by Bertha Henson

SO THE G has come out to whack Dr Gwee Li Sui for his column in the New York Times, “Do you speak Singlish?”

Cannot tahan. I don’t know why Dr Gwee kena tekan like this because he certainly didn’t ask that Singlish be taught in schools or anything so crazy.

Here is the letter the G sent to the NYT, which was published yesterday:

“Gwee Li Sui’s “Politics and the Singlish Language” (Opinion, May 13) makes light of the government’s efforts to promote the mastery of standard English by Singaporeans. But the government has a serious reason for this policy.

“Standard English is vital for Singaporeans to earn a living and be understood not just by other Singaporeans but also English speakers everywhere. But English is not the mother tongue of most Singaporeans. For them, mastering the language requires extra effort.

“Using Singlish will make it harder for Singaporeans to learn and use standard English. Not everyone has a Ph.D. in English Literature like Mr Gwee, who can code-switch effortlessly between Singlish and standard English, and extol the virtues of Singlish in an op-ed written in polished standard English.”

It was signed off by the PM Lee Hsien Loong’s press secretary, Ms Chang Li Lin.

You can read Dr Gwee’s original piece here.

TMG, which runs Dr Gwee’s weekly column SinGweesh on Wednesday, asked for his response.

His reply: “I don’t think that I have made light of the government’s considerable effort to promote English among Singaporeans. But I wonder if this can be done without demonising Singlish, which is loved by many of us, both young and old. It ought to be possible for English and Singlish to live together and thrive in a harmonious way.’’

In my view, what he made light of was the G’s confused manner of dealing with Singlish, using it when it suits them and whacking it when it gets on its high horse to promote standard English.

It’s like the G’s view of dialects – to be used as a communication tool but to be stepped on when talk turns to the benefits of speaking Mandarin.

But, as Dr Gwee wrote, unlike the beleaguered Chinese dialects, Singlish had a “trump card”. “It could connect speakers across ethnic and socioeconomic divides like no other tongue could. And in the eyes of the young, continued criticism by the state made it the language of cool.”

Ms Chang said that “using Singlish will make it harder for Singaporeans to learn and use standard English”.

She has a point in saying that some people might mistake Singlish for standard English – but nobody is suggesting that it is or should be. Nobody learns Singlish, we pick it up as we grow up and interact with others.

Rather than battle the inevitable rise of Singlish, shouldn’t we be warring against other factors such as the lack of a reading culture among Singaporeans, or re-examine the pedagogy for teaching the English language in schools?

Finally, that last paragraph: “Not everyone has a PhD in English Literature like Mr Gwee, who can code-switch effortlessly between Singlish and standard English, and extol the virtues of Singlish in an op-ed written in polished standard English.”

Goodness. That’s pretty snarky and personal. You don’t need a PhD to code-switch. And is it the case that Singlish has no virtue at all? Obviously not, going by the examples Dr Gwee gave in his column. Go read it again.

You know, I think the G’s beef is that the article appeared in the NYT, and we don’t want the English-speaking world to think that this little red dot is populated by quaint, exotic Asians who speak pidgin English.

Dr Gwee said that there ought to be a way for English and Singlish to live and thrive harmoniously. One quick way is for the G to relak a bit.

Like Dr Gwee said, state criticism will only make Singlish more cool.

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Featured image by Sean Chong. “Buak gooyoo” is a Singlish term – if you don’t know what it means, click here.

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by Luke Lu

SINGLISH has made the news, again.

First, a wave of excitement as some words were included in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Then, Singaporean literary critic and poet Gwee Li Sui wrote an opinion piece in The New York Times on the virtues of Singlish, prompting the press secretary of Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong to write in to say that Dr Gwee had made light of government’s efforts to promote the mastery of Standard English.

What was interesting to me as a sociolinguist, was seeing how the public discourse on Singlish continues to reflect some misconceptions of the language.

To be sure, I am not promoting Singlish at the expense of Standard English. What I am about to write is nothing new, and has been established within academia over the last two decades. Still, these following myths persist.

Myth #1 “Singlish is bad English”

This is, perhaps, one of the biggest bugbears of Singaporean linguists. There is now a large body of research that demonstrates how Singlish exists with its own rules for organising words and sounds.

Linguistics professor Lionel Wee of the National University of Singapore, for instance, has done research to show that there are systematic ways in which we use particles like “lah”, “leh” and “lor”, each with a different meaning.

Singlish is not simply ‘broken’ English, but a distinguishable variety borne from contact amongst members of Singapore’s multicultural/lingual environment.

Interestingly, sociolinguist Anthea Fraser Gupta, who developed a strong research interest in Singlish during her 21 years as an academic in Singapore, suggests that one of the birthplaces of Singlish could have been the playgrounds of Raffles Institution (one of the first schools in Singapore) where boys of different ethnicities would mix and interact.

That Singlish is a language variety in its own right also means that like any language, it consists of a repertoire or collection of words and phrases that speakers choose to deploy when communicating. Consequently, linguists like Lubna Alsagoff – an associate dean at the National Institute of Education – argue that the division between Standard English and Singlish is not a definitive line in actual usage, but a continuum that speakers often shift to and from.

Myth #2 “Singlish is a hindrance to learning Standard English”

This is a myth that has been repeated ad nauseam without any actual linguistic evidence.

Not unique to Singlish, it is a common accusation that the presence of a low prestige variety of a language necessarily hinders the learning of the high prestige variety.

In fact, there are studies, such as in bi-dialectal classroom education, that show how teaching the use of specific styles of language for appropriate contexts can often be successful.

The Ministry of Education already uses this framework themselves through the teaching of “Text Types”, albeit not for Singlish. Students are currently exposed to different types of texts such as official letters, advertisements and expository essays.

They are taught to use certain styles of writing and speaking for different audiences, purposes and situations. In a way, Singlish is just one of the many styles that are available for us to choose from in daily communication. It can be used in the teaching of Text Types to create a greater awareness of the words and phrases that are different from Standard English and only acceptable in certain contexts.

Myth #3 “Only educated people can code-switch successfully”

It is rather simplistic to assume that individuals who have lower proficiencies in English are necessarily unable to distinguish the standard form and Singlish as separate ways of speaking.

Studies do often reveal that such users do know and can adapt their more limited repertoires to suit the appropriate context.

Research by linguists Peter Tan and Daniel Tan involving mainstream secondary school pupils here shows that students in Singapore do have a sense of when and where Singlish is acceptable. These students also have a clear notion of the importance and value of Standard English.

For lower proficiency users of English, the bigger problem is that they have less access to the repertoire of words and phrases at the Standard English end of the continuum.

Myth #4 “Singlish cannot be understood by foreigners”

Again, there is no evidence to suggest that Singlish and Standard English are always mutually unintelligible. This is especially when we take into account the interactional context in which any communication must occur. That is, we derive meaning from an utterance by relating it to the situation that we are in, what we are talking about, and who we are talking to.

Also, users will tend to deploy a speech style closer to the standard form when interacting with individuals who are not local (see first and third Myths about shifting along a continuum between styles).

Yes, there are words like kiasu, stylo-milo etc, that are opaque to foreigners, but these are culture-specific lexicon that even standard forms of English have.

Think of lorry (British) vs truck (American), field (British) vs paddock (Australian), or idiomatic expressions like “a kettle of fish”.

Pronunciation and accent are also not barriers unique to Singlish. Just as Singaporeans might want to order “raid wine”, the Scots live in their “hooses” and an Australian might wish you “a good die”.

In terms of syntax, or what the layperson might know as grammar, it is a baseless claim that Singlish cannot be understood by users of other Englishes.

Just as Singaporeans might want to order “raid wine”, the Scots live in their “hooses” and an Australian might wish you “a good die”.

It is important that our understanding of Singlish be substantiated by actual research and careful study, not ideological biases. This is especially when there are real consequences for learners. There is no need to denigrate Singlish if the goal is to raise the level of Standard English used by Singaporeans. Indeed, as many linguists today would agree, Singlish might even be used as a resource to teach the standard form.

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Luke Lu is a Singaporean PhD candidate at the Centre for Language, Discourse and Communication, King’s College London. He taught General Paper in a Singapore junior college for four years.

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MAYBE we shouldn’t use the phrase, not when there is an online petition to get the venerable Oxford English Dictionary to withdraw this new addition to its lexicon. Amid (some) celebration that Singlish – or 19 words and phrases – has gained traction internationally, there’s some hand-wringing over the term which describes the Chinese-educated.

The dictionary itself made no bones that it is a derogatory term for a Singaporean whose schooling was conducted in Mandarin Chinese and who has limited knowledge of English. ST reported the petition organiser Goh Beng Choo as saying:

” ‘Chinese helicopter’ is unequivocally a painful reminder of their long and difficult struggle to find their rightful place and dignity in the Singapore society. Fortunately, by the 1980s, this highly derisive term had mostly lapsed into disuse with the closure of Chinese schools. Not many younger generation Singaporeans have heard of ‘Chinese helicopter’, much less understand its meaning. My friends and I are therefore shocked and saddened that an almost forgotten Singlish term now resurfaces in the OED, rubbing salt into an old wound that never healed.”

So, people of a certain generation know the term which Ms Goh contends, has fallen into disuse. It’s not as prevalent as “shiok’‘ or “tar pau” – but do you think it should be excised because of it? We wonder what other derogatory terms describing a community has made it into the dictionary- whether still in use or disuse – but we’re almost afraid to check lest we get whacked.

Whether you’re a Chinese helicopter or not, you’ll be interested in a study which showed that females and Chinese tend to enrol in the “better” junior colleges. The label “elite” is being used and no, it doesn’t apply to the likes of Raffles Junior College and Hwa Chong Institution. Rather it’s being used to describe the better JC in three different neighbourhoods of high, medium and low wealth depending on its share of landed property.

Now, ready yourself.

In the rich central region, National JC is the elite school while Catholic JC is its non-elite cousin. In the middle class north, Anderson JC pips Nanyang JC. And in the poor east, Temasek JC is more elite than Tampines JC. More girls and non-Malays join these schools.

So what?

The study’s authors, Dr Vincent Chua, a National University of Singapore (NUS) sociologist and Dr Swee Eik Leong, an economics lecturer at the University of Melbourne, said: “Therefore the argument in popular discourse — that education is a social leveller — is not supported by these data; instead, it illustrates that education can facilitate growing inequalities.” Go read TODAY if you want to know more about how the authors worked out “elite” versus “non-elite”.

In other news…

Six Bangladeshis are getting a first taste of a law that criminalises terrorism financing. The six, who were among the eight netted last month for proposing to set up an Islamic State of Bangladesh, were charged yesterday. The money they collected or possessed doesn’t run into millions (they are construction and shipyard workers not private bankers), more like several hundreds. But in the light of what they were intending to do, they were ferried to court in three armoured trucks, under heavy armed escort. If found guilty, the men can be fined up to $500,000, or jailed for up to 10 years, or both.

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by Gwee Li Sui 

SOME people ask whether phrases from another language and not just loanwords can be considered as Singlish. Uncle says, why cannot? Phrases, like words, are unit ideas, and unit ideas are what give Singlish its cultural depth. Plus phrases can still evolve or multiply through time one! For example, “tak boleh tahan” – Malay for “cannot stand it” – is used to signal how one has reached the limits of tolerance, like on a hot day. But people have since also taken to using a shorter mixed form, “buay tahan”.

Sama-sama with “Bo hee hae ma ho”. Increasingly, Singlish speakers are using the England translation “No fish, prawn also good” – and maybe that’s the form that will survive eventually. But, right now, the original Hokkien form is very much in play. This old local idiom seems to have come alive again of late, but dun ask me why hor. Maybe less and less we’re hankering after the once-famous five Cs of Singapore – cash, car, credit card, condominium, and country club (technically, that’s seven Cs, but nehmind)? Or maybe we’re becoming – gasp! – less kiasu?

Besides, “Bo hee hae ma ho” has such a wonderful ring to it! It’s rhythmic with a string of indirect rhymes, most of its vowels varying a bit in sequence. The last sound returns to the first sound and creates a feeling of roundness and completion. Aurally, this expression is just so shiok lah! Its “oh-ee-ay-ah-oh” makes it sound like our own version of the England “A-E-I-O-U”. Some more, the relaxation you feel from saying it is tied to its very meaning. This is all about accepting life as it is, being steady and contented with what you get!

There’s also a nostalgic context being invoked – which is maybe why people suka it so much. The context is long-long-ago in Singapore, when fishing was still significant as an occupation or as leisure, and prawns were commonplace. It recalls those days of sleepy fishing villages and a coastline lined with kelongs housing skinny, tanned seaside folks. Life was less complicated and less demanding. When you couldn’t catch fish, well, liddat lor. Prawns for dinner were also good.

