just minishorts.

Minishorts says: Guest blogging in place of Vince today is Jolene Lai, who runs her own blog at this site. We all know Jolene for her first-person reviews of the National Service camps, and of course, the mad, mad sets of photographs that accompany her lengthy posts. Today, Jolene goes bananas with, urm, bananas.

So my thick faced application for self-invited nut got through. Many thanks to Minishorts who graciously allowed me to contaminate her blog with my endless mumblings. She told me that I could blog about anything and that I can include photos (which my blog is overflowing with) which made me very happy! I NEARLY wanted to blog about cadavers again with photographs(yay!) but she pantang wor. I would not want to have her blog cursed by the souls of the unclaimed bodies from India anyway. So you'll just have to make do with what I've decided to spew forth.

Just a few days ago, I went to buy bread for my housemate from the Chinese coffee shop near my hostel. The towkei of the shop packed the bread for me and said, "Yi kuai Jiu!" and I had to turn to my housemate, "What ah? How much ah?" Feeling very pai seh, my housemate replied, "He said RM1.90 la.."

The towkei was slightly amused and wondered where I'm from since I can't understand Chinese. My housemate then explained to him that I am English educated (cheh wah, like very gaya like that) and can't read or write Chinese. The kindly old towkei nodded and smiled understandingly.

Not wanting to appear as un-chinese as I have already seemed to him, I said, "Ngo sek gong guongdong wah lah!" (I can speak Cantonese). "Ngo sek gong siu siu wah yi tan hai ng sek gong fu kin wah. Soh yu tau sin ngo ng meng pak lei gong mee yeah loh." (I know a little mandarin but do not know any Hokkien. That is why I did not understand what you said just now).

The towkei looked at me blankly. His 13 year old son replied for his father, "Ngo ah pa ng sek gong guongdong wah geh. Tan hai hui tau sin hai gong gan wah yi, ng hai fu kin wah," (My father doesn’t speak Cantonese. But he was speaking mandarin just now, not hokkien.).

The little boy then gave me a disgusted look, clearly wondering what kind of Chinese species I am if I don't even know mandarin. I was so peeved!!

I was looked down upon! Discriminated by my own race!

Maybe it's time to form another race of my own: Bananas.

For those who do not know, Banana is a term given to Chinese people who cannot speak Chinese. Just like a banana, they are yellow on the outside but white on the inside. We originate from a bunch of Chinese people whose parents sent them to English schools set up by the British and most of the time, for the past three generations, not a single family member would know how to write Chinese. Most of the bananas' greatest command of Chinese would be the Hokkien and Cantonese vulgarities though.

Banana people(xiang jiao ren/kung chiu yan) have adopted manglish as their traditional language. Majority of the bananas can speak their own dialect but they can not read or write Chinese. Bananas celebrate Christmas(we like presents!) and Chinese new year(money is always good). Now, this has nothing to do with religion but we just like to celebrate for the slightest reasons.

Banana people shake their heads at other Chinese with extremely bad grammar. "May I friendster you?" makes banana girls want to drive a stake through the skulls of those lala chais. Perhaps banana people may be a little egoistical in the sense that they think just because they are westernized and are more proficient in English means they are better educated. I used to hold true to that belief but I have changed my views as I have come to realize the extreme difference between two types of Chinese educated Chinese.

Most of the top students in Malaysia are those from Chinese schools. They can get the highest grades and scare you with their studious attitude.(read: nerd.) Of course I respect them, I need to copy their notes. These top students are also one of the more creative people around and perhaps it's the chinese school upbringing, they are usually very talented.

Then, during my national service stint, I didn’t know that there are so many uneducated young Chinese Malaysians. Those who are a year older than the actual age for this year's intake are the educated ones. When I say educated I mean that they went for remove classes and have completed their form five. Almost all those who are 18 this year are drop outs. Do you know that none of them will speak to me in English?

On the first day, I introduced myself, "Hi, I am Jolene! What’s your name?"
The reply? "Mou tong ngo kong ying man, ngo ng sek geh." (Don’t speak to me in English, I don’t know one.).

Damn cha tou.

I’ve come to realize that it is true that bananas are a minority in our society. You can differentiate a banana from a Chinese-educated Chinese(Chinese Ed) from the way they speak. I don’t know how to describe to you in words but you can just tell from listening. Perhaps there is a difference in accent? A Chinese-ed's English is not smooth and you can hear the slightest hint of doubt in their choice of words or pronunciation. I’m not saying that the bananas' English is grammatical error-free but bananas speak faster.

What I am saying is that there's definitely a difference in accent.

But it does suck to not know much any mandarin. Gossips have to be repeated to me in Cantonese and my housemates have taken to calling me kepo.

Also, with a good grasp of mandarin, I would not have to succumb myself to embarrassing incidents like the time my friend asked me in mandarin, "Ji dian le?"(What time is it?) It was two o'clock and I replied confidently with a bright smile, "Er shi kuai!" (20 bucks!)…needless to say it has become a long standing joke.

With a better knowledge of mandarin, I don’t have to mumble, "Zhen de ma? Dui bu dui?"(Really? Yes or not…) repeatedly when sales assistants try to entice me with their wares.

But once a banana, and such an old one too(far past the entry age for Chinese primary schools), I will always be deemed weird by my fellow chinesemen for needing a translater when I am conversing with them.

I thought it’d be nice to pose with some bananas to go with my post. Bought two combs of bananas for RM0.50
(what a bargain!) for the occasion and decided to get trigger happy. Couldn’t find nice big long bananas …but hey, Pisang Emas is Malaysian and that’s what we should all be about: Malaysian. In our lands, big bananas are not common. So we make do with pisang emas even though they are not that satisfying.

Can be used as pompoms.

Can be used as chinese dancing fans.

Can be used as a bikini top.

Can be used as a cigar.

Mickey Mouse!!

I know I'm disgusting, no need to tell me leh.

I can fit four bananas!!!

Yes, I know this looks disturbing. Deal with it.

I feel happy when I have sliced bananas on my face!

But sometimes I can get quite shy…

I had fun taking those photos and had intense tummy aches after a few minutes due to too many bananas. See, the things I do for the sake of blogging.