The Confessions of a Semi Banana
Originally Posted on November 18, 2005
A Semi-Banana's reflection on "The Girl from Ipoh".
Definition of Semi-Banana:: 3 decade-old single female, yellow on the outside - white on the inside. Chinese-illiterate but speaks rather comprehendible hokkien and cantonese.
Alright, alright! Yes, I know the review is a tad too late since I actually watched it last Sunday. But then again, am I not just being a true Malaysian and keeping to our famous tardiness?
I must say kudos to Low Ngai Yuen for writing such an amusing play. A myriad of adjectives comes to mind - corny, hilarious, blatantly-truthful and even poignant. My thoughts were shared by others when I say it is a localised version of Bridget Jones. Female psychosis in its full glory transcends race, religion or geographical locations.
A fictional character Wong Mei Lee may be, but in her we see parts of ourselves that maybe we were too "banana" or too "woman" to see before. I find myself wanting to strangle the daylights out of her and only to realise why - I see myself in her.
Many of us were sent to missionary schools or public schools by our parents who believed that these schools will give us the added advantage of mastering the international language - English - hence, a brighter future. The Chinese language was merely spoken in its colloquial form at home - at best. Mingling with fellow bananas and semi-bananas did not help either.
I spent my formative childhood years at the Holy Infant Jesus Convent in Kelang. Sigh ... also known as Sekolah Rendah Kebangsaan Convent and later went on to Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan Convent before arriving in a hell hole of a school in the form of Sekolah Menengah Seaport in SS3 PJ where I spent my last 3 years of public education. (Ok .. fellow Seaportians, do not bash me. You know very well I am speaking the truth)
Yes, I may not speak Chinese well, I cannot sing Chinese songs in Karaoke, I may not be aware of 1,001 rules and taboos in the Chinese culture and tradition (I doubt any individual does). Yes, I may know Hamlet, Macbeth and Julius Caesar better than I know The Romance of the Three Kingdom. Yes, I may know Gaudi's architectural marvels better than I know of ... err... the Great Wall of China. Yes, I admit to enjoying my time with fellow bananas and gwailos better. It is so because of the commonality in interest and mindset rather than race or social makeup. I have been called names from Potato Queen to SPG - especially so in the 2 years of dating a gwailo. (Sorry, honey - no offense intended)
Should I be subjected to such judgements? Am I not merely being the product of the environment which I was exposed to.
As I grow older, I learn more about the beauty of my heritage, my Chinese roots and I am very truly proud of it. I am proud to BE part of it - vertically-challenged, flat nose, chinky eyes and all. A mahjong kaki - I am. I am desperately learning to speak Mandarin and read Chinese - in the hopes of not being a wallflower during karaoke sessions. I love the Cheong Sam or Qipao and proudly own a few pieces myself. I speak Cantonese for most part of the day when I am at work. And many more bits and bytes on how "Chinese" I am becoming.
But does this maketh me more Chinese than before? Am I not the same person who believed in filial piety, diligence and loyalty? Yes, I am. Aren't these an example of the core values of being Chinese?
What maketh a Chinese truly Chinese then?
A Semi-Banana's reflection on "The Girl from Ipoh".
Definition of Semi-Banana:: 3 decade-old single female, yellow on the outside - white on the inside. Chinese-illiterate but speaks rather comprehendible hokkien and cantonese.
Alright, alright! Yes, I know the review is a tad too late since I actually watched it last Sunday. But then again, am I not just being a true Malaysian and keeping to our famous tardiness?
I must say kudos to Low Ngai Yuen for writing such an amusing play. A myriad of adjectives comes to mind - corny, hilarious, blatantly-truthful and even poignant. My thoughts were shared by others when I say it is a localised version of Bridget Jones. Female psychosis in its full glory transcends race, religion or geographical locations.
A fictional character Wong Mei Lee may be, but in her we see parts of ourselves that maybe we were too "banana" or too "woman" to see before. I find myself wanting to strangle the daylights out of her and only to realise why - I see myself in her.
Many of us were sent to missionary schools or public schools by our parents who believed that these schools will give us the added advantage of mastering the international language - English - hence, a brighter future. The Chinese language was merely spoken in its colloquial form at home - at best. Mingling with fellow bananas and semi-bananas did not help either.
I spent my formative childhood years at the Holy Infant Jesus Convent in Kelang. Sigh ... also known as Sekolah Rendah Kebangsaan Convent and later went on to Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan Convent before arriving in a hell hole of a school in the form of Sekolah Menengah Seaport in SS3 PJ where I spent my last 3 years of public education. (Ok .. fellow Seaportians, do not bash me. You know very well I am speaking the truth)
Yes, I may not speak Chinese well, I cannot sing Chinese songs in Karaoke, I may not be aware of 1,001 rules and taboos in the Chinese culture and tradition (I doubt any individual does). Yes, I may know Hamlet, Macbeth and Julius Caesar better than I know The Romance of the Three Kingdom. Yes, I may know Gaudi's architectural marvels better than I know of ... err... the Great Wall of China. Yes, I admit to enjoying my time with fellow bananas and gwailos better. It is so because of the commonality in interest and mindset rather than race or social makeup. I have been called names from Potato Queen to SPG - especially so in the 2 years of dating a gwailo. (Sorry, honey - no offense intended)
Should I be subjected to such judgements? Am I not merely being the product of the environment which I was exposed to.
As I grow older, I learn more about the beauty of my heritage, my Chinese roots and I am very truly proud of it. I am proud to BE part of it - vertically-challenged, flat nose, chinky eyes and all. A mahjong kaki - I am. I am desperately learning to speak Mandarin and read Chinese - in the hopes of not being a wallflower during karaoke sessions. I love the Cheong Sam or Qipao and proudly own a few pieces myself. I speak Cantonese for most part of the day when I am at work. And many more bits and bytes on how "Chinese" I am becoming.
But does this maketh me more Chinese than before? Am I not the same person who believed in filial piety, diligence and loyalty? Yes, I am. Aren't these an example of the core values of being Chinese?
What maketh a Chinese truly Chinese then?
posted by wiccanlilly at 4:03 pm
1 Comments:
Malaysia is one of my most frequently visited places. I love the country for its beauty and multicultural harmony, not perfect but respectable and patient. The term Gwailo should not be used by someone who is the image of these qualities as it sells them horribly short.
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