The art of communication and trying
I was waiting for a train heading to the airport to pick up a friend, minding my own business whilst remaining with an emotionless expression on my face and fiddling with my phone — because when in London, do as Londoners do.
“Help.”
A lady with a suitcase came straight to me. Her face was full of concerns, raising questions in Cantonese, which I didn’t understand. I replied in English, realising right away that she could not understand my words.
English may be defined as a common medium to connect with others globally, but that was not the case in this situation.
If we can’t use English, what do we do? How do we communicate?
Being lost in the unknown, relying on survival instincts in a foreign country — many of us have probably been in this sticky situation before. We all know how helpless it can feel. We would choose not to push ourselves and speak to strangers unless it is our only option. The amount of courage she had to muster up and approach someone; I felt compassion for her. Maybe I looked like an innocent civilian? Was it the way I was dressed? I was mistaken for being from Hong Kong many times previously due to my father’s strong ancestral genes, maybe that could be it?
Whatever the reasons were, I felt the need to help. I was on the other side before.
My brain automatically went into problem-solving survival mode. There was no signal or internet, and Google Translate could not be my best friend in this situation. I thought to myself — “If she could speak Cantonese, she might know some Mandarin right? Some Cantonese speakers know both, don’t they?”
I know I shouldn’t assume. But in a situation where English was not an option, I was willing to try anything.
I took a hunch and initiated the conversation using my very broken Mandarin that I revisited lately with Duolingo. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken Mandarin to anyone. It was fortunately good enough to help find the right train for her, which was the same one I was getting to the airport. Even though I stated that I am not a native Mandarin speaker, she seemed so relieved that there is someone who could understand her.
With Mandarin being our bridge of connection, supported by a Chinese dictionary on my phone and globally recognisable hand gestures, we spent the time talking the whole train ride. Many personal stories were shared: my upcoming visit to the Netherlands, why we were in the UK, the lady visiting her elderly mother in Taiwan, stories about her love of Thai people and food, bringing my at-the-time partner home to meet my parents, etc.
Even though we did not keep in touch after we went our separate ways, it felt like I was connecting with a long-lost aunt from a past life. This experience stayed with me until this day, reminding me that genuine connections go beyond fluency and proficiency.
Ever since then, my desire to connect with others in their native language became stronger. Whether it’s practising my poor French from secondary school when visiting Brussels, ordering food using my rusty Japanese and Mandarin, or learning Vietnamese to connect with my previous long-term partner’s parents. I felt the need to do that even when they didn’t ask me to.
Strangers or not, most of the interactions stated above opened another dimension of heartfelt connections. I noticed they appreciated my efforts of wanting to learn, understand each other and accommodate them. There were signs of willingness to bridge gaps, extending encouragement and empathy; both sides would be helping each other, showing the desire to communicate.
In a world where words often divide us, could our shared intentions to understand and be understood become the language that truly unites us?
