论文部分内容阅读
A couple days ago when I was organizing photos on my computer， I happened to access a folder that I hadn’t opened for quite some time. A picture popped up on the screen. It was me wearing a riot suit and a blue helmet with a Type-95 Automatic Rifle in my hands. I couldn’t help recalling my memories of serving in a peacekeeping mission years ago. On October 17， 2004， 125 colleagues and I departed from Beijing Capital International Airport by charter flight. We were the first group of Chinese riot police to be sent on a peacekeeping mission in Haiti， an island country in the Caribbean Sea in Latin America. I was 24 that year.
During my study at the China Peacekeeping Police Training Center， I learned that Haiti was the one of the poorest and least developed countries in the world. It was in political turmoil and its democratically elected President Jean-Bertrand Aristide was forced into exile by a military coup. The economy was on the brink of collapse， two-thirds of its population was unemployed， the wealth gap between the rich and the poor was drastic， and anarchy prevailed across the country. We were based in the capital， Port-Au-Prince. Rich people lived in luxurious mansions in the mountains guarded by designated military troops， while the poor were clustered in sweeping swaths of slums down the hills with severely dilapidated infrastructure. Many of them had no access to tap water and there were hardly any paved roads.
I am a girl who has always been fearless. I used to be an athlete and a criminal police for major cases， so I’m not green in terms of investigations and pursuing fugitives， and I have seen some ferocious cases. But it was in Haiti that I witnessed death for the first time. I remember clearly the day our Chinese Peacekeeping Riot Team was heading to a makeshift camp from the airport after arrival. Our bus sped past in a cloud of dust. We saw foul water and garbage everywhere， pedestrians in ragged clothes and ramshackle huts jammed next to each other. Homeless dogs were scrambling for something and it turned out to be a rotting body torn apart by the beasts. It was appalling and would never happen in China. My feelings were complicated， but I realized that in such troubled times， human lives were like a piece of grass. From that moment， a nervousness grew in my heart as I focused on the mission before me.
Upon arrival， the United Nations Mission in Haiti （known as UNMIH in short） settled us down in a deserted and shabby courtyard. What was worse， basic necessities were yet to be delivered to us， so we had to make do with what we had. Our members could only live on compressed biscuits and sleep on narrow moisture-proof pads. Each one of us received a daily ration of three bottles of water. We also had to be careful of mosquitoes and ants who would feast on us and left our bodies covered in poisonous and painful bites， causing sleepless nights. But of course， the biggest challenge for us newcomers was the potential risk of danger at any moment. One day around 1 p.m.， we were taking a nap after a busy morning when an array of gunshots from outside the camp broke the silence. Our iron roof was clattering as shrapnel landed on it. We jumped up and loaded the guns for a state of emergency. After the attack， we checked around and found seven new bullet dents in the outer wall. Later， we learned that it was an intimidation tactic from the largest criminal gang harboring in Cité Soleil. These gangsters committed all kinds of crimes including arson， killing and looting.
In my memory， the most dangerous incident took place on our way to a slum in Cité Soleil. That day， a squad of 12 including me were taking an armored vehicle to the destination. It was getting dark as we passed by a village where crowds on both sides of the road danced to strong rhythms in the light. All of a sudden， heavy gunshots broke out from the alley in front of us with bullets hitting our vehicle violently. Apparently， we were the target. We had no idea who they were， so our leader ordered us to get off the car for shelter immediately. I took cover at a corner and pointed a Type-95 Automatic Rifle to the darkness in front of me. I noticed that the crowd had dispersed and the music had stopped at once. It was eerie. Sparks and bullets lit up the sky as we were raked with peals of heavy fire.
