A newcomer's guide to the Singapore language

When I first came to Singapore I thought communication would be a breeze as English is the national language. But I soon realized that knowing English before entering Singapore is like knowing running before entering the tennis court: it helps you to get around but not actually play.

Affection for Acronyms

The enthusiasm for abbreviating names into acronyms in the country is unparalleled. The World Bank places Singapore no. 3 in the world in population density (with 7,713 people per square kilometre) but if we reapplied the measure to acronyms used in everyday life, Singapore would be world leader in acronyms per square kilometre.

“Where’s PIE?” I asked my Singapore colleague in my early days here. “The road signs pointing to it are very prominent.”

“It stands for Pan Island Expressway,” he explained.

“Ah!” I said. “And CTE?”

“Likewise: Central Expressway.”

“But that’s CE. What does the ‘T’ stand for?”

“For ‘Tral’, in ‘Central’. Singaporeans love three-letter acronyms; we think two-letter ones just don’t make the cut.”

“What’s BKE?” I asked.

“Bukit Timah Expressway,” he said.

“Wrong! That’s BTE, not BKE!”

“No! The ‘K’ stands for ‘Kit’ in ‘Bukit’.”

“But why?!” I cried. “Unlike CTE, we have a perfectly legitimate ‘T’ waiting to be used here.”

“That’s why! If we have CTE and BTE, where’s the creativity? People would wonder if future highways would be DTE, ETE and so on.  And how silly would ATE sound? People would wonder who ate it!”

I thought if we already had a PIE, there should be no problem if someone ATE it but I didn’t say so.

The 'uncle and aunty' syndrome

We all know that age carries clout in India. As the website indianchild.com says, “respect for elders is a major component in Indian culture”. In ancient times, this meant youngsters would touch the feet of elders in greeting, talk to them deferentially and fetch things for them. But the modern guideline for respecting elders in India is crisper: simply address them ‘uncle’ and ‘aunty’.

I discovered this truth early in my marriage, at the tender age of 24. A couple older than us and their three-year old daughter were staying in the ground floor of our apartment building. On our first visit to their house, the girl smiled sweetly at us and said, “Hello uncle; hello aunty’. My wife and I found it endearing to be addressed like this by the little one.

Two days later, we were trudging up the stairs to our flat when the door of the apartment on the second floor opened and a man walked out. He politely moved out of the way to let us pass and smiled.

“Hullo uncle; hullo aunty,” he said. I looked at him closely. He had a thick moustache and a three-day stubble that made him look more adult than me. Yet he was calling me ‘uncle’ and his only excuse was that I was married!

“Hullo,” I said coldly and offered him my hand. “I’m Paddy. And you?”

As he shook hands with me his smile became more friendly. I thought he had recognized his error and would now address me by my name.

“I’m Ajit, uncle,” he said. “I just finished my B. Com and am looking for a job.”

Maybe he needed a broader hint.