At this time, the butcher master knocked down the pig, and several fathers came forward to help. The pig howled loudly, as if knowing that his life was coming, crying for his mother to save him. Mother always hides far away, afraid to look at the scene before her. Later, when killing pigs, my mother simply went out to avoid it, out of sight, out of mind, and less sad tears.
After the pig was slaughtered, my mother was busy killing pork dishes, a large pot of pork stewed vermicelli, a large porcelain pot of yellow rice cake, and the sticky smell of meat cake filled the whole government family courtyard, and the neighbors were drooling. A row of five families, each with a bowl of stewed pork vermicelli and six or seven fried cakes. At that time, there was no courtyard wall, and it was common to walk into the next room with a bowl of rice. Whenever I come home from school, I don't know how to swallow the cake sent by my neighbor.
If the twelfth lunar month pork stew with sauerkraut, pork stew with tofu and chop suey noodle soup are the best meals in a year, then cooking pig's head on New Year's Eve is the happiest time. From time to time, there was a "plop" in the pot, and the room was full of meat. From time to time, my mother opened the lid and turned her head. The pig's face is like a blooming flower, welcoming the arrival of New Year's Eve with great joy. We play with lanterns and set off firecrackers outside, and go home from time to time to see how pig head is doing. At that time, materials were scarce, and eating pig's head was the best meal. At the beginning of the year, my mother put a few pieces of pig's head meat in the bean sprouts mixed with vermicelli, which was light and mixed with meat flavor, and it has been memorable so far.
My parents raised our five brothers and sisters. If you add the boys above me and below my sister, my mother gave birth to seven children. Fortunately, those two died before their first birthday, so their mother cried her eyes out. Fortunately, those two didn't make trouble again, otherwise my family's life would be even more difficult. There was no family planning at that time, and the number of people increased every two years. Relying on my father's salary, I always ate the last meal without the next meal. The grievances in my stomach can be tolerated, and the mental blow is even more unbearable.
My father is an insurgent in Fu's army. Because of historical problems, he was humiliated during the Cultural Revolution. At that time, the leaders of the flag party and government, Ba (Bayin Dalai Lama), Zhao (Zhao Shanbi) and Wu (Wu Liji), marched in the streets holding signs, followed by my father with historical problems. The leader was charged with carrying out deep-water bombs in Liu Shaoqi and Ulanhu, and my father was Ba Zhaowu's "black pawn".
One dark night, our family went to bed early and only heard a knock at the door. Who did mom ask? There was a fierce voice outside the door, and the unit rebelled! Open the door. In fact, the dilapidated wooden door can be opened with one foot, and people are the first to salute the enemy. They rummaged through everything and found nothing but worn-out clothes. These people still don't give up, saying that there is something fishy under the water tank, and they dig three feet like the devils in the tunnel warfare in the movie. At that time, our government house was still land, and there seemed to be traces of collapse under the water tank. They think there is gold in it. However, it was not for nothing that they stole the "silver pony" worn by their grandparents' children. Confiscation of property must have a receipt in black and white, but the robbers didn't leave a word. After the "Cultural Revolution", I went to Zhu Zhixiong, the political commissar of the Banner Public Security Bureau, to ask about it, but there was no reply.
Anyway, my father went through the "red dictatorship" and "stealing my wife" and finally got out alive. Zhu Zhixiong's father, Zamlai, could not bear the cruel punishment of the "My Wife Party" movement. On the way to the red five-star auditorium, he plunged into the well in front of the auditorium while the guards were unprepared. He didn't wait until the dark clouds cleared.
In the most difficult days, the mother didn't forget her pig like her children did. Whenever I finish eating and washing dishes, I cook swill, wild vegetables and chaff in the pot, and go to the pigsty with cheerful steps, "Chat …" affectionately calling her pig. Whenever I hear the pig eating, my mother's face will show a festive melody. Pigs also have headaches, fever and poor appetite. Once the pig refuses to eat, mother's face will turn from sunny to cloudy, either call the vet or buy stomach medicine. I'm afraid her pig will leave like those two immature sons.
