The beautiful scenery of Kashmir consists of blue skies, high mountains, green meadows, pine forests, and fields of golden-yellow crops. Its nickname is Shangri-la, which means "paradise on earth." When spring arrives, flowers, green trees and abundant crops will be everywhere. But now winter is here, and several meters of snow have covered the beautiful landscape. Balmy temperatures have been replaced by bitter cold. Villagers who have lost their warm houses wait and pray that they can survive until spring.

Kashmir, located just south of the westernmost end of the Himalayan mountain range, is renowned as one of the most beautiful places in the world. The Vale of Kashmir, fed by streams flowing from adjoining valleys, is relatively low and very fertile, while magnificent, breathtaking mountains are found throughout the rest of Kashmir.

The beautiful landscape is the result of natural forces and geographic location. The Jhelum River is the largest and westernmost of five main rivers in the area. It originates in the western foot of the Himalayas and flows west through the valley before turning south through the Pakistan-occupied foothills. Over thousands of years, it has carved out a valley of enriched soil and abundant products. The mountains of the Hindu Kush in the northwest and the Karakoram Range in the northeast are both over 8,000 meters (26,250 feet) high and 500 kilometers (310 miles) long. They block the warm, moist wind blowing in from the Indian Ocean to create plentiful rainfall in the valley. It is no surprise that agriculture is the mainstay of the economy here.

This beautiful part of the world is home to tens of thousands of Kashmiris. For centuries, generations of villagers have lived and grown up strong and sturdy in the valley. City dwellers, living in the so-called "civilized world," envy the harmony and tranquility in these rural villages. Life is simpler here. Women prepare meals for their families over open wood fires. Cattle graze contentedly in the meadows. To outside observers, it does seem like heaven on earth.

On one farm we visited, a calf tethered to a post mooed contentedly while children played happily nearby. But there were signs of sadness and loss as well. On the far side of the farm was a grave. The epitaph, written in Arabic, explained that the deceased was alive and healthy a few months ago, but was taken tragically from the family in the strong earthquake.

The varied history of Kashmir is one that reflects its unique cultural position in Asia. Located between the countries of India, China and Pakistan, Kashmir has long known the ebb and flow of a variety of cultural and religious influences. East and Central Asian Buddhist monks are recorded as having visited the kingdom very early in its history, and Kashmir was once a Buddhist seat of learning. Ancient records indicate that Master Hsuan Tsang from China met with villagers in the Jhelum River valley as early as the seventh century.

Members of the region's three main religions, Buddhism, Islam, and Hindu, lived in peace and harmony, but Islam became the dominant religion in Kashmir in the 13th century. In the 17th century, Muzaffar Khan, a Muslim emperor, established a capital that exists to this day. Muzaffarabad, located at the junction of the Jhelum and Neelum Rivers, is currently the capital of the Pakistan-controlled region.

In the 20th century, however, the glorious past of this beautiful region was replaced by wars between India and Pakistan for control of the area. Currently, Pakistan claims the northern and western portion of the region; India controls the southern and eastern parts; even China administers a portion on the far eastern side. Amidst a cultural memory of the glorious days now gone, the pain of families separated among political divisions can be seen in the wrinkles on old people's faces. However, the children, always active, always positive, paint the rivers, mountains, and their homes into the common memory of all Kashmiris.

Isolated in the mountains

A strong earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter scale occurred at 8:50 a.m., October 8, 2005, in the Pakistan-administered region of Kashmir. The shaking lasted about a minute. Afterwards, villagers discovered that the mountains had lost their green color; instead, the purplish-red rocks underneath were exposed.

The earthquake occurred just as many schools were opening for the day. Many students who had just arrived at their schools were buried in rubble. According to UNICEF, over 17,000 students were killed in their schools. Many villagers were likewise killed as their houses collapsed around them. When survivors tried to seek outside help, they discovered the roads had been blocked by landslides and debris, isolating their villages from any outside contact. With no medical assistance, no relief supplies, and no protection from their houses, villagers were like naked babies in the freezing wind, not knowing if they would be able to survive the approaching snowy season.

On the 12th day after the disaster, we entered Muzaffarabad to investigate the plight of the villagers. As we entered the city, we noticed huge piles of clothes that cluttered the roadsides. At first glance, I mistook them for corpses that had been strewn around at random. Closer inspection revealed that earlier relief workers had simply dropped relief goods, including the clothes, alongside the road. Survivors were left to fight among themselves for supplies. The situation almost spiraled out of control. Apparently, the colorful clothes scattered by the roadside were not suitable for the survivors' needs, and so they were discarded where they lay.

