In Sri Lankan crisis, rebels lie low

"It hurts us to call us terrorists," said Tiger spokesman Daya Master, speaking from the Tiger's headquarters here in Kilinochchi. "We are not terrorists. We are doing social services, we are sacrificing our lives in service of our people."

While the signs of war are apparent in the bullet-pocked walls of every home, shop, or temple, the signs of that terror campaign are all but hidden here in what the Tigers call their Eelam, or homeland. Most of the soldiers and commanders of the LTTE have been ordered to put their weapons down and pick up shovels, focusing their attention on reconstruction, training, and social duties.

In the Martyr's Cemetery outside Kilinochchi, Tiger soldiers keep busy by assembling small tombs on top of the 1,944 graves of their comrades.

"I have been fighting for seven years, and I have received every kind of training that the LTTE gives, but I want a solution to this problem, I don't want war," says Commander Theraki, a 30- something woman in charge of the platoon of soldiers here at the graveyard. "But, we are just soldiers, so we don't talk about the political situation. Whatever our leader [Velupillai] Prabhakaran says we should do, that we will do."

Tiger discipline is famous - all of the estimated 8,000 to 10,000 fighters wear cyanide capsule necklaces so they can commit suicide if captured.

But discipline has benefits as well. There have been no cease-fire violations, even during the current crisis in Sri Lanka's capital. While Kumaratunga and Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe play out a personal rivalry that has entangled the peace process, the Tigers seem ready to watch and wait.

"I really think both sides are trying to be as calm as possible," says Agnes Bragadottir, spokesperson for the Sri Lankan Monitoring Mission, led by the Norwegian government.

The results of 20 months of peace can be seen in the thriving businesses seen in all the towns and districts near Kilinochchi. With money sent by Tamil ex- patriots living abroad, and funneled through the Tiger's development wing, the Tamil Rehabilitation Organization, shops have sprung up all along Sri Lanka's north-south highway, A-9.

But much of the development remains in the hands of the Tigers themselves. There are Tamil Tiger hotels, restaurants, bus stands, shopping centers, tea shops, along with governmental functions, such as police departments, courts, prisons, hospitals, and even a Tamil Tiger bank. On the streets, cars and motorcycles move at a respectful 25 miles an hour, knowing that the Tiger's police department will fine them 200 rupees ($2) on the spot for speeding.

Critics of the Tigers call it a police state, but many admit that it is a surprisingly well run one.

"It's all pretty repressive, but then again, everything works," says one aid worker, who requested anonymity. "The thing is, the Tamil people are so industrious, so hardworking, that if this country had just a little bit of peace, they could really make this place work."

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