Last Day in Kashmir

My passport and tickets safely in my bag, and a whole suitcase full of beautiful Kashmiri embroidered goods, it was time to say goodbye to people and head for the airport. I had one very special delivery to make. A new pheran for my friend Rathi at the bakery. This tiny widowed woman had befriended me and gave me short lessons in Kashmiri every morning, and usually an extra piece of bread - piping hot from the oven. One morning she gave me two hard boiled eggs. And the chain from her neck, and the ring from her finger. In my shopping trip, I made sure I had a tiny pheran in muted colour just for her. I was delighted that it fit her!! And she was very very happy, too.





















A few other goodbyes, and it was time to head to the airport. Tahir met us on the road and had a vegetarian pizza for me. I was sick, though, and could only eat one small piece.

We made it to the airport in plenty of time, and with one last photo of Sami and me, I was off to the US. I will return to Kashmir, but now with all these photos, and many videos to turn into movies, I have plenty of work I can do for Sami and the disabled of Kashmir from wherever I am in the world. I am now ready to speak to any group who will have me.

Leaving Kashmir

My father has been having some health issues. I have been monitoring them from Kashmir, and carefully reading all my sisters have been relaying. When he fell at his apartment building, and his heart rate fell to 30, it didn't look good. He was hospitalized, and released to a nursing home. Saying things like he didn't want to be around for his 85th birthday (July 1). It was time to go see him. I had planned to be in Kashmir until October, so I scrambled to make these changes in my plans. Sami's travel agency is Fly High Tours and Travel. I don't think Kashmiris understand how humorous this is to foreigners - especially ones who know that Kashmir is a place where opium poppies and marijuana grow wild.

I wanted to bring samples of Kashmiri embroidery to the US for gifts and to show examples of what the disabled women and men of Kashmir do to help make a living for their families. Tahir took me back to Dal Lake to a houseboat where the shop owners support women and the disabled.













I was treated to tea and a demonstration of one of the embroidery techniques. And I had the shop to myself, and the shopkeepers showed me many many beautiful items. I bought as much as I could afford.



























The place looked like a tornado had been through it by the time I left.










For a great informative article on Kashmiri embroidery, click here

The Ring Ceremony

One Sunday Sami came to my room and asked if I was busy. "No, what can I do for you?" He asked me to come with him to his cousins' house. I always go where Sami leads. Had I known what was in store, I would have cleaned up and changed into something more suitable for the occasion! As it turns out, I was invited to participate in Sami's cousin's ring ceremony. Zefir was getting engaged!!

Many of the family were there when I arrived, dressed beautifully, and everyone was very excited, and anxious. Someone was coming. They would be here soon. Who??? Gradually I was told what was going on. Zefir was about to meet the family of his beloved for the first time today. It was a really big deal. Zefir was very nervous. At first it was like a surprise birthday party. As soon as the lookout said "They're coming!", all the women and nearly everyone else disappeared upstairs. I was not sent upstairs, so I went outside to watch the arrival, and take a photo.














Two men arrived bearing covered trays, which were given to another cousin.


















Then they (and I) were ushered into a room with beautiful carpets and cushions. As it dawned on me what was going on, I went to get my video camera as well as my digital camera, to document this special day in Zefir's life.

Greeting hugs,

































































distribution of sweets and nuts,



































cake and tea,













special wazwan meal - just like at a wedding











some very stilted conversation, and the uncle of Zefir's fiancee (her father is dead) placed a golden chain around Zefir's wrist.


















Kashmiris are normally very talkative people. But we sat there for 3 hours and much of that time was perfectly silent. And I don't think I heard a peep out of Zefir the whole time!! When Sami said it was time to leave, I expressed my gratitude at being present at this very momentous occasion, and departed.

The two men were the fiancee's uncle and her brother. Zefir had not met either of them before. The way marriages work in Kashmir in modern times is that the couple meet often through work, and then they ask their parents to arrange the marriage for them. Cell phones are very useful tools for staying in touch, because physical touch is absolutely forbidden. Boyfriends and girlfriends are not to exist at all. No premarital sex, no living together before marriage. And no inclusion in each other's family get togethers until after this ring ceremony. It is called a ring ceremony, but there is no exchange of rings at this time. If it was a Hindu marriage, there would be an exchange of rings. The term 'ring ceremony' has been borrowed from Hindu Indian culture, but only the name has been borrowed. This was a bit confusing for me, until I researched it online.

Ganderbal Garden
Here are some photos of a beautiful garden I visited in Ganderbal town one day when I decided to go for a bike ride on my new bike. It was a very enjoyable ride, and a lovely garden to wander in.

Kupwara

Finally - a trip to Kupwara! The outreach post near Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. Where it is not always safe to go. I had heard about this place for months, and now was finally able to go there.




We left Wayil just after 7:30 am. Sami, Mathieu from Handicap International, and me. Our first stop was in the town of Sopore, where community organisers had contacted many of the disabled in the area, and told them Hope Disability Centre would be coming.














We arrived in Sopore around 10:30. The German photographer Andy joined us there along with Sami's brother Tahir. The Handicap International team wanted to interview the community leaders, and they did this while Sami assessed the disabled of Sopore, and I documented it all in photos and video.













A large tent had been set up, with a table and a couple of chairs. About 30 disabled children and adults were sitting on the rugs inside the tent waiting for us.









