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有一次在我家,面对一张30年前的老照片,一个记者与县里的干部在辨认照片上收养的孩子是谁、是什么民族时,我对他们说:“在我这里不分民族,他们都是我的孩子!”1957年,我嫁给了从部队转业回来在县公安局工作的维吾尔族小伙子阿比包,我们一家7口人过上了虽清贫但快乐的日子。1970年,我们的邻居牙合甫夫妇相继去世,撇下3个半大小子:19岁的老大吐尔达洪、17岁的库尔班和14岁的托乎提。同样失去过父母的我,知道这3个孩子的孤单和无助的滋味,我对善良的丈夫说:“咱们总不能眼睁睁看着这3个孩子没人管吧?”
Once in my home, in the face of an old photo of 30 years ago, a journalist and county cadres who identified the children who were adopted on the photograph, I said to them: “It does not matter to me Nationality, they are all my children! ”In 1957, I was married to an Uighur boy abigail who was reorganized from the army and returned to work in the county public security bureau. Our family of seven had a poor but happy day. In 1970, two of our neighbors, the couple, died suddenly, leaving behind three and a half boys: 19-year-old Tatar Dahong, 17-year-old Kurban and 14-year-old Tohti. The same lost parents, I know the lonely and helpless taste of these three children, my good husband, said: “We can not watch these three children no one?”