High up on the mountains were obvious signs of landslides. Many bridges were also damaged, so people and vehicles were forced to cross the rivers on the two remaining weak suspension bridges. When we arrived at the United Nations emergency rescue center, we applied to the Pakistani military to set up our tents. We also attended daily briefings on the rescue work to avoid overlapping with other humanitarian efforts in the region.

The rescue center in Muzaffarabad had a medical station, and there were still patients being airlifted out of the mountains by helicopter when we arrived. It was a difficult time for those injured. When each helicopter landed, medics unloaded the patients and temporarily placed them on the ground until the helicopters could lift off again. The patients had to tightly squeeze their eyes and mouths shut as they were forced to endure the sandstorm-like air blasts. Eventually, they were carried to the medical station for treatment.

"I have 22 people in my family," one elderly man lamented. "They survived the earthquake, but our house is in ruins. How will we survive?" This problem was not limited to his family; soon the old man's pleas for assistance were being voiced by everyone. Everyone needed a tent, or they would not survive the snowy winter.

"A regular tent used to cost 900 rupees [US$15], but after the earthquake the price rose to 10,000 rupees [US$167]," complained 40-year-old Kadir. "Even if you have so much money, you still have no guarantee of being able to buy one. The supply of relief materials falls far short of demand. Even though we now have to wait in long lines for goods, sometimes all day, we often end up getting nothing. Some people have resorted to taking things by force, believing it is the only way to obtain the things they need."

Although Kadir and his family were lucky enough to have a tent, his description reflected the plight of many other survivors. He and his wife and their six-month-old baby girl had been about to celebrate the Islamic New Year, but the earthquake destroyed their house. They now rested in their tent during the day and slept in a ruined house at night, the only protection from the freezing wind.

Two little boys stared at us from within the tent. "They're my brother's sons," Kadir explained. "They said that their teacher was injured while escorting them out of the classroom. If the teacher had run out of the classroom first, the children left behind would have been killed."

Impassable roads

The deep rumble of explosions vibrated throughout the UN compound where we were staying. Sappers, military engineers specializing in trenches and tunnels, were using dynamite to clear huge boulders blocking the roads. Every explosion indicated that another road had been cleared. Using machinery and explosives, soldiers and sappers could clear 10 kilometers (six miles) of roads every day.

In Kashmir, a community of 3,000 people is called a "town." Any community with a smaller population is called a "village." There are close to 1,000 villages and towns scattered throughout the mountains and valleys, but Dr. Raja Arif Khan, secretary general for the president of Pakistani-administered Kashmir, suggested that Tzu Chi volunteers focus their humanitarian actions in the Jhelum River valley. The villages in the valley were in urgent need of outside help. In addition, this area was more convenient for transporting people and relief goods.

Xie Jing-gui, the leader of the Tzu Chi team, reminded us that one of the basic principles of Tzu Chi relief work was to "go wherever our feet can take us." With that encouragement, we set out from the UN compound to help those in need.

Advancing forward from Muzaffarabad along the Jhelum River Valley, all we saw were fallen rocks, broken roads, and damaged houses. Some had been reduced to little more than piles of debris. The earthquake survivors we encountered stared with an unfocused and helpless look in their eyes.

Muhammad Faraz Arif, the secretary general's son, and Assad Ur Rehaman, an employee at the census bureau, volunteered to be our translators. They accompanied us to Phagwan, 25 kilometers (15 miles) from the UN compound. When we arrived, Raja Abdul Waheed, the principal of Malsi Secondary-Elementary School, showed us the former locations of mosques, schools and health centers. Like buildings we had seen before, some of the structures had completely collapsed, and those still standing were too dangerous to be entered.

Arif and Rehaman led us from the center of the village up the hillside. More families lived on the hillsides than in the village center, they explained, so the death toll there had been greater than in the center of the village. In addition, the local practice of building homes with stones contributed to the high death toll.

Because bricks are expensive, villagers rely on local materials, like stones, for construction. Cement is then applied to the stones to fill the gaps and secure them in place. But such construction methods were no match for the power of the earthquake. With no steel reinforcement inside or out, the houses were literally shaken to pieces during the quake, collapsing and killing the inhabitants inside. Rehaman was also an earthquake victim, but lucky enough to survive the collapse of his home. After seeing the damaged houses on the hillside with us, he shook his head. "My house was also made the same way, but I will never again build my house with stones."