Sami wasted no time, and began immediately interviewing the people waiting for him, and noting critical details in his notebook.










I took photos and videos of these new additions to Hope Disability Centre's log of the disabled of Kashmir. Sami worked quickly. He spent little time with adults he could not help, and a fair amount of time assessing children whose disability might be quickly and completely corrected through surgery.





























More people kept coming. He assessed 40 people in 2 and a half hours. Over half of them were disabled from polio.












At one point tea and bananas were handed out to the people in the tent.




















Sami could not see them all. He had to stop and we continued on to Kupwara.















Sami identified 6 children who could have their disabilities corrected wih fairly simple surgery. With his doctors donating their time, he can get these surgeries performed for between 2000 and 3000 rupees each, or between $40 and $60 each. But he doesn't have the $40 or $60 to have the surgeries done, and has to wait until donatons come in.




























We continued our trip on a very bad road filledwith nearly invisible but very big speed bumps. Because the ambulance/van had broken down and was being fixed, we were driving Tariq's small car. It did not like the roads one bit. This photo shows that a bridge destroyed in the fighting over the years has still not been replaced. Because I got out of the car to take this photo, we were stopped by the military. They do not like people taking photos!!!






We arrived late in the afternoon. About a km before we reached the centre, we went through a gate, at a military camp. This gate is closed every day at 5 or 6 pm, as it is very close to the Pakistan border. Jut one more hurdle for people in this area to deal with.













When we arrived at the Hope Kupwara centre, (the sign has been damaged by gunfire) there were 4 village workers waiting for us, to meet Mathieu from Handicap International. He asked them a few questions, and then they left to return to their villages. One of them lived 35 km away. How did she get home? I saw no cars there.













The Kupwara facility is a rented home. It doesn't look very inviting from the street, but inside is quite nice.











I took the opportunity to go up to the open storage area on top of the main living quarters, and have a look around.














I went for a walk along the river with the younger sister of Kounsa, the Kupwara physiotherapist as my guide.

















A crowd of children gathered, so I decided to photograph them, and then them with me.

I was surprised to learn that our physiotherapist in Kupwara, Kounsa, is on a softball team which travels throughout India to compete with other teams. I also learned that last year, when Rob Buchanan was visiting Kupwara with Sami, they woke to shouts and screams in the village. It was a terrorist, all right. A bear had come down from the mountains in the night and attacked the children in the village the next morning. 40 children were injured before they were able to stop the bear. Only the police and Indian military can have any kind of firearm in Kashmir. Even straight edge razor blades are not available here. They may even be banned. I don't know. brought one with me to clean windows, and wondered why thee was still paint on the windows of Hope Centre 3 years after it was built.


That evening I ate dinner in the kitchen with all the women, and then we all slept together in one bedroom. There were 9 of us. It was like a slumber party! I was the honoured guest, so I got the only bed in the room. It soon became obvious that there wasn't enough floor space for everyone, so I moved over in the single bed and motioned that someone could sleep with me. One of the younger girls jumped right in. And at some point in the night we were joined by another girl, making 3 of us in the small bed. It wasn't a problem, though, since all of us were sleepers who stay put, and don't thrash around in our sleep.



The next morning I went for a walk in the village, and found a beautiful mosque. The village has two mosques. This was very small compared to the other one.



I hope to return and spend more time there in the future.

Kashmiri Weddings

I went for a bicycle ride one day, and when I returned, I passed along the small side street many villagers all dressed up in their finest. They were happy and laughing and everyone I passed invited me to join them. There was a wedding in Wayil. I was hot and sweaty from my ride, and certainly not dressed to go to a wedding, but my young friend Diya (in the coral top with black hair) was so persuasive, that I asked Sami if it was OK. He said I should just go and see the wedding tents. So I went with Diya, and then the wedding party invited me to stay for the meal. How could I refuse??









I had heard so much about Kashmiri weddings, and the famous wazwan feast, that it was a good opportunity for me to experience it. The wazwan meal of many courses is nearly entirely meat, but there was one dish with cheese, so this is what I would eat. First we sat in groups of 4 in the huge wedding tent. Men and women each had their own tents. Then we were presented with a silver urn and washbasin so we could wash our hands just before the meal.






















Then a huge plate of rice was placed in the centre of each group of 4 peopls. I got my own small plate of rice, being the only vegetarian there. With the only cheese dish on the menu. And then the meat started coming - dish after dish. There was far too much for any one person to eat, so plastic bags were also handed out so guests could take home the extras. Nothing is wasted.












Just when I thought the meal was finished, around they would come again with some new special meat dish to ladle out onto the rice, and the rice was replenished frequently as well.

















The meal lasted well over an hour, and it was a source of amusement for everyone to have this foreign lady join them, and eat with her hand, just like they do.


















The final dish was this huge meatball, several inches in diameter. They call this the "full stop", which is another name for the period at the end of a sentence. How appropriate.















Then, after washing our hands again, we had a packet of mixed herbs and mint candies to freshen our breath. Very nice.














Before leaving, I met with the groom and gave a wedding gift, and was also introduced to the bride, who was in a separate room, in all her glory.































After returning to Sami's family home, one last photo of me and the kids.

