IN THE GRAND theatre of social media—where cat videos reign supreme and discussions about anything often devolve into spirited debates—one of my simple joys as a local history writer is to come across a simple, appreciative comment like, “Thank you, this is so interesting. I’ve learnt something new.” My friend, Mike Gibby, the author of many Penang local history books, shares a similar experience, “I’ve lost count of the number of times people have said to me after a talk, ‘I didn’t realise [history] was so interesting’.”

This enthusiasm for local history stands in stark contrast to the collective trauma of high school history classes. You remember those, don’t you? The droning of a teacher[1] about dates and names while students engaged in the noble art of staying conscious through sheer force of will. It is no wonder these nostalgic recollections are often filled with accounts of falling asleep during class.

But wait! Before we gather our verbal pitchforks and torches to storm the bastions of Malaysian academia, let us pause for a moment of reflection. The existence of dull history textbooks, dear readers, is not confined to the hallowed and, often, humid halls of Malaysian schools. No, it is, unfortunately, a universal affliction.

The British-born American historian Charles Loch Mowat calls the need for textbook writers to constantly “compress and simplify” to satisfy the all-powerful syllabus set by bureaucrats “an occupational hazard”. However, the main reason history textbooks are boring is that they especially love to regale us with tales of long-dead monarchs and their family squabbles, which, to the average reader, hold about as much relevance as listening to your neighbour recount how many durians his cousin, Ah Leong of Air Itam, ate.

His and Her Story

Local history—as its name implies—is the study of the history of a particular locality, usually a well-defined geographical area. It is essentially the reconstructed story of a particular town, village or building. Depending on where you live, your locale may be part of a grander historical narrative, but it is generally not about the rise and fall of empires, or the earth-shattering events that reshaped continents.

The word historia in Greek means an inquiry, narrative or account. It later entered French as histoire, which means both history as well as story. Isn’t that delightful? It is as if the French knew that history without a good narrative is about as appealing as a sandwich without filling—a sad lump of unappetising facts.

The Science of Storytelling

But why do narratives hold such power over us? William Storr tells us in his groundbreaking book, The Science of Storytelling: Why Stories Make Us Human and How to Tell Them Better, that “There is a lot of scientific research informing compelling ideas about how storytelling is key to communication, influencing and changing minds for the better.” It turns out our brains are wired for narrative, craving stories like a Penangite craves hawker food after returning from overseas.

Consider the tale of penicillin’s discovery. A Form Five science book I flipped through at a bookstore read:

“Today in History—Sir Alexander Fleming had studied the effects of Penicillium sp. on the growth of bacteria on the sterile agar culture that you performed in Experiment 1.4. Sir Alexander Fleming became the first person to discover antibiotics.”

Riveting stuff, isn’t it? About as exciting as watching paint dry. But frame it as a story and you have a better chance of getting people’s attention:

“On 3 September 1929, the professor of bacteriology at St. Mary’s Hospital Medical School, a Scotsman, had just returned to his London laboratory. He had been holidaying in his Suffolk home in August. Before his vacation, he had stacked plates of Staphylococcus aureus bacteria cultures ‘in one corner of his bench, out of the sunlight’ for his assistant to work on during his absence.

Just as he started to examine culture plates, Dr. Merlin Pryce, his former assistant, walked into the laboratory. The professor picked up the top plate, lifted the cover and uttered, ‘That’s funny.’ He noticed some mould at the edge of the culture, and around it a clear area where the bacteria had not grown. Dr. Pryce also looked. ‘That’s how you discovered lysozyme,’ was his terse remark to his former boss. The professor’s name was Alexander Fleming, and he had just discovered penicillin, which would start the antibiotic revolution that would save millions of lives.”

Which Would You Prefer To Read?

Earlier textbooks on Malayan history were focussed on the deeds of the kings and great men of Europe—and especially of Great Britain. They were written as a narrative.

A quick look at our recent school history textbook—I have with me the 2018 version—shows a worrying regression. There is nary a single engaging narrative in sight—history is presented using information boxes, bullet points, leading questions and suggested fun activities that are seemingly unrelated, such as making model ships using water bottles and paper.

