囡囡 noo noo
囡囡,
have you eaten?
time for dinner
eat some fruit
are you warm enough?
put some socks on
囡囡,
have you eaten?
time for dinner
eat some fruit
are you warm enough?
put some socks on
囡囡,
wake up!
good morning
good afternoon
good night
wake up!
good morning
good afternoon
good night
囡囡,
a lift home after school
three jam and cream puffs for afternoon tea
watching grandma’s tv dramas with her secretly
囡囡,
you’re late again
oiyoooo
hurry up, let’s go
囡囡,
you’re safe here
i adore you
Michelle Wang 王佳丽 (1996) is a writer, critic and lawyer based on Gadigal land / Sydney. Her work, both critical and creative, explores cinema, art, and culture. It can be found in Time Out, The Guardian and The Saturday Paper among others. She was selected as an emerging critic to participate in Melbourne International Film Festival's Critics Campus in 2020.
囡囡 [noo noo] is
a colloquial Shanghainese phrase, an affectionate pet name normally used for
children. There is no translation for it in English.
For me, 囡囡 is a feeling, nostalgically laden with familial love and comfort. It’s something I am reminded of when I spend time with my family often over a meal or speak to them on the phone in my mother tongue of Shanghainese, or pre-covid, visited them in Shanghai. Lately all these things have been on my mind more, perhaps due to the severity of Shanghai’s recent lockdown.
Fittingly, the phrase’s colloquiality highlights both how Shanghainese is a local dialect (as opposed to being an official language like Mandarin) as well as symbolising the distinct yet subjective feeling I am trying to convey. I wanted to show how the feeling of 囡囡 permeates through various quotidian settings in stitching together the footage, and to demonstrate the lived-in quality of spoken language.
Be it the soft tonal fluctuations of Shanghainese in everyday conversations with my mum, its natural rambunctiousness when multiplied in a group setting, or when I am reminded of it in solitude, I can feel the warm call of 囡囡.
Simply, 囡囡, I wish for this work to be a small expression of community and comfort.
For me, 囡囡 is a feeling, nostalgically laden with familial love and comfort. It’s something I am reminded of when I spend time with my family often over a meal or speak to them on the phone in my mother tongue of Shanghainese, or pre-covid, visited them in Shanghai. Lately all these things have been on my mind more, perhaps due to the severity of Shanghai’s recent lockdown.
Fittingly, the phrase’s colloquiality highlights both how Shanghainese is a local dialect (as opposed to being an official language like Mandarin) as well as symbolising the distinct yet subjective feeling I am trying to convey. I wanted to show how the feeling of 囡囡 permeates through various quotidian settings in stitching together the footage, and to demonstrate the lived-in quality of spoken language.
Be it the soft tonal fluctuations of Shanghainese in everyday conversations with my mum, its natural rambunctiousness when multiplied in a group setting, or when I am reminded of it in solitude, I can feel the warm call of 囡囡.
Simply, 囡囡, I wish for this work to be a small expression of community and comfort.