In his house with pastel green walls, the chief of the place, one of the cadres of Prabhakaran, prepares the next offensive. Wearing a little moustache and his eyes red with tiredness, Nizam, looking both like war chief and political commissioner, refuses it and demands total independence and nothing else. He imposes a discipline of iron on his combatants. No sexual relations, no alcohol. On our way under a blazing sun, we see for ourselves that the bushes do not present the austerity of war zones.
Peasants lead herds of cows tattooed to their names and prepare the rice harvesting.
Remote heirs to the Ho Chi Minh path, hundreds of people on bicycles supply the villages and the camps. At wood stands, posters of Prabhakaran and photographs of famous martyrs can be seen next to fruits and dried fish in an atmosphere of strong smell of curry. The enemy is finished off on the spot Under the control of Nizam, the LTTE cadres have implemented a fearful organisation. For the thieves, the prison - a tumbledown with fragile bars, but none escapes the prisons of the Tigers. For the recalcitrants, it is a bullet in the head.