“Language is the road map of a culture. It tells you where its people come from and where they are going.” – Rita Mae Brown
NOW that we’re on the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, when shops are reopening and the festive pace begins to soften, I’ve found myself lingering on what this celebration really offers beyond its bright lanterns and reunion dinners. It isn’t just about marking a new Chinese calendar cycle. What truly stays with me are the everyday exchanges, where the little bursts of warmth make communities feel alive.
Chinese New Year has always been my favourite season. During this period, I would wake before dawn and make my way to the morning market. Before strolling through the stalls, I would sit at my regular kopitiam, enjoying a cup of kopi and half-boiled eggs while watching the world stir awake. One by one, the market shutters would roll up. Crates of vegetables would line up neatly, and mandarin oranges were piled high like tiny golden hills.
Some friends thought it odd. “Why get up so early during the holidays?” they’d ask. But for me, there was something unspoken in those streets – an anticipation that couldn’t be replicated at any other time of year. It was in those moments, as I embraced the vibrancy of the morning market, that I began to notice something deeper: how language and culture became inseparable during this season.
In the midst of bargaining and buying, greetings become bridges. Sellers smile and call out “Gong Xi Fa Cai”, “Xin Nian Kuai Le”, or sometimes “Huá kāi fù guì”, offering wishes of prosperity and good fortune. Depending on who stands before them, they switch between Mandarin, Cantonese, Hokkien, Bahasa Malaysia, and even English. It is certainly not a marketing strategy, but simply because it feels natural.
A week ago, while buying sticky rice cake (nian gao), I saw a vendor patiently explaining to a little boy why it matters. “Nian nian gao sheng,” she said – may you rise higher every year. The boy laughed as he repeated it, delighted by the rhyme.
You see, these greetings are not rehearsed, nor are they meant for publication. They are spoken in the moment, steeped in years of tradition and shared memory. That simple interaction carried centuries of tradition forward, not through textbooks, but through lived experience.
In Sarawak, the same spirit plays out in neighbourhood markets. Around Kuching, you’ll hear Hakka, Foochow, Hokkien and Bahasa Sarawak flowing together. It isn’t polished, and it isn’t staged. It simply is, where diverse voices weave a familiar melody. The accents may differ, but the warmth remains the same.
Whether in Kuching or Kuala Lumpur, a quick stop to buy poultry can easily turn into a half-hour conversation with an old friend – talking about children’s achievements, rising prices, or who visited whom over the break. It isn’t mere small talk. It is a connection. It is history. It is a reminder that, for a moment, everyone shares space without the barriers we build on ordinary days.
What fascinates me most during Chinese New Year is how strangers become linked through small moments – where a laugh is shared in a crowded aisle and a brief greeting turns into half an hour of conversation. These interactions soften everyday distance.
Now that daily routines are returning, the greetings continue; perhaps not as loudly as on the first day, but no less sincerely. The wishes once exchanged between strangers become shared hopes for the year ahead.
Observing these moments has reminded me that language is culture in motion. It carries values, aspirations and memory. The greetings we exchange are more than formalities; they are affirmations of belonging.
That is why I choose to rise before the sun during this season – not for the oranges, the kopitiam, or even the crowds, but to witness the moments when a community reawakens itself through words, custom and quiet connection.
Chinese New Year is not just a celebration of a new year. It is a celebration of who we are.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at Shirley.suat@gmail.com.