Wani Family and Construction Techniques

Sami has an extensive network of family and friends. He stays in touch with them by cell phone mostly, along with short visits and long cricket matches. He is with some of his cricket buddies here. Sami and his posse. Sami was considering a professional cricket career before he decided on physiotherapy, and he still loves and is very good at the game. But he doesn't get to play very often. Maybe once a month in the summer. Last year he started up a cricket tournament as a fundraiser, with Rob Buchanan's help. A cricket bat signed by the New Zealand cricket team is the trophy. Sami's team won. There is nothing that would make Sami happier than having a cricket jersey from the New Zealand cricket team. I have no idea how to do this for him. Cricket is an obsession with all Indians, and all Kashmiris. That is one thing they all have in common. As soon as any male over the age of 10 hears I am from New Zealand, they ask me: "Do you know such and so?" I have learned to answer "He's a cricket player, right?" Having grown up in the US, cricket was not a game I came to know until I moved to New Zealand. I am gradually learning it more, but spectator sports in general are really low on my priority list. I would rather read the Koran.


One of Sami's brothers is Tariq. He is not involved in the Hope Centre as Tahir is, and Sami's sister Shabnum. So I haven't mentioned him in my blog. He has the cutest daughter - they call her Tabu. She was quite shy around me at first, but gradually warmed up once she had seen me a few times, and we played peek-a-boo one night. That broke the ice.


























The new Wani House Sami's father is a construction contractor, and he has been gradually working on a new house for the family. In late June the concrete roof was being poured, and it was a big event. The Wani family hired a wazwan chef to cook up a selection of special dishes - and neighbours and family were invited to come and celebrate the pouring of the concrete roof. The wazwan chef worked in what appears to be a former kitchen in the Wani house. With help from relatives.


















I went over to check out the roof progress, and saw that the workers were the Biharis again. It amazes me how they do this heavy labour all day long in the heat. But knowing from experience how a person's body can accomplish tremendous feats with training and experience, it should really not surprise me at all. It takes two people to get a basket of gravel or wet concrete up on a labourer's head.






































































And then they had to climb up makeshift stairs carrying those loads. One of the boys seemed too young for this work - to my inexperienced eyes, anyway.
















































Once on top of the roof, other workers spread and leveled and smoothed the concrete over the wire mesh.


















In this photo, notice the house in the background with the attic open to the air. Most of the houses are built this way - this is where dried oats and other animal feed is stored for the winter.
















Shop Shelves
Progress on the Hope Shop continues. Funding has come in to pay for the carpenters to build the shelving for the shop, and they have arrived to do their work. These two guys built a whole wall of shelves in one day, out of a couple sheets of plywood and using nothing but hand tools. That's pretty good, in my opinion. But then, I am not a carpenter. They came back the next day and built more shelves and a desk.






















The Indian military guy doesn't have much to do, so he hung around and charged up his cell phone. The military are everywhere at this time of year. Protecting the Hindu tourists and pilgrims, I have been told. No one protects the Kashmiris from them, though. Under martial law, the military can do anything it wants. Since 1990 the state of Kashmir has been under the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, which gives the military special powers. These include the right to use deadly force and raid any premises without a warrant. Plus, army officers have legal immunity for their actions. There can be no prosecution, suit or any other legal proceeding against anyone acting under that law. Think of the implications of that, just for a moment.
This has been going on for 19 years now!!!

And then there is the draconian Public Safety Act, which authorizes police to detain people for up to two years without trial, with no contact with family or lawyers.

Imagine just for a moment what it would be like if Mexican military were on every corner in the US, or Chinese military on every corner in New Zealand, with these kinds of repressive laws in place. What would you do?

Hope Centre Visitors

Weekdays are very busy at Hope Centre. Regular patients come for physiotherapy, the creche children arrive in the van, and then there are always visitors and people who have heard of the Centre and hope to be helped by Sami. And then there are visits by the Indian military people. They have a lot of time on their hands.

This little girl arrived with her parents one day. Her parents are not poor, but they have found no one who can help their girl, and are hoping Sami can. I know Sami showed the parents some exercises, but I don't know if she will be returning. I loved her outfit.















Rajah comes several times a week to Hope Centre. He contracted polio when he was 8 years old, and lost the use of his legs. The Social Welfare Department gave him his hand cycle, and they give him 300 rupees per month ($10 NZ) to live on. His father is dead, and he has two small brothers and an unmarried sister. The entire family struggles to get by on only 1000 rupees per month, about $20 US. Rajah has picked up some computer training and English along the way. He is bright, and has the potential to run his own business. His goal is to run a shop in his village doing photocopies, filling out forms and letters and e-mails for people in his village. All he needs is a laptop computer, and a printer/scanner. And then he could support his family.





Paraffin Treatment for Arthritis
Lalia, the nurse at Hope Centre, gave a paraffin treatment one day to an elderly gentleman who came to the Centre. I had never seen this done before.

















I am not sure where Sami found these children, but they showed up at Hope Centre one morning with their mother. Sami had made arrangements to them to take a bus into the capital, Srinagar, to be seen by one of his doctor friends. There is something wrong with their eyes.














Rihana showed up one day with her little brother, for some follow up physiotherapy. It was great to see her walking without a cane or any support. And even more wonderful to see her play volleyball with her brother in the front yard of Hope Centre!