1969 My mother is pregnant again. At that time, it was agreed to give it to my uncle. My aunt is barren, and the three children they brought up are all adopted. Uncle is the secretary of a commune in Chayouhouqi, and there is no shortage of oatmeal and yam eggs. It is also a good choice to be a son to others. When my mother gave birth to my third brother, I looked at the baby's furry little head and small eyes like black beans and begged my mother not to give it away, so I left my third brother behind.
1969 the "cultural revolution" is going on vigorously. junior and senior high school students are connected in series all over the country, and primary school students basically don't go to school, so I took on the heavy responsibility of taking care of my younger brother. Every evening, I go to the cow farm near the west exit of Guancun to buy milk, holding a can of 25 cents a bottle, and I have to get home before dark. Because there is a grave in the farmland in front of the second primary school, I dare not leave in the dark.
Father is often imprisoned for trumped-up crimes, and mother attends classes in the neighborhood Committee every afternoon. I warm milk for my little brother on time, so that I can go out to play when I fall asleep. One afternoon, my little brother kept crying, but he didn't stop coaxing him. I yelled at him. My brother can't talk. He looked at me in horror for a while, and then he began to cry. I'm so bored! In the evening, my mother came back and stuffed the shriveled nipple into my little brother's mouth. He suddenly became quiet. How can that bottle of milk satisfy the growing appetite? Is he hungry? Is he crying? From now on, I will slice the potatoes, bake them on the stove plate, chew them in my mouth, and then feed them mouth to mouth. If food gets stuck in the esophagus, feed a few spoonfuls of cold white water and your little brother will grow up day by day.
My father is in prison, my mother can't read, and I have to undertake the task of buying food. Every mid-month, I go to check the right front banner finance bureau, sign my name next to my father's name on the salary slip, and then ride a bike to the grain distribution department to get back rice, flour and other grain. At that time, a moon cake 16 cents, I looked at it and didn't secretly eat one. It is hard for anyone who grew up in a family like ours to swallow.
This is also reflected in my father, who broke his arm riding a bicycle at the age of 53. I specially approved ten catties of eggs to the commercial director and asked him to cook several eggs every day. Father is also willing to enjoy himself. The whole family eats oat noodles and braised dishes together, and at most comes to a bowl of egg soup.
Father finished his mother's last dish of killing pigs and never came back. At that time, he had retired from the leadership position of the Second Light Industry Bureau, and could have retired at home. However, he idled all his life, helped the flag cement plant to carry out technical transformation, and left us forever without leaving a word. If the death of our two men under one year old lightens the burden on our family, the death of our father is equivalent to the loss of the "golden doll". My father worked before the founding of the People's Republic of China. In addition to enjoying retirement benefits, there are subsidies such as "digging graves". So I compare my father to a "golden doll".
Since then, life in our family has become more difficult. I miss my father so much that I can't sleep at night. I woke up in a dream and looked at the moonlight outside the window. Dad, why are you in such a hurry to leave? You know your son is not a man of indomitable spirit. How can his weak shoulders bear such a heavy burden? I cried my eyes out. I "peed" a lot, so people can't be ruthless, unless it's vegetation.
It's cold again. I went to the country to eat pork-killing vegetables with some friends the other day. My mother raises pigs, and the scene of our family sitting around the kang table is vivid. In fact, eating and drinking also requires atmosphere. If a person holds a pig's head, it will never taste sweet.
Some photos in this article were provided by Li Fang, photographer of Wulanchabu Photography Association, and I would like to express my heartfelt thanks.
The official account of WeChat, an old story of Jining, tells the story of past lives in Wulanchabu with fluent words and profound connotations. Some travel notes, novels and stories also enrich readers' cultural life with knowledge and interest. Welcome to forward the articles on this platform, as long as the signature is not changed, it is not infringement.
Author: Li Lin 'ai, pen name: Irene. 1955 (lunar calendar) was born on February 23, and worked as an educated youth, a car driver, a policeman, etc. , and published novels such as "Hard Years" and "Old Stories" in Jining. Now he is a member of Inner Mongolia Writers Association.