“Move！” our squad leader roared， leaping toward me and giving me a shove. I turned my head and saw bullets spraying behind me， leaving flying sparks on the wall. Someone fired from the roof on the right front. My mind went blank and I could only follow my intuition that I gained from training... Quickly we organized a counterattack and pushed forward slowly in careful search of the enemies， using the vehicle as a shield. After a while， the gunshots stopped abruptly. I suppose the gangsters failed to gain the upper hand in the fight， so they had fled. A few minutes later， the villagers reappeared out of nowhere and started to dance to their music again as if nothing had ever happened. We remained on high alert and expanded our search area. When it was all clear， we got on board at the leader’s command and sped away.
Working in the country for a few months， I noticed that ambushes， armed assaults and even close combats were by no means a rare matter. Each time， we must stay vigilant and act in strict accordance with regulations. Peacekeeping troops and police forces from other countries experienced tragedies of death and injury while our Chinese Police concluded the mission with zero casualty that year. Generally speaking， Haitians are friendly to Chinese， and I believe it is partly because they are curious about us. The UNMIH eventually transferred us to an established camp in a factory. There was a stall owned by an old man with a kindly face and gray beard. He would always smile and greet us cheerfully， looking at the Chinese national flag embroidered on our uniforms again and again with a strong interest， and give us a thumbs-up. Later， he could even manage to clumsily say “thank you” to us in Chinese.
He reminds me of a young boy named Marlow. I suppose this is his name based on the pronunciation （the local residents speak only Creole， a difficult language for us， so we couldn’t communicate with them）. In fact， there were only three females of all the peacekeepers from 54 countries， be it military or police， and I was one of them. Actually， all of the women came from the Beijing Police Bureau. One day， our squad was in Cité Soleil on an important mission to watch over some materials. It was exhausting and painful because we had to be armed with guns and bulletproof vests as heavy as 20 kg in temperatures of 40 degrees Celsius. We were all soaked through shortly.
Just then， I saw a black boy of about five or six years staring at us from across the street. He was small， with dark round eyes， and his head seemed big for his body. I waved at him and unexpectedly， he limped toward us. The poor people in Haiti could not afford shoes， so they had to walk barefoot. I noticed there was a cut in his left ankle and it was festering， so our doctor disinfected and dressed the wound. The child was scared like a timid bird but soon began talking to us after I gave him a pack of biscuits and some water. He chuckled， made gestures to express himself and called himself Marlow.
Marlow came again with a woman at dusk. She stood at the other side of the road so I could hardly tell her age. I supposed she was his mother or sister， so I smiled and nodded at her. Marlow was talking excitedly between us and the woman with sign languages. I gave him some candies and another pack of biscuits because I knew most of the poor had nothing but a single banana for a whole day. The woman just looked at us from distance without a word， and when they left， she kept looking back at us.
We met Marlow again the day we concluded the task. It was right before we got on board that we heard his voice from far away. His wound had healed. He ran to me and put something in my hand， sweat running down his face. I gave him a kiss and got on the vehicle. It was a small piece of cardboard painted in blue and decorated with sands and seashells， a miniature of a typical sight of the Caribbean. I guessed this must be a token of gratitude. On the way back， I couldn’t help crying for such a simple but precious gift. I might never see him and his family again， but I wished them happiness and safety on this chaotic land. The Chinese Peacekeeping Police paid visits to local communities to build relationships with the people and extend our goodwill. Once we visited a UN-sponsored charity organization with donations of food and water， and received a warm welcome in return. On our arrival， a score of homeless seniors sitting in the shade in a large courtyard applauded and sang for us. A black woman performed a folk dance to music and it inspired me as a girl from China’s Inner Mongolia， a place well-known for its folk art performances. So I began dancing with her. When the song was over， we gave each other a big hug and the seniors present clapped， cheered and created a joyful atmosphere. Some of them even came and shook hands with me with smiles on their faces. Music knows no borders. It could build trust and bridge the distance between strangers like us. It felt so wonderful. A few days later， pictures of the woman and me dancing and hugging were posted on the UN website and other Chinese media.
