If a mother-tongue is the language one learns first from one's mother in infancy, then my mother tongue is Teochew, a Chinese dialect that has its home in about 12 districts in the Southern Chinese province of Kwang Tung.

Teochew is a colourful language, especially when it comes to cursing and swearing. My late father could, when he was irritated by someone, deliver an eloquent torrent of obscenities at the object of contempt in his native tongue.

Fortunately, Teochew is also a refined dialect. I have watched old timers reading ancient poetry or play scripts aloud in sing-song Teochew. The dialogue and the lyrics in the famous Teochew opera are fit for any emperor's royal court. Reading the Chinese script in my mother tongue is one skill that has eluded me all my life.

In Malaysia, in the early days, the Teochew speaking Chinese were mostly operators of sundry shops and traders in primary commodities. That seemed to be what they did best in Southeast Asia, notably in Thailand and Vietnam, where they dominate the Chinese migrant community.