Choosing our better histories

'You know, sometimes I think the worst thing that colonialism did was cloud our view of our past. Without the white man, we might be able to make better use of our history. We might look at some of our former practices and decide they are worth preserving. Others, we might grow out of. Unfortunately, the white man has made us very defensive. We end up clinging to all sorts of things that have outlived their usefulness. Polygamy. Collective ownership. These things worked well in their time, but now they most often become tools for abuse. By men. By governments. And yet, if you say these things, you have been infected by Western ideology' (434).

'I find myself modestly encouraged, believing that so long as the questions are still being asked, what binds us together might somehow, ultimately, prevail' (438).

'They choose our better history' (439).

History is a vital practice. It is a vital theory too. The idea that by thinking about what has gone before us has something to tell us about what lays ahead and that this something is important to search out, understand, create, narrate and retell. It can provide answers, and provoke questions. Practicing history helps me navigate. I've just finished Barack Obama's 'Dreams from my Father' as well as just finishing my own thesis on Christianity and New Zealand History. Obama's search for his own identity, his history, was a crucial aspect of him being able to chart his way forward. My own enthusiasm for understanding what has happened in my own family has led me to ask some awkward questions. But these gaps in understanding need to be filled in order to hold into account/question my own self, my own decisions. Are you familiar with my behaviour? What parts of me can i trace in the life you led? How did you make such decisions and how do I? What were the consequences for you and how might i mitigate or embrace them? The solidarity of the family, the shared community, the shared history of suffering and joy is crucial to providing a sense of place and knowledge about oneself and ones life direction. How can you move out/on/away if you cannot push off from some point? History then becomes a therapeutic process. In learning about the Christian apologetic letters my father wrote into student magazine Craccum I see passion and certainty reflected in my own frustration at faith experience. I learn a hidden side of my family's life, hidden by books, archives, arguments and silence. Upon reflection the questions we want to know are ones of shared experience. Did you suffer like i feel i do? Did you experience such anxiety and can i rest my head on your heart which survived? At the centre is understanding. How can i understand this? the revelation revealed through stories and distant memories not all entirely intact. What do I make of a mother who got sick and died? Whose last words were not incoherent but coded and need some kind of deciphering. Can they ever speak to me apart from the hurt?

We need to choose our better history. The things in the past that provide firm ground from which to stand up and move on from. The knowledge that our human experience is intimately bound up in the past and the past constantly forces its influence around us. Choose from the mistakes a compassion and humanity, from the successes a confidence and excitement and from the suffering a soberity and solemity and from the joy a hope in the possibilities that lay before us. A hope in justice coming around the bend. And, as Obama said, as long as questions are being asked, a belief that perhaps one day, our collective histories will unite us all in each others shoes and in each others arms.