Away from home and family， I grew close with my colleagues in Haiti. But sometimes， I still felt homesick. During those days， smartphones and the Internet were not as popular as they are today， and things were even harder in Haiti because we could only “borrow” the US’s cellphone signal， let alone access the Internet. Our families might finally get through to our team after days of calling， but we would miss their calls as we were out on duty.
I was on duty all day long on my birthday in 2005. I hadn’t talked to my family for days， so I became nostalgic. Coming back in the evening， I felt exhausted and sad. Suddenly， the lights came on， and my peers gathered around me， clapping and chanting： “Xiaolan， happy birthday！” To my surprise， they took out a birthday cake. In a destitute place like Haiti， it’s hardly possible to have birthday cakes. Later， I learned that they saved bread and jams to make this masterpiece topped with melted chocolate. Everybody sang “happy birthday” for me and I was moved to tears. It was difficult to describe how I felt， but I knew it must be the most unforgettable birthday of my life.
Our team was awarded the UN Peacekeeping Medal on January 16， 2005 and the UNMIH commanded the Pakistani Troops to stand guard for this ceremony. But before the event， military troops and police forces from Argentina， Brazil， Jordan and other countries came forward indignantly： “We are friends， aren’t we？ Why did you only call the Pakistani Troops？ Why don’t you let us help？ So unfair！” They were easy-going but also straightforward， refusing to leave no matter how we explained. So we couldn’t do anything about it. That day， we were graced by the presence of them all. Prior to our departure from Haiti， we received an order from the UNMIH to eradicate an armed criminal gang in Cité Soleil. After meticulous investigation， we stormed its location and took out the main leader， removing a great security concern for the local community.
On April 17， 2005， our charter jet landed at Beijing Capital International Airport. I got off the craft， lowered myself to the ground and caressed this piece of land that I call home： After 180 days and nights， I finally returned to your arms！
Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye and those memories are still alive in the depth of my heart. Never will I forget the camp we built in 20 days， a miracle of UNMIH; never will I forget the first time we raised the Chinese national flag; never will I forget the tears of joy on our triumphant return; and never will I forget Marlow， his family and countless others. All those trials and tribulations make me understand： only when a country becomes strong can its people be respected and enjoy peaceful development. I take great pride in my motherland！■
（Translated by Agnes）
During my study at the China Peacekeeping Police Training Center， I learned that Haiti was the one of the poorest and least developed countries in the world. It was in political turmoil and its democratically elected President Jean-Bertrand Aristide was forced into exile by a military coup. The economy was on the brink of collapse， two-thirds of its population was unemployed， the wealth gap between the rich and the poor was drastic， and anarchy prevailed across the country. We were based in the capital， Port-Au-Prince. Rich people lived in luxurious mansions in the mountains guarded by designated military troops， while the poor were clustered in sweeping swaths of slums down the hills with severely dilapidated infrastructure. Many of them had no access to tap water and there were hardly any paved roads.
I am a girl who has always been fearless. I used to be an athlete and a criminal police for major cases， so I’m not green in terms of investigations and pursuing fugitives， and I have seen some ferocious cases. But it was in Haiti that I witnessed death for the first time. I remember clearly the day our Chinese Peacekeeping Riot Team was heading to a makeshift camp from the airport after arrival. Our bus sped past in a cloud of dust. We saw foul water and garbage everywhere， pedestrians in ragged clothes and ramshackle huts jammed next to each other. Homeless dogs were scrambling for something and it turned out to be a rotting body torn apart by the beasts. It was appalling and would never happen in China. My feelings were complicated， but I realized that in such troubled times， human lives were like a piece of grass. From that moment， a nervousness grew in my heart as I focused on the mission before me.
