The Strange Distance Between Us and History.

What you're about to read is not just a story, it's a journey from doubt to understanding. It began with a question I had quietly carried for years and ended with one of the greatest lessons history has ever taught me. Read it to the very end... because by the last paragraph, you may never look at history or even your own life, the same way again. For many years, I struggled with history in silence. I never hated it nor did I want to reject it; rather, I was attempting to work out how humans could speak so confidently about events that took place thousands of years before any of us had been born. How is it possible for anyone to be certain that an empire came into being in a particular century, that a king conquered another kingdom, that a prophet lived at a specific time, or that a wealthy African ruler travelled across the Sahara with such a great amount of gold as to affect the economies of the cities he passed through? <blockquote>What evidence do we have for all this?</blockquote> I never voiced those questions since I knew they seemed controversial, but they were real questions. At times it seemed to me that history was too distant for my imagination to understand.The moment anyone said, "This took place in 500 BC," my mind would stop. Five hundred years before the Common Era?Hundreds of thousands of years ago? I would stop and consider whether the human mind can truly comprehend such time.There were also stories which sounded almost impossible. It was the case that enslaved Africans had heavy iron chains round their necks.That some enslaved people were forced to wear iron devices over their mouths to prevent them from speaking or eating. That families were torn apart, millions were forced across oceans against their will, entire civilizations vanished, and two world wars claimed the lives of tens of millions of people. Ancient kingdoms attained great power and then disappeared, leaving behind only ruins, records, and memories. I believed these events truly happened. Yet a small part of me still longed to witness them for myself because distance has a strange way of making reality feel like fiction. Then, life taught me something no history book ever could, an experience in my department brought that realisation to life. One day, one of our lecturers shared something that left me speechless.He told us that many years ago, he sat in these very classrooms as a student, learning under a lecturer who is now a professor and still teaches in this department today. Now, that former student stands alongside his former teacher, and together, they are teaching my generation. In that moment, three generations met in a single classroom: the professor, his former student, and us. Then I wondered: perhaps one day, one of us will return to this same university as a lecturer, stand beside one or two of our own lecturers, tell this same story, and together teach another generation. At that moment, I realised that History doesn't seem unbelievable because it is false. It seems unbelievable because time creates distance. I remembered when paper ₦5, ₦10, ₦20, and ₦50 notes were common in Nigeria, when phones were different, and when artificial intelligence was not part of everyday life. Then a question crossed my mind.Imagine a child born seventy or even one hundred years from now hearing these stories.You would tell them that people once carried paper money, students relied on physical notebooks, and the world debated whether artificial intelligence would transform education, journalism, medicine, law, or even replace human jobs.You would also tell them about a global pandemic that once brought the entire world to a standstill. They might smile politely. They could even doubt us. They might wonder, “Did that really happen?” or say, “That sounds like an exaggeration.”Not because they lack respect, but simply because they were never there.All of a sudden, history began to make sense. I came to the realisation that the people who lived centuries before us were not mythical figures. They woke up each morning like we do.They laughed, worried about tomorrow, raised children, argued, prayed, celebrated victories, and mourned losses.They made decisions without knowing that future generations would one day study their lives in classrooms and books.For them, their life was merely focused on the present moment.Just as we are. One day, what is now our present will be the past for someone else.<ul><li>The examination questions of decades in the future might well be based on the news headlines that we pass over today.</li><li>The inventions which we talk about casually could one day end up in museums.</li><li>The political debates that are filling today's newspapers may one day be included in history books.</li></ul> Our ordinary photographs could also serve as historical evidence.That realisation changed everything for me. History doesn't seem unbelievable because it is false. It seems unbelievable because time creates distance. What is left in the end are dates, documents, photographs, ruins, and memories.Which is why history often seems cold.But each date had its own heartbeat. For every battle there was a soldier who was frightened.Behind every migration was a family searching for hope or simply trying to.For every empire there was always a group of ordinary people who were just trying to get through another day. History is not simply a set of dates.It is the memory of humanity that has been preserved.It serves as a reminder that the people who came before us had dreams, struggled, failed, made discoveries, built things, loved and sacrificed in order that the world might become what it is today. As I studied history, I no longer ask whether this actually took place. Instead I asked "What evidence has come down to us which allows us to tell this story?" Perhaps that's why I smile whenever I come across historical stories on social media. Some people believe every word. Others dismiss everything as fiction. But history has taught me that the real task is neither blind belief nor outright denial. It is asking the right questions, examining the evidence, and understanding why different versions of the same story exist. Once I adopted that new way of looking at things, my view of the past changed completely.Perhaps the greatest lesson history has taught me is this: We spend so much time questioning the reality of those who lived before us, forgetting that one day people who have never met us may question ours too. Someone who has not even been born yet might some day read about us just as we read about ancient civilizations. It might be difficult for them to believe our stories. Perhaps they will wish they could see our world with their own eyes, maybe they will at last grasp what I have come to understand.History isn't in some remote place inhabited by strangers.History is nothing more than yesterday... waiting patiently to become unbelievable. Author's Note:<blockquote>This essay is the first in a series of reflections on history. Part Two explores another question: "Why do historical stories change over time?" How does a real event become a legend? Why do different generations tell the same story differently? And where do historians draw the line between history, memory, and tradition?</blockquote>

Other insights from Quareeb Jagun

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons