Chongqing, China, 1976. I’m 6 years old. Sometimes my Mom plays the accordion in her green military uniform. Except that uniform, she has a dark red military belt, 2 inches wide, which is also issued by the Communist military. In the 1950s, she worked in the troops of the Southwest Military Region. In 1955, the Southwest Military Region got dissolved and my Mom got discharged. After that, she worked in different places and in 1970 when she bore me, she was a teacher in No. 52 High School of Chongqing.
如果你还想你或你亲友每人拿回土地，住房，医疗，拿回包括公民税率，政府各方面开支等社会事务的表决权这些民主人权，你最好读完这篇长文。你可以从Google translate/谷歌翻译听文章的朗读。你可告诉你外国朋友/老师我写的英文。更多文章见我的海外博.讯boxun网站的博客，加上前后的www, com 我名字在首页底部的作者群中。从2007年到2013年8月，我博客的显示点击量已达200万，而按博.讯说的各博客的实际点击量是显示点击量的10倍以上，那我博客的实际点击量到2013年8月已达2000万。我们的文字是对中国.民众说的，是我们认为真实的情况，欢迎各位，各媒体转载，传播，救自己，救别人，救中国。
If you want you or your friends in this life get back the human rights of half an acre land, welfares of housing, medical care, the voting rights on the tax rate and the government budget, you’d better read through this long essay. Google translate can read text aloud for you. If you have foreign friends/teachers, you may tell them to read the English part of my essay. More articles of mine can be seen my blog at “boxun”, my name Wei Liu/刘蔚 is at the bottom of the homepage. From 2007 to 2013, my blog has 2 million displayed visits, and the website says that the actual visits is 10 times as the displayed visits. Then the actual visits of my blog is 20 million visits. What we say here we hold is true and is for 1.3 billion Chinese people. Every one is welcomed to publish, to spread our words to save yourself, your friends and our country.
My Mom does not often play accordion, not one time in a month. I like her to play it often. What’s she being busy in the teaching of the high school for? Those Communist schools mainly teaches student of class strife, people hurting each other, or some equations that has no relationship with people’s daily life. One day something might make her feel happy and I have no idea how she gets an accordion.
Now the green accordion sits on her laps. Standing before the accordion, I see it is about a square with a side being 2 feet long, 8 inches thick. Such cumbersome stuff lies on her legs, and she does not feel tired, and is moving it by hand, producing some musical sounds, amazing. I observe the accordion and see its top have a 8-inch buckle, some extending grayish white drape-like material. Looking from the position of my Mom or the player, the left side of the accordion is a line of white and black keys, just like that of the choir organ. My Mom, Ms. He, has one hand pressing the white key there. She does not press the key for long, but release it soon to press other white keys. On average the time she presses a single white key for 1 time is about half a second. On the right side of the accordion, there are 20-odd black buttons. My Mom, Ms. He, has another hand pressing them. The time she presses a single black button for 1 time is about the same as the left, half a second.
The angle of my Mom’s eye does not allow her to see those keys, buttons her left and right hands are pressing, and she appears able to press the right keys and buttons, miraculous. Definitely, she’s touched keys, buttons by her finger feeling and memory. She looks to have lots of music gift. I like her to play accordion before me. Sometimes she sings and plays the accordion at the same time. She does not tell me what songs she’s playing. Sometimes it is “The Red Women Army”, having the words, “Forward march, forward march. The soldiers have heavy duty and the women have deep grievance. In the past, there is Lady Hua joining the army for his father; now we have the red women soldiers grab the weapon to fight for the people.”
One time I ask her, “Mom, how’s your life in the Southwest Military Region?”
“Just as in the army, crawl and roll on the ground,” My Mom answers.
“Sounds quite formidable? Do you people use the real gun?” I ask.
“The solder’s life is like that. Of course, we use real guns. How do you think? You think we use the toy gun to train?” my Mom answers.
“How can people bear those cruel training?” I murmur.
“Whether you can bear it or not, you have to bear it. The troops have discipline,” My Mom answers.
My mom does not talk about her army life for years. I suppose the life in the Communist army must be too hard for her to recall and talk. When I was born in 1970, my Mom already knows how to play accordion. She might have learned it during her time in the army. No. 52 High School, Chongqing, China in the 1970s just engages in accusing the Confucius and Communist Field Marshal Lin Biao, whom Mao Zedong beat down, there are few people playing accordion. I actually like the country to remove all these strife among people and resume the wonderful traditional Chinese culture, like music, chess, calligraphy and drawing. Several Communist high officials desire to build China a military giant, to defeat other countries internationally, and tie us common people on the war vehicle, bringing disasters to the people and the nation. The more the Communist regime acts like this, the fewer friends it will have in the world. It might take Chinese people’s money to African countries, which will make people’s life more miserable.