Lost in Translation? Language Gaps Nowadays

We've all been there—sitting with a love who is growing old and starts speaking in a dialect we barely understand, nodding dumbly, praying we've got the gist. It's not that you don't care—it's just that the words don't necessarily find their mark. And sometimes, neither does the meaning.

To most elderly, dialects are more than words—memory, identity, culture. They were raised speaking Hokkien, Cantonese, Teochew, or Malay at home, years before English took over in schools and the workplace. Those words mean something to them: warmth, emotion, humour. But to most of us who have been raised in an English-speaking environment, dialects sound distant—familiar-sounding, but alien-sounding.

We've seen that gap open up in our sessions. An older person telling a gentle story in dialect, and the young volunteer responding in English, cautiously, uncertainly. You can feel the love in the words—but you can feel the little gap between them. A flicker of connection, just out of reach.

It's not about proficiency. It's about feeling heard. When an older adult is dismissed or misunderstood because of the sound of their voice, it can lead to frustration, sadness—even isolation. And on the other hand, we forget how much we lose when we dismiss these languages as "outdated" or "inert."

But here's the thing—we don't have to be fluent to express we care. Picking up on a couple of simple words, taking a slower pace to ask for something to be explained, or simply listening a little more intently can go a long way. It's effort, not perfection.

Language is powerful. It can split, yes—but it can bring together. By meeting in the middle, the young and the old, we hold on to the stories, the laughter, and the silences.

Because ultimately, it's not about understanding words. It's about understanding each other.