At least that’s the background meaning. The general meaning is an invitation to always look on the bright side of life. It’s like the angmo “Beggars can’t be choosers” – but ours is less judgemental and more stylo-milo lah. The angmos also say, “If life gives you lemons, make lemonade” – and this encourages optimism and a can-do attitude in the teruk face of suayness. But I dowan to judge… liddat also makes sense meh? Where got life give lemons one? Besides, if I plant lemon trees, won’t I get lemons anyway? Uncle no understand!

By contrast, “Bo hee hae ma ho” is so happening. You can imagine the setting, the acceptance, and the can-do-ness – in short, the underlying kampung spirit! Here is a very familiar Singaporean survival instinct once set against the forces of nature, and now against larger powers such as the world economy, Gahmen policies, and modern life. We Singaporeans are Singaporeans not because we always get what we want or fight for, but because we know how to live with what we have. We can somehow always see the bright side of everything!

So “Bo hee hae ma ho” challenges the more talked-about kiasu mentality that Singaporeans possess too. Both are the two sides of us… although our Gahmen probably likes our kiasu side more as it pushes us forward. But we really need to affirm the other side that can settle for prawns too – or else how to pursue our own dreams and be happy? So the next time your kid scores Bs and Cs for exams, dun tekan him or her lah. Give a big hug and say, “No fish, prawn also good”. You’ll sure be loved big-time one. When your friend loses a promotion to a Foreign Talent, dun teach him or her to be xenophobic and say, “Chow this or that” lah. Consider “Bo hee hae ma ho”.

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by Gwee Li Sui 

PLEASE be clear about one thing hor: Singaporeans should speak proper England. England has more important and urgent uses than Singlish. It can help us gain international respect, help us make money, help us make money, etc. But there’s one point people always miss: England can at least be romantic. Singlish is so matter-of-fact that it sounds salah when you use it on someone you like. Imagine going, “Siti, you my chiobu. You so cantik I want to choot you every day.” Cannot make it sial!

No wonder, when it comes to romance, we deem ourselves auta and are quite right about it. In fact, we’re sibei malu no steady poon pee pee lah. Look, we dun just go paktor – our term for dating – OK. We complement it with paktorlogy, a science of dating. Science, my kawan-kawan! Dating also must have science? This is what happens when our world-crass education system keeps downplaying the value of the arts lor. So you say teruk or not? Teruk until can cry in the jamban!

Paktorlogy is a secret body of knowledge our young singles gain access to via those with more experience in love. It contains the codes of behaviour while on a date, advice on handling the cheemness your date may say or do, where and when to raba-raba, etc. All these very susah one! Our Asian parents haven’t been helpful in preparing us to meet life’s biggest challenge lor. To be fair, their own paktorlogy is mostly long-time out-of-date liao. (Like you wanna talk under the moon over tao suan meh?) And they’re likelier to say, “Date what date – you study! I catch you sneaking out, I will piak you ah!”

But there’s at least one code of conduct that has endured every age of paktorlogy, and it’s this: dun potong jalan. “Jalan” means walk in Malay, as in “jalan-jalan”, which our PM posts that he has been enjoying with his missus in the evening. But “potong jalan” translates as cut and walk; it’s making a way where there is no way. It refers to cutting into someone’s mating ritual or relationship and stealing his or her lover. If someone is already attached, at most you should play lamppost, or a supporting role, to that relationship lah. What you shouldn’t do is to go make a way for yourself. That’s sibei selfish and very dishonourable – cannot liddat! But this code hasn’t stopped horny people from doing it or allowing it.

Kena potong jalan is among the greatest fears a guy entering National Service can have. (It’s quite different from his parents’ greatest fear, which is whether or not their boy-boy got eat and sleep enough.) When the young man is away serving the nation, his ondeh-ondeh is left open to the advances of opportunistic, underhanded suitors – and chances are high that her heart gets stolen. Many a sad NS story has been about a first love ending in this jialat manner. Many a time in the barracks can be heard this heartfelt scream: “I’m gonna hoot that KNNBCCB who potong jalan my girlfriend!”

The term “potong jalan” has also been extended for use in other scenarios that roughly involve cheating. For example, someone can potong jalan your queue for char kway teow at the hawker centre or for Hello Kitty toys in McDonald’s. Someone can potong jalan your promotion at work and get ahead of you undeservingly too. In that scenario, the most shocking form of potong jalan doesn’t technically involve jalaning or walking. It involves parachuting into the game from God-knows-where without warning. That’s super tok kong, man! When someone can be dropped off liddat without need for the ladder you’ve been climbing, it truly is making a way where there is no way!

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by Gwee Li Sui 

LIFE in Singapore is tough lah. We work so hard, and whatever is left as rest time is often just enough to lepak in front of the TV. Singapore itself doesn’t offer us many ways to relak and unwind. We’ve gone to the zoo a lot of times liao – so much so that the late Ah Meng’s family thinks we’re closely related. Walking in the Botanic Gardens is sibei hot. Going to the malls is sibei crowded. Meanwhile, Hollywood and Bollywood dun churn out filims fast enough…

So what do we as Singaporeans do? We go online and create some entertainment of our own lor. That’s what “stir” in the kuai lan Singlish chant “stir ah stir” means! The thing being stirred up is, of course, trouble. Our society seems to enjoy watching it unfold a lot. Yet, I dun think that I’ve heard this expression used much before the Internet came along. It recalls an older phrase “yo ah yo”, which is said with a gentle, rhythmic action as when you row a boat carrying a lover or bounce a buaian or sarung cradle.

“Stir ah stir” differently deals with a hostile scenario, and so its sayang tone is quite ironic lah. Maybe you’ve seen the phrase appear just as someone shares an anti-Gahmen article on Facebook? Or you may have watched it recur in a comment thread where folks are chochoking – from “cucuk” in Malay, meaning to poke – one another into kolaveri, or murderous rage? Or you may have muttered it to yourself in response to some cockanathan online petition where some are asking the Gahmen to protect their low level of tolerance towards others?