Arif looked sad and began choking back tears as we approached a forest near the village. We passed through the forest and came to a clearing with some cement blocks placed on the ground. He explained that his grandmother was buried there. On one of the blocks were some flowers. This marked his grandmother's tomb. Approaching the block, Arif knelt down and prayed.

"Phagwan was our hometown, and my grandmother lived here, but we never expected..." Arif's grandmother was 72 years old when she died. Although her son had become the prestigious secretary general of Pakistani-administered Kashmir, she chose to live out her life in a small village. She preferred the fresh air and friendliness over the polluted air and crowded conditions in Muzaffarabad.

Interrupted lessons

The Tzu Chi team established their medical station in two tents set up on a grassy field.

"Doctor, he said he has a toothache," translated Raja Abdul Waheed for a patient, in fluent but thick-accented English. "Okay, I'll give him some medicine," replied Dr. Qiu Cong-lang. The doctor is normally a neurosurgeon at the Hualien Tzu Chi Medical Center, but was performing the role of dentist on this day. He provided the medicine as Waheed instructed the patient in his native Urdu language, "Remember to take the medicine four times a day."

Waheed's Malsi School had 150 students, attending classes from 8:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. The horrible earthquake struck as students were attending their first class of the day. "When the earthquake occurred, the windows started clattering. I ran out of my office to see what was happening. At the same time, the teachers and students ran out from the classrooms. We ran from the building and gathered in an open area."

Waheed told the teachers and students to help those who were buried in the rubble and to inform the police. Everyone worked together to help those who were trapped or injured.

"We are fortunate that only one student died," Waheed told us. "However, the whole school was destroyed, as were all the students' homes. Sounds of crying and grieving filled the air, and rubble and corpses littered the streets. We decided to close the school for awhile. Children need time to ease their pain."

With the school damaged beyond repair, Waheed and the students were waiting until they could receive large tents that could be used for temporary classrooms. Everyone was looking forward to continuing their schooling.

Waheed showed us his home, a very beautiful house in the village before the quake. Although it survived the shaking, its interior was full of cracks. The roof was damaged as well. The living room was covered with dust, giving the impression that the owners had just picked up and abandoned the home.

"My wife was sleeping when the earthquake came. Fortunately, the house didn't collapse, or she would have died." Waheed, his wife, and their four children were safe, but because their house had become too dangerous to stay in, they were forced to abandon it and move into a tent.

Even though his house was damaged and his school was destroyed, Waheed was not idle. "Now my job is to serve as an interpreter for NGOs like yours and local residents."

Down, but not out

Moazzam Zaffar, 30, received his Master's degree in 1999 and was employed as a college teacher before the earthquake. He began working with Tzu Chi volunteers as soon as they arrived in Kashmir. "By working with you, I can help my own people," he reflected.

He remembered the earthquake vividly. "People were running in all directions immediately afterwards, but I ran straight to my sister's elementary school to rescue her." His youngest sister was only 12 years old. She was not physically injured, but she was psychologically traumatized. "She was in so much shock that she couldn't even respond to me that day."

Like Waheed, Zaffar and his family were forced to move out of their damaged home and into tents. Relatives gave them food and Zaffar's own cow provided enough milk so that the family, including a four-month-old baby, wouldn't starve. "We aren't worried about food," he said. "Actually, we can even give some to other people. However, the laborers and tenant-farmers need outside help urgently. It is our duty to see that these people have enough to eat."

Zaffar's assistance proved invaluable in helping Tzu Chi volunteers provide medical care and distribute relief supplies. He translated for Tzu Chi volunteers and helped maintain order at the free clinics. At one of the distribution sites, he read an open letter from Master Cheng Yen to the relief recipients in his native Urdu: "Taiwan suffered a major earthquake in 1999, so we can understand your pain... At this critical time, Tzu Chi people around the world will try to help you rise up again from your suffering."

Zaffar approved of Tzu Chi's method of compiling distribution lists beforehand and of requiring recipients to provide coupons to pick up their relief materials. "Otherwise, the distributions would become chaotic as people would likely fight among themselves in order to get more."

We visited a site where Tzu Chi volunteers were distributing blankets to people waiting in orderly lines. The distribution was well underway, and we could hear volunteers shouting out requests for blankets: "One set! Three sets! Five sets!" Each set contained three blankets. Those responsible for opening the boxes and taking out the blankets were extremely busy. If a victim had many people in his or her family, the volunteers simply handed over an entire box of blankets.

