Languages: between the lines.

While listening to a story about the revival of the Ukrainian language (naturally, in ex-soviet Ukraine) on the radio today, I was reminded of the immeasurable importance of the media we express ourselves in. I have always been fascinated by languages, amassing casual knowledge of three or four on top of my native Cantonese; the prospect of communicating with people from opposite ends of the globe was just too tempting to resist. Like other self-proclaimed enthusiasts, I typically view languages as vehicles of verbal and written exchanges, with the potential to be morphed into beautiful, eloquent art forms. But they are a lot more.

To the more inclined, languages provide direct links to cultures’ history, roots and particularities. They are also viewed as integral parts of people’s identity, and have often occupied the center stages of political contentions. Unfortunately, depending on geographic whereabouts and the socio-political contexts of the regions concerned, they can also form grounds for discrimination. By imposing—to varying extents—their mother tongues on colonial subjects, imperialists from the 17th to the 20th centuries (the Belgians, British, Dutch, French, Japanese, Portuguese, Russians and Spanish) not only sowed the seeds of modern global commerce and diplomacy, but also forever changed local and regional concepts about class and social dynamics: in many ex-colonies, the upper strata take pride in their mastery of the colonizers’ languages, while those who rely on indigenous dialects are often poor or despised upon. And I have yet to mention the tragic losses of entire traditional writing systems—Mayan variations, Vietnamese and Tagalog just to name a few.

The esoteric relationship between the Eastern Bloc and the Russian language has long been noted by casual observers and pundits alike. Although many ex-satellite states have reinstated their indigenous tongues as national official languages following the USSR’s dissolution, Russian still dominated daily affairs for much of the past twenty years, and was viewed by many as the language of sophistication; after all, decades of Soviet rule had left its marks. This, however, is changing. According to Kiev-based journalist Brigid McCarthy, Ukrainian is making a strong resurgence in the midst of Viktor Yuschenko’s movement to strengthen Ukraine’s national identity; it has become the language of choice of recording artists, and is considered fashionable by younger generations. What is interesting though, as McCarthy notes, is Russian’s persistent prominence due to the region’s cultural and political landscape; combined with the re-burgeoning Ukrainian influences, a peculiar cultural phenomenon arises. It has become commonplace to see soap and film characters converse in an amalgamation of Russian and Ukrainian. Subsequently, ordinary Ukrainians have become the products of Ukraine’s past and present; despite of their disdain for Russia and the country’s soviet ties, they have embraced facets of the Russian language as their own.

The circumstances of Ukraine is just one of many examples of what is happening worldwide. As nations and localities continue to engage in the tug-of-wars of identities, I am reminded of the role played by the various facets of languages—languages, dialects, accents, vernaculars—in the debates, or worse, conflicts at hand. Does it alter my desire to learn new languages? Hardly, but I may think twice about the meaning behind my language acquisition, and practice them with care, thought and sensitivity.

For this week’s fun edition of “The World in Words”, check http://www.theworld.org/

可喜可賀: 用中文寫作. Let’s recover the roots: a forray into Chinese writing.

我剛滿二十七歲, 自離開香港到現在少說也有＋五年, 當中用中文認真寫作的機會可謂近乎於零. 雖然一直也嘗試保留閱讀中文書籍的良好習慣, 但不知不覺間很多常用字莫名奇妙的從腦袋蒸發了; 就像把基本語文知識還給了老師般, 一去不復返. 前天心血來潮, 把我廣州之行的一些趣事發表在網上, 結果給老娘笑了個面黃. “錯別字甚多. 臘肉不是用蠟造的.” 老媽, 懇請你不要挖苦我, 尊嚴這東西可是很脆弱的.

雖然在這期間我的英語及西班牙文水平也算突飛猛進, 但自身的中國語文能力點滴流失畢竟還是非常可惜. 這次暑假有機會到國內考察三次, 燃燒起對中文寫作的興趣. 起碼, 能用自己的家鄉話描繪喜愛的美食 (如乳豬, 燒鴨, 叉燒), 會讓生活增添不少情趣.

今天下午到灣仔２９８電腦商場買下小蒙恬書寫板一塊; 知道今後能執筆用中文暢所欲言, 大樂.

As I turned 27 a week ago, I came to the stunning realization that it has been fifteen years since I wrote Chinese in a serious manner (I was packed and banished to the gulag at 12). Fifteen years, equivalent to 105 years of aging in dogs, is a long, long time; long enough for me to forget many basic characters utilized in the everyday Chinese language. Perhaps some of you would remember the irrelevant, tedious calculus classes you took during the first year of uni: whatever material taught during lectures entered your left ear, then exit the right. That is somewhat akin to my knowledge of Chinese – it evaporated without a trace, just like the soap. Simply put, I don’t think I make Confucius proud.

Although my English and Spanish abilities improved drastically in this time frame, losing mastery of one’s native tongue is always a shamockery (i.e. shame + mockery). I have had the opportunity to visit the motherland three times during my eight-week sojourn in Hong Kong; some good times and feasting later, I realized the importance of retaining my Chinese composition skills. At least, the ability to vividly depict beloved food items (roast duck, roast pork, wontons etc.) in the mother tongue should add joy aplenty to my life.

I wandered into the mall this afternoon to purchase myself a brand spanking new Chinese input tablet. The chance to regain–and for those of you who don’t speak it, gain– mastery over this language of two billion should be well embraced.

Yes, I might have forgotten some of these too.