You would never know by looking at her that polio had shortened one leg by 5 inches. Her leg was lengthened by the Ilizarov technique, developed in Russia in the 1950s. It has been wonderful to watch the final stages of her recovery during these past couple of months.

Life at Hope Centre

Daily life at Hope Centre has a routine which is modified by the coming and going of several key variables: hot water, cold water, and electricity. Some mornings there would be boiling hot water to wash with, and you had to be very careful not to burn yourself with it. I was used to very hot water from living in New Zealand, where the Kiwis tend to keep their hot water heaters cranked up to the max. So this was never a problem for me. Some mornings there would be no hot water at all, due to some problem with the water heater or the electricity, or both. And some mornings there would be no cold water to mix with the hot water from the hot water tank. When hot water was abundant, it was a good day to wash clothes.


















We don't have a clothesline, so clothes are dried on top of the swing, or draped over the wall to dry.



















I make breakfast for Imtiyaz and myself every morning. Usually we have cooked oats with raisins and bananas, fresh bread, and tea with milk. It is always interesting to see how breakfast so quickly becomes a habit for people. Unlike lunch or dinner, people seem to settle on their favorite breakfast, and stick with it. I know myself that I desire black tea so much for my breakfast that I carry some with me everywhere I go. Breakfast without caffienated tea (or coffee), just isn't breakfast.











Cooking is done with LP gas, and when you run out, everything stops! One morning Imtiyaz and I realized as we were buying our morning breakfast supplies, that we were out of cooking gas, and had no way to make our oats and our tea. This would not do! So we bought a canister, and Imtiyaz hauled it on a bus to the road by the Centre and we carried it the rest of the way in. Breakfast was especially delicious that morning.














Sami has planted a flower and vegetable garden in the front yard of the Centre, and it is good exercise to get water from the canal and haul it to the garden for the flowers. It does not rain here a lot. One morning Sami and Imtiyaz trimmed branches from a willow tree overhanging the centre and used them to build a climbing frame for the cucumbers.


















Care Packages:
My friend Patti from Corwith, Iowa had said she would be sending a package to me. When it arrived, Sami and I opened it and were delighted with the treasures inside: lovely cards full of love and support for me and for Sami, a sweatshirt for Sami, children's Tylenol, flower and vegetable seeds, two rolls of toilet paper (how CAN you be using your hand!!), a box of Wheat Thins which I opened immediately, and some dried craisins and blueberries which I gave out as gifts to people who would have never tasted them. Sami loves his sweatshirt, which is big for him, and will let him add layers underneath it this winter to stay nice and warm. It was a magic treasure box for us. Even the paper towels used as packing were a treat, because they don't exist here, and if something is spilled on the floor, it means a towel will need to be hand washed. There are few paper produducts here: no paper towels, no toilet paper, no tissues - all those things found in nearly every home in New Zealand and the US. And not having them is a much more sustainable way to live - like so many things here.

Another box arrived - this one was one I had sent as an experiment from New Zealand. It arrived, but much the worse for wear. Some kind person tied it up with string so it would not fall apart completely. Next time I will use a much sturdier box!

It contained items I wanted for myself and for the centre which would not be missed if none of them arrived. I ran a couple more tests of regular mail as well, and all the mail I sent arrived just fine. So now I have much more confidence in the Kashmiri postal system.






Computers
Sami and I learned some valuable lessons about computer viruses in May and June. I learned that it is important to get an antivirus programme on any new computer before it leaves the store where you bought it. And Sami learned that one must never allow an antivirus program to get out of date. I spent over a solid week working with the technical experts at ESET India to try to get rid of the viruses infecting the desktop at Hope Centre. Eventually we had to reformat the hard drive, and reinstall Windows XP. So I learned a lot from that exercise. There is a magical programme called Team Viewer www.teamviewer.com that lets you have your computer be taken over by a technical expert from anywhere in the world to troubleshoot your system. In our case, our technical experts were in Mumbai. Your computer needs to be connected to the Internet for this programme to work. It was fascinating watching the mouse move by itself, opening and closing various windows and conducting various procedures.

Sonamarg and Baltal, Kashmir

Sonamarg was a much needed excursion away from Hope Centre in June. There were tensions surrounding the theft of my HTC Pocket PC, and I was happy to get away for a day. Tahir and a friend took me in his car far up into the mountains. At one point all the traffic was halted because the military documents exactly who goes up into the mountains, and who comes down again. So I got out of the car and walked for a while. And I took this photo of hte indian tourists throwing paper out of their car window. Yes, paper is biodegradable, but the tidy Kiwi in me, along with the Minnesota nice part of me, thinks its wrong, wrong, wrong.


















The road was also under construction, and the workers were mostly Biharis. The Biharis come north in the summer to do the really hard, hot, an dirty jobs in Kashmir. They are the ones working on the roads, and hauling the wet concrete on their heads up rickety ladders to make the upper floor of houses and other buildings.








We reached Sonamarg after a couple of hours, and now I knew why the Gujar people packed up their families and animals and undertook the dangerous trek to get here from Jammu every year. It was so beautiful. With plenty of room for the animals to graze.






















Most of the visitors to Sonamarg take horse treks up to the glacier. But I was more interested in just walking, so that is what we did.



















