I find it hard to believe that. My eldest sister. Sixty.
And she spent four hours working at McDonald's today, because the manager there could see that her work ethos was so different from that of Generation Y (or X or Z?). But she had a run-in with a much younger staff member who did not realize that she was a champion french fries fryer whose "just-in-time" technique was exemplary.
Sister has a full-time job in accounts. She 'retired' and started doing some hours at M's, but was soon offered a job elsewhere. M's called her up, asking her to work Sundays.
Actually Big Sister is very good at audit/accounts but never quite bothered to get her accountancy qualifications. I remember her talking for hours on the phone trying to explain to her best friend the difference between debits and credits, assets and liabilities.
I look back at my young life with great sentimentality today because the talk in the UK this week was -- still -- on cutting public spending. Today Iain Duncan Smith tells us that those on long-term benefits will be forced to do unpaid work in the community.
As you can imagine, uproar from the red corner: that's slave labour, exploitation, unfair.
From the blue corner (or whatever colour corner you choose to call it): about time, too, why should people be giving something for nothing?, three generations of workless households? they need help in being introduced to work, etc.
Incidentally magistrates often sentence minor criminals to unpaid "community work". This week we read of one such "Lazy thug chooses prison over community work 'because he doesn't like getting out of bed'".
Earlier this week BBC journalists went on strike. I personally found it very refreshing. None of that 24-hour dribble (drivel?) speculating as to who was going to say what at which platform. They were protesting against a 25% cut in pensions. 25% of what? 25% of a very large sum would still leave you with 75% of a lot. The BBC licence fee is something we have to pay, or face jail (if I'm not wrong, but of course the prisons are too full now for that).
They quibble over the big bosses having huge pay packets. That, as far as I am concerned, is quite a different issue from their pension cut. Everyone is facing a cut, so why should BBC journalists be different?
My eldest sister's birthday was significant because she was the first person who finished her education at sixteen, went to work in a factory to help support our family, and then learned her trade in audit/accounts in the evenings.
My family was materially poor. There were six of us children and we lived in a one bedroom flat in Tiong Bahru. The flat was kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and a large sitting room. So most of us slept on the floor in the sitting room.
We had one bed -- my parent's. Come evening, the mats -- we didn't even have mattresses then -- were rolled out and we slept on the floor.
We had no wardrobes, except the one dressing table/wardrobe that was part of my mum's dowry. Our clothes were kept in wooden boxes that used to hold vegetables/other goods. Mum collected these boxes from the market and cleaned them out. These were stacked, double decker, under my parents' bed. We each had a different box. Under the bed, too, was a metal trunk, again from mum's wedding, where she kept some very beautiful dresses that belonged to my cousins. Every so often she would open this trunk to take out new (old) dresses when I outgrew the ones I was wearing.
Come Chinese New Year mum would take a pink dress out of a cardboard box, a very pretty lacey dress, from the wardrobe. How I loved that dress! It was very long when I first wore it. A few Chinese New Years later it got rather short.
Then my parents could not afford the rent and we had to move into Queenstown. Two bedrooms, but a much smaller flat.
We still only had one table. It was our dining table. In the evening the food was cleared away and we sat around it to do homework.
Someone gave us a second smaller bed. Two sisters shared this bed. The rest of us slept on the floor, in the bedroom, in the sitting room, anywhere we found space. Later we could afford mattresses. Then an old bunk bed was donated to us, complete with mattresses. Wow!
Someone else gave us an old wardrobe/cupboard. The sisters now each had one shelf. Such luxury!
When I read of "overcrowding" in this country, I chuckle.
Second sister went into nursing a year or so after she finished school (at 16). Third sister worked and studied in the evenings for five years to qualify as a quantity surveyor.
With the financial burden eased somewhat, Big Brother was able to finish his A Levels, finished his National Service and went into university to study engineering. Second Brother joined the navy and through a circuitous route is also an engineer now.
Yet when we were growing up we did not think of ourselves as poor. We were happy. We had food. We were always clean and tidy.
We might not have TV, but we had newspapers, in two languages. We had Rediffusion and radio, through which I learned my English. Mum collected discarded textbooks and I would read those. An uncle bought us a subscription of Readers Digest which we read avidly.
Ours is a reading family and we read everything we could put our hands on.
We were materially impoverished by today's standards in the UK, but boy! were we rich in our ambition and desire to succeed.
We did not have a choice. When you see your parents working their fingers to the bone to pay for school fees, to buy books at the beginning of the year, to keep us in school uniforms, etc. because nothing came free, you just want to do something about your life. Yet when I look around me now I see young children considered "poor", with their satellite TV, annual holidays, expensive shoes, and parents not in work, I have to question: what has gone wrong?