All these sound familiar yet or not? Yes, “stir ah stir” is a product of that new kind of reality we’ve been taught wrongly to call social media. It’s more like antisocial media, dey! People hide behind fake sexy photos and fake names like lonelybooby4u and say or do all kinds of gila stuff while others react without always knowing how bodoh they look. Basically, everyone online behaves like bo cheng hu one! But my point here is that Singlish knows it all. Singlish sees flaming and trolling and astroturfing – where support for a view is faked – as part of the free, messy, live, and interactive fun encouraged by the Internet. And “stir ah stir” is proof of this.

How exactly do you stir? Well, you can always politisai like scold the Gahmen or a certain party or anyhowly call somebody racist, sexist, or seditious. Another steady poon pee pee way is to join an anti- or pro-whatever online group, which will automatically give you a whole group of faceless folks to kacau and be kacaued by. Or you can play the street vigilante by taking photos or videos of, say, people cutting their toenails or fighting in public and then uploading these onto the web. Best, if your backside is sibei itchy, go po mata – or make a police report – in response to someone who po mata because someone else po mata!

All that nonetheless needs you to be quite garang, and so many who are humbler prefer to help others become famous instead. In this sense, Singaporeans are lovely in an Asian way one. We’re so evolved that we can sense who among us – whether he or she knows it or not – desires to be an overnight celebrity. We zoom in on this goondu and then chochok him or her until he or she becomes sibei pekchek. Then we sit back and wait for something epic to happen. There’s no need to doubt momentum because, smelling blood, others will ownself join in and help it all hit national proportion!

So never be fooled by Singaporeans’ outward kuai-ness: we’re all potential online troublemakers. But pity us lah since, as I’ve explained, it’s liddat only because we as a Smart Nation are sibei sian. If we have money, we will always choose to fly out for a short holiday and then post exotic Instagrams to hao lian. But no money – so bo hee hae ma ho. Besides, some folks really deserve to be local attractions. Getting them into trouble is our national duty so that, once entertained, we can then turn around and tell our children: “See lah! Internet very dangerous.”

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by Gwee Li Sui

I GOT converted liao! Now I believe that “cum” should be considered a Singlish word. Why neh? Well, let’s gostan a bit. Some time ago, I was quite aksi about “cum” being England. Must be, right? After all, we learnt it while learning England in school. And all England dictionaries have it, defining it as chum-chum with or combined with from the Latin. So we hear of beds-cum-sofas lah, restaurants-cum-cafés lah, Summa Cum Laude lah…

But the thing is, England also has many words whose meanings change over time leh. Some words go tombalik or terbalik, inverted, such as “egregious”, which once meant sibei good. Now the word means sibei bad, shockingly bad – but why liddat? Same-same with “awful”, which last time meant full of awe one. Now you try to tell your boss that he or she is awful. England also has several words that have grown new distinct layers of meaning over time – like “high”, “wicked”, and “gay”.

Which brings me to the word “cum” and why we must keep up with common use. More and more people are using it to spell “come” – which is, err, semen. “Come” itself comes (cums? blur liao!) from its other sense as verb, meaning to have an orgasm. So we tend to giggle like si geenas when we hear “I come” or “I’m coming”, tio bo? At the same time, the England-speaking world is using “cum” in the Latin sense less and less. It’s not so happening now because something like “and” or “with” can do the trick as well. Yes, England also can streamline one hor!

So to use “cum” as a preposition in our day and age is teruk lah. Any serious England speaker cannot not see its more jialat, hum sup meaning. This use is technically not salah unless we dun use hyphens, which – alamak – we dun. Got some people therefore say that the frequency of a Latin “cum” among us must make it uniquely Singaporean. And, if most Singaporeans use it so often and so innocently, then it’s Singlish, right? Hosay liao, I think these folks have a point.

And it reveals a lot too! First, it shows that all our talk about maintaining standard England has caused our England to go senget, askew from more widely spoken England. And this has occurred ironically because we’re so ngiao about sticking to dictionary meanings! Tell you ha, no one who lives by a Learner’s Oxford or Webster will be less of a blur sotong when it cums (comes?) to what “cum” implies today.

The happy use further shows a susah over-compensation, a wish to sound lagi more England than England speakers. We want to seem more paly-paly with angmo culture but, as a result, appear more stupiak. I mean, what’s wrong with just saying “and” or “with” ha? Why not “Dinner and Variety Show” or “National Day Concert with Prize-Giving Ceremony”? Noo, we have to go create posters that tembak like “Minister’s Opening Cum Dumpling Festival”…

What to do? Singaporeans like to hao lian, and so liddat one lor. We like to sound tua ki and end up sounding tua ki in a cockanathan, goblok way. It’s lagi funny because we actually think it’s double-confirmed Queen’s England! So I open the newspaper and see ads for “receptionists cum secretaries”. I go for a walk and see a RC banner on “Sports Carnival Cum Three on Three Cup”. A real angmo who’s reading will be stressed until lao big sai! Only a kay angmo is la-dee-da about such public messages at odds with an otherwise conservative society.

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by Bertha Henson

IF YOU don’t know the Prime Minister is in the United States, you’ve been living under a rock. But that’s okay. Because Singapore has been described as a “solid-rock’’ partner of the US by President Obama. Mainstream and social media have been quick to note Mr Obama’s Singaporeanisms, whether its about rojak (which he pronounced rajak) or how he concluded his toast to PM and Mrs Lee with a yam seng (which he went yum sung).

Never mind, President Obama, Singaporeans appreciate the gestures you made to remind Americans that we are not, definitely not, in China even though CNN did mangle the PM’s name and turned him into seafood.

But you really should have gone further, and delivered your speech in a way that would really, really commemorate the 50 years of bilateral ties between superpower and little red dot.

President Obama, you should have delivered your speech this way:

How? All okay here? Welcome. Welcome.

You know, about 50 years ago, way before my time, President Lyndon Johnson also had makan with your first Prime Minister in the White House. He said lao Lee was sibei kilat. He called him patriot, which means Singapore First. A brilliant political leader which means very smart. A statesman, which means very much like me.

Tonight hor, my wife and I are having makan with lao Lee’s son. Also patriot, brilliant political leader and statesman. In other words, like father, like son. So welcome, welcome PM and Mrs Lee. Don’t shy. Don’t shy.

Now, we all know how seriously Singaporeans like their makan. Even their hawkers got Michelin stars. So we had a big headache thinking about what food to serve, so that we won’t lose face. We thought at first of giving everyone here a Singapore Sling or some chili crab. Then we thought maybe buy some pau chiak durian, but it will stink up the place and turn the White House into a bin centre. So, sorry okay? No durian.