It was a great choice. We were able to visit with the Gujar people in their summer homes.






















As you can see, the houses are simple stacked rock and timbers, with an opening to let the smoke out from the cooking fire. Inside everything is stacked neatly, and the small homes are cosy and waterproof. The Gujar people are not wealthy in material things, (notice that mom has different shoes on each foot) but the children seem to be getting enough to eat.













And they have an outdoor life with clean air and plenty of exercise.







































Some of the Gujar people live in tents here as well. I learned recently that the huge herds of goats and sheep I had seen being driven past the Hope Centre represented the combined animals of many families. That explained why there seemed to be a disconnect between the obvious poverty of the people, and the huge flocks. As it turns out, each family only owns 2 or 3 animals. I can only imagine that the bulk of the Gujar people take a different route to the mountains - or bus there? Because I didn't see many people on the road with all those animals. Maybe I missed them.














As we walked on, we came upon a small collection of Gujar homes, connected to each other. We were caught in a rainstorm and took shelter in one of their outbuildings. And as the rain continued, one of the young Gujar women invited the 3 of us into her home to warm up until the rain stopped.

She lit a small fire for us, and we enjoyed her hospitality for 20 minutes or so before moving on.














It was up here that I first spotted the water buffalo. The Kashmiris had mentioned that they had buffalo here, and I was curious as to what type of buffalo they were referring to. Now I know.

























After enjoying our walk and hospitality and the grazing animals, we got back in the car and continued on into the mountains to Baltal. It is the base camp for thousands of Hindu pilgrims who go the last 17 km to the Amarnath cave.
















It was very unpleasant when we arrived, with driving icy rain. So cold I had no desire to open my window or step outside. Every year people die from exposure here.














The Hindus from the sweltering plains have no idea what the cold here can be like, and so they are seldom prepared for this weather, sleeping in tents only.



















The hundred thousand pilgrims per year who come to this holy place provide an additional source of income for the Gujar people. The pilgrims rarely walk the 17 km to the cave.


Usually they ride on the Gujar's horses and mules. Sometimes they are carried in palanquins. That's got to be hard work! The young woman who took us into her home to warm up told Tahir that the men in the family were here working. The pilgrimage to the cave lasts from mid June through August. Some holy men walk the entire way from Delhi and beyond. I have seen a couple of them, but have no photos. They are barefoot.






As we departed, the clouds lifted just enough for me to get a couple of good photos of the Himalaya mountains.

Volleyball in Wayil

Since I enjoy volleyball practice more than playing hte game itslef, I bought my own volleyball. Now I have practie sessions with the young boys ans whoever else wishes to join in. At the first session by the volleyball court, there was a young boy wearing an old pheran and shoes way too large for him. He was standing off to the side. I motioned for him to join us in our circle. He stepped forward, so I let him know I would be tossing he ball to him next, and he needed to get his arms out of his pheran. But after he hit the ball, he kept pulling his arms back inside his pheran, as so many adult males do. If you didn't know better, you might think Kashmiri men are all amputees. I had to keep telling him to get his arms out before I could toss the boll to him. Eventually he took his pheran off. Under it he was wearing pants and a belt which were far too large for him. It took him a while to organize his clothes so he could play. And then we were away. He was still intimidated bny the other noys, though, and several more times I had to bring him back into our circle. He must have been from a very poor family. By the end of our practice session, though, he was hitting the ball well and had a smile on his face. Very rewarding for both of us.
The other group of boys I play with are by the Sindh River which runs close to the Hope Centre - where the bridge and guards are. It never takes long for a group to gather at this spot. I can start with one boy, and in in 10 minutes there are 5 of us, and soon 10 of us! And every time the people who come to play are different from the last time. People see us hitting the ball, come to watch, and get invited to join. I could never get a woman to join in, but I did get a couple of Indian army guys in uniform to join us once.
We were having a good practice one Saturday evening, when we were interrupted by , of all things, a TV crew. They were passing through an saw us, and stopped to investigate. What was this foreign woman doing??? When I told them why I was there, they asked to interview me. So I was interviewed by TV India about my volunteer work for the Hope Centre. They also inverviewed a couple of the boys. I heard it was on TV, but I have been unable to locate the clip on their website. After that, several times I was spotted in the Hope Centre van/ambulance by children in other towns who would point at me and say "Volleyball". I would smile and wave, of course, and they were very happy.

Kashmiri Culture and Animals - June 09

Kashmiri Culture
This is a collection of photos which capture to some degree some aspects of Kashmiri culture I found interesting and very different from New Zealand or the USA. The maze of waterways and canals here is so extensive, so complex, and so well-regulated that this simple footpath bridge I would cross most mornings on my way to the shops was under water only two days in 10 weeks. I joked with Imtiyaz when we found our bridge impassable without wet feet one morning that I would have to have a word with the canal man. There is a man in charge of all the water levels in this area. And if something goes amiss with the canal on or near your property, you will soon be on the receiving end of his abuse. He has a very big responsibility, especially at rice planting time.


Razor wire. Everywhere. Along with barbed wire, and men with machine guns that look deceptively like innocent plastic toys. They are not.

Interesting and sometimes humorous trucks, sometimes with words that make me wonder what they really meant to say.
























