Listening to the Narrative of Others
By Dr. Peter McLallen
There is a proverb, versions of which are found in a number of African languages, that says “Until lions start writing their own stories, the hunters will always be the heros”.
At WCIU we recently had an email exchange about Critical Race Theory (CRT). One of the tenets of CRT is to recognize the importance and validity of story and experience in understanding the racial dynamics in the United States. Another aspect is to listen to stories in which the people of color are centered. The person or group that is centered is who the narrative is about, not simply a story told from their perspective. CRT points out that the dominant narrative in American culture centers the experience of white people and that when the experiences of people of color are listened to from their perspective a different, more robust picture arises.
My experience as an exchange student in Kenya opened my eyes to the challenges of being a visible minority (by color or other expression) as well as the nature of power associated with these dynamics. As a white person I stood out in a crowd. Many perceived me to have money and power, while I perceived myself as a poor college student who had worked two jobs, made sacrifices, and was very concerned if I had enough money to last my time there.
Since that time, I have learned that as a white man I am part of the group that has had significant power and influence in the world over the last three to four centuries (much longer in Europe). Most of the narratives in the places where I live center the experience of white people and white men particularly, because, well, we have been the hunters. I have benefited from this even when I did not desire to do so. So as a person living where the story of “my people” is the dominant narrative, how can I enter into the stories of others and gain a broader perspective?
One solution I have found is to read novels by African authors such Ngugi Wa Thiang’o, Chinua Achebe, Tsitsi Dangarembga, Mongo Beti, Sindiwe Magona, Kopano Matlwa, and others. Their stories and characters see the world from a point of view very different than mine. The poignant perspectives on colonialism, race, culture, class, religion, relationships, and politics challenge me to think about what I understand to be the situation.
One of my favorite novels is called I Saw the Sky Catch Fire by T. Obinkaram Echewa which centers the stories of three generations of women. The first set of stories is about the Women’s War in 1929 when women in Nigeria rose up against colonial authorities. The story is recounted to a young man named Ajuiziogu by his Nne-nne (grandmother) on the night before he leaves to study in the U.S.A. It is the story of Oha Ndom, the Solidarity of Women, living in a time of social change and stress brought on by colonialism in Nigeria. Ajuziogu hears of the strength, grit, ingenuity, and even vindictiveness of Oha Ndom. It is, as one might expect, a very different perspective than one found in a history, anthropology, or missionary hagiography written by westerners.
The second set of stories revolves around Stella, Ajuziogu’s wife, and her mother. Ajuiziogu returns home after a five-year absence, having learned that his Nne-nne is on her death bed. He is confronted with Stella’s story of struggle to find her place in the world, having felt like her husband has abandoned her. Her mother’s story tells of the generation dealing with rapid social change bridging one reality represented in Nne-nne’s story and another in Stella’s. Ajuiziogu must face the implications of his actions and the perspective of all three women on his failure as a husband, as well as their ongoing love for him.
I relate to Ajuziogu’s focus on himself and being blind to the story of others. Reading literature from African contexts, and more recently by women authors, has helped sensitize me to perspectives different than my own. As a result, I have more context and perspective to listen and believe when my neighbor tells me their story and in doing so, love them as a I love myself.