of the nearby mountain on my way to the Hope Disability Centre. During the day it continued to snow. It was so beautiful. We decided to leave work right at 4:30 to be sure to get back to Srinagar, considering the weather. Unlike in the Midwest of the USA, there would not be any trucks out on the roads spreading sand or plowing. Some of the guys had a bit of a snowball fight at the end of the day. One of the HI team members, Shiwendra, had never seen snow before, so it was a requirement that he be introduced in the art of snowball fights.
Sledding and snowmen and snow angels can come later.My face was pressed to the glass all the way back to Srinagar. It was so beautiful.
We saw one vehicle which had slid off the road, but we made it safely back to the city.It had been a beautiful day, a real gift from God. And He wrapped it all up for us at the end of the day in a rain bow, over Dal Lake.


The next morning Shiwendra and I went for a walk along the shores of Dal Lake. I knew with all the rain and snow that the air would be clear, and we would be able to see the mountains surrounding Srinagar if the clouds lifted. It wasn't sunny but it was beautiful.

There was a man out fishing,


And the snow on the haak greens was beautiful.

We turned away from the lake, following a small lane I knew about that would eventually take us to the nearest village to the Handicap International house. The village is named Brein, and is pronounced "brain'.

It had cleared up a little more by the time we left the village.

One week later this village is now rocked to the core, because a 16 year old boy was shot to death by security forces as he was returning with his friends from playing cricket. He was shot very near the Handicap International house, in the wealthy suburb of Nishat, where doctors and expats live. The people who live in those houses are now pretty much unable to leave.
Young men are shot and killed all the time in Kashmir by security forces. Most of them are protesters. But this week, two young men were killed as they were walking home. On Monday a 14 year old boy was killed when a tear gas canister was fired into his head as he was heading home from school. All of Kashmir has been protesting these senseless murders this week.
Protests even took place in normally quiet Wayil village, though the protesters were not from Wayil. Even in the height of the militancy, I have learned, Wayil youth never took part in any of the militarism, and no Wayil youth or adults have been killed by the security forces. Nearby villages lost 20 or 30 young men, but not Wayil. That explains why I always feel so safe here in the village. Though if I had walked to work the day of protests in Wayil a half hour later than I do, I might have been caught up in it.
I have been well protected from any harm. Last year the village where I stopped to help plant rice had protests the following week, and a tourist bus had its windows broken out. The week after I left Brein a murder took place there. Half an hour after I walk to work there is stone pelting in sleepy Wayil. The closest I have come to a protest took place last Saturday, as Andrew and Shiwendra and I were in a bookstore in Srinagar.
It was a labor protest that passed by, and we decided to stay in the shop a bit longer.After we left, we stopped by the post office so I could post a DVD I had created on Kashmiri embroidery, and a letter. The entrance to the post office was a maze of razor wire and guards. As we approached, a guard asked us our reason for coming to the post office. We were admitted to the next step, frisking. Two women guards frisked me and went through my bag. They pulled out my cell phone, digital camera, and video camera. The cell phone had to be switched off, and they kept the cameras until I returned from the post office itself. I rejoined Andrew inside the post office, and we waited in line. After a fairly long wait, I handed my items to the postal worker on duty. He told me how much postage would be due on each of the items, and then handed them back to me. What? It was explained that the lady who sold the stamps was not in today, so I could not post my items. Wow. It wasn't a wasted visit, though, because I had stamps back in Wayil I could use to post them, now that I knew how much each one would cost. On the way out, after picking up my cameras, I asked to take photos of the guards who had frisked me. They agreed.


The post office in Ganderbal has no such security in place. It is a different world outside Srinagar, I am learning.




























































