By Mohan Khan
Continuation: [CDT] The Redemption of Banu (18)
After listening to his message, I felt fear again burning my skin like a burning ball of fire. The bloody hands reappeared in front of my eyes. Was she trying to pull me with her or was she begging for my help? As far as the eye can see, the lush Carp Hill is covered with a layer of beautiful glow. The golden sun shines on the city and warms everyone, rich and poor, good and evil. Under the blue sky, we are also people, ah, the body flow the same blood, why want to kill us? I look up to the sky, and my heart breaks when I think that beyond the mountains and the sea people enjoy their freedom, and only here people have long lain in the gloom, a people whose roots they have so mercilessly cut down that they can no longer bear or blossom. How many people want life as much as I do and have nothing to do with it. I looked up at the sky, like a deflated ball, a feeling of weakness came over me, tears trickled down my cheeks, a few into my mouth, more down my neck. My mother came to me when I was grieving for the loss of freedom, the most sacred and important thing in my life. She did not look at me, but silently took my hand and kept rubbing it. I wanted to tell her my fears, to throw myself into her arms and cry again, but I wasn’t used to telling my mother. The night breeze dried my tears and lifted my spirits, and I clenched my fists again.
Monday is flag-raising day. I didn’t go last Monday. It makes no difference whether I go or not. I wouldn’t want to go if Sister Yang hadn’t told me again and again. This is the first time I’ve been to this event since I came back, and by seven o ‘clock nearly a hundred people were waiting in line. In addition to the community staff, the rest are Uygur, Kazak and Hui residents, patriotic education is targeted at some key households, the population is not trusted. Our downstairs small supermarket couple is also there, earlier women always wear long skirts, wearing black headscarves, now just wearing a short skirt covering the buttocks, dyed black hair hot wool roll, painted with heavy makeup, a different person. Teacher Gurina also came, her eyes floating over the heads of the people to the distance, I went to stand beside her, she did not recognize me. I just stood next to her and felt connected to her. After singing the national anthem, everyone sent a small red flag, let us swing the flag around and follow Sister Yang loudly shouted “Thanksgiving Communist Party, Thanksgiving Xi Jinping, all ethnic groups should be like pomegranate seeds tightly embrace together” and other slogans. After Shouting slogans, they sang “there would be no new China without the Communist Party” in unison. Some were hoarse and working hard, others were laughing and Shouting and singing happily, but Gurina’s voice was so thin that it was almost inaudible.
Once politics is controlled by abnormal paranoia, law, morality, justice, integrity, all can be trampled underfoot. Their lies are so pure that there is no trace of truth in them.
Mother received a phone call from her cadre Xiao Wang, who was a young man in his early 30s. He called her Apa affectionately and asked her if she had been sick. What did the doctor say? His mother told him that the result of the physical examination was good and there was no need for hospitalization. He said, “Come back. We’ve missed you.” My mother hung up the phone and said to me that it was time to go back. I had to go back sooner or later. If I went back late, I might mention education and training. “We are not prisoners,” I said indignantly. “We are not free people. We are their captive animals.” Mother looked nervous to cover my mouth, I opened the mother’s hand, “don’t be so afraid ah, you more afraid of him more bullying.” “What can I do? Don’t talk nonsense. ?” “Mother begged, almost in a whisper.
We arrived at the airport early for my mother’s departure. I gave her a massage in the massage chair for half an hour, and we had dessert and tea. It wasn’t until the screen showed that my mother’s flight was checking in that we reluctantly walked to the security channel. I had never held her so tightly as I did today. I kissed her cheek and held her rough hands with a yearning to let go. “Mom, I hope that after all this is over, I can start over again, to accompany you, to take care of you, to be your good daughter.” I finally spoke out the wish I had silently read in my heart for countless times. Mother’s tears poured out like a flood that had burst its dam. I gently wiped the tears from her face and hugged her once more. Yes, Mother was indeed getting older, no longer the proud, capricious, beautiful woman she had been.
The message of the kebab kept me in my head, and the same voice I heard in my sleep, “Banu – run, Banu – run,” kept echoing in my ears. I have to figure out what’s going on.
Zhang worked in the general office, along with several community women cadres. On benches along the walls sat residents of the precinct. A Han Chinese woman was admonished for taking part in illegal fund-raising. She smiled and kept saying she didn’t know anything about it. She signed a form, stamped her hand, and left. A couple planning to rent out their own house brought a young female Uyghur tenant to file the case. They checked the girl’s certificate of working in Urumqi and a non-criminal record issued by the local police station where she lived. Community cadres remind also have to find their own responsibility for the police guarantee. the couple Cu to Zhang police officer desk, she is their responsibility for the police, but she refused, said she could not guarantee. With smiles on his face, the landlord kept saying “understand, understand”, and took his wife out. The tenant followed in dismay. As the office became quiet, I took the opportunity to ask Officer Zhang in a whisper, “When will my hearing be held?” Without looking up, she opened a document, pointed to a name on it, and asked, “Do you know this Anival Maimaimin?” Aniwal and Maimatiming are common Uighur names, but such a combination of caste and first name is missing from anyone I know. She says he’s involved in your case, and you’re a terrorist suspect.
I immediately understood the cause of the kebab’s warning. “This is nonsense. I don’t know anyone of that name.”
“This is pushed down by the district national protection brigade.”
“I do not know this person, the suspicion can not be ruled out?”
“We have to find out. I’ll be arraigning the prisoners in the Springs prison these two days.”
She did not explain how the prisoner was related to me. Anyway, it’s always good to have an investigation process. Think of oneself and have no what improper words and deeds also calmly: “that you check, I wait for your result.”
(To be continued)
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