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生亦何欢,死亦何苦 ---纪念六四三十年


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  生亦何欢,死亦何苦

    ---纪念六四三十年

  作者:Liucarl


  我叫华喜悲,今年三十岁。我爸爸不姓华,可是我爷爷给我起的名字,要姓华。我生在一个特殊的时间,1989年6月4号凌晨4点。妈妈说我的第一声啼哭和一片枪声响在一起,说那天北京各个医院都满员,遍地是鲜血。


  我爷爷说我出生的时间不好,杀气重。他说他生的时候好,5月4号,生我那年他整70。每到新年的时候,就带我去雍和宫祈福。这个习惯直到10年前他去世。他死的时候说,死了也没啥,无非是去另一个地狱。


  我8岁那年一个矮个子的大人物死了,全国哀悼,哀乐响了几天。很多报纸电视歌颂他的功绩,说他是总设计师。我爸说,屁,总射击师。


  我16岁那年,另一个寂寂无闻好些年的人物死了。报纸说他的那消息很短,说他还是同志。我看过他在我出生前的一小段录像,跑到一个公共汽车里拿个喇叭给学生们说话,戴个大框子的眼镜,花白的头发,河南口音,说自己无所谓了。


  每年我的生日,北京都很古怪。尤其是六部口、木樨地、当然还有那个广场,很多便衣紧张地走来走去。他们好像在防一些老太太,说是什么门母亲的,怕她们在那里烧纸钱。那些老太太越来越老,越来越少了,近年渐渐看不到了。


  我出生那天究竟发生些什么,我并不清楚。说实话,我也不想去弄清楚。我只是个平常的人,有平常的生活。比如我18岁那年北京闹SARS,谁知道究竟发生了什么?我只是希望我的生日是别的日子。夜晚里偶尔会有奇怪的梦,那些压碎的帐篷,轰隆隆的坦克,七扭八歪的隔离墩。那些奇怪的影像,哪里来?我希望我能忘了它们。


  今年6月4号,我30岁了。


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  • liucarl 回复 注册笔名2

    同意。

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • liucarl 回复 youfunny

    谢谢。

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • 注册笔名2

    Zcz ,把人民日报的语言转到这了。就偏偏你们的文盲5毛.真的不值一驳。估计你也是贪官污吏之一吧?怎么不投稿去国内发表啊?你主子都要扇你。

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • youfunny

    写得好!挺沉重的。

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • zcz

    我是经历过文化大革命的人,我的父母和我自己深受其害。我非常同意国家政权对那些天天上蹿下跳、一哄而上、有理取闹或无理取闹的违法行为进行镇压和取缔。当年如果没有邓小平果断镇压像文革一样胡闹的中国64西方民主运动哪里还有中国繁荣富强的今天?!

    54是在共产党领导下的反封建反殖民反专制的学生运动,他们面对的是一个违反民意的半殖民的国家和腐败无能的政府,革命是必然。而64则是和54有本质的区别,那是在国家执行赵紫阳的西方市场化物价飞涨造成的民意不满、最后演变成了一场以幼稚学生出面的宣扬西方民主和妄图推翻政府的“颜色革命”运动。当时的社会改革问题已经严重到非得要用暴力革命来推翻政府和共产党吗?我认为真的不致于。我也是那场动乱的经历者和见证人,我所看到的是全国上上下下到处学校停课、企业停产、政府机构瘫痪……,这哪里是什么“理性”?这和文化大革命有什么不同?!都是无法无天地一哄而上、招摇过市、歇斯底里、群魔乱舞……最后是祸国殃民……。这和伊拉克、利比亚以及乌克兰的政府被西方列强推翻和颠覆而国破家亡有什么两样?又会有什么样的“民主和自由”?!实际上最后他们只有受苦受难、流离失所、任人宰割的自由……。

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • liucarl

    英文版:

    Joy in life and sorrow in death

    In memory of June 4 of 1989

    My name is Hua, Xibei (华喜悲), turning 30 soon. The last name of our family is not Hua. But my grandpa insisted it. I was born at a special moment, 4 o’clock on the morning of June 4 of 1989. Mom said that my first cry came with bursts of gun fires. On that day, she said, all hospitals of Beijing were fully packed with the wounded, blood spilling over everywhere.

    My grandpa said that I was born at a bad moment, a moment of killing. He said that he was born at a better time, May 4 of 1919. He was exactly 70 the year I was born. Every Chinese New Year, he would bring me to pray at the Yong He Palace, or the Lama Temple. This ritual continued until he passed away ten years ago. On the day he died, he said, there is nothing to cry about death, just going to a different hell.

    When I was eight years old, a short big guy died. The national media ran wild for a few days with his obituary and eulogy, calling him the Chief Architect of Reforms and Opening-up of China. My father said, shit, the Chief Shooter.

    When I was sixteen years old, another big guy died, while he has been kept in captivity and oblivion until his death. His obituary in the media was very brief, still calling him a comrade. I watched a short video of him making a speech before my birth, in which he came inside a bus and talked to some college students in his He Nan accent, wearing eyeglasses with a wide frame. He said his days were numbered and he did not care anymore.

    Every single one of my birthdays in Beijing was weird. Police in disguise would stalk almost everyone in some chosen locations, such as the Tiananmen Square, Liu Bu Kou, and Mu Xi Di. Rumors had it that they were stationed there to ward off some old women who call themselves ‘the Mother of Tiananmen’, who lost their loved ones during that incident. The police would arrest those mothers in the case that they started praying for their fallen kids. Over the years, those mothers get older and older, numbers smaller and smaller until they have almost disappeared.

    I do not know what really happened on my birthday. In all honesty, I do not want to figure it out either. I am just an ordinary fellow, living an ordinary life. There are many things unclear. For example, who knows what happened in Beijing during SARS epidemic what I was eighteen years old? How many died, how many paralyzed due to the treatments, and how did the epidemic stop? I just wish that I was born on a different date. Sometimes I had weird dreams. In one dream, I was standing in front of a tank, its cannon pointed at me. When I moved left, the cannon moved left; when I moved right, it moved right again. It was impossible to get rid of the tank. In another dream, I was running with thousands and thousands of people on the Chang An Street, all naked and with blood stained all over us. A dark and growing abyss was chasing us from behind. I was so stressed and yelled for help and then woke up. I have no idea where those nightmares came from. I just wish I could have forgotten them.

    On this June 4, I will be turning 30 years old.

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  • liucarl 回复 西北角

    谢谢

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • 西北角

    好文。

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • liucarl 回复 simple_mind

    谢谢

    屏蔽 举报回复
  • simple_mind

    好文!

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