Upon arrival， the United Nations Mission in Haiti （known as UNMIH in short） settled us down in a deserted and shabby courtyard. What was worse， basic necessities were yet to be delivered to us， so we had to make do with what we had. Our members could only live on compressed biscuits and sleep on narrow moisture-proof pads. Each one of us received a daily ration of three bottles of water. We also had to be careful of mosquitoes and ants who would feast on us and left our bodies covered in poisonous and painful bites， causing sleepless nights. But of course， the biggest challenge for us newcomers was the potential risk of danger at any moment. One day around 1 p.m.， we were taking a nap after a busy morning when an array of gunshots from outside the camp broke the silence. Our iron roof was clattering as shrapnel landed on it. We jumped up and loaded the guns for a state of emergency. After the attack， we checked around and found seven new bullet dents in the outer wall. Later， we learned that it was an intimidation tactic from the largest criminal gang harboring in Cité Soleil. These gangsters committed all kinds of crimes including arson， killing and looting.
In my memory， the most dangerous incident took place on our way to a slum in Cité Soleil. That day， a squad of 12 including me were taking an armored vehicle to the destination. It was getting dark as we passed by a village where crowds on both sides of the road danced to strong rhythms in the light. All of a sudden， heavy gunshots broke out from the alley in front of us with bullets hitting our vehicle violently. Apparently， we were the target. We had no idea who they were， so our leader ordered us to get off the car for shelter immediately. I took cover at a corner and pointed a Type-95 Automatic Rifle to the darkness in front of me. I noticed that the crowd had dispersed and the music had stopped at once. It was eerie. Sparks and bullets lit up the sky as we were raked with peals of heavy fire.
“Move！” our squad leader roared， leaping toward me and giving me a shove. I turned my head and saw bullets spraying behind me， leaving flying sparks on the wall. Someone fired from the roof on the right front. My mind went blank and I could only follow my intuition that I gained from training... Quickly we organized a counterattack and pushed forward slowly in careful search of the enemies， using the vehicle as a shield. After a while， the gunshots stopped abruptly. I suppose the gangsters failed to gain the upper hand in the fight， so they had fled. A few minutes later， the villagers reappeared out of nowhere and started to dance to their music again as if nothing had ever happened. We remained on high alert and expanded our search area. When it was all clear， we got on board at the leader’s command and sped away.
Working in the country for a few months， I noticed that ambushes， armed assaults and even close combats were by no means a rare matter. Each time， we must stay vigilant and act in strict accordance with regulations. Peacekeeping troops and police forces from other countries experienced tragedies of death and injury while our Chinese Police concluded the mission with zero casualty that year. Generally speaking， Haitians are friendly to Chinese， and I believe it is partly because they are curious about us. The UNMIH eventually transferred us to an established camp in a factory. There was a stall owned by an old man with a kindly face and gray beard. He would always smile and greet us cheerfully， looking at the Chinese national flag embroidered on our uniforms again and again with a strong interest， and give us a thumbs-up. Later， he could even manage to clumsily say “thank you” to us in Chinese.
He reminds me of a young boy named Marlow. I suppose this is his name based on the pronunciation （the local residents speak only Creole， a difficult language for us， so we couldn’t communicate with them）. In fact， there were only three females of all the peacekeepers from 54 countries， be it military or police， and I was one of them. Actually， all of the women came from the Beijing Police Bureau. One day， our squad was in Cité Soleil on an important mission to watch over some materials. It was exhausting and painful because we had to be armed with guns and bulletproof vests as heavy as 20 kg in temperatures of 40 degrees Celsius. We were all soaked through shortly.
Just then， I saw a black boy of about five or six years staring at us from across the street. He was small， with dark round eyes， and his head seemed big for his body. I waved at him and unexpectedly， he limped toward us. The poor people in Haiti could not afford shoes， so they had to walk barefoot. I noticed there was a cut in his left ankle and it was festering， so our doctor disinfected and dressed the wound. The child was scared like a timid bird but soon began talking to us after I gave him a pack of biscuits and some water. He chuckled， made gestures to express himself and called himself Marlow.