My young son stared in disbelief when I recounted how when at university there were days when I literally had no money for the next meal -- only to find my grandmother visiting and giving me some cash "to buy something nice for yourself". Or it happened to be my birthday and aunties gave me small sums of money, as aunties do.
Was I poor? Perhaps. I remember mum telling me I must aim to get to university.
I said, "But we may not be able to afford university."
She said, "Don't worry. If you are good enough, we will find ways to pay for it. There's such a thing called 'scholarships'."
In the end my big brother, a young graduate himself, paid my fees. I worked throughout university to support myself. And yes, I graduated with a (Rotary Club) loan to repay, etc. I had to repay this even when I was jobless, having graduated in the midst of the first major recession my generation has ever seen. (I worked at two part-time jobs until I was awarded a graduate scholarship.)
What this nation needs is not money -- taxpayers' money, ie my money -- poured into a system to "eradicate" material poverty because some will always be poor when compared to others; "the poor you will always have with you", Jesus said.
What this nation needs is blue-sky thinking that will lift the millions mired in their so-called "benefits trap" out of their poverty of ambition. And a very happy birthday to my sister for her contribution to our family since she was 16, making it possible for the younger siblings to move on to higher education. Wishing you God's every blessing!
Sunday, 7 November 2010
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Linguistic Hegemony: Cockles and Muscles
(A shorter, less controversial version of this was published in the Straits Times online section on 11th October. I had assumed that the Editor was not going to run it. Apologies for the overlaps.)
The English-Singlish debate has thrown up a vociferous group defending the use of Singlish, largely because they see Singlish as being tied up with a Singapore identity. (I tried to explain how being a good Singaporean should not preclude us from learning to speak good English in a letter to the press.)
This group seems to be made up of people who are able to speak (or at least write) excellent English when they choose to.
There is a deafening silence, at least in the English cyber-media (and understandably so), from the Singlish-speaking group who could most benefit from learning to speak good English.
If I were a Marxian sociologist (not the same as being a Marxist, nota bene) I would say that this ‘good English’ group own the “means of production” and the ‘Singlish’ group do not.
In original Marxist philosophy the bourgeoisie own the “means of production” – land, tools and other resources – unavailable to the proletariat who merely provide the labour.
In Singapore today we can equate “means of production” to access to, or monopoly of, a good standard of English, and with it, ideas, knowledge, jobs, money and therefore, power.
By championing Singlish the ‘linguistic bourgeoisie’ are ensuring that the ‘linguistic proletariat’ continue to be ignorant of how they and their children are being deprived of these “means of production”.
I have spent enough time working on the factory floor to know that parents in this ‘linguistic proletariat’ are unlikely to march up to the school principal to flex their collective muscle and demand that their children are taught English grammar so that they could speak and write proper English.
It is therefore a form of hegemony when the ‘linguistic bourgeoisie’ act to ensure that the social mobility of the ‘linguistic proletariat’ is, henceforth, effectively curtailed.
Outside of economic gain there is another issue related to the grasp of ample language skills: we need good language skills to think through complex ideas.
The tools of language, like the keys on a piano, are all there. Just as good music would evoke a response, a good leader could put words together in such a way that listeners could go, “Wow! I’ve never thought of it that way.”
Good use of language could stir listeners to action. Think of famous speeches like "I have a dream" and "We shall fight [them] on the beaches", etc.
In his recent National Day Rally speech did the Singapore PM choose to inspire?
Instead he chose to dwell on bread-and-butter issues, using anecdotes and case studies to engage, explain and communicate.
Perhaps he had discerned that his audience were unlikely to have the vital language skills to be inspired by clever rhetoric. He has learned that they much prefer to talk cockles and chilli*.
Years of languishing in a linguistic torpor have guaranteed that enough people remain merely useful and utterly apathetic. So apathetic that there is no real fear of uprising.
But alas! these same people cannot be stirred to action either.
Think about it. (And if you do, I am almost certain you won’t be thinking in Singlish.)
*In a 2006 speech the PM used the phrase "mee siam mai hum" which translates into "a spicy local noodle dish without cockles" to illustrate a point. It was then noted that "mee siam" is never served with "hum" (cockles). So did he mean "mee siam mai hiam" where "hiam" refers to "chilli"? What's the point of ordering a spicy noodle dish without the spice? Whatever the defence for this mistake was given, the suspicion remained that this PM has not eaten at hawker centres as most Singaporeans do, suggesting that he was (is?) completely out of touch with the electorate.
The English-Singlish debate has thrown up a vociferous group defending the use of Singlish, largely because they see Singlish as being tied up with a Singapore identity. (I tried to explain how being a good Singaporean should not preclude us from learning to speak good English in a letter to the press.)
