“People lose a sense of themselves when they lose a language.”

This is part of greater and deeper understandings uncovered with Professor Stefanie Pillai, phonetician and language specialist at the University of Malaya, as she explains to FMT why it’s so important to preserve languages, such as the creole Kristang, that is under threat of not just erosion, but of extinction.

“A language also reflects the historical and cultural change we’ve been through as a nation,” says the 55-year-old academic, herself with matrilineal ties to the Malaccan Portuguese community and whose maternal grandparents spoke Kristang.

Pillai’s initial research into the mother tongue of her maternal grandparents began as a labour of love six years ago.

That journey has led Pillai to serendipitous connections as she is joined and supported by ardent advocates and kindred, all dedicated members of the Malaccan Portuguese community, who are equally passionate about arresting the erosion of the Kristang language.

Lost in translation

What some Malaysians of present generations may overlook is the fact that Kristang, an evolving creole language derived from Portuguese that has embraced Malay, Dutch, English and Hokkien words, has not only been present in the Malay Archipelago for centuries, but also reflects an incredible story of the region.

“A language is really related to who we are, and in many communities the language carries a lot of that community’s traditions or practices, the kinds of nuances of how you can say things,” the professor says.

“When you lose a language, or you have to shift to or adopt another language, it’s not always possible to do the same thing in the other language; it can become your own but still in that process – you can imagine like a broken telephone – a lot of these nuances and cultural information will be lost.”

She understands this from a personal perspective as her maternal grandfather was a teacher and later a headmaster who taught in the English medium.

Centuries of influence

Even during the Dutch occupation from the mid-17th century, the two most predominant spoken languages in the peninsula were Malay and Portuguese.

Michael Singho, a marvellous storyteller, maps the journey of Portuguese culture and Kristang through the period of Dutch colonisation, of forbidden marriages, and of Malaccan Portuguese fleeing to Macau, taking with them the patois of creole Kristang.

Kristang in the Straits settlement not only developed organically, thanks to the intermarriage between communities, but persisted through successive colonial administrations, because it was a bridge that connected different communities.

But it also represents, as Singho states, “a secret term between us in the Malaccan Portuguese” community, so much so that even overseas members of the Portuguese-Eurasian diaspora are subject to interrogation should they claim genealogical ties to the clan.

Kristang is a colloquial term, says Singho, that simply means Christian in Portuguese, and it was coined to be a term of inclusiveness, he stresses, as the Portuguese learned to co-exist with Dutch settlers, Anglo-Indian and Celyonese Burgher imports by the British, while around the region, local natives were wedded into these communities.

Pillai adds that while the Kristang language is documented in written form in letters and articles, the evolution and passage of the language is an oral tradition.

“The Portuguese community fell on hard times when the Dutch arrived and persecuted them because of religious differences,” the professor explains, “and Malacca being a coastal area, the sea was the easiest place to earn a living for most of the poor Portuguese people.”

This is why the language was passed down orally through centuries of generations, and also why the Portuguese settlement was created on land leased from the British government in the 1930s, she adds.

Singho, who served as president of the Malacca Portuguese-Eurasian Association and who Pillai calls her “guru”, together with his sister Philomena, is vocal about the influence of Portuguese culture in this nation’s history and is determined to clear up misconceptions.

Together with other advocates such as Sara Santa Maria, this group’s efforts have so far spawned a CD of Catholic prayers, a bi-lingual dictionary and now, a language app that is functioning but is still a work in progress, containing recordings done by the Singhos, Pillai and others, to instruct in phrases and pronunciation.

These tangible results are thanks to both the energy of the group and the professor’s skills in acquiring funding from the university and from external sources.

While Philomena tirelessly posts an instructional video on the group’s Facebook page Linggua de Mai – Bibe Persempre daily, Santa Maria teaches children the language, even as classes move online during MCO periods.

The good professor Pillai has plans to use UM’s research centre in Heeren Street in Melaka, itself a heritage preservation area, as a cultural base to allow visitors to immerse themselves in the language.

“In a lot of communities, you teach people about values through storytelling,” she says, adding that while “outright moral values” may not be immediately evident, they are nonetheless contained within these narratives.

She said the poetry, the literature, the oral traditions, even rituals in some communities, as well as the healing rituals are in a very specialised form in the Kristang language.

“So, when you lose a language, either you can’t do it at all in another language because the other language doesn’t give you that same meaning, or the whole well-being associated with that practice, is gone.”

Learn more about the group’s tireless efforts and passion at their Linggua De Mai Facebook page.