Happy Rice
The saffron coloured yellow rice mixed with nuts and spices is handed out to strangers on the street or road when a family is celebrating something. I love this tradition! Twice in 10 weeks I have been blessed with it.

















Milk delivered in cans.
The big truck of milk cans was in Srinagar. My shopkeeper in Wayil fills my small can I think from a cow very near by. Sometimes the milk is cow-warm. One day there was no fresh milk available in Wayil village at any shop. Were the cows on strike?























How people can live on $2 a day.
I don't know how they can do it, but prices of things here are so very much cheaper than in New Zealand or the US. A quart of milk is 16 rupees, or 50 cents NZ. Even parking is cheap. In the capital city, with very few parking lots, they still only charge 10 rupees, or about 20 cents US for all day parking!!!














Helping strangers.
One day on our way back to Wayil we had a flat tyre on the van/ambulance. Sami took the wheel off and left to get it fixed. As I stood by the van, a man across the road returned home on his moped. He came out of his gate shortly after, and invited me in to rest. How wonderful! We had an interesting dicusssion, and I was served water and melon. Turns out he was a retired employee of the Social Welfare Department. I always carry with me a brochure for the Hope Centre, so I gave him a copy. He was very interested in Sami's work.
















Vegetable gardens
With so many hungry herbivores on the loose everywhere, it is very important to protect the vegetable gardens. Kashmiris do this by making stout fences out of branches. There are these little islands of vegetable gardens in the middle of the rice paddies.
















Kangri Baskets
This is a better photo of the Kangri baskets,used to keep Kashmiris warm in the winter. Or on a cool summer morning!
















Spinning Wheels
On our way home one night from dressing Permeena's leg, we stopped at one of Sami's relatives' house for a quick visit. They had a spinning wheel there, so I thought you might like to see the Kashmiri version:





























Animals and Other Creatures
Nothing is wasted here. When the garlic is harvested, the cows are fed the greens. I wouldn't want to drink this cow's milk for a while, though. Wouldn't the taste come through??














I shared my room with this very large and fearsome looking spider. It or a cousin may have bitten me one night. I woke up from a painful bite on one shoulder, which took a while to heal.
















It is easy for birds to get inside the Hope Centre. One enterprising sparrow family built a nest in the physical therapy room, and one morning I caught a baby trying to get outside. I showed it to a couple of children who were at the centre, and when it was time for me to release it, it didn't fly away immediately! Perhaps it felt warm and protected in my gentle embrace - like its recent nest, perhaps? It flew off just fine after I took its photo!

I have been seeing these most interesting birds around, and finally got a photo of them. They are hoopoes














One morning I walked outside the Centre to find two puppies huddled together for warmth under a chair by the front door.








They were very cute, and I think may have been left behind by their pack during the night before. Sami said we should keep them and feed them. But they disappeared by the end of the day. Every big family has a story about the child that got left behind at the park, or gas station, etc....












Social Welfare Cheque Distribution
Sami and I were invited to attend a very important event in the life of the poor people of Kashmir. The annual distribution of welfare and scholarship money. Kashmir is very much a cash based society. So I shouldn't have been surprised to see the wad of bills being parceled out into envelopes for this event!
















I was asked to take photos of the people being given their money. I tried my best, but there was lots of media at the event, and I had to elbow my way into a decent position for a photo. And they were handing out the money way faster than my poor little camera flash could recover! I was taken by this elderly disabled woman who was sitting up front by the podium.
I would have liked to have had tea with her.

























The event ended suddenly, and all the bigwigs left the room with the media. By the time I collected my things, Sami had disappeared. I followed the sounds downstairs, and someone pointed out Sami to me, struggling to get past the guards downstairs. What was going on???














I had no interest in trying to fight my way through this mob, so decided to wait outside. But one of the dignitaries spotted me, and got me inside, where I found Sami and the media crowded around the Minister. His father is a big politico, which is why the media is so interested in him. The handing out of the cheques was just an excuse to interview him about his father, it appeared.

Around Hope Centre in June

Permeena
I have mentioned Permeena before in my blog. Permeena had rickets, and both legs were bowed. Last year she had surgery on one leg, and this year she returned to have surgery to straighten her other leg. Because of the military strife and 10 days of strikes, she was unable to have her surgery the first time it was scheduled. But eventually she had it done. I went with Sami to the hospital the day she was released. Her bill was pretty big, because she was in the hospital for a couple of weeks, with her mother. The surgery is donated, but not the hospital costs. Before leaving the hospital, Sami decided to see if he could get Permeena's bill reduced a bit. So he and I went to the office of the head of the hospital, to see if we could have an audience and request a reduction in the bill. We waited over an hour, because the director was out. Sami was going to ask for a 500 rupee reduction in the bill. This is $10 US. As we sat there, I began to wonder if it was worth all this time just for a 500 rupee reduction. But, as it turns out, it was worth the wait. When the head of the hospital heard that I came as a volunteer all the way from New Zealand to support Sami's effort, he wiped the whole bill, and offered additional assistance. The fact that volunteers were coming to help Sami was very important to the head of the hospital. He twice asked about my volunteer status during our short meeting. I took a photo of Sami when he returned to the hospital billing office with the good news.














Then Permeena and her mother were loaded into the van/ambulance, and taken home. There is still a long recovery period for her, and the danger of infection is very great.
















