Shame shame, I am Chinese, yet I cannot read or write Chinese. That’s what a lot of my compatriots thought. Ironically my late father was a Chinese teacher in Mauritius and he had many students but I was not one of them. There was a time in Mauritius whenever I met the older generation of Chinese folks, the first thing they asked me was: “What is the name of your father”. We were then judged by the reputation or disreputation of our father. In most cases they instantly recognized my father’s name and were thrilled to impart to me that my father was their teacher and he was well respected. With those words I felt really good and proud of my father.
My first nine siblings, rather eight as the first baby died at birth, went to Chinese school and the last four, including myself, went to English school. There was no second language option at school, all Chinese or all English. As a British Colony Mauritius official language was English, and studying Chinese only did not have any advantage. So it was necessary to shift gear for English education for the last four children.
When I arrived in Hong Kong in 1966, I went to stay with my brother-in-law. My brother-in-law and my sister were raised and educated in China and knew not a word of English, the children were too young to speak English as well. The house could have look like an episode of the muted Charlie Chaplain movie, had I not, fortunately, been able to communicate with them in the Hakka dialect.
Cantonese was the most common language spoken in Hong Kong, and no matter how hard we used to laugh listening to our Cantonese friends in Mauritius, I had now to learn Cantonese. I think that the best way to learn a language is from small children, just mingle with them, play with them and speak with them. Fortunately there was no shortage of children in the household, specifically seven heaven-sent nephews and nieces, from age one to twenty. Secondly, watching television is a second best way to learn a new language, as the words are complemented with graphics and actions, giving you a nice clue of what is said and happening.
When I went out and unable to speak Cantonese, I was frowned upon and often received uncomplimentary comments such as: “You are Chinese and you do not speak Chinese”. Sometimes I saved the day by replying in Hakka which might be foreign to the listener but somehow reduced the blow with a softer comment: “Oh you are a Hakka”.
Amusingly people used to ask me where I came from and when I replied “somewhere near Africa” rather than “Mauritius” a never heard of country, they rolled up their eyes in disbelief. They had expected a black person in front of them.
Not able to read or write Chinese then was not a major hindrance to my career development, as I had always worked for foreign companies in Hong Kong where English was the main means of communication, oral and written. Today I would not be able to make it in Hong Kong without written Chinese and spoken Cantonese and Mandarin.
Learning is a never ending activity. The more you learn the less you realise you know. In the 1990s I was working in an international bank in Vancouver, and immigration from mainland China was quickly accelerating to the point that Mandarin had become essential in my line of work. There you go, learning Mandarin became a must and I had since grasped, through evening lessons, some basic Mandarin which came in handy in my work and when I travelled in China.
A year ago in Toronto I went to see my doctor, a Hong Kong born Chinese. Unlike other physicians he came out personally to the reception desk to pick up the file of the next patient. My file had only my English name written on the cover as is customary in Canada and he called out my name in English. Then he said to me: “It would be more friendly if I can call out your name in Chinese. Would you mind writing your Chinese name on the cover?” Fortunately I always know how to write my Chinese name and a dozen more Chinese characters. Looking at my Chinese name, he said: “Your Chinese handwriting is very pretty”. That compliment really made my day and when I went back home I started to ponder about learning the written Chinese language, in some way to remove the shame and embarrassment of not able to read and write Chinese. The internet proved to be fabulous, I was able to find great websites teaching written and oral Chinese in Mandarin and Cantonese, all for free. If you think Chinese is hard to learn, listen to one teacher’s statement: “If a billion people can learn the language, how hard can it be”. A year later I have added over five hundred Chinese characters in my arsenal, and everyday I look forward to add new words to my vocabulary.