Every time I hear people speak in Mandarin, I cringe in discomfort. It's not that I cannot speak my mother tongue, as a matter of fact, I can easily converse with my Chinese speaking classmates using basic Mandarin. Limited, yes...but better than nothing. In my class, 3 out 9 Chinese girls are ( half) illiterate in Chinese. One of them is me. The other two are; a nyonya's child from Melaka; & a Javanese girl. They got their excuses. Where's mine? The years of my life before I touched 10 were spent living in strictly Chinese households.
Language plays such an important role in the modern world. ( Arghh! I used another cliche)Which was why my mother drilled English in me even before I touched earth. I can still remember all the fairy tales and nursery rhymes she taught me so well. In the process, I guess I did learn smatterings of the Chinese language here and there from my grandparents but I suspect I lost most of my memory of it while I grew up. My grandmother hinted that I was once good at it. Now our relationship is limited to...how shall I say this...an adult talking to an illiterate toddler.
I was in love with the English language, the language the British brought to our land in the process of colonization. In school, no one bothered that I could not really speak in Mandarin. All the teachers praised my knowledge of English so much that I became conceited with myself. I prided myself, foolishly calling myself an " English girl". You cannot imagine how much I wish to strangle myself when some primary school teachers repeat that much hated phrase. Despite all that, I do not blame my mother for doing what she did. People tell me how much they admire my fluency in English. Teachers spend their time in-between-lessons reading my essays; dissecting and giving their personal opinions in the staff room as though they were book reviewers.
Language plays such an important role in the modern world. ( Arghh! I used another cliche)Which was why my mother drilled English in me even before I touched earth. I can still remember all the fairy tales and nursery rhymes she taught me so well. In the process, I guess I did learn smatterings of the Chinese language here and there from my grandparents but I suspect I lost most of my memory of it while I grew up. My grandmother hinted that I was once good at it. Now our relationship is limited to...how shall I say this...an adult talking to an illiterate toddler.
I was in love with the English language, the language the British brought to our land in the process of colonization. In school, no one bothered that I could not really speak in Mandarin. All the teachers praised my knowledge of English so much that I became conceited with myself. I prided myself, foolishly calling myself an " English girl". You cannot imagine how much I wish to strangle myself when some primary school teachers repeat that much hated phrase. Despite all that, I do not blame my mother for doing what she did. People tell me how much they admire my fluency in English. Teachers spend their time in-between-lessons reading my essays; dissecting and giving their personal opinions in the staff room as though they were book reviewers.
However happy I am with my current state, if I could live my live all over again, I'd choose to learn my mother tongue over English. For pride's sake, for pride's sake...
3 comments:
I'm a banana.
A pale yellow rottening banana, with black smudges.
Fruit flies buzz around me.
To them, I'm delicious.
Make sense of that :) it does make sense.
Trust me, I have a full banana.. =P
Habib.
Jh: I don't understand. I'm too ignorant. The banana part I understood though.
Habib: We're talking two kinds of bananas here, dear. Haiyoh...
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