Saying "Shukria," the Urdu expression meaning "thank you," Tzu Chi volunteer Chen Qiu-hua from Jordan bowed 90 degrees to show his respect as he presented blankets to the recipients. They received them with happiness and gratitude. Even though the blankets were light and soft, they were very warm. Recipients will fully appreciate the value of the gift once the cold winds of winter begin to blow.

After the blankets had been handed out, we visited some families living in tents. Muhammad Iqbal was building a temporary shop. He had owned a grocery store, but it had collapsed. He had hired some laborers to retrieve corrugated steel sheets, wood, and other useful materials from the rubble and had started building a new store. He told us, "Now I have six blankets. We won't have any problem living through the winter. And, in three days I plan to reopen my shop!"

His tenacious spirit and toughness in facing challenges reminded me of a secondary school teacher who told us that the local villagers were mentally strong despite the earthquake. They had endured natural disasters before and survived. The last natural disaster to touch these villages had occurred more than a decade before, when floods in 1992 wiped out crops and food supplies. Even though this natural disaster had destroyed many houses and killed many people, it didn't cause as much damage to the crops that were harvested afterwards. There should be enough food for the winter. The survivors were determined to overcome this natural disaster as well.

Grateful for medical care

Tzu Chi volunteers discovered that in addition to blankets, survivors were in desperate need of medical care to help them get through the winter. Several factors contributed to the scarcity of adequate medical care for the survivors.

Some hospitals had collapsed in the earthquake, and others that remained were too dangerously unstable to allow people to stay inside. Those that were structurally sound were packed to overflowing. Helicopters from the military and NGOs carried injured survivors down from mountain villages, but they did not carry them back. Because the roads were impassable, many of these patients could not return home. Therefore, the hospitals that treated them became major refugee shelters.

Not all the survivors needing medical care could be airlifted to a hospital. The helicopters were reserved for seriously ill patients only; survivors with no life-threatening injuries had to wait. Unfortunately, those not airlifted from their homes often were not able to seek medical treatment, as the roads leading from the villages had become impassable. Many villages in the Jhelum River Valley were cut off completely.

Because of this, and because the few hospitals that remained standing and functional after the earthquake were so crowded, Tzu Chi volunteers decided to establish clinics in a few of the villages. This would make necessary medical care more accessible to those living in the mountains and smaller communities.

Within five days, Tzu Chi volunteers established the first makeshift medical station near Khanda Ballia. Several patients there told us, "You're the first medical team to reach our home." Syed Tafaali, our translator, hoped we could stay longer so people in the mountains could also come down for treatment. "There used to be a hospital nearby, 10 or 15 minutes by foot, but it collapsed in the earthquake," he said.

Although the new clinic in Khanda Ballia was only about a one-hour walk from many homes, it was still too far for people who had become feeble due to their illnesses or injuries. Therefore, another clinic was established at Naushera. In just under a month, Tzu Chi doctors treated over 2,400 patients at these clinics and in home visits. They worked tirelessly to alleviate the survivors' physical and psychological suffering.

One morning, the deputy superintendent of Dalin Tzu Chi Hospital, Chien Sou-hsin, learned in a UN meeting about an outbreak of an epidemic in the area. He contacted local health officials and received medicine for tetanus and other diseases and started vaccinating the villagers.

Dr. He Ju-xiu, a member of the anesthesiology department at Hualien Tzu Chi Medical Center, was one of the doctors that vaccinated patients. Giving shots to children was not pleasant. "Ahhhhhhh!" one young girl screamed as he pushed the needle into her arm. "To ease her distress, I gave her a piece of candy. Before I knew it, all the other kids came running to me for a vaccination!" Dr. He thus got the idea to use a "one candy for one shot" tactic. Instead of complaining, some children willingly received the shot because they wanted the candy.

November 4 was the Islamic holiday of Fast-Breaking, which ends the holy month of Ramadan, so we originally thought that not many people would come for medical treatment on that day. To our surprise, however, the residents used this holiday as an opportunity to take advantage of the free medical care. We saw more patients on that day than we ever had before. As they waited to see a doctor, they separated themselves according to genders: women and children sat in one place, while adult males sat together in another.

Many patients experienced improvement as soon as they were treated. "Look at my leg! It can move!" Mirafzal, 70 years old, had suffered for over a year with enormous pain from a cyst in his right knee. After Dr. Jian examined him, he simply inserted a needle into the swelling and drew out the fluid that was causing the pressure. The problem was solved immediately. Within just a minute or two, Mirafzal could walk normally again. This drew smiles and admiration from other patients waiting to see the doctor.

