 |
| Friday, February 29, 2008
Joan Wong's Parisian Exchange Programme Writer : Dawn Fung (1) the cultural baggage For the most part of her stay in Paris, Joan did not know another Asian face. This trivia was not lost on Joan, who craved the experiences of travel and more importantly, the novelty of presenting herself as an exquisite minority of such fruit. Given the affluence of her peers and the popularity of the city she chose, this could not last long. She met Chinagirl via email through a mutual friend in Singapore who at the same time, had been dating the recipient of the exchange. Chinagirl called herself Chinagirl only because nobody else in Paris pronounced her real (Chinese) name right. In retaliation, she created the alias based on the belief that it was stupid for people not to know her culture, although it was to be understood that the nickname mirrored the ongoing stereotype that all fairfaced Orientals in Europe hailed from the Mainland. Chinagirl's attitude to life in Paris, her serious handicap of the host language and acceptance of every foreign friend were a relief to culture-but-no-culture conscious Joan, exposed by the fact there was this only other Singaporean she allowed herself to contact in her diasporadic alienation of the familiar. In what could be assumed to be a moment of weakness, she agreed to have Chinagirl over every other week to 'hang out'. Their regular activities consisted of the same things - cleaning the floor until their feet squeaked, complaining about Parisian dirt and cooking Asian food. This ritual cemented their purpose for friendship in a foreign land and miscontrued for the rest of the household that Joan and her new friend were 'as hardworking as the rest of the Chinese immigrants to Europe'. Neither were the landlords privy to the true nature of the smattering Mandarin spoken by the girls, done conspicuously to assert their nationalistic pride. These utterances were limited to few and repeated phrases, often exclaiming horrors at the habits of the French at home and on the streets. What laid behind the domestic revolution and poor language exchange were attempts to prove that the Asian-Singaporean upbringing had relevance. At least their perseverance paid off - the landlords had followed to take off their footwear even to their own rooms. Ironically the accretion of Singlish conversations, familiar foods and clean surroundings between two isolated citizens of a far country had made the two miss home, a damage that was irreversible. Their unswerving housekeeping practices soon gave way to an obsession, analysed quietly by others as signs of the yellow sickness. Joan's non-uttered admittance of another Singaporean into her apartment every fortnight, and Chinagirl's worn out photograph of her boyfriend (whom she had only dated less than a year) pinned to the front of her blouse, were the vital clues of this disease. The faded nature of the image carried around by Chinagirl was not the result of natural aging through nostalgic fancy. It came from a stern principle that love survived only through hard work, no less than religiously applying intermittent kisses to the digitised (and disappearing) lover. The result was startling. The lips were the first to go, then the cheeks, the eyes, the hair. What was left was a faint outline on an almost white background, even as abstraction presented more grounds for perpetuating itself. At simultaneous points where the photographic image became a real ghost, and its owner cried 'Oh!', Joan saw the the light. As much as Chinagirl enjoyed being around her, both of them could not sustain any semblance of cordiality in the presence of closely important or related persons. The roles of Yellow Migrants In France would have to give way to How I Really Am Without Cultural Baggage, which would deflate their concocted illusion altogether. In short, the dynamism of the two girls' friendship will alter dramatically if The Boyfriend did arrive in the flesh. One may assume that at the sight of The Boyfriend, Chinagirl will cease to exist replaced by another nickname. Joan felt an audible relief during those revelatory seconds. She understood that their special friendship lasted only as long as there was an absent Other, and before this adopted novelty burst, she would enjoy the sight of Chinagirl's leather coat hanging on the main door next to her less shimmering but hardy sweater. (1) image taken by George Chua, georgechua.com Dawn is the editor of CreateLeVoyage.com. She is contactable at dawn@createlevoyage.com
|
| PREVIOUS ARTICLES Cups Table For Two Table Killing Isaac Grey Walls Compassion Because Autumn's Mercy Mid-Autumn Reflections When the Going gets Tough... < back to Our Corner's newest posting
|
| | | ||
|
|
 |
 |