“Where are you from?”

“Guangzhou, China.”

If someone asked me about this, that was how I would answer him/her, without hesitation. I never doubted this answer because I was born, grew up and have been living in Guangzhou. I was proud that I was familiar with almost everything about Guangzhou: food, weather, transportation, and so on. Nevertheless, certain things happened, which caused me to wonder if there was anything else that I should know as a Guangzhou person.

There are over 200 cities in China, and each of them has at least one local dialect. Cantonese is Guangzhou’s dialect. Unfortunately, since I was raised by my grandparents who came from another region—Hunan, I did not get a chance to study Cantonese. They have their own dialect which is very different from Cantonese and Mandarin. So they usually use Mandarin to talk with me. My parents speak to each other in Mandarin too. As a result, I grew up as a person speaking only Mandarin, the standard Chinese. I was a person without a hometown dialect, different from the majority of Chinese people.
Mandarin has always been highly recommended to be used in schools. Therefore, I didn’t think it would be an issue that I could not speak Cantonese. Even the classmates who got used to speaking Cantonese would use Mandarin due to the school rules.
Once in middle school, we played a game which was involved in using dialects. The rule was very simple: we just needed to say a word in our own dialect and let others guess the meaning. The person who guessed correctly would be awarded with a little gift. At first, I felt very excited and actively engaged in the game. After a few rounds, I had got plenty of prizes which I could hardly hold with my hands. And I felt as if I were a master of various dialects, but the truth was that some dialects were very similar to Mandarin, so I could easily figure out the answers by comparing the pronunciation.

One boy hinted before his question, “For you guys who come from Guangzhou, this one should be very easy, since it’s in Cantonese.” My face turned red when hearing this and I was quite embarrassed. For me, Cantonese was in fact just the same as other dialects, the languages which I could not understand, like mysteries. Then the boy spoke out a word in Cantonese; as he expected, many Guangzhou people gave their answers.

Before the boy pointed out the correct answer, my best friend suddenly turned to me and said, “You are also from Guangzhou, why don’t you give an answer?”

“I…I…Actually, I don’t know any Cantonese.” I almost whispered and did not dare to look up at her.

Everybody around me was very surprised. I guessed they assumed living in Guangzhou was equivalent to knowing Cantonese. The girl continued to ask, “Then you must know another dialect?” I shook my head and left the classroom. I thought I could not assimilate in the environment full of dialects.

This was the first time I had trouble with language. I began to question myself: how can I say I come from Guangzhou when I don’t even know the dialect here? If I don’t come from here, then where is my hometown? I became confused and was eager to find out the answer. When others talk about their hometowns, they are always proud of being able to speak their own dialects. They know where they belong. In contrast, I was not able to speak any Cantonese, and I could not know for sure if I belonged to Guangzhou.

Actually, similar embarrassing situations, which I had neglected before, occurred to me from time to time. Once, I went into a restaurant, and a waiter spontaneously said “Lei Ho [hello in Cantonese]” to me in an enthusiastic tone. However, I could only say “Ni Hao” in return, even though it seemed rather unnatural and awkward to use Mandarin to respond to them.
His smile froze after hearing my response, and he politely replied two cold words “Ni Hao” with the Cantonese accent, but in a rather indifferent tone. His smile faded quickly. I was deeply hurt because he not only treated me as a visitor from other region of China but also was not willing to say anything more than those two cold words. Even though I never thought we are different, I already felt the difference. Geographically, we lived in the same community, but because of the languages we spoke, we were separated. If I kept speaking Mandarin forever, there would be perpetual “wall” between me and the local people.

If Mandarin was a symbol for Chinese, then Cantonese should be the one for Guangzhou people. It was not enough to just be a Chinese person. I needed to find my root and know more about it. I wanted to truly become part of the local people, to honestly feel where I belong, and to tell others that I am a Guangzhou person.

My mother was the only person who could speak Cantonese in my family. Therefore, I decided to learn Cantonese from her.

One day I said to my mother, “Mum, can you teach me Cantonese?”

“Is there anything special? Why do you suddenly want to learn that?” My mother replied in a curious tone.

“Nothing special. I just want to be a real Guangzhou person.”

“Hmm…all right.” Mum patted me on the shoulder gently, as if she was encouraging me. I smiled back, lightly.

From then on, I learned some Cantonese every day. And I tried to use it to communicate with the locals. Sometimes, I would go to the same restaurants which I used to go, but the circumstance has changed. When waiters said “Lei Ho,” I would also answer “Lei Ho.” Then it’s likely that we may have a small talk, just like friends. Although occasionally some people laughed at my “Mandarin accent” in Cantonese, I’ve felt much more comfortable to directly speak in Cantonese, because there was no longer distance between me and other Guangzhou people.

Now, I am also a person with dialect. It is Cantonese that makes me complete. It is language that gives me power and a sense of belonging.