We’ve been good friends for 50 years, so today, we will slit our wrists and mingle blood – like some secret society initiation ceremony. We will share some grandfather stories that go back 180 years, like how come Singapore has a Balestier Road. Let me tell you, it’s because of James Balestier. He’s a planter (not planter box but plantation planter) who was our first American representative in Singapore.

Did you also know that Mrs Balestier is still alive? And not just during the Hungry Ghost festival? Her spirit is in a church bell now in the Singapore National Museum. That bell was made in her father’s foundry. Her father was Paul Revere. Don’t know him? Try googling. I got no time to tell you.

So you see…we have so much in common. Got history. Got family ties. Got friendship. Got SAF pilots in F-15s flying with ours over I-da-ho. Got students and entrepreneurs coming and going. That’s because got you, PM Lee! Respect ah! Respect!

You remember how last year after the GE and you became PM again, you talked about your people being the best they can be? How Singaporeans are very gotong royong and have a great kampong spirit? How you all can build “something special’’ together? I don’t know what that “something special’’ is but, hey, I actually thought you might be talking about your country and my country.

Anyway, now it’s time for you all to stand up. Make sure your glasses are full ah. I want to give a toast to PM and Mrs Lee, and to Singaporeans and Americans whom I hope can continue to build something special together, whatever that is.

Onward, Singapore — Majulah Singapura. Onward, America. Cheers.
Yaaaaaam seng.
Yaaaayayayaaaaam seng.
Yaaaaaaayayayayaaaam seng.

Okay, you can all sit down now. Loong, your turn.

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by Gwee Li Sui

WHY Singlish speakers like to say “England” when they mean “English” ha? Is this a solid question or what? Well, uncle thinks it’s high time we all get to the root and dun go make bodoh, self-loathing remarks. Dun go and say that “England” is used because we enjoy making fun of the less educated who cannot pronounce “English”. Because, you know, if someone bo tak chek, everything angmo sounds same-same one.

Excue me hor, if you want to anyhowly hum-tum or hentam, can at least use your head a bit? Less educated people can say “Sing-lish” but somehow cannot say “Eng-lish” – hello? And why you think that Singlish belongs only to those who dun study ha? Why you dun think that all of us can say “English” if we want to ha? Wah piang eh, this argument got so many lobangs that it exposes just how chow atas kay angmo anyone making it is!

Fact is, Singlish is smarter than you may believe if you’ll only give chance! By using “England”, Singlish speakers aren’t simply triggering a joke about mislearning, a fault that characterises someone blur about a language. Because to gabra over “English” is sibei unlikely, it rather highlights wilful mislearning. In other words, Singlish speakers are gnay-gnay using the wrong word here. We aren’t necessarily showing a gap in knowledge – we’re enforcing a gap in culture!

Dun stress yet, and let me explain more. Through “England”, Singlish is reminding you that England the language was a colonial import. England came to us from England, and, while it’s all schooled Singaporeans’ first language now, it can never be our only language. So “England” forces us to see England in both geographical and historical terms and to acknowledge angmo impact on our part of the world. It insists that we remember what speaking England well can make us forget, that we dun own this basic feature of us.

In fact, just pay attention to how Singlish often pokes fun at the cultural value of England lah. For example, “powderful” is yet another word that goondus like to talk cock and any-o-how say mocks the less educated. But please OK: you think Singlish speakers cannot say “power” if we want to meh? “Power” is itself a Singlish word although ours is a bit different from England’s. It means steady poon pee pee or top-notch – and we say “power” to this or that to speak it to power.

But, with the powderful, what or who is already full of power, Singlish is very uneasy even if it’s something or someone we like. The distortion in “powderful” doesn’t happen to similar adjectives like “beautiful” or “wonderful”, tio bo? Because Singlish is essentially wary of authority and force, it tends to chochok or cucuk these and speak of them in a naughty, kuai lan way. “Powderful” doesn’t just mispronounce “powerful”; it powderises power and makes it something macam sangat kecil!

Or consider the word “support”, which new England learners manage with a short second syllable, without the “r” sound. Last time, your teacher got scold you and kolaveri about how it was “sup-pourt”, with a long, airy, atas sound like “court” – which you also misread as “cot” – or not? Dun bedek me and say never hor. Well, Singlish chochoks this pretentiousness too, and so what do we say? “Suppork.” With a long, airy, atas sound, except that that’s all babi.

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by Gwee Li Sui

“MAH” isn’t mother, and it isn’t short for mama or uncle in Tamil. When a Singlish speaker uses this word, he or she isn’t invoking his or her mother or uncle, OK. Just how goondu are you ha? “Mah” is rather yet another Singlish end-particle, but it’s quite an easy one – dun stress. You chut pattern by adding it to the end of a sentence, and it turns all that you’ve said into what ought to be obvious.

So, when someone asks why he or she no understand a word you’re spiaking – presuming you spiak Singlish – you exclaim “You jiak kentang one mah!” Which translates as “You kena influenced by angmo culture – isn’t it obvious?” (Did I just translate Singlish into Singlish? Neh mind.) Maybe the siow ting tong still won’t understand, but that’s not your problem lor. Or, when your friends ask why you won’t go thani with them until mamok, you say, twisting a lembek face, “I pumchek liao mah!” Which means? “I’m knackered – can’t you see?”

In fact, “mah” has to be pronounced right or people will be blur one. Dun go on abrupt high pitch: “Mah!” It should bear a long vowel sound that’s kept steady, like sheep baaing. This – with the right tone – can distinguish it from “ma”, for mother. You say it feeling irritated or bored to show how unimpressed you are with what should no need to say one lah. “Mah” works like a slap that sayangs, a gentle reminder to use one’s brain a bit more. So, when someone complains about kena fined jialat-jialat for overdue library books, you say “Walao, it’s liddat one mah!”

Unlike “lah” and “leh”, “mah” as end-particle doesn’t change its meaning with volume. You can say softly or loudly, but got no difference one. The two main types of “mah” are rather distinguished by their contexts:

1. The innocent “mah” directly responds to a query or a statement. So, when it’s observed that you always study sibei hard, you announce “I kiasu chow mugger mah!” – which is corright.

2. The sarcastic “mah” is said in indirect hostile response to what is said. For example, when asked by your lazy superior who only arrows work why you’re not busy, you say “You very smart one mah!”

