Selling pork

This is a real thing. In the 1970s, I was 3 years old.

The family is deep in the mountains and is a village with ten years of drought.

The farm work of the production team does not stop when it is not stopped all year round. In the winter, the road is built and the road is dug; the spring is filled with fertilizer to prepare the farmland; in the summer, the fertilization is used to kill the four pests;

After the fall, the production team distributed 400 pounds of food per person.

My yard has a simple pig circle, also raised pigs.

Parents are members, and they work on the production team on time and on time. During the day, there are piglets, grandfathers and me at home.

At that time, there was no side food, the food was just enough for people to eat, and the pigs could only eat wild vegetables.

After the production team was out of work, the mother went black and continued to dig wild vegetables, always coming home very late. When I heard the pig rushing to the door of the house, I heard the footsteps of the mother and knew that she was back.

The first thing my mother went home was to feed the pigs. When pigs grow up, they can sell money. This is known to the whole family, so the status of pigs is very high.

Pig food is not nutritious, and pigs are malnourished. For seven or eight months, it will grow to a weight of seventy or eighty kilograms. When the weather is cold, there is nothing to feed, only to kill and sell.

The pig killed. When I was killing a pig, my mother was very upset.

The pig's head is sold to the village head, and the pigs are released in advance and sold to neighbors. The remaining bone meat is 46 pounds, and the villagers can't digest it. Grandpa signaled his father to hurry to sell!

Parents carrying pork to the village supply and marketing cooperatives, eight cents per catty. The salesperson told his father that there was a construction team repairing the reservoir 30 miles away, where it could be sold for an octagonal five-point; the parents carrying 46 pounds of meat, holding the cold wind, went hungry for a whole day, for nine points.

That day, when they went home, they were already dead at night.

Grandpa, me, and my parents didn't eat a small piece of pork. It seems that money is more important.

In the spring of the following year, another piglet entered the circle. . . .