The Science of Storytelling shares that “Stories, particularly true ones, become magnetic because we all want to know the answer.” If our history textbooks do not tell stories, it does not bode well for creating a populace that is interested in its own past. A society is essentially a group of people who share a common narrative; one that has no interest in learning about its past can prove to be a quite problem.

Making History

My friends, this is where local history can truly shine and engage public imagination. It is not about dusty tomes and impenetrable academic jargon, but the story of the school you attended and where you carved your initials into a desk (don’t deny it, we have all been there). It is about the old factory that used to be the lifeblood of your neighbourhood, now transformed into a hipster coffee shop that serves drinks with names longer than some academic dissertations. It is about finding out who owned the creepy house down the road, which you always thought was haunted as a kid. It is the story of your family and the neighbourhood that you grew up in. Local history is more relatable and thus, interesting.

We need more people to do local history in our country. While professional historians play a crucial role, there simply are not enough of them, and many do not focus on local history. This is where you, the amateur historian, come in. Armed with curiosity and perhaps a slight obsession with old photographs and documents, you too can become a detective of the past. Start by looking around your neighbourhood. Is there anything that seems “funny” or out of place? That is often the first step to uncovering a fascinating local story.

Remember Fleming’s “That’s funny” from earlier? Well, that phrase has led to many of my own local history discoveries. For example, “Why is there a Miami Beach at Batu Ferringhi? That’s funny.” [See Penang Monthly May 2023 issue] or “Why are there military structures on top of Pearl Hill? Wait... Why can’t I find Pearl Hill on any map before the 1970s? That’s funny.” [See Penang Monthly July and August 2022 issues]. Look around your own neighbourhood and see if you can find anything “funny” to investigate. Before long, you too will be doing local history.

Sources and Truth

You may be wondering why history seems to be revised and rewritten all the time. “While the past does not change, what can and does change is our perception of it,” Gibby offers. All history is a reconstruction—we are piecing together what has happened, preferably from primary sources and official records such as birth, marriage and death certificates, letters, court documents, newspaper reports, photographs, video recordings and eyewitness accounts. Marcus Langdon—one of Penang’s top history researchers—likens local history research to a crime scene investigation. As one unearths more evidence, the story becomes more detailed, and the plot thickens.

William Dalrymple, the renowned Scottish historian, bestselling author and host of the hit “Empire Podcast” says, “My view of this is that it’s absolutely fine for historians to re-examine history. And new perspectives are welcome, but they have to be based on primary sources, they must be carefully studied [and] judiciously interpreted.” He cautions, “When new evidence appears, one should be open to reinvestigating the past. But it can’t just be political opinion, nationalistic muscle flexing or religious bigotry that drives the re-examination of history. It has got to be based on fact, and it should be a fair interpretation of sorts.”

Local history is more than just a subject; it is a gateway to understanding our communities, our roots and ourselves. By engaging with the stories of our immediate surroundings, we not only learn about the past, but also gain a deeper appreciation for the present.

So, the next time you walk down a familiar street or pass by an old building, take a moment to wonder about its history. You might just uncover a fascinating story waiting to be told. After all, every place has a tale, and in Penang, those tales are as rich and flavourful as our celebrated street food.

For those interested in Penang’s local history, here are some valuable resources:

1. Singapore National Archives (https://www.nas.gov.sg/archivesonline/): Offers digitised newspapers from the 1830s onwards, government records and rare books related to the Straits Settlements.

2. Google Books (https://books.google.com): An excellent resource for historical texts.

3. Penang Heritage Trust Discussion Group on Facebook: A community of history enthusiasts ready to guide your research.

4. Penang Monthly e-archives: A treasure trove of local historical information.

5. Arkib Negara or the National Archives of Malaysia (https://ofa.arkib.gov.my/portal/index.php/en/): A bit hard to navigate, but there are some gems to be found in it.

Happy researching!

Footnotes:

[1] To be fair, teachers are required to teach according to the textbooks, and few have formal training in history. Some are probably just as unenthused as their students going through textbook material.