It might seem incongruous that our United Nations World Food Programme vehicles are part of a 12-car motorcade, bristling with Pakistani military and clusters of guns pointing skywards like malevolent hedgehogs. But this is Kashmir and, in this part of the world, army and aid are forced to go hand in hand, generally with great discomfort.
Some US$6.2 billion of funding has been pledged to Pakistan since the earthquake in October tipped the Richter scale at 7.6, killing more than 70,000 people, and injuring 70,000 others in Pakistan alone. More than 3 million people in northern Pakistan were left homeless by the disaster.
A significant portion of this aid is in the form of government-to-government assistance. This means that the military administration overseeing the recovery process - a body known as the Earthquake Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Authority (Erra) - is tapping into a seriously big revenue stream flowing from the global donor community.
During a media briefing in the capital, Islamabad, a uniformed and medal-bedecked spokesperson for Erra argues that all is under control. On the surface, Erra's programme looks impressive, right down to the five-tiered auditing system, externally monitored, to ensure the money goes where international donors want it to go. In fact, some have argued the military's role has been extraordinary and is one of the great, unacknowledged success stories of the post-quake campaign.
But, on the road between Muzaffarabad and Mansehra, things don't seem quite so seamless. A World Food Programme organiser is leaning out of our minibus shouting at bemused-looking soldiers, telling them we are going the wrong way.
'The military is taking us where they want to take us, not where we wanted to go,' she tells the bus passengers, frustration lining her brow. This is nothing to do with security, she laments, more about politics and spin.
