SINCE I was a child, my parents constantly reminded me that I am Hainanese.

This is not atypical, because people belonging to this dialect group are usually bound by tradition and family values. Both of them are Hainanese, so I am perhaps one of the few who are “pure” Hainanese.

But what does being Hainanese really mean? I don’t understand the dialect and neither do I speak it.

The only Hainanese thing about me is that I know how to cook chicken rice – thanks to my wonderful dad who is a great cook – and other food related things which I remember are the unusually gigantic deep fried sesame rice balls and glutinous rice kueh, filled with brown sugar coconut fillings that are wrapped individually in banana leaves.

Besides that popular rice dish which we have on a regular basis, what else constitutes this dialect and culture that makes us different from others? What is it about being part of this dialect group that makes us unique?

And why is my dad always asking me to make a trip to Hainan island in China?

Well, my questions were answered when I attended the Congress of the World Federation of Hainanese Associations at the Singapore Expo on Thursday. This was where I saw loads of Hainanese gathered under one roof.

These delegates, who hail from Asia, Australia and even France, were in town for their 11th World Congress meetings, in which they spoke about their roles in promoting economic prosperity, culture, legal assistance and overseas clan associations.

Being very curious about what the Hainanese culture entailed, I attended a discussion session on the evolution of Hainanese culture and this was when I found out why my parents would often drill the “you’re Hainanese” mentality into me.

It is because being Hainanese, family ties are a matter of great importance. Our traditional customs, language and ancestral lineage are a big deal for overseas Hainanese, and we don’t usually move out of the house to live on our own.

Mr Han Tan Juan, Head of Cultural and Education at Singapore Hainan Hwee Kuan, said that the Hainanese prioritise relationships with families and relatives much more than other dialect groups.

Speaking in Chinese, the 67-year-old, who has been with the Hwee Kuan for over 20 years, raised an example: “Go to a chicken rice seller and speak to him in Hainanese. He’ll offer you more meat for a lesser price.

“That’s how bonded we are.”

Perhaps being one of the few 220,000 Hainanese in Singapore, we tend to feel a stronger sense of camaraderie.

I also learned why the Hainanese immigrants were never rich – family ties were so important that they were always sending money back to Hainan island and never really had the opportunity to prosper.

The Hainanese arrived in Singapore around 1841 – much later than other dialect groups – and mainly as workers and coolies. Most of them congregated and lived around the Beach Road, Seah Street and Purvis Street area, which soon became the hub for commercial and social activities for the Hainanese. The Hainan Hwee Kuan, first built in 1857, is currently located along Beach Road.

At that time, the other dialect groups had already settled on this island, established trades and businesses, and eventually became rich.

Hence, it was rather difficult for the Hainanese to start a trade here, so many were forced to work in the service industry, usually as servants to colonial masters of that period.

“People used to laugh at us, saying that we were subservient to the ‘ang mohs’.

“But this is no longer the case. These days, top executives, government officials, businessmen and artists are Hainanese,” said Mr Han.

He went on to explain that this was because Hainanese value education and knowledge on top of family ties.

“Tell someone you’re a Hainanese and the first thing they’ll think of is that you’re educated, cultured and intelligent.

“That’s the impression of Hainanese Singaporeans in the present day,” said Mr Han in a confident tone.

I smiled a little when I heard that.

After the discussion session, I asked Mr Han what can young Singaporeans like me do to get in touch with our roots and traditions.

His advice was to join activities that are organised by the Hainanese associations in Singapore. He said that there are at least 40 such centres in the country which hold seminars on culture and history on a regular basis.

Mr Han also said that there were other fun activities as well and told me to explore them.

“Youths these days don’t know much about their own culture and traditions,” said Mr Han.

I couldn’t help but think that the person he was talking about was me, after revealing to him that I don’t speak the dialect.

I then recalled a friend – who is also Hainanese and speaks the dialect at home – saying, “The language is dying.”

Having learned all that I did today, I must say that I’m proud to be Hainanese, yet ashamed that I know so little.

Maybe it’s time I ask my parents to teach me Hainanese. I guess it’s also time I book that flight to sunny Hainan island.

This story was first published on Oct 29, 2009.

Kevin Martens Wong reels off sentences in Kristang, which is among several minority languages in Singapore enjoying a new lease of life after a decades-long drive to encourage the use of English and Mandarin.

“Teng bong, ozi nus prendeh sorti-sorti di tempu,” the linguist told his eager students in the 500-year-old mish-mash of Portuguese and Malay — a greeting, and information that the class would be about the weather.