And that really is all. The difference between the two “mahs” is a matter of degree, with the sarcastic “mah” more intense and fed-up than the innocent “mah”. In this light, it is shiok to note that the feeling of “mah” actually remains stable while the whole nature of an answer changes. When some cynic questions all the media excitement over Joseph Schooling, you begin with an innocent “He won Olympic gold medal mah!” But, when this joker goes on and on until you buay tahan him or her, you retort, “You can also win gold medal mah!”

See the difference? In “mah” is, therefore, an interesting feeling, a pekchekness or exasperation with communication that often grips the Singaporean. This is all part of our kancheong impatient culture quick to tembak and not necessarily to hear, think, or process info. So, short of always repeating ourselves, we’ve invented “mah” to establish clarity. It’s my understanding anyway. OK, in conclusion, shall we practise pronouncing “mah” right? Let’s go! Say this tongue-twister five times before you do anything else: “My mama is the makcik in the mama shop mah!”

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by Gwee Li Sui

LIFE in Singapore is sibei siow on. Everything changes so fast. You blink your eyes once, and a building disappears. You blink another time, and a whole street disappears. Then taller buildings and malls shoot up, and suddenly a McSpicy meal costs $7. (Remember last time was below $5?) Very scary one – but it’s liddat lor! It’s how we went from Third-World to First-World in satu generation. If this Red Dot is full of anything, it’s change.

So, sadly, some people last time didn’t think far and save up money – because live for the day mah! Now, with inflation and all thrown in, they pokkai liao and need to work into their old age. Such is the susa context in which Singaporeans have come to repeat the wise words: “Last time is last time, now is now”. It’s a Singlish warning, and it warns against anyhowly confusing the conditions of the past with the conditions of the present.

“Last time is last time, now is now” translates from cheena Mandarin – and, if you stop to think about it, actually not a lot of such phrases are so cheena one. Surplise! Singlish kapos more from cheena dialects, which aren’t quite the same thing. Anyway, this saying is used firstly to highlight the speed of change in life in general. If last time your sng bao (those flavoured ice sticks) cost ten cents and now Haagen-Dazs costs 10 dollars, there’s nothing you can do about it. Just LL accept it lor.

This leads to my second point, which is that the speed of change precisely makes it impossible to reverse the trend. Cannot terbalik, U-turn, gostan one! You cannot say I dun like today’s education system and want my chiwren to attend last-time kind of school where they could fly kite (literally) or catch guppies in the longkang. No such thing lah, OK! The only way forward is forward – what does our National Anthem say? Majulah Singapura! The past is the past.

From here, we reach my third point, which is that it’s very unreasona-ra-ble to compare last time and now hor. Even Gahmen always says already: dun go and compare! (But then they ownself always go and compare: neh mind.) If you order teh-peng in the kopitiam and it costs $1.20, dun kuai lan and go cry father cry mother, say so expensive, last time only eighty cents. Oi, brudder: last time and now not the same one hor! In fact, these days, $1.20 is sibei cheap liao. You want $5 teh-peng also got – you want? So diam-diam and just lim!

Interestingly, from the Hokkien comes a variant of “Last time is last time, now is now”, which is “Last time policemen wore shorts”. Maybe you got hear this saying before? It’s a bit different and uses the dress code of colonial-era law enforcers – who, so cute, wore the kind of long grandfather shorts – to make the obvious point: the times have changed liao. Old fashion is old fashion, not stylo-milo liao. But the meaning is still sama-sama: we cannot suka-suka invoke old conditions to make sense today.

Personally, I prefer the first saying because it feels more shiok lah. It repeats in a way that creates similarity and difference, continuity and rupture… eerr, what cock am I talking, sounds so cheem! Basically, it got the shape of A=A and B=B but A≠B – and so there’s a nice logical and mathematical beauty. But the important thing is, both sayings share the same cue: they follow any argument using the term “last time”, like “Last time you were so romantic”. Or “Last time all the Minas loved me”. Or “Last time bus drivers let me stand on the steps.” Hello, when you hear these, you know how to respond.

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by Gwee Li Sui

HOW to call someone a fool in Singlish? Let me count the ways. From England, we last time used to say a lot how someone had a screw loose, like a robot liddat. The phrase appears in Sinhalese too… so maybe got more than one source? We also have “duh”, which isn’t sama-sama with the way angmos say it. It’s not an exclamation, like “It’s so simple – duh!”, but an adjective, like “Ey, you very duh!” Then there’s “stupiak”, which we call someone so kuku that we wish to piak him or her.

From Melayu, there is “bodoh” – which is said by pointing a whole hand at an addressee or rapping his or her forehead. “Bodoh” is an adjective, but, in Singlish, it’s also a noun and a verb. So “That bodoh is our MP” or “Brudder, dun bodoh can?” is fine. “Gila” is another word, and it’s made famous by a classic Malaysian Mad Magazine-inspired humour magazine called Gila-Gila. That publication last time was sibei well-read in Singapore. Even Ah Bengs and Muthus who dunno Melayu read them – because full of cartoons. A gila person can further be called a gila monster, after a type of lizard that’s really not native here one.

From Cheena, I can think of “siow ting tong” – which is only part-Hokkien. “Siow” means mad, but “ting tong” is more the sound of a doorbell than an actual word lah. Dun ask me where the connection is hor. Maybe “ting tong” is to suggest that no one is home in the head or it refers to the Ting and Tong families? (The Tings and Tongs I know aren’t that siow… or maybe just a bit.) There’s also “kukujiao”, which means the cuckoo bird specifically in a cuckoo clock, and it’s a euphemism for a guy’s little brudder. When you’re called a kukujiao, it means you’re sibei cock, which means you’re sibei hopeless intellectually.

And, last but not least, we have from the Tamil the most Singlish of words that mean dumb, “goondu”. “Goondu” is popularised by that grandmother of Singlish,  Ms Sylvia Toh Paik Choo, through the titles of her bestsellers Eh, Goondu! and Lagi Goondu! from the 1980s. (By the way, it’s Paik Choo and not Piak Choo hor. You anyhowly piak-piak, wait later her fans come and piak choo!) But this word has an interesting problem anyone who knows Tamil can tell you: in Tamil, “goondu” means fatso, not dumb-dumb.

