; considering his age at the time we were born. He was old enough to have also fathered our mother; his fourth and last wife. That’s how I grew up as a child under a man already in his old age. Old men, by African tradition, are naturally fond of storytelling. Although our father was strictly a disciplinarian because he was a school teacher, I had the privilege of listening to variety of stories, which I considered (when I became an adult) as a consolation in lieu of other things I could have missed under an old father.
The stories cut across diverse interests and topics including our father’s early life as an orphan and as a herdsman in his maternal grandfather’s house where he lived until he got married to his first wife. His stories educated me on why he spoke some Fulfulde and the babblinglanguage understood only by cows.It was through such stories I came to know about the first senior primary school in Agaie(my birthplace) where our father was the pioneer Arabic teacher. I was not born then. Through those stories, I learned the history of Islamic education in our emirate as well as the resistance by our people to western education.
Similarly, the stories handed down to me by our father introduced me to our father’s ancestral lineage. His account of past events at family level got me closer to some of the people with whom we share blood or fosterage relationship including distant relations whose bond with our father was created by other sociological factors such as education.He told me how he rode on his bicycle through rocky bush paths carryinghis only wife then to and fro Loguma village, and later Etsugaie; where he was posted to teach. Today, we carry our children to school and wives to marketplaces in air-conditioned cars. Yet, they sometimes complain that the cooling system of the car’s air-condition is not freshening enough!
Our father also told me how he lived with three of his four wives in Kano as a student at the School for Arabic Studies. When I asked how he coped, he explained the stipend paid by the native authority was substantially enough.He once recalled anevening in Kano when his bicycle fell on me while I was playing with its pedal. He said I cried and cried because I had a fresh wound. It was a day after I was circumcised at then General Hospital near Kofar Mata in Kano. He said he bought and roasted a pair of pigeon for me to eat; and soon I stopped crying. The part I enjoyed most in the stories was the aspect about the traditions and culture that existed in our father’s generation. I curiously listened to how marriages, naming ceremonies,Sallah festivals, breaking of Ramadan fast and Sahurroutines were conducted.
Sadly, I’m not sure if the children of many who belong to my generation know of their parents as much as we knew of our parents. The same superficial acquaintance is likely to be their knowledge of their extended family members.The children of those of us who go to our hometowns regularly might be lucky to have a good knowledge of their communities.A good number of the children of today’s working parents know more about Abuja, Lagos or Kano where the parents work than they know of their parents’ birthplaces. The chase after naira and kobo, power or political relevance has, perhaps, hampered many of us from creating time to tell our children about our early life.
This generational gap in our children’s knowledge of our history is owed, chiefly, to the impact of the irresistible tools of western civilization, which within few decades, radically transformed our traditional and cultural values. Although I benefited from moonlight stories and games, my children missed out of these modes of traditional education. In the early 1960s, there was no electricity inmy community to drag us before television screens. Today, television sets, satellite cables and mobile phone handsets have all snatched our children who seem to have contracted an irrevocable“marriage” with mobile phones.
If our children are not on voice calls with their phones, they are texting, emailing, facebooking, whatapping, instagraming, pinging or browsing. If we desire to bridge the generational gap in our children’s knowledge of their historical background, their communities and their neighbours; then we must create time to educate them about the history and culture of their people. Our refusal to do this will only compel our children to admit false stories about us from those who knew nothing of our past. Some communal, ethnic and religious crises experienced, in the past, in parts of Nigeria could plausibly be linked to poor knowledge of some citizens about their past. The re-introduction of history at the basic level of education in the country is, thus, commendable.
Thesignificance of storytelling lies in its utility to provide lessonsfor the moral upbringing of children and young people. Through stories, we can teach the virtues of perseverance, honesty, humility, contentment, courtesy, cleanliness and forgiveness. Storytelling makes our life richer by learning from the lessons they present. Through it, we appreciate the wisdom, virtues and worth of our ancestors. Indeed, storytelling is “a bridge connecting the past with the present and pointing at the road to the future”. May Allah (SWT) guide us to use storytelling to build balanced personalities in our children, amin.