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Mother Tongue (语言)
My name is Jiniku but everyone calls me Joey, including my parents. My father is American but my mother is not. My mother grew up in a country whose name I cannot pronounce correctly. She was educated in French and Latin, Spanish and German.
My mother wrote all day, but never showed anyone what she wrote. She had notebooks she would write in, and a typewriter to straighten out (整理) the final copy.
When she had typed (打字) pages, she put them in a box. This box was deep under the bed that she and my father shared.
There were only two words that she ever said in the real voice, with her real accent (口音), real tongue. I heard her say them only three times in her life. She taught them to me one night as I lay on her legs, sweating (出汗) with fever.
"Jiniku," she said in a low voice. "Jiniku." I focused (集 中) on her voice through my fever, realizing that something had changed. She was speaking from a part of her that she had not opened for a long time. She took my hand, and placed my palm (掌心) over her heart. "Juriszu." She stared out the window. There was a long silence. I could feel her heartbeat, which was calmer and slower than my own. "My name," she said at last, speaking once more in English, "means „dark ocean (海洋).‟ And you, Jiniku, my baby, yours means „life.‟" She looked out the window again. "„Ji‟ is the word for a happy birth. One where everyone lives and there is little pain. „Ni‟ is a tree that had its roots (根) spread far and whose branches (树枝) shelter (庇护) all. „Ku‟ is spirit. You have this all-encompassing (包罗万象的) life." She placed her hand on my heart. "The first and last letters of our names are the same," she said. "Don‟t forget that, Jiniku."