Somehow, in the history of our multiculturalism, the use of “goondu” changed radically. It’s probably because “goon” kena understood in the England sense, and so “goondu” became linked to a kukujiao. No wonder foreign Tamils are so confused when they keep hearing Singaporeans call folks of all shapes and sizes goondus! On this note, “goondu” has the advantage of revealing whether a Tamil speaker is a Singaporean or has been here long or not. Say Mama A calls Mama B a goondu, but the latter feels offended for the wrong reason, looking lagi goondu…

At least Tamil words like “aiyoh”, “mama”, “vanakkam”, “thani”, and now “kolaveri” mean roughly the same in Singlish. “Goondu” is distinct from another class of words whose original meanings non-Tamil speakers dunno but frankly should know lah. Its words include “samudera”, which means sea; “thanggam”, which means gold; and “kovan”, which can refer to a herdsman, a king, or even the Hindu Lord Shiva. Ask any Tamil-tidak apa Singaporean what these mean, and you’ll hear LRT and MRT stations… and that’s not wrong. But alamak, sibei goondu leh!

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THE ongoing Singapore Writers Festival (SWF) prides itself as “one of the few multilingual literary festivals in the world”. It celebrates “the written and spoken word in Singapore’s official languages – English, Malay, Chinese and Tamil”.

Well, you can add Singlish to that – officially.

In an uncharacteristic move, the festival’s director Mr Yeow Kai Chai commented online on a brewing controversy about the SWF’s supposed rebuffing of author Ms Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan.

The South China Morning Post (SCMP), in an article yesterday (Nov 7), had asked if the SWF had barred Ms Tan, who is currently promoting her novel, Sarong Party Girls, from being featured among its slate of authors, because the book was written in Singlish. A novel about Singaporean women seeking Western husbands, it was described by SCMP as “probably the world’s first novel written entirely in Singapore’s patois Singlish”.

No such thing, said Mr Yeow. He stated, on the wall of Singapore writer and TMG’s Singweesh columnist Dr Gwee Li Sui: “Those who know me know I don’t engage publicly in a digital platform. But I’d say this once and no more: As festival director, I embrace all Englishes in all their creative varieties, from Singlish to Japlish. No one is barred for supposedly spouting Singlish at all. End of story.”

The SCMP story had gone on to say that it was puzzling that Ms Tan continues to receive grants from the National Arts Council but her publisher’s “efforts to get Tan into the festival were rebuffed”. The paper said SWF had not responded to its request for comment by its given deadline.

Mr Yeow told TMG today (Nov 8) that in fact, festival organisers were “in discussion with Cheryl [Ms Tan] to schedule a book launch at the Singapore Writers Festival but she was unfortunately unable to join us due to conflicting schedules”.

“The Singapore Writers Festival team did not bar Cheryl from the festival. The team makes a concerted effort to consider a mix of writers and speakers according to the theme and programming direction for each edition, and we invite writers from different cultural and linguistic backgrounds,” he said. Mr Yeow added that the team is “open to considering her for future editions”.

In recent months, the G had reiterated its stance against Singlish. In May, Dr Gwee had written in an op-ed in the New York Times that perhaps “the government’s war on Singlish” is “finally over”, with local politicians and officials using it too.

In response, Ms Chang Li Lin, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong’s press secretary wrote in a letter published by the same newspaper: “Using Singlish will make it harder for Singaporeans to learn and use standard English. Not everyone has a Ph.D. in English Literature like Mr Gwee, who can code-switch effortlessly between Singlish and standard English, and extol the virtues of Singlish in an op-ed written in polished standard English.”

Ms Tan had then written in an op-ed in Time magazine that the G should “trust us to be able to speak both”.

Interestingly, her publisher William Morrow had, in 1995, published Singapore-born author Ming Cher’s acclaimed first novel Spider Boys. It was one of the first Singapore novels to be published by a major publishing house overseas – and it was written in Singlish.

Featured image a screenshot of Ms Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan’s website.

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by Bertha Henson

SO I threatened to bokok Gwee, after he directed a generational gibe at me. But I only confirmed my age by using such an out-of-fashion Singlish word. I tried to sepak him as well but it seems today’s phrase is hentam. This is such a pity because you can feel the bruise on your face after a bokok. Also, sepak (not takraw) has the ringing sting of a slap. Hentam? Just anyhow beat.

Dr Gwee Li Sui, a TMG columnist who used to helm our SinGweesh column, had kindly (even though he declared “I very scared”) agreed to talk cock and sing song with me at Costa café in Holland Road. We were drinking atas kopi and talking about Singlish in a very atas way – like whether it’s really a language with syntax and rules or a mere rojak of faddish phrases sucked from our multi-racial, multi-lingual society.

It is a language, Dr Gwee insisted. It’s one of very few that is emerging in the world. That’s why some universities abroad are studying the phenomenon. Of course, it’s patchy, he added. It’s evolving, just like the English language started out by being more Germanic.

But it doesn’t have rules, I argued, even though it has qualities like practicality and conciseness.

He disagreed. Like English, there is good Singlish and bad Singlish. He gave the example of the phrase “go where?”, which is the short-cut version of “where are you going?” No one would say “where go”, he pronounced with some triumph.

But it’s more like urban myths or even millennial-speak, I argued, because words and phrases come and go. He said that that was the essence of language – some words will fade and then re-surface, like stylo-milo. Perhaps, bokok will resurface as well.

The thing about the si geena, which is what I call him (fondly) is that he is very, very bright and can be very, very cheem. (Got Phd remember?) I told him that the introduction in his book, Spiaking Singlish, was pretty tough-going because it was almost entirely in Singlish. No one really speaks that way, I said. We’re more comfortable with a sprinkling of Singapore than making a meal of it.

His answer: “Maybe we should think about it as a language.” Another one: “Fun mah.” A third: “Maybe I should have translated it into English.”

I oso say.

Singlish, we both agreed, is the essence of Singaporeanness because only Singaporeans and those who’ve lived here long enough would “get it”.

We tried so hard, for example, to translate “sian“. Lethargic? Bored? Out of sorts? But it doesn’t really capture the feeling of being stuck in a weary place where things go so right that life becomes meaninglessly cheerless.

“Sian” is a word in his book, Spiaking Singlish: A companion to how Singaporeans communicate. Despite the official unpopularity of the language, it’s available at all major bookstores, as the line goes.

