language barriers

2021

missing words – so cavernous and lacking

– echo loudest. language lost over years;

a piece of childhood i failed

to retain. 

“She never learn behasa? cantonese? hokkien?”

“Aiyah how like that? Hami? Parents never teach?

Mama, Papa both Malaysian some more.”

i know the simple things:

eat, makan, seik, jia

you, awak, lei, lu

me, saya, ngor, wa

enough (or rather, cukup)

to get by, but 

those missing words hang around me – disjointed, dissonant

notes that should ring true; fragments 

of meaning – a stained glass dialogue shattered.  

“ee buey sai ming ba.”

“she doesn’t understand”

but i do, not the words themselves

but the texture of each, the sound – 

the flow of syllables – stand as

reminders of all i never learned. 

“jialat, you know? 

you speak behasa? cantonese? hokkien?

no?” 


NoteShe does not understand (“ee buey sai” is Hokkien, “ming ba” is Cantonese)

CHEYENNE GOH (CLASS OF 2023) WRITES BOTH TO ESCAPE FROM REALITY AND TO EMBRACE IT. HER CREATIVE PROCESS HAPPENS ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY AT UNGODLY HOURS OF THE NIGHT – HUNCHED OVER A LAPTOP OR NOTEBOOK, DOING ALMOST CERTAIN PERMANENT DAMAGE TO HER BACK AND EYES.