Chapter 1: Nicknames

When Serene first suggested the idea of writing about our childhood memories, the first thing that came to mind was the gang of playmates I used to spend time with during the 1950s and 1960s in our village.

Photo with courtesy from prweek.com

In those days, parents loved coming up with all kinds of nicknames for their children. I remember a family in the village whose eldest son was called "Lap Chong" - which mean sausage in the Chinese language. The two youngest boys in the five-sibling household were affectionately known as "Ah Tong" and "Ah Yam", meaning sugar and salt.

In another family, the youngest daughter was nicknamed "Ah Nee" which means Ant. Yet another family gave their three eldest boys the nicknames of "So Chai", "Chu Chai" and "Kel Chai" which translate to crazy kid, little piglet and little puppy. In a different household, the eldest son was called "Dongkui", the name of a Chinese medicinal herb.

Back then, many adults believed that children were susceptible to "disturbance" from ghosts or spirits, which could lead to frequent illness or accidents. One way to ward off these forces, they believe was to give children "non-human" names - those of animals, objects or everyday items - so that spirits wouldn't recognize them as human and would simply pass them by. However, not all children received such nicknames. The healthier ones or those who rarely experienced accidents, were often addressed by their given names or pleasant-sounding nicknames. 

As I grew older, I began to find this belief rather illogical - Could ghosts and spirits really be so foolish as to rely only on hearing and not on sight?

Of course, not all nicknames were born of superstition. Some were given out of affection and love. Occasionally, children were even offered a few options and allowed to choose the one they like best. Others, however were given nicknames purely for fun - or even mockery. Among my primary school classmates, I had friends nicknamed "Suitong" (water container), "Hamchenpiang" (Chinese deep-fried pancake), "Ma Tel" (horse head) and "Benfook" (flying fox). The list goes on.

In my own family, the eldest boy was given a nickname, though it was later changed during his teenage years on the advice of a medicine man as a way to cure his recurring illness. The second was called by his given name. As for me, I was given a nickname that, much later in life, I realized sounded very similar to one of my uncles' nickname - the only difference was in the pitch. My mother told me she gave me that name because I liked the sound of it as a baby. 

On a related note, I'm the only one among six siblings whose birth certificate carries a two-character given name, rather than the more typical three-character name. Although my parents never confirmed it, I always suspected they were expecting a girl for their third child and didn't prepare a boy's name. As a result, my name was something of an afterthought - and I've to live with an alias ever since!

As a teenager, I came to view nicknames - especially those felt dehumanizing - with discomfort. I was determined to shed mine. Eventually, I stopped responding whenever someone used it, which led to a severe confrontation with my mother. After that painful episode, I was no longer called by my nickname. From that point on, I made a vow never to give my own children any nickname that might feel demeaning or objectifying.

Still, the tradition of using affectionate nicknames continues. You'll hear children lovingly called "Boyboy", "TaiTai", "Didi", "Ah Paul, "Ah Sam"  and many more.

Nicknames live on - sometimes whimsical, sometimes loving, sometimes strange - always a reflection of the time, culture and people behind them.