Marlow came again with a woman at dusk. She stood at the other side of the road so I could hardly tell her age. I supposed she was his mother or sister， so I smiled and nodded at her. Marlow was talking excitedly between us and the woman with sign languages. I gave him some candies and another pack of biscuits because I knew most of the poor had nothing but a single banana for a whole day. The woman just looked at us from distance without a word， and when they left， she kept looking back at us.
We met Marlow again the day we concluded the task. It was right before we got on board that we heard his voice from far away. His wound had healed. He ran to me and put something in my hand， sweat running down his face. I gave him a kiss and got on the vehicle. It was a small piece of cardboard painted in blue and decorated with sands and seashells， a miniature of a typical sight of the Caribbean. I guessed this must be a token of gratitude. On the way back， I couldn’t help crying for such a simple but precious gift. I might never see him and his family again， but I wished them happiness and safety on this chaotic land. The Chinese Peacekeeping Police paid visits to local communities to build relationships with the people and extend our goodwill. Once we visited a UN-sponsored charity organization with donations of food and water， and received a warm welcome in return. On our arrival， a score of homeless seniors sitting in the shade in a large courtyard applauded and sang for us. A black woman performed a folk dance to music and it inspired me as a girl from China’s Inner Mongolia， a place well-known for its folk art performances. So I began dancing with her. When the song was over， we gave each other a big hug and the seniors present clapped， cheered and created a joyful atmosphere. Some of them even came and shook hands with me with smiles on their faces. Music knows no borders. It could build trust and bridge the distance between strangers like us. It felt so wonderful. A few days later， pictures of the woman and me dancing and hugging were posted on the UN website and other Chinese media.
Away from home and family， I grew close with my colleagues in Haiti. But sometimes， I still felt homesick. During those days， smartphones and the Internet were not as popular as they are today， and things were even harder in Haiti because we could only “borrow” the US’s cellphone signal， let alone access the Internet. Our families might finally get through to our team after days of calling， but we would miss their calls as we were out on duty.
I was on duty all day long on my birthday in 2005. I hadn’t talked to my family for days， so I became nostalgic. Coming back in the evening， I felt exhausted and sad. Suddenly， the lights came on， and my peers gathered around me， clapping and chanting： “Xiaolan， happy birthday！” To my surprise， they took out a birthday cake. In a destitute place like Haiti， it’s hardly possible to have birthday cakes. Later， I learned that they saved bread and jams to make this masterpiece topped with melted chocolate. Everybody sang “happy birthday” for me and I was moved to tears. It was difficult to describe how I felt， but I knew it must be the most unforgettable birthday of my life.
Our team was awarded the UN Peacekeeping Medal on January 16， 2005 and the UNMIH commanded the Pakistani Troops to stand guard for this ceremony. But before the event， military troops and police forces from Argentina， Brazil， Jordan and other countries came forward indignantly： “We are friends， aren’t we？ Why did you only call the Pakistani Troops？ Why don’t you let us help？ So unfair！” They were easy-going but also straightforward， refusing to leave no matter how we explained. So we couldn’t do anything about it. That day， we were graced by the presence of them all. Prior to our departure from Haiti， we received an order from the UNMIH to eradicate an armed criminal gang in Cité Soleil. After meticulous investigation， we stormed its location and took out the main leader， removing a great security concern for the local community.
On April 17， 2005， our charter jet landed at Beijing Capital International Airport. I got off the craft， lowered myself to the ground and caressed this piece of land that I call home： After 180 days and nights， I finally returned to your arms！
Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye and those memories are still alive in the depth of my heart. Never will I forget the camp we built in 20 days， a miracle of UNMIH; never will I forget the first time we raised the Chinese national flag; never will I forget the tears of joy on our triumphant return; and never will I forget Marlow， his family and countless others. All those trials and tribulations make me understand： only when a country becomes strong can its people be respected and enjoy peaceful development. I take great pride in my motherland！■
（Translated by Agnes）