After a few days, I went with Sami to Permeena's home to "change the dressing". It meant scraping away the dried blood and other fluids around the pins going into Permeena's leg, and swabbing everything carefully with Betadine. I carefully documented everything Sami did, because this aspect of the work is so critical. Last year, Sami allowed someone else to do the dressings on a patient, and an infection set in which was so severe the leg was almost lost. The surgeons at the hospital were not happy at all, and now Sami does the dressings himself. My video footage will be used to help train a "dressing boy" for the future, so Sami can confidently delegate this critical job to another person.




























The process took over an hour, and was quite painful for Permeena. During this time neighbours and friends and family steadily arrived to watch. By the time we finished, we had quite a crowd in Permeena's room!















Picking up the Trash
One of the things I did in June was to go out and pick up the trash strewn around the area near Hope Centre and burn it. People really look at me strangely when I do this. But no one else will do it. And it just sits there. Wherever I am is my home. And I like my surroundings clean. So I go ahead and clean things up - just for me, and for the community. As I worked on this one Sunday, some of the children who I practice volleyball with came to see what I was up to, and they joined in. It was good to have them, because they were able to get to places on the steep slopes near the Centre that I wouldn't be able to get to. Some of the garbage we picked up was too wet to burn, so I left it in a pile to dry out and burn later. When we finished, I invited them to the Centre and made tea for the children.














The Indian tourists who come north are terrible about leaving trash. Not long after I had cleaned up the area near Hope Centre, I spotted this:

A group of tourists had stopped by the canal to have a lunch break, and left it like this.

Recently polythene bags were banned in Kashmir and Jammu. This was wonderful news for me. Much of my trash was whole or partial polythene bags - colourful, indestructible, and ugly. The ban was put into force with no replacement bags available for shopkeepers. So when they ran out of existing bags in June, everyone had to quickly change their behaviour. One day Imtiyaz came back from school and told me that in Ganderbal town the police were stopping people carrying polythene bags and cutting them open. Wow! They mean business!! I would have loved to have gotten a photo of that for you.















This photo shows better the area where we were picking up garbage. It is alongside the road, and is much more pleasant walking here than on the road. One morning a street dog was laying in my path, so I took a photo of it. Most of the street dogs are pretty pitiful. Not so much because they are starving (most look very well fed), but because most of them have terrible mange. You sure don't want to touch one!











The VIP Visit
One Saturday afternoon I was alone at Hope Centre, with instructions from Imtiyaz, the security guard, to "let no man inside", when there was a knock at the door. It was the Ganderbal District Welfare Officer, who I had met before. He said the State Commisioner of Social Welfare was here and would like to see the Centre. Because I was not to let anyone in, I decided I would come out and talk to whoever it was. Well, when I saw the Ambassador car with its flags (like the one pictured here but with lots more glitz), and the entourage of military jeeps, I decided that maybe it would be OK to give a short tour of the Centre to this guy. It was a very good thing I was there! Afterward, no one believed me when I told them that the Minister had come for a tour. I eventually convinced them, however. But I neglected to get a photo or have him sign the visitors register. Oh well.




Patient Follow Up
Sami and I visited a boy who had surgery a couple of years ago. He couldn't walk then, but is doing well now. He is mentally disabled as well. The boy's father is in one photo, and note the rooster with a string on his leg in the other.



















Nazia
Nazia came to the Centre with her aunt one day. This is the girl who Sami had chalked the blocks for in her entryway, way up in the mountains. She is walking now with no aids, and her foot, which had been turned 90 degrees, looks really good. I still can't get her to smile, though.

















Hearing Tests
Sami has a tiny room under the stairway where he conducts hearing tests. The hearing aids are used ones donated from New Zealand. Sami focuses his efforts on children with hearing loss. He doesn't have the time nor the hearing aids to help all the elderly people who come to him for help. So they go without.






This boy is deaf, and makes his way by himself every day to Hope Centre. He takes a bus 35 km one way to reach us. The small pin on his jumper lets people know he is deaf.

Rice Planting

It has been fascinating to watch the fields be transformed from oats to rice during the few weeks I have been in Kashmir. When I first arrived in April, the oat harvest was just beginning. The oats are harvested as a green crop, and dried for use as hay to feed the animals. A few paddies of oats are left to ripen completely for seed for this fall. Then the fields are plowed under, fertilized with a bit of cow manure (not too much), flooded, and planted. The small paddies of bright green that I have been photographing during this process were the rice seedlings. Now I was to see how the paddies were planted.

















































First the rice seedlings needed to be bundled up, for transport to the field. This was a fun job, wading into the squishy mud, digging down below the roots of the rice seedlings and pulling up 50-100 at a time for tying off with some dried grass. I helped several planting teams along the road during planting time with their work. They all were amused to have me join them, and did their best to teach me the correct procedure. I was of course not very good at it, and slow, but it didn't matter. I was a diversion for them.





































Then the bundles of seedlings are transported to the field. If it is close, they are tossed. Ishtiyak shows his form. Good practice for cricket.










































Sami and Tahir's father has a few fields, and one day we all helped plant them. In this photo, Sami is on the far left.













