Growing up, I struggled speaking Teochew. My family often asked jokingly, “Mei, why do you speak Teochew with such force?” To pronounce the words, I usually had to try extremely hard to get the sounds right and to them, it just sounded unnatural and funny. On the other hand, my older brother was fluent and could converse easily with my grandparents and any other Teochew-speaking elderly. It probably had to do with the exposure he received when he was younger in the Ellenborough Market where my grandfather was a fishmonger. I certainly did not get that same exposure and hence, struggled to develop the same level of fluency.
I quickly realised that Chinese dialects were ‘dying’ in the Singaporean community as I struggled to converse with my grandparents. Thankfully, this realisation drove my curiosity and I forced everyone to only use dialects with me during our weekly family gatherings. My parents were also highly encouraged (by me) to expose themselves to the dialects daily. Fortunately for me, my extended family spoke Teochew, Cantonese and Hokkien, but I could only pick up the former two dialects better. It was through the constant exposure and the learning from mistakes I made when trying to pronounce the words and form sentences that helped me learn the dialects very quickly.
Initially, learning the dialects was a way for me to remember my identity as a Teochew and more importantly, converse with my grandparents. I soon learned that using dialects and languages was an effective way to connect with others and three situations helped me to cement that realisation.
The first was during a Community Involvement Programme in secondary school. Most of my classmates could not speak or even understand any dialects . I remembered when I spoke to the elderly in their dialects and saw how much comfort it brought them, as Mandarin Chinese was not their first language. They grew up with dialects and using Mandarin was uncomfortable for them. Despite sounding forced, they appreciated that I tried my best to speak the dialects because it brought them much ease and of course, a good laugh.
The second incident was in Canada. My brother and I went to a Chinese restaurant with his Canadian friends. Upon hearing us converse in Cantonese, the waiters gave us the ‘special secret menu,’ with food not included in the typical menu they gave to others. The waiters said it was for “自己人” (translation: own people). I realized language was much more than just speech. It was an identity and a whole culture. The care they provided us that day was a sign that they were rooting for their own people to succeed in a foreign land, and I appreciated that experience a lot.
Upon learning from my second experience, the third experience allowed me to make others feel at ease in Singapore. I do my best using my limited Japanese proficiency to converse in short sentences or phrases with my Japanese friends in Singapore. Like おやすみなさい！（Good night!）お誕生日おめでとう！(Happy birthday!) which surprisingly, brings them much comfort in a foreign land. Language has the power to comfort us as we remember the environments we once spoke these languages in and remember the good old times back home.
Languages are so much more powerful than you would expect.
This blog post was written by Tammy, our #SGUnited Intern. Tammy is a 3rd year Public Policy student and can speak English, Mandarin, Teochew, Cantonese and basic Japanese.
At the Brain, Language, and Intersensory Perception Lab (BLIP), we investigate how learning particular languages might shape the way we experience our world. In Singapore, this is especially interesting since most of us grew up speaking or hearing more than one language. We thought it’d be fun and interesting to capture these memories of learning language!