Please listen to our appeal

Mahsin Rafique, a college student, served as another of our translators in Khanda Ballia. He told us that about 40 minutes after the earthquake, he and other students found three students under the rubble of a school building. Two were already dead, and the third had his arm pinned under a fallen pillar. Unable to lift the heavy object off the student's arm, they were forced to try and break it into smaller pieces. As Rafique was banging on it with a hammer, it began to rain, further complicating their rescue attempt. Eventually, after much effort, they were able to break the pillar and free his arm.

The colleges that Rafique had attended, Azad Jummu and Kashmir University, were in ruins after the earthquake. Since he could not return to school, he decided to join the rescue work. Unfortunately, he was injured in the course of his efforts and was forced to rest at home. When he recovered, he and one of his brothers signed up for translation and kitchen work with Tzu Chi. To raise enough money to buy a tent for his parents and siblings, he asked Tzu Chi to pay him daily. In this way, he could save enough money for the down payment to buy a tent as quickly as possible.

Tzu Chi people paid a visit to Rafique's "home" and found him living in a house that was in shambles from the earthquake. The only thing that kept the weather out was a sheet of canvas. Volunteers gave Rafique and his family blankets and promised to give them a tent. Rafique told us how he felt as a victim: "I feel ashamed to receive your help. I would prefer to work and buy the tent myself." His unwillingness to receive material assistance as a helpless refugee won our admiration.

The need for tents was very high among the villagers. On November 10 and 11, we held a major distribution of blankets in Hattian Balla. When we arrived at the site of the distribution at 6:30 a.m., we were stunned to see hundreds of victims there. They had all gathered at the site hoping to receive a tent.

After a simple ceremony, a Pakistani officer announced, "Good morning, everyone! Please come here to pick up your goods card when your name is called." He called out names of people from lists provided by village chiefs. As the identity of each recipient was confirmed, they received a card that enabled them to pick up tents, blankets and food. Sadly, outside the distribution site stood hundreds of people whose names did not appear on the name lists. When they saw a Tzu Chi volunteer walking from the site, they immediately surrounded him as though they had seen their lifesaver.

"I walked for a long time to get here. Please give me a tent--I only need one," one villager begged. Another beseeched him, "My child is seriously injured. Please help us." A representative of the villagers informed us in English how badly tents were needed. "Areas around the Jhelum River Valley and Muzaffarabad are badly damaged, and it will snow soon. People are homeless. They need help badly."

Our hearts went out to them and we wished we could give them more. Unfortunately, the need for tents far exceeded the supply. Although the Pakistani government had ordered all tent factories to work extra hard to produce and distribute tents, it would take at least four months to meet the demand. The thousands of tents and blankets we handed out were imported from Taiwan and Turkey after countless difficulties.

"I saw a TV news segment about Taiwan's earthquake some years ago," said a 20-year-old first lieutenant in the Pakistani military. He told us that after this earthquake, his division of soldiers marched 600 kilometers (372 miles) from their station in Lahor to Muzaffarabad. "All the houses had collapsed, and people ran around calling for help. We gave them food and tents and dug into the rubble to bring people out."

The military then moved into the Jhelum River Valley. The soldiers formed small groups and walked into the mountains to bring medicine to the villagers. When they walked back down the mountains, they carried the injured and elderly on their backs. "One way took about five hours. Carrying somebody on your back made it even more difficult to walk down the road. A soldier under me fell off the edge of the road, but fortunately he was not seriously injured."

Many of these professional soldiers even canceled their leaves so they could devote more time and energy to the rescue work. One army captain told me that should it become necessary to do so, he would cancel all of his leaves, even for an entire year. When Tzu Chi relief goods arrived, these soldiers also helped by protecting and distributing them.

Once I walked through a ruined school campus and found a textbook in the rubble. I couldn't read the Urdu, but the colorful pictures told me that the owner was an elementary school student. I wondered if the student had been killed, was at home, or was just wandering around.

The plight of the survivors we saw in those days made us heartsick, but when we were returning home, the actions of soldiers from other countries brought us hope. They put down their arms and worked for the victims. Even India, Pakistan's long-standing enemy, opened its border so that relief goods could be transported into the disaster areas.

The scene of cooperation echoed what Master Cheng Yen said: "We must be fully aware of the alarming messages that the disaster is trying to convey to us." One day, if the power of humans and the resources of every country could be devoted to work for the benefit of all living creatures, I believe even heaven would be touched and give us a peaceful world.