Kashmir: Arrival in a Troubled Paradise

One last hurdle for the laptops: being overweight for the flight to Srinagar from Delhi. I had a chat with my driver to the airport. Krishna's father died of cancer, in their small village in Nepal. Krishna moved to Delhi on his own at the age of 15 to try to make enough money to send home to his mother to assist with her and the other children he has been in Delhi 10 years now, and has learned a bit of English and drives a taxi for a company. He works 15 days on night shift, and 15 days on the day shift, 12 hour days. He gets no benefits, no holidays, and is able to send some money back to the family. He especially wants to fund an education for his brother's 2 year old son. He thinks he won't be able to ever improve his position in life without an education. I told him that at his age, a skill would be better than a general education. He is somewhat familiar with computers, and has an e-mail address, so I laid out a plan for how he could set himself up in business making websites using freewebs. If he follows up and takes a look at freewebs, I will help him more when I return to Delhi in Sept or early Oct.

I found the name of this camper van amusing. It perfectly denotes the feeling of anyone driving in Delhi for the first time.

They let me on the flight to Srinagar with no fee for the extra weight. So the laptops made it all the way with no extra cost.

Flying into Kashmir, the planting terraces were green and beauiful. Clearly hand planted and harvested, with the curved boundaries blending into each other.

Tahir was at the airport to pick me up, and the fresh air and cool spring green was a delightful contrast to Delhi. On the way to Wayil, I was astounded to see a 3 legged horse slowly making its way across the road in front of us. A three legged horse! Untended. I asked Tahir later how is it that someone would keep such a horse. Tahir said you will see many such animals in Kashmir. And the owner of the horse would be giving it food and pills if necessary to keep it healthy, even though it could do no work. I want a photo of that horse, and its owner! I also spotted a horse hobbling along on a foot turned over. Amazing. They are not killed.

Upon my arrival at the Hope Disability Centre, one of the staff gave me these colourful plastic flowers. I decided to put them above my bed. And then there was tea with Sami Wani, the manager and Senior Physiotherapist of Hope Centre, and Tahir.

My first few hours in Kashmir were spent with Sami and Tahir's family. I learned to say Salaam Aliekum in greeting, and I learned to use the toilet without toilet paper. For the second time in my (adult) life I learned to eat a full meal sitting on the floor, using only my right hand - and now I understand, really understand, why the left hand is considered unclean, and why one doesn't use it for eating, and why it is such an insult to offer someone your left hand. I expect there are no southpaws in this part of the world. The Kashmiris have a special pitcher and bowl for washing hands before and after a meal.I need to remember to let others go first, so I can follow their example. I see now that the left hand is not even allowed washing after the meal. One handed washing.

There will be no wine with dinner for several months. Bottled water will be my new beverage of choice. That and the strong boiled tea with milk served here. True chai.

I had saffron tea at the Wani family Compound my first night. Mr Wani, the patriarch of the clan, is the boad chair for the centre, and donated the land for it. It wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.

I walked with Sami to the volleyball game set up by the river. No females anywhere around. The players were all young men, and they were all very good. The audience was boys, who took over the court once the young men had finished their games. Sami plays with them when he can, but many evenings he is busy with paperwork and e-mails, and doesn't break away.
My room is in the Centre itself, so I need not worry about transportation, and I always have everything I need near at hand. Being out away from a city, with no street lights, the nights are pitch black and very quiet; the only sound the rushing stream and the ticking of the wall clock. The centre has a night watchman - who lives at the Centre. He is a young Pakistani man named Imtyaz . So I feel very safe.

I went for a walk my first morning. Unlike the US and New Zealand, most people here walk from one place to another. The children walk to school, people walk to work in the fields near their houses, or wait on the road for a bus or a friend to pick them up. So I had lots of opportunities to practice my Salaam Aliekum with people I passed on the road. I certainly didn't pass unnoticed, as they don't get many Europeans out here. No one was rude to me, an infidel. On the contrary, everyone returned my greeting with at least some kind of acknowledgement, and some were very friendly. The sargeant in charge of the bridge guards,

for example, invited me into the office for a cup of boiled milk tea. He wasn't carrying a rifle, and seemed genuine, so I took him up on it. It is so helpful having grey hair. I can just relate to people on a human to human basis. The tea was delicious, especially since he added just a pinch of salt. The wiring was dodgy, but I realize this is how a lot of wiring is done here!

Here are some photos from my first walk:

At this time of year, late April, the oat crop is starting to be harvested, and will be replaced with rice and some corn later on. I have never studied the paddy form of farming before. It seems a very efficient system, and good for small farmers.

The very careful controlling of the flow of water from the mountains was evident everywhere.

