UZBEKISTAN: A passive resistance to the authorities is growing in this eastern Uzbek city as residents help to get out news of the bloody suppression of a rebellion last Friday in which hundreds were killed.
Popular anger is simmering in the city of 300,000 flooded with army troops and security forces, who have blocked off part of the town and prevented many foreign reporters entering.
"They shot us like rabbits and chased and finished us off like dogs in side-streets and alleys," says one man - a typical comment from locals who speak with tears in their eyes, but fists clenched.
Fearing repercussions, many decline to give their names.
But some of them agree to recount to foreign journalists the details of a massacre outside School No. 15, where witnesses say soldiers gunned down hundreds, including women and children.
In quiet defiance of state media that say soldiers were acting against "bandits and Islamic extremists", locals have placed flowers on the huge parched pools of blood on Cholpon Avenue, on which the school stands.
While the local morgue and hospitals are heavily guarded by police who stop reporters approaching, senior members of the local community lead you along narrow, crooked streets of the old town to interview witnesses and grieving families.
A slight bow or a furtive wink that a stern-looking neighbourhood elder gives to one of his aides, and in a flash a car with a driver emerges and takes the reporter to a cemetery with rows of fresh graves.
Young boys guide photographers through a maze of streets and advise on the best vantage points to take pictures of the troops and armoured vehicles guarding approaches to the regional administration's burnt-out building, seized by rebel supporters on Friday.
Those wishing to help foreign journalists sometimes number dozens - a huge risk to their safety, with suspicious men in plainclothes lurking on each street corner.
"Sorry, but we won't be of much help if armed soldiers try to arrest you," they admit.
Andijan lies in the heart of the densely-populated but poor Ferghana Valley, and most locals live in penury, with monthly wages averaging a measly $30.
But they invite journalists to stay at their houses, share the traditional hot green tea and the modest flatbread meal.
Alongside the hospitality is anger. People who previously would not comment on politics have become much more outspoken after last week's massacre, which some call "Bloody Friday".
"If [ President Islam] Karimov dies or goes, it's going to be a real holiday for me," said Tokhir, a 20-year-old unemployed man. "I promise I'll cook a huge cauldron of pilaff for the whole neighbourhood."