This group seems to be made up of people who are able to speak (or at least write) excellent English when they choose to.
There is a deafening silence, at least in the English cyber-media (and understandably so), from the Singlish-speaking group who could most benefit from learning to speak good English.
If I were a Marxian sociologist (not the same as being a Marxist, nota bene) I would say that this ‘good English’ group own the “means of production” and the ‘Singlish’ group do not.
In original Marxist philosophy the bourgeoisie own the “means of production” – land, tools and other resources – unavailable to the proletariat who merely provide the labour.
In Singapore today we can equate “means of production” to access to, or monopoly of, a good standard of English, and with it, ideas, knowledge, jobs, money and therefore, power.
By championing Singlish the ‘linguistic bourgeoisie’ are ensuring that the ‘linguistic proletariat’ continue to be ignorant of how they and their children are being deprived of these “means of production”.
I have spent enough time working on the factory floor to know that parents in this ‘linguistic proletariat’ are unlikely to march up to the school principal to flex their collective muscle and demand that their children are taught English grammar so that they could speak and write proper English.
It is therefore a form of hegemony when the ‘linguistic bourgeoisie’ act to ensure that the social mobility of the ‘linguistic proletariat’ is, henceforth, effectively curtailed.
Outside of economic gain there is another issue related to the grasp of ample language skills: we need good language skills to think through complex ideas.
The tools of language, like the keys on a piano, are all there. Just as good music would evoke a response, a good leader could put words together in such a way that listeners could go, “Wow! I’ve never thought of it that way.”
Good use of language could stir listeners to action. Think of famous speeches like "I have a dream" and "We shall fight [them] on the beaches", etc.
In his recent National Day Rally speech did the Singapore PM choose to inspire?
Instead he chose to dwell on bread-and-butter issues, using anecdotes and case studies to engage, explain and communicate.
Perhaps he had discerned that his audience were unlikely to have the vital language skills to be inspired by clever rhetoric. He has learned that they much prefer to talk cockles and chilli*.
Years of languishing in a linguistic torpor have guaranteed that enough people remain merely useful and utterly apathetic. So apathetic that there is no real fear of uprising.
But alas! these same people cannot be stirred to action either.
Think about it. (And if you do, I am almost certain you won’t be thinking in Singlish.)
*In a 2006 speech the PM used the phrase "mee siam mai hum" which translates into "a spicy local noodle dish without cockles" to illustrate a point. It was then noted that "mee siam" is never served with "hum" (cockles). So did he mean "mee siam mai hiam" where "hiam" refers to "chilli"? What's the point of ordering a spicy noodle dish without the spice? Whatever the defence for this mistake was given, the suspicion remained that this PM has not eaten at hawker centres as most Singaporeans do, suggesting that he was (is?) completely out of touch with the electorate.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Don't mix Singlish with identity
Recently I sent this letter to the Straits Times:
To be or to be – what is the question hah?
“Should Singaporeans speak a standard English or Singlish?” is the wrong question.
We need to “go stun” (back up a little) to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language – any language – fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion. Then only do we know how/which to choose.
Many have observed that code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is a common phenomenon in Singapore.
My Sociology professor reasoned, “But you can’t translate the concept ‘pek-chek’, can you?” No, I can’t. I cannot even spell it.
This difficulty in writing down the language is an intrinsic part of the problem.
We borrow words like “anomie” and “Weltanschauung” in Sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents. Similarly, when discussing localisms the use of a Singlish term may be appropriate.
However a lot of conversations I overheard seem to suggest that speakers simply do not have the vocabulary to complete a sentence in the language with which they started.
A superficial grasp of any language means we can only cope with the most superficial of thought processes. So:
(1) Do we want (our children) to learn a language that would give them access to the rich cultural heritage that that language has to offer?
(2) Do we wish to speak a language sufficiently well to discuss more profound issues relating to scientific theory, theology and philosophy, for example?
Singlish, like Cantonese, is difficult to write down. Would it ever evolve to such a level to give us the equivalent of a Shakespeare, Voltaire or Li Bai?
Admittedly most of us read foreign literature in (a good) English translation. What are the chances that Hegel, for example, would be translated into Singlish in my lifetime?
Of course, Singlish has its place amongst our family and friends. It made me feel “at home” even with my Tiong Bahru Primary School classmates after a staggering 37 years.
However because Singapore is that little red dot that trades (in goods and knowledge) with the rest of the world, we have to choose to learn a language that is able to serve this purpose.
For as long as we conflate the issues of speaking a language well (be it English, Mandarin, French) with that of our national identity (that there is nothing wrong with Singaporeans speaking Singlish) we will never arrive at the logical conclusion to either of these.
