To enter the stronghold of the Tamil guerrillas, one has to drive on a motorbike early morning up to the last dike and pass soldiers who look rather uneasy at the perspective of fighting in the forest, then ride through dried up rice plantations in a blazing no man's land which used to be a place of plenty. On our way, we met dogs wandering in the dust and governmental militiamen near the wreck of a burnt car. Foot soldiers rake up the ground with shaking hands, looking for mines without detectors. At the far end of the path, one can see a heap of shacks hidden behind a bamboo stockade, the secret base of the rebellion. Peasants gather under a canopy and wait to consult the leader of the place, who redistributes the land and solves the little quarrels.
Combatants come and go again and again on Japanese motorcycles, two by two.
That morning, the front appeared to be as quiet as the waters of the lagoon, the Tigers of the Eastern coast waiting for the night to start the combat. The LTTE rules over the place. This son of a fisherman who first won fame by his first feat at the age of 21, when he assassinated the Mayor of Jaffna in the middle of the street, and whose posters hang at the walls of shacks hides in the depth of the jungle, further in the North. The LTTE requests daily support from the peasants. Absolute discretion is legal currency.