It is traditional that the family who owns the land and hires the workers provides morning tea and lunch and afternoon tea. Here the workers are coming in for their morning tea. The tea is carried out to the fields in a samovar. Tahir is carrying this one. The samovar has a fire inside it and the tea is boiling hot. It is salt tea, and I don't care for it. So morning tea includes the salt tea and the same tsot bread I have for breakfast every day. The landowners do not have tea or bread until all the workers have eaten and had as much tea as they wish.




















The bundling of the rice plants doesn't take long. Then it is time to plant. I planted with several teams, and the team hired by the Wani family was unbelievably fast. I had to go find my own corner of the paddy to work in, to keep from being trampled.







































Lunch at the Wani planting was rice and vegetables and meat. Tahir's wife Zabida is a great cook. The lucky workers got to enjoy her cooking. It is a bit spicy for me (my eyes water), but I like it!







Afternoon tea is salt tea again and a different kind of bread - flat bread cooked at home with ghee in between two thin layers of bread - like a big wheat tortilla.

Throughout the planting work, the surroundings are so beautiful. It is such a pleasure to be out there. At the end of the day all the fields are planted, and people can relax a bit.

Early June - Kashmir

Streetwise Animals
I am always amazed at how traffic wise the animals are here. Street dogs lay right on the edge of the road to sleep. Sometimes with their legs actually on the road. And the drivers go around them. Well, almost always. I have seen a few crippled dogs, and a 3 legged street dog. When I first spotted this scene, I was wondering if the foal was a traffic victim. No, it was just taking a nap with mum watching over it. If anyone wants a horse that remains calm in traffic, Kashmir is the place to pick one up!

They are not skittish, and don't need to be on a lead. They follow their owner on the sides of the busiest roads, with huge trucks honking and passing within inches of them, and they don't flinch. Just like cycle tourists.



But like the street dogs, sometimes there are casualties. This horse, for example, is not fit for pulling a cart any more. But you can see it is not starving to death by any means. Someone is caring for it.












Kashmiris don't revere cows like the Hindus do. But they are allowed to wander the streets at will. And nothing, absolutely nothing, makes them hurry, when they decide to cross the road. And I have not yet seen an injured cow. It turns my stomach when I see them foraging in the garbage heaps along with the street dogs, but hopefully the milk I drink doesn't come from these cows.









Bicycles
I purchased a bicycle so I could have the freedom of getting further afield for photos and for exercise. A heavy, inexpensive, and sturdy single gear Indian bike. Every boy in town wanted to ride it. But if I let one ride it, there would be no end, and I soon would not have a bike. Ishtiyak, the servant boy of the Wani family, got to ride it just around the walled in front yard by his house. No further.





Women do not ride bicycles in Kashmir. So when I was on my bike, I generated lots of smiles and laughter, but no one was indignant that I was riding a bike. On the contrary, I received lots of support - at least from the men. The women just stared at me. The first time I took it out for a spin, it felt for all the world like the first time I drove a car on my own. Ah, the freedom of wheels! I will leave it with the Hope Centre when I depart, so the staff and other volunteers can use it.




I had two experiences with cycle tourists in June. The first time Tahir and I were heading into Srinagar and I spotted cyclists going the other way. I asked Tahir to stop so I could talk to them. They were German cycle tourists, Elle and Louis Weinschmitt. It was lovely to chat with them.
















A couple of weeks later, Tahir surprised me by bringing a couple more cyclists to the Hope Centre for me to chat with. He had spotted these two eating their breakfast by the side of the road, and knew how excited I got about cycle tourists, so invited them to the Hope Centre for tea and a chat. Yurik and Nicole have been on the road since January, and have another year to go. Interestingly, Yurik has a background in working with the disabled, and has been looking as he travels for organisations he might return to work with!! It's a God thing.

I could have chatted all morning, but they had to get going. I gave them some key Kashmiri words to help them get by, and off they went.




Kashmir would be a superb place to cycle tour. The people are so hospitable, and the roads, while very busy, and sometimes in really terrible shape, are not so steep as in New Zealand. And much of Kashmir is quite flat.



More Animals
I found this a novel way to allow a duck to be in the stream without losing it. This method of tying up an animal normally in a cage was also used on the rooster in the Wani family compound.
One day Tahir and I were waiting for Sami to finish with a meeting and a cowherder wandered past with his animals. I was taking photos of something, and the man asked if I would take a photo of him and his cows. So I did. He asked if I would send a copy to him, and I agreed. Boy, was he happy! Mohammed Shabam Gulam, Son of the Late Haji Samad Gulam. I find it interesting that people regularly include Son Of or Daughter of as part of their address. In this case, even Son Of the Late was used. Fascinating.











Sex Tests Illegal

One day at the hospital I noticed this sign. They are in many ways, very politically correct in Kashmir. The signs everywhere encouraging people to respect the environment, keep roadways clean, and love all your children, no matter what sex they are.












My Kashmiri Clothes
I love the Kashmiri clothes worn by the women, though the scarves are just too much for me usually. But I wanted my own outfit, so one Saturday, Shabnum and I went on a shopping trip. Shabnum is Sami's sister. First we stopped to pick out fabric.
This photo is of Shabnum in the fabric shop. I selected this one:


















Then we went to the tailor shop. I was pleased to see that one of the tailors in the shop was a disabled woman.




We took a tiny swatch of the fabric to a dupta maker, and he dyed the dupta (scarf) to my colour specification.










And here is the final result: