Language, Culture and the Chinese Singaporean

I used to be very close to my grandmother. One night, long after she had passed away, I had a dream about her. Or rather, I dreamed that I was a child again, singing a Hokkien song that my grandmother had often sung with me, many years ago.

When I woke up, I tried to recall the song's lyrics. But I could not do it. Still I decided to write a poem about this dream. Years later, this poem formed part of a collection that won me a national literary award.

Children's Rhyme

Grandmother, last night
I dreamed again I was a child
dancing round and round
a wooden table. Singing a song
you gave me in your tongue
years ago, about the boy with
his goats out in the cold
climbing mountains crossing rivers
in search of home. In the morning
I woke and summoned the lyrics
to myself. But that memory
escaped me, dived into
the depths from which all
dreams spring. All I found was
tentative, a word, a half-phrase,
a fragment of a line, pieces of
a broken whole. So often you and
the language of you elude
me now, and against this loss
I ache and struggle, fail
and fail again to find my words.
Still I suspect the history of me
is there, unerased, the schools
and campaigns can’t wipe it out,
no, only send it into hiding.
You are dead and gone,
I’m lost, forlorn, but that boy
I used to be – he’s alive.
Round and round my head
he runs, rhyme reciting,
the words of a lost language
still escaping always escaping as
I climb the cold mountains,
cross the rivers in search of home.

This poem works on a few levels. At one level, it is a straightforward account of an actual dream, and what happened immediately thereafter.

At another level, the poem is about the loss of my grandmother. This loss is explored in the poem, via several metaphors. One such metaphor is the memory of a dream that slips away ("into the depths from which all dreams spring") and can't be recovered. Another such metaphor is the boy in the song itself, who keeps on climbing mountains, crossing rivers, searching for a home that he can't make it back to.

At a third level, the poem is social commentary. It refers to the Singapore government's systematic efforts to eradicate Chinese dialects in the country, which in turn led to a tragic cultural loss. Where do we see this?

Well, the poem is addressed to a "grandmother", and refers to a Hokkien song that "you gave me in your tongue". Later the song crumbles away, leaving behind "a word, a half-phrase, a fragment of a line, pieces of a broken whole". The sadness of this loss, and also the causes of this loss, are described in these lines:

So often you and
the language of you elude
me now, and against this loss
I ache and struggle, fail
and fail again to find my words.
Still I suspect the history of me
is there, unerased, the schools
and campaigns can’t wipe it out,
no, only send it into hiding.

I decided to post this today, because it's relevant to the current discussion on my preceding post (in its comment section). Hope you guys like the poem.