This rose was being air-layered. A plastic bag with moss was placed around a joint and kept moist. In a few weeks enough roots will form to cut the branch off the mother plant and a new rose bush is planted.

I began helping the staff learn Word on Wednesday. It went OK, but we need new mice for 2 of the laptops.

The walker Rob had me bring was in use quickly too:

After lunch of rice and dal (seasoned lentils in sauce), I went with Sami to follow up on Rehania, a girl who had recently had surgery to have her leg lengthened. It was 5 inches shorter than the other one. Here is a photo of her before surgery. She was at school, and we arrived at recess time. The children crowdwd around and had to be told to stay away, as Sami unwrapped the girl's leg and examined it. I filmed the process. When we went back to the van, it was like parting the sea, the children were so intent on our visit. Smiling and waving, we left, promising to return in 10-15 days.

I took one last photo of Rehania, being helped by her friends at school. When I return, I will give her a print of this photo.

On the way back to Hope Centre, Sami stopped to give a ride to 11 schoolgirls and their teacher. They all crowded into the van - like sardines!

My second morning I walked the other direction, and followed the path along the stream. It was good to get off the road with its honking traffic going past a few inches away. At one point there were a couple of concrete posts placed across the stream for a bridge. I crossed, and started climbing. The road would be hard to navigate on foot in winter when it was icy! Soon a young boy stopped to say hello and practice his english. His good name was Tasaduk. I met his older sister, too, but didn't catch her name. She was too shy to practice her english. Tasaduk was game, though. I noticed as we talked that his school uniform of white shirt and blue sweater had seen better days - worn and frayed shirt, holes in his sweater. His family would not be the richest in the tiny mountain village of Sahipora. He and his sister were on their way to school. I gave him my card and told him that if his teacher would like me to visit the classroom, I would be happy to come. He told me his village was up the hill to the right, so as I continued climbing, I took the right fork when the path split. The people in the village were very surprised to see me. One of the villagers spoke english, so I told him I was just out for a walk. On the way back down, I chatted with a young man who said I could call him if I were visiting the village again. And his friend invited me for tea. I took a photo of Bashu and his 2 friends. If this happens every time I go for a walk, I will soon know as many people in Ganderbal as Sami!

Here is a photo of one of the local mosques:

After my walk, Sami and Din the ambulance driver and I headed to 2 hospitals and other places in Srinagar. I filmed and photographed my way through the day, meeting Sami's doctor friends who donate their time for Sami's poor patients, and his suppliers of orthopedic parts who sells wholesale to Sami. And several patients as well. One little boy due for surgery was in his hospital bed and understandably very apprehensive. I showed him his digital photo to get a smile from him.

We met up with Sami's brother Tahir before heading back to Wayil. Tahir works and lives in Srinagar. I had a very important question to ask him: did he remember if the 3-legged horse we saw on our drive from the airport had its leg amputated above or below the knee? He recalled it was below the knee, which was great news, because Sami can make a prosthetic limb for it! I would like to find the horse and its owner and learn the story behind it. It may well make a wonderful human and animal interest story.

We stopped at a computer store to pick up a couple of mice for the laptops, and blank DVDs so I can burn copies of the Hope Centre's BBC World Challenge entry. This will make a great gift for the doctors and all the other supporters of the centre. Hope Centre's computer is too old to play or burn DVDs, and their internet access is dial up only, so they haven't even seen it yet, until I arrived. My laptop is earning its keep. It takes 45 minutes to burn a DVD, but I can be doing other things while it burns away.

The kitchen at Hope Centre has no oven, just gas and one electric burner. So I won't be able to bake muffins for people while here. Sami, bless his heart, really enjoys cooking, and I love the vegetarian meals he comes up with. Rice and veggies and lentils are fine by me every night. Last night Sami re-wired the kitchen and bathroom lights, while held my solar flashlight so he could see better. Having held flashlights for men many many times, I have learned the fine art of the go-fer. I no longer bristle at being always the helper and never the do-er, now that I have had plenty of do-ing with the apartment building in Iowa. In the two days I have been here, I have watched Sami dam the stream to get enough water to run the mini hydro plant, run wiring through the walls to get better electricity to the kitchen, cook meals, care for the large flower garden and grass he planted just before I arrived, and see numerous patients and arrange for drugs and foot straightening tools for a young boy awaiting surgery in the public hospital.

A hair-raising ride back to Wayil, where I had to close my eyes a number of times and make sure not an inch of my body was outside the vehicle, especially since there was no side mirror on my side of the van. I doubt if I will see many side mirrors in India. The 2-3 inches they take up are critical!


Every morning the van driver Din, whose salary is paid for by the local police office, collects physically and mentally disabled children from the surrounding area to bring to Hope Centre for the day. Here is one of the girls arriving. And a photo of them having lunch outside.