An ordinary town rocked by violence

Selibuya township plays host to one of the biggest weekly bazaars in Xinjiang. The population of the township doubles from 51,000 to more than 100,000 people every Thursday when traders and customers flock into town.

I arrived on April 27, four days after the attack. Although I was sorry to have missed the bazaar, the walk along the main market street was a great experience. Nearly all of Selibuya's residents are from the Uygur ethnic group, so I really stood out from the crowd.

The daily market was closed for security reasons in the immediate aftermath of the attack, but many stalls reopened late in the afternoon. The Thursday bazaar also continued as usual, said Han Bin, the township's deputy chief.

The smoke and smells from the barbecues suffused the bustling marketplace. Vehicles were driven patiently behind donkey carts, which remain the locals' favored method of transportation. People bargained over the price of cute Daolang sheep, a special Xinjiang breed noted for their distinctive large, floppy ears, long necks and grey wool.

Turbanjon Yimin's watermelons were the most popular items on sale. It was a hot day and customers surrounded his truck. Each slice costs 1 yuan (16 US cents) and he can make as much as 800 yuan per day.

"No peace, no money," he said, busily slicing watermelon, when I asked him about the attack, which was the most-discussed topic among the vendors. Government officials have updated the locals on developments in the case, and ensured their safety.

Although life has returned to normal, the incident has cast a shadow over the community. "I'd heard about terror attacks elsewhere in Kashgar on the news, but they seemed so far away. I didn't know what fear was until this attack actually happened around me," said 20-year-old librarian Kayidar Mehat, who admitted that she will never forget the incident.

In the end, I couldn't resist the smell of the delicious barbecued meat, and ordered two marinated chicken kebabs from food vendor Abliz Ablimit. He called me when the food was ready; along with the chicken, he had also brought nang, a traditional Uygur dish consisting of a kind of crusty pancake. When I pointed out that I hadn't ordered it, he asked, "How can you hope to get full if you only have the chicken?"

When I finished eating and asked to pay, Abliz waved his hand. "How could I charge a guest? It's on me," he said. "We Uygurs are good people."