The Art of Communication

Leonie Hill No Road

Getting into a cab I say, “Leonie Hill, no road”. The cabby smiles and says, “Yes, yes, very confusing lah”. It so happens I live in a city where there is a Leonie Hill and a Leonie Hill Road. The city planners are probably still smiling at their wisdom. Anyway, having lived here for a while it has become completely natural to refer to my address as ‘no road’.

Cabbies seem know exactly what I mean and it never fails to get me back home.  This is one of many Singlish solutions to my everyday conversations. The local version of English or Singlish takes a bit getting used to since it mixes Chinese, Malay and some Tamil, preferably with a Mandarin sentence structure all combined into one. Here’s an interesting explanation of it I found on the web http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jG5Gr-rjEWY&feature=related. As the video says Singlish has become the topic of many an argument in this small island nation. Some see it as an impediment to progress and others hold onto the vernacular as a matter of national pride. I, personally, have come to love Singlish for the purely Singaporean uniqueness about it. It has, thanks to human stubbornness, resiliently outlived the government’s every attempt to eradicate it and it is to me that which makes Singaporeans and Singapore less of a foreign country and rather more warm and quirky, and much more to my liking. 

Having lived and worked in quite a few countries I have come to appreciate the need to adapt expressions to local context, and the need to communicate using whatever means available as much as they might stretch conventional literary boundaries.

My first move from Sweden was to the US in the mid 80’s. After high school I moved to California for undergraduate studies. Four years in San Francisco were fantastic: the city, the people, culture, closeness to both sea and mountains made me feel right at home. Leaving Sweden with reasonable spoken English skills and an actual dictionary in English slang I thought I was well prepared. Once I got there I kept getting asked by all those I walked by, “what’s up?” This now ubiquitous phrase didn’t make any sense to me and I am a bit embarrassed to say, yes, I did look up a few times in the beginning. Of course I quickly picked up on the fact that this was the US version of asking about the weather; a general greeting to acknowledge you with little deeper meaning. I now ask my teenage children with absolute equanimity as they walk in the door, “What’s up?” (falling ever so short of appending “Dude” at the end).

Are you dizzy, madam?

After my undergraduate years in San Francisco I moved back to Stockholm to study medicine. Starting out as an intern with limited pay, small children and a new house I decided to do a bit of moonlighting as a general practitioner in the north of Norway. Norway and Sweden are in many ways similar in terms of culture, people and language as well as recognizing each others medical licenses. Norway is more or less just as large a country as Sweden but with only half the population resulting in a very dispersed rural environment especially up north. I found a six week job in Hammerfest, the world’s northernmost town with a population of 10,000 people and boasting one forest of 10 trees. This is basically tundra region right on the shores of the Barents Sea.

Medical practice in Norwegian did pose some difficulties now and then but on average I felt I was doing fine. Also my wife being Norwegian, I did have some practice over the years. For example there seemed to be some confusion with patients who had neurological or cardiovascular symptoms every time I asked them if they felt dizzy. But I soon got used to the blank looks, attributed it to my strange accent and since they did eventually answer me, moved on with my examination. A few months later, back in Stockholm I mentioned to my father-in-law the odd looks I received when taking history about being dizzy. He just looked at me and cracked up laughing, tears running down his face. What did I say?? I asked. Well, he said, ‘dizzy’ (the Swedish word I used) in Norwegian means horny. I still blush when I think of all the elderly ladies who came to see me for vertigo whom I casually asked if they were horny. No, I did not have my license revoked and surprisingly no major complaints.

35 drains to go

Presently working as a clinician here in Singapore, I am a bit hampered by not being able to speak Mandarin or Malay. However I do have wonderful support from our nurses who help out whenever patients are not able to communicate in English. Sometime ago I was counseling a patient, Mdm C, for a complicated procedure that would involve 2 other surgeons all performing different tasks at the same time. I wanted to make sure Mdm C was clear on what was planned and also what the postoperative recovery would be like since it involved among other things, tending to several plastic tubes or drains to remove excess fluid from the surgical site. The day before the operation, our nurse contacted me to say that Mdm C is well prepared but that the patient is a little concerned about the 35 drains she will have to look after. Thirty five!?! I ask. Yes, thirty five, says the nurse sounding a bit confused herself. I back track and go through the information I gave her and tell the nurse that I did mention drains but only 3 to 5. Needless to say I saw a big sigh of relief when Mdm C’s misunderstanding was corrected. The procedure went well and all (only 3) drains were removed with no problems.

Multi-cutural Medicine, as I have taught myself to practice does come with its fair share of lighter moments. Singapore, I admit has given me more than just the fair share both in and outside the hospital as I quickly realized, without Singlish, cannot lah.