Of Language and Walls

Of Language and Walls

Up late; mad rush - 14 minutes later, me, a half-wreck by the roadside.

3 cabs whizzed by, seemingly all recession-proof; arrogantly in no immediate need of requiring fare. Do taxi-uncles determine their day's lot through some opaque, shamanistic ritual, I wondered. Did I looked especially repugnant, or perhaps, redolent of certain mephitic qualities?

Regardless.

I hopped onto the next one that came along, and hastily went, "Simei, uncle." To reiterate, I inflected the words in the exact phonetics required for basic understanding, or so I thought.

Inauspiciously, the uncle (who must be in his 60s?) went, "Huh? I donch no chynese", and smiled at me.

I wasn't feeling particularly forgiving and retorted, with nelly a skip, "That's not chinese, that's SIMEI." The uncle returned with, "Ohhhhh.....Sea-May", and smiled at me.

Observing the innards of his car, I noticed the unmistakable paraphernalia of : a proudly displayed business times, his taxi license with his chinese name on it, a smattering of differentenglish magazines strewn in the back-slots of the front seats, the really-loud-in-your-eardrums-and-soul music from class 95fm, but oddly enough - no english flag.

At my destination, I got off and went, "谢谢你" and smiled at him.

The resulting thoughts that emerged from this little encounter reminded me of something I wrote long ago, in my dead blog. As I struggled to salvage the memory, it dredged up new feelings and perspectives:

Why, should anyone, be proud of their language deficiency?

Long ago, I knew people who would not be caught dead speaking mandarin. It was a base thing to do, to uttercommon-folks' pidgin. Mandarin is for the poor and uneducated, obviously. Elites speak the Queen's English, and anything else is fathoms beneath. Like, how totally uncool is mandarin? Like, who needs to learn other languages, right?

Alas, language: of the written or verbal medium is a living, breathing entity. It is a monstrous thing, a beautiful thing; a divider and a connector. We hang onto the syntax and conjunctions, the commas and the dots. We defend it, we abuse it. It is the simplest, most direct form of inter-human communications, and yet, also oft-misunderstood. The dichotomy, or to be more accurate, the facets of Language draws it's strength and power from the imagination of the people whom it serves; and it is this ultra-intimacy which shapes and controls the boundaries of our experiences.

Cultures give birth to languages, or vice versus; whatever your opinions on this may be. It is the manifestations of the unique circumstances pervading different sectors of humanity. It is the identity and soul of a culture; and the evidence of history.

Singlish! For example. I've long heralded the beauty of our nation's breathing, changing topography of the global tongue. It is an unique amalgamation of our diverse ethnicity; a solace in foreign lands. Where destiny takes you far away, an incidental, "I miss you leh," brings you back home. Why should we suppress this? The majority of Singaporeans know better than to bring Singlish to the tables when doing a job interview. We are well educated enough to be able to discern the gravity of the situation, and we adjust: we're pretty good at it too.

Recently, a Japanese lady was chatting with me, and she went, "Next time when you are free lah, I will bring you to my restaurant for makan, ok?" And we laughed over her brilliant attempt at Singlish.

It is this attempt at using a common code, a common template of the peoples' language around you that binds us together - even foreigners from a distant land; even neighbours from a different race. Just a few simple words and you can break barriers, imagine! How powerful is that?

And just the other day, I was at the coffee-shop, chilling with a couple of colleagues over a cup of teh si peng, when I noticed this old Chinese uncle chatting with this Malay guy in flawless malay. If I had not looked, I would not had been able to tell that they were two gentlemen from different races!

This brought to mind, how my grandma and granddad has absolute mastery over several languages: chinese, malay,teochew, hokkien, hakka, cantonese - and a smattering ofenglish. Two old folks and they could converse with anyone that came along. Our generation now has more to deal with, to be fair: scores of physics notes to consign to rote, calculus formulae flowing off the tongue, who can blame us for not having the time to mix around in the bygone racial melting pot of the early days? And so, I mentioned wistfully to my friends, what will happen when the older generation dies? Will the different races be relegated to just speaking their own tongue in their own groups? The degree of intimacy will be drawn and demarcated, and we will not be able to converse beyond the Queen's English with each other: that is a cultural loss, I feel.

And so, I try my best to learn a little of everything. A "bolehsaya tolong awak, cik?", a "可以帮你吗?", a "Ohisashiburi desune!" can go a long way in making the people around you comfortable and appreciated. The way I see it, english is the bridge that spans continents, but speaking your neighbour's language is the warm hello that will open doors. Let language be a connector, not a divider.

So, how would I best share my experiences with you? Short of you reading my mind, the optimal choice would be for me to say it, or to pen it in words that you might connect with; words which might be emotive or casually, meaningless. Or to put it simply, words that you understand. And what a beautiful world it would be, when all barriers are transcended: language, cultural, religious, moral - just because the world is willing to try to understand each other.

And thus, I am proud to be a pretty fluent bilingual, with a limited (but to useful words!) vocabulary of the Japanese and Malay language. We should not be proud in resigning ourselves to a singular form of expression when the world around us is so diverse! We do not have to become a professor in the language, but what harm would learning some new words do to us? What harm can the ability to converse intimately to the people around us do?

So if we meet, why not bridge the gap atad, and let us converse in mandarin? (If you can help it)

PS: This is not to say that english cannot be intimate; it is afterall, the people involved in the communication that is most important. Language is a living tool, and we must use it to the best degree possible.