================
What was published was this rather bland version:
Sep 18, 2010
Don't mix Singlish with identity
THE question of whether Singaporeans speak standard English or Singlish is the wrong one ('Getting it right - from the start'; Sept 1).
We need to back up a little to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language - any language - fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion.
Only then would we know how or what to choose.
Code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is common. We borrow non-English words like 'anomie' and 'Weltanschauung' in sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents.
Similarly, when discussing a local custom or peculiarity, a Singlish term may be more appropriate.
But the truth is, many speakers simply do not have the vocabulary to complete a sentence in the language with which they started.
A superficial grasp of any language means we can cope with only the most superficial of thought processes.
So, do we want children to learn a language that will give them access to the rich cultural heritage that it has to offer?
And do we wish to speak a language sufficiently well to discuss more profound issues relating to, for example, scientific theory, theology and philosophy?
Singlish, like Cantonese, is difficult to write down.
Would it ever evolve to a level that would give us the equivalent of a Shakespeare, Voltaire or Li Bai?
Of course, Singlish has its place among family and friends.
It made me feel at home with my Tiong Bahru Primary School classmates after a separation of some 37 years.
However, because Singapore is that little red dot that trades (in goods and knowledge) with the rest of the world, we must choose to learn a language that is able to serve this purpose.
For as long as we conflate the issues of speaking a language well (be it English, Mandarin or French) with that of our national identity (that there is nothing wrong with Singaporeans speaking Singlish) we will never arrive at the logical conclusion to either of these.
To be or to be – what is the question hah?
“Should Singaporeans speak a standard English or Singlish?” is the wrong question.
We need to “go stun” (back up a little) to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language – any language – fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion. Then only do we know how/which to choose.
Many have observed that code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is a common phenomenon in Singapore.
My Sociology professor reasoned, “But you can’t translate the concept ‘pek-chek’, can you?” No, I can’t. I cannot even spell it.
This difficulty in writing down the language is an intrinsic part of the problem.
We borrow words like “anomie” and “Weltanschauung” in Sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents. Similarly, when discussing localisms the use of a Singlish term may be appropriate.
However a lot of conversations I overheard seem to suggest that speakers simply do not have the vocabulary to complete a sentence in the language with which they started.
A superficial grasp of any language means we can only cope with the most superficial of thought processes. So:
(1) Do we want (our children) to learn a language that would give them access to the rich cultural heritage that that language has to offer?
(2) Do we wish to speak a language sufficiently well to discuss more profound issues relating to scientific theory, theology and philosophy, for example?
Singlish, like Cantonese, is difficult to write down. Would it ever evolve to such a level to give us the equivalent of a Shakespeare, Voltaire or Li Bai?
Admittedly most of us read foreign literature in (a good) English translation. What are the chances that Hegel, for example, would be translated into Singlish in my lifetime?
Of course, Singlish has its place amongst our family and friends. It made me feel “at home” even with my Tiong Bahru Primary School classmates after a staggering 37 years.
However because Singapore is that little red dot that trades (in goods and knowledge) with the rest of the world, we have to choose to learn a language that is able to serve this purpose.
For as long as we conflate the issues of speaking a language well (be it English, Mandarin, French) with that of our national identity (that there is nothing wrong with Singaporeans speaking Singlish) we will never arrive at the logical conclusion to either of these.
================
What was published was this rather bland version:
Sep 18, 2010
Don't mix Singlish with identity
THE question of whether Singaporeans speak standard English or Singlish is the wrong one ('Getting it right - from the start'; Sept 1).
We need to back up a little to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language - any language - fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion.
Only then would we know how or what to choose.
Code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is common. We borrow non-English words like 'anomie' and 'Weltanschauung' in sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents.
Similarly, when discussing a local custom or peculiarity, a Singlish term may be more appropriate.
But the truth is, many speakers simply do not have the vocabulary to complete a sentence in the language with which they started.
A superficial grasp of any language means we can cope with only the most superficial of thought processes.
So, do we want children to learn a language that will give them access to the rich cultural heritage that it has to offer?
And do we wish to speak a language sufficiently well to discuss more profound issues relating to, for example, scientific theory, theology and philosophy?
Singlish, like Cantonese, is difficult to write down.
Would it ever evolve to a level that would give us the equivalent of a Shakespeare, Voltaire or Li Bai?
Of course, Singlish has its place among family and friends.
It made me feel at home with my Tiong Bahru Primary School classmates after a separation of some 37 years.
However, because Singapore is that little red dot that trades (in goods and knowledge) with the rest of the world, we must choose to learn a language that is able to serve this purpose.
For as long as we conflate the issues of speaking a language well (be it English, Mandarin or French) with that of our national identity (that there is nothing wrong with Singaporeans speaking Singlish) we will never arrive at the logical conclusion to either of these.
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