confessions of a banana chinese : how it came about

“How long can I keep this?” I asked the fruit seller, pointing at a comb of yellow bananas.
The Chinese man looked at me with a look of bewilderment clouding his wrinkles, tired face. Here we go again, I thought silently in heart. Slowly, I took a deep breath, and proceeded to repeat my question, this time in halting Mandarin. The fruit seller merely put up 2 fingers to indicate the answer. I shook my head, and left.

That happened when I visited one of the night markets not too long ago, and it was the first not, nor was it the last. My foray in learning the Mandarin language or any other Chinese dialects has all but been successful. Certainly, this would not be considered out of place, if I am not Chinese. Alas, I am of Chinese ethnic.

As far back as I could remember, I had been speaking in English and Bahasa Malaysia or Malay. Both my parents are Chinese, but they converse in English between themselves, and then to us, their children. Naturally, we picked it up. My parents were products of Christian missionary schools. Hence, they learnt to speak fluent English despite learning it as a second language. Their background could not be more contrasting, the clan dialect, Hokkien, being the household language of my father’s family, while my mother’s family, being Strait-born Chinese, spoke only Malay. Neither spoke each others’ first language well enough to maintain a conversation. I grew up under the care of my maternal grandparents. Unsurprisingly, I picked up Malay easily but learnt no Chinese.

My exposure to Chinese started very early, I think, since my father’s side spoke Hokkien. We went to my paternal grandmother’s house quite often, at one point almost a couple hours daily as we would have our dinner there. However, we never stayed over, lest for an extended period. That, I believe, did not put me in a good position to learn Chinese. Communication with Chinese speaking cousins and relatives were very minimal, as they hardly spoke Malay or English. Sign gestures were used when necessary, or when all else failed, my father would be called to be the interpreter.

My first ‘intensive’ exposure to Chinese was during my stay with a neighbour who babysat me in the afternoons during my 2 years of kindergarten. She’s a Chinese speaker, but could speak enough English to communicate with me. She was also taking care of two other Chinese speaking boys at that time. It was while playing with these 2 boys I remembered uttering my first Mandarin words on my own. She was surprised, as she never did instruct me any Mandarin. That was the only outburst in Mandarin that I managed before starting formal Mandarin lessons. I stopped going to her once I started primary school.

Formal Mandarin lessons started roughly when I was eight. My parents deemed it was appropriate for my elder brother and me to start learning our Chinese. Teacher was my next door neighbour. A Chinese school teacher, she was fluent in English and a little strict in character. Classes were twice a week and each lasted an hour. Some methods applied were spelling tests to force us to learn our vocabulary and restricting English usage during lessons after we were equipped enough with the basics words. Reading was done with textbooks, with tons of pictures and pinyin under the characters, to guide students with the pronunciations.

We went to 3 tutors in total, over a span of almost 4 years. All three employed similar methods, varying only the level in their strictness. All the time, we attended together, my brother and I, and conversed in English between us. We also had to sign up for Mandarin classes in school under the Pupil’s Own Language (POL) program, when we each reached 9 years old. For three hours each Friday, from primary 3 to primary 6, we attended those classes, with other English speaking friends. While we were good students, learning reading, listening, writing and speaking during lessons, it was difficult for the teachers to force us to speak in Mandarin amongst ourselves during those afternoons.

It was during the awkward age of ten or eleven, I can’t really recall, when one of the POL class teacher decided to sing a popular Chinese folklore song which carried my name as it’s theme during class. He meant well, wanting to introduce the song to us and let me know the uniqueness of my name. I think it then that I started to grow increasingly detached to the language when fellow classmates begun to sing that song in front of me, making fun of my name. After all those hours, my Mandarin competency level was stuck at uttering words with wrong intonations, listening to slowly articulated short sentences, reading basic words, and writing by copying. All formal tutoring of Mandarin ended when I left primary school.

From then on, my learning Mandarin was by picking up words. Looking back, my secondary school environment was actually very encouraging for a Mandarin L2 learner. Majority of my Chinese friends then know their Chinese, coming from Chinese medium schools. Unfortunately, I was at the stage where I hated learning Mandarin. I would simply just say that I don’t know Mandarin or Chinese and would make no effort to learn. While my Chinese speaking friends improved their English by leaps and bounds by conversing with me, my Mandarin knowledge stunted. I may have a few new words picked up, but nothing much. Life as student then was just hustling between school and tuitions, without a need to know Mandarin. Even being labeled 'banana chinese' did not change my attitude.

I would say now that I really begun to learn the importance of Chinese during my university years. By then, I was living on my own, in another town. Reality hit and the need to have the ability to find your own food was the awakening factor. Not knowing Mandarin or other Chinese dialect was very limiting. I realized that I need to at least have a conversational Mandarin knowledge. So, I learnt. My progress was slow, as I still preferred to speak in English. It was not easy at first, as the Mandarin vocabs did not come easily. Slowly though, via practicing with friends, speaking became increasingly easier. In time, I could find my own food, and hold short conversation in Mandarin with my peers, although peppered with English words in between. I could even catch a word or two when listening to Chinese songs. Of course, I get confused often, when friends start mixing dialects with Mandarin.

I have given up on learning the reading and writing skills of Mandarin, focusing on improving my aural and oral Mandarin. Of other Chinese dialects, I only know a smattering of words. Nonetheless, being in a country where English is the lingua franca, I often give in to the temptation of speaking English, as recounted earlier. While my own attitude towards learning Mandarin was not one of the best, I really do think learners of a particular second language should put themselves in an authentic environment where they will have no choice but use the second language in every day living. This will definitely help put into perspective, the importance of having a working knowledge, if not mastering, of the second language.


ps: if you have the chance, learn all. gal, if do have the time to read, appreciate comments. i'm gonna remove this, after a while..hhmmm..