A former British colonial trading post that has long been a melting pot of different cultures, Singapore has an ethnically diverse population whose ancestors mostly came from across Asia, principally China, India and the Malay archipelago.

On independence in 1965, Singaporeans spoke an array of tongues.

English was common, but many used Chinese dialects, such as Hokkien, as well as Tamil from India, Malay and a smattering of more obscure languages.

But authoritarian founding prime minister Lee Kuan Yew believed change was necessary to ensure a secure future for the tiny city-state, which had been thrown out of neighbouring Malaysia following a brief and stormy union.

He made the study of English compulsory in schools as he positioned the country as a global commerce and finance hub, as well as one other “mother tongue”.

For local ethnic Chinese, who today make up the majority of Singapore’s population, it was usually Mandarin, as Lee had an eye on China’s rise as a world power, while it was Tamil or Malay for other citizens.

CONTROVERSIAL POLICY

The policy initially ran into opposition from ethnic Chinese, most of whom trace their ancestry to southern China. Lee, who ruled Singapore for over three decades and died in 2015, described in his memoirs how he had to force the issue.

“To emphasise the importance of Mandarin, I stopped making speeches in Hokkien,” wrote Lee, who was ethnic Chinese, while most TV and radio broadcasts in Chinese dialects were also stopped.

Those restrictions still stand except in special cases, such as radio news broadcasts in Chinese dialects for senior citizens who struggle with Mandarin.

Non-Chinese tongues, such as Kristang — spoken by descendants of Portuguese colonisers who arrived in what is now Malaysia in the 16th century and married locals — also faded.

One thing that unexpectedly flourished was “Singlish”, a local patois that mixes English with words from the myriad tongues spoken in Singapore. It is still widely used, despite official efforts to discourage it.

In recent years however Singaporeans have started to take more of an interest in their ancestors’ languages.

As well as Kristang, efforts have been made by organisations promoting Chinese culture to keep Hokkien alive. It is the Chinese dialect that is most common in Singapore but it has become less widespread, particularly among the young.

Other minority languages enjoying renewed attention include Baba Malay, spoken by descendants of Chinese immigrants who married into the local Malay population, which mixes elements of Malay and a Chinese dialect, and Boyanese, a language from a corner of Indonesia.

RECONNECT WITH THE PAST

Observers see a relaxation in attitudes towards the old languages in the city-state of 5.6 million, which has grown into one of the world’s wealthiest and most stable societies.

Most Singaporeans have already achieved an enviable level of English by international standards, lessening fears that focusing on other tongues will affect their English-speaking ability.

There has also been growing concern about losing touch with the past.

Young Singaporeans’ desire to revitalise the languages is a “form of root-tracing” while for the older generation it’s due to a sense of nostalgia, associate professor Tan Ying Ying, head of linguistics at Singapore’s Nanyang Technological University, told AFP.

“Linguists working in Australia, New Zealand, and the US, have dedicated frameworks and systems to revitalise minority languages that are in danger of being extinct,” he said.

“In Singapore, while there is such no formal system in place, the sense that these languages need to be ‘saved’ is felt by the communities of speakers themselves.”

The students learning Kristang — spoken in parts of the Malaysian city of Malacca as well as Singapore — attend classes led by Wong, 25, thrice weekly, and range from young professionals to senior citizens.

One of the first to enrol in the class was Wong’s grandmother, 81-year-old Maureen Martens, who lost touch with Kristang when she moved to Singapore from Malaysia in 1952.

“This is supposed to be my language, my heritage,” she told AFP, her eyes welling up. “I wish more people will learn it, especially people from my line like my grandchildren.”

Two boys were seen damaging locks on ofo bicycles at the void deck of an HDB block before cycling away on their free ride.

A video of the incident was captured and first posted to Facebook on Dec 9, where it had been circulating widely.

In the video, a boy in a red shirt had dragged an ofo bike that had fallen on its side away and is later seen hitting the lock of one of the bicycles repeatedly using a hammer-like object.

After the lock was damaged, his friend proceeded to hop on the bike and they both cycled away.

On Sunday (Dec 10), an ofo spokesperson told The Straits Times that it is aware of the incident.

“In cases such as these, we will not hesitate to work with the authorities to ensure that our users enjoy and benefit from using our bike-sharing service,” she said.

Ofo urges the public to report incidents of bike abuse on its Facebook page and app.

It also added that such incidents account for less than one per cent of its bicycle fleet in Singapore.

Just last month, a couple was filmed tossing at least two bicycles from OBike into a drain at Lower Delta Road. They later turned themselves in to the police.