He waxed lyrical over sian: “At some stage, we must see that, in sianness, Singaporeans are at their most philosophical. A sian person isn’t fewling listless nia; this listlessness is oso curiously restless. This Singaporean knows that things shouldn’t be a certain way, and yet here we are. He or she knows that one cannot fight the world and get one’s way – because life itself is deeply bo meaning lor. To be sure, not everybawdy who uses “sian” recognises its philosophical potential, although the option to lepak and just fewl is double confirmed always available.”

If you catch no ball, go buy the book.

Dr Gwee was decidedly nervous. I put it down to how he was supposed to launch his book, Death Wish, in the next hour. He speaks quickly but he’s also willing to be interrupted to listen to a point. Which is good because he can speak long, long.

We went on quite a bit about cum – and it isn’t what you’re thinking. It’s cum as in dinner-cum-talk or reception-cum-dialogue. It’s English for combined with but it’s falling out of use, yet you still see the cum word on town council banners. Dr Gwee has therefore declared it a Singlish word, typically used for heartlander events to make them more prestigious-sounding or plain atas.

Of course, we talked about politics. No way will he succumb to the G’s view that the widespread use of Singlish only handicaps those who want to improve their England (oops!). It was for schools to teach English, a functional language, well. Singlish, on the other hand, is something we “own’’ and will never die out because it is a product of Singapore’s multi-lingual society. That’s also why people here fewl proud when words are included in the Oxford English dictionary; it’s a sign that we have “arrived”.

Dr Gwee has a theory about the anti-Singlish crowd: they dislike it because they aren’t good in the English language. Those who love Singlish are people who can code-switch easily, he said.

I was beginning to think that this was like a chicken-and-egg problem. Do you master English first, then move on to Singlish? Or can both exist at a high level? While Singlish is the informal language spoken among peers, at the workplace, and in public places, Dr Gwee thinks that it can be fleshed out to incorporate more complex and abstract ideas.

“We use Singlish to talk about everyday things. It is not for intellectual discussion. Why don’t we try to make it a thinking language?”

I sort of choked on that, and thought back to his heavy-going Singlish-filled introduction, which he finally conceded might be better as a conclusion or ending, when people have gone over the words and understood what they mean.

We can do with a sprinkling of Singlish but a whole language with syntax and well-defined words? His comeback: Other established languages also had the same kind of start, it would take a few generations.

Dr Gwee and I came up with another theory though: That the ability to code-switch is a unique latent strength of multi-lingual societies. We are so used to hearing different sounds that we develop a talent at switching from one language to another, and back. And it began with our forefathers.

It’s a thought that’s shared by a young Singaporean who penned a piece for the Birthday Book. I will quote her liberally. Said Tan Bao Jia: “It is hard to think of code-switching as an easy task, especially for new languages that are unfamiliar. The learning of a language, in (linguist) Michael Halliday’s words, is ‘the learning of meanings’, meanings that give birth to choice and decisions. Thus, to fully grasp a language means to understand and to adapt to the full package of nuance, both in verbal and non-verbal communication.”

She wasn’t referring to English, but the Singapore and Chinese versions of Mandarin.

She added: “I do not think that it was a specific set of lexicon and intonations that captured the undying spirit of Singapore’s pioneering generation. Rather, it was the ability to choose whichever language they wanted to speak in at any time which made our forefathers effective and tenacious.

“Learning putonghua has allowed me to appreciate the importance of always feeling sufficiently uncomfortable – a lesson which I hope I will always keep with me, and that, as a nation, we will never forget.”

Admit it, you feel comfortable speaking Singlish.
It’s uniquely Singaporean.
And so is Dr Gwee.

You can read the SinGweesh columns by Dr Gwee here.

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by Gwee Li Sui

KNN, The Middle Ground mampus liao? Liao liao? Kua kua-ded? How can liddat? I’m not prepared to see it go yet leh! It’s like hearing that the community cat whose company you’ve enjoyed for years has kena run over by a stupid car. Sibeh sad lor!

Plus The Middle Ground has a special meaning for me. Back in 2015, when unker started giving talks on Singlish – dunno why got people interested, but I still get invites – one day Bertha Henson messaged me. She said that her team wished to do more than news, and she liked me to write a weekly Singlish column.

I thought: Waah, zhun bo? This ST-trained journalist not scared later people complain meh? But Bertha was determined. She asked me to write ten articles first and make them “light and fun”. When she revealed that the column would be called SinGweesh, I was sold.

That was how all the madness started lor. The Middle Ground staff were macam from Middle Earth; they worked like a fellowship. I had to coordinate with si geenas like Daniel Yap, Cheong Yao Ming, Md Suhaile, Abraham Lee… who else ah? It took some weeks before I felt zai and knew clearly what SinGweesh should be doing and what tone would work.

I used the opportunity to experiment with written Singlish and to collected insights from readers. We oso tried gila stuff like getting Abraham to make Singlish sound files. This Abraham’s Singlish is sibeh solid, OK: can malu most Singaporeans one! So just liddat, ten articles became twenty… then thirty… although I knew that I should really end at fifty.

But my most memorable experience was yet to come. It arrived late in May 2016, when I famously kena buak gooyoo by the PM’s Press Secretary for my The New York Times article on Singlish. At that time, I had a handful of articles left to do for The Middle Ground nia.

The controversy made me want to run away from it all. I thought of just suspending my column until further notice because it was sibeh discouraging. Here unker was trying to celebrate Singaporeanness before the world, and the Gahmen and all these buay tahan kay ang mohs must come and hentam me.

But Bertha ketuked some sense into me. She said that we mustn’t behave like some wrong had been done and should stay calm, straighten up, and press on. That I did. In those weeks when people ping-ponged about Singlish’s value in the media, I kept writing, describing Singlish as a language and refusing to let it kena politisai.

To do this, write SinGweesh, is shiok but not easy, OK. I’ve always conceived of it as a limited series where, after a year or more, I would close shop, rest, and then plan my next move. I would decide what to do with all I wrote and, when the time was right again, emerge with a plan to take SinGweesh to the next level.

But –alamak! – I deen expect The Middle Ground to oso close shop lor. Teruk lah. I blame all you bodoh Singaporeans. Good news site dun sarpork, go and read those cockanathan ones that anyhow gasak news, make fake news, write anonymously, or whole day kolaveri. Here got good-hearted people with good energy who sayang talented geena journalists – and you dun give chance. Why you all liddat? Sibeh sian, man.

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