China is frustrating me today (visa drama… don’t ask… all I can say is that I’m writing this from Hong Kong) so I’ve taken this opportunity to reflect a bit on stories far from China, connecting the book in my hands with my childhood in California and my education from all over.

I just started reading Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the novelist who inspired this blog’s title.  I’d like to share a passage from early in the story.  Odenigbo (Master), a professor at a university in Nigeria, has just hired thirteen-year-old Ugwu to be his houseboy.  Odenigbo announces that he will send Ugwu to school:

“There are two answers to the things they will teach you about our land: the real answer and the answer you give in school to pass.  You must read books and learn both answers.  I will give you books, excellent books.”  Master stopped to sip his tea.  “They will teach you that a white man called Mungo Park discovered River Niger.  That is rubbish.  Our people fished in the Niger long before Mungo Park’s grandfather was both.  But in the exam, write that it was Mungo Park.”

“Yes, sah.” Ugwu wished that this person called Mungo Park had not offended Master so much.  (14)

This reminds me of the way I learned history as a child.  When I was at home over New Year’s, I found a book called One-Minute Stories of Great Americans, a gift from my history buff grandfather when I was six or seven.  He signed and dedicated it for me.   It’s full of short, illustrated biographies of people like Benjamin Franklin and Lewis & Clark.  The overall message is that America is great thanks to the hard work of these courageous individuals.  Of course, there are many other stories that can be told about America.

My grandfather told some unconventional ones in his book, Lines Shaping America.  A chemical engineer, he had a quirky, nationalistic and technical approach to history.  His book focuses on the many ways that lines – fall lines, train lines, transmission lines, letters, etc. – shaped America’s development.   I helped him edit it and he was so proud to self-publish it in 2001.

Here’s an excerpt from its review in Publishers Weekly:

Chapters entitled “Rumford Falls: The Cradle of Industrial Electrochemistry” (concerning the science of electrolytic cells) or “Nitrogen Chemistry” (about the development of a cheaper method to make explosives) might not at first glance tempt readers, they present interesting, offbeat histories of the impact of practical science on history. Swanberg’s eclecticism surfaces almost haphazardly: discussions of robber barons Vanderbilt and Rockefeller; thumbnail sketches of industry scions Pierre du Pont, Herbert Dow and Henry Ford; and chapters on the architectural history of Chicago and Berkeley, Calif., Tocqueville’s visit to America, and American music are full of information.

My grandfather, who passed away in July of last year at the age of 92, had a profound impact on me: he celebrated  curiosity.

My experiences in Berkeley, Chile, and China have underscored this idea of many histories from many perspectives.  My Mexican history professor, Margaret Chowning, emphasized that she believes that Álvaro Obregón was the most important president in modern Mexico, but other historians might focus more on a different leader’s impact.  My classes in Chile shared many interpretations of the coup on September 11, 1973.  In China, I’ve heard the official assessment of Mao Zedong’s leadership – 70% good, 30% bad – and I continually learn more about other stories that have shaped China.

Going back to the quote from Adichie’s book, I think Ugwu’s wish “that this person called Mungo Park had not offended Master so much” is particularly poignant.  Recognizing the many stories in a certain situation requires that we confront painful contradictions, look at both the good and the bad.

I’ll write more when I read more of this intriguing novel.