the black China hand

Twenty years ago, in the aftermath of the bloodshed in Beijing, when I first went into hiding, my mother had a stroke. It paralyzed one side of her face. I was 10 years in exile before my brother told me. I do not regret what we did in Beijing that year the Berlin wall fell, when there was so much hope of change in the air, but the deaths have haunted me for 20 years, and I want to hug my mother and tell her. “sorry”.

I was in China in on June 4th 1989. It was the day before my 21st birthday. This was my first time in China. I was studying in the coastal city of Dalian. I was young(er) and had a group of Chinese friends that I hung out with every weekend. In early May they (and all the students at the school) decided to ba ke (boycott class). The only students that continued studying were we, the international students. All 30 of us. The Chinese students, though they were far from the Beijing protests, supported the protests there as if they were themselves in the square. They gathers at Renmin Square in Dalian to make demands on the city government for more democracy. They marched from Heishijiao to Zhongshan Square to show their anger at corruption. Indeed, many, including those Chinese friends I hung out with, were supportive of the Beijing student leaders, especially one by the name of Wu’er Kaixi. Today, 20 years on Mr. Kaixi reflects on China now and then. Read on and get a glimpse into the mind of one of the “most wanted” protesters.

吾爾開希的流亡筆記