Here it is in text for those that could not open the jpeg file

This is my first trip to the Tamil controlled area of Wanni. It is also the first time I am setting foot on my Mother country. Despite understanding and speaking Tamil on an average level, I still am keen to make the best of this trip. On arrival I went and stayed at my hotel, and got myself ready for the unknown. I had come with no specific project in mind, just ready for an adventure in my home country, going where ever the wind takes me. However, I never expected that it would take me in the direction of being invited to experience life with the Tigers themselves. Why was the wind blowing this way? I like finding things out for myself, but am I ready to take this risk to spend a week with one of the world’s most infamous rebel groups, known for their suicide attacks and lethal qualities? Even the moments when I was getting into the van to go to the camp I was unsure whether I was making the most stupidest decision in my life. I was scared, but wanting to face the challenge, and get a peak into this hidden world. The door to the world of the Tamil Tiger rebels has been slightly opened ajar during the ceasefire period. If I did not take the opportunity now, with the likelihood of war resurfacing, I feared the door will shut soon. A once in a lifetime chance I thought, and with that I took on the offer.

So here I was, a few days into my adventure, ready to settle down into a rebel camp, and have a taste of the life of a Tiger. Are they vicious? Do they hunt at night and eat their prey? Do they share stories of killing and bombing the Singhala people? I had read a lot of about them, but all the news was so distant and I always had many questions that no one dared to ask, such as how could they really brain wash that many people to follow them, let alone die for the cause that they preach? And this elusive leader of theirs, there must be something and more. I was so eager to probe these questions, and knowing that I had to be careful as to how I navigate my investigation, I was eager and ready.

But nothing would have prepared me at the shock that I was welcomed with. The first thing that struck me as completely out of this world is that the female soldiers I was with were laughing, unlike the standard images that we see of them in international media! They had a sense of humour! Nobody ever told me that these soldiers were human! I was cautious, were they making a show for me? I kept watching them, for any hiccups in their well rehearsed play. But I was only to be disappointed in this respect. Nonetheless, although what follows is not the juicy news that would intrigue even the woman's magazines, it is most definitely insightful. And more importantly, another side to the story of the LTTE that is shut from the international eyesight. A side that definitely requires attention.

Hospitality, Tiger-style

Besides trying to get over the ‘humanous’ of the cadres, I spent my first day getting used to the idea of sleeping in the bush, surrounded by mosquitoes, wild pigs, monkeys and the threat of an elephant coming to pay me a visit. Nonetheless, I was not going to chicken out, especially since I knew that many of the girls that were positioned at that camp were younger than me. It was an issue of self-pride but also willingness to take on the challenge. Afterall, how many of us would get the chance to say to our friends over coffee that one part of our holiday adventure was spent with Tigers! I am not sure whether the animal or the fighters would be more shocking for my colleagues in London...

They dusted the only bed that they had on site, laid out new sheets, pillow and mosquito net for me and left the room. Scared, I wondered if I was going to have to spend the night alone with mosquitoes, only to wake up the next morning with a monkey or wild boar sleeping next to me. But before I could think any further it was morning, and I was woken not with not with a wild boar or monkey lying next to me, but rather a soldier, lying on a mat next to my bed, rifle and magazine jacket in hand. I was taken aback that these girls were sleeping on the floor while I was in a bed, as uncomfortable as it was. I was then given a second shock. I turned my head only to be greeted with a smiling face, with tumbler in hand. Inside was a steaming cup of tea. I took the tea and thanked them. It was the sweetest cup of tea that I had ever tasted. How do they drink this and still remain so thin?!

Answer to my confusion was provided in a few minutes with the sound of a whistle. Two blows and the girl lying next to me was up in a flash, mat put away and running to her line before I could blink my eye. What followed was a half an hour drill in the open fields. As the sun scorched on their sweating faces, I watched them undertake training with stern morale. They did not flinch or shift they head until the training was over. I even wondered if they blinked in that time. What happened to the smiling faces that had greeted me this morning? Where had they gone?

Training finished, they all returned to their rooms, faces and uniforms drenched in sweat. If all the youth in London were to take this training every morning, the problem of obesity would not exist! I was later told stories of how some of them struggled the first time they took training. Some tried to hide behind trees to avoid having to run the full course. But they were found, as their masters would be hiding in the trees ready to spot them. They jokingly informed me that their masters too had gone through basic training at one time, meaning they too had tried the same tricks! All the same, they now stood in front of me, with muscular cuts that even Demi Moore would die for. How did they do it? I still did not understand. The more I stayed there, the more I realised that the deeper I dug the more I will find. Understand the Tigers? Not an easy task, and definitely not possible in a week.

But are they women?

The third day in I watched the girls pull apart and reconstruct their rifles. They treated them with so much care, and cleaned them immaculately. I suppose just the same degree of care that we back in London would take to do our nails or hair. I wondered what they would think if they saw us spending our days glamourising ourselves. Would they envy us or would they be disgusted? I was unsure. Just as I contemplated this thought, a female cadre in her mid twenties entered the room. She was absolutely stunning. Her long black locks sat just beneath her hips. She had just come from taking a wash down at the lake. Her hair was glowing in the midday heat, a shining lustre that made me think immediately of a Pantene ad. She would be just perfect!

She took out a bottle of coconut oil. Inside were all these herbs that were meant to be nutrients for the hair. I suppose she was an attest that it works. She sat on the mat on the floor, combed through her hair and oiled it well. She took so much care of her long mane. She was a woman! They were not so different to me after all! She then explained how she had been growing her hair for the past 6 years. Having joined the movement at 16 years of age, she had gone for the chop, since she feared her hair getting caught up in the barb wire when going in for an attack. I asked her what she thought of the fact that she was a child when she joined and that it is against international law to recruit child soldiers. She laughed, and blatantly replied, 'I lied!'

"Of course I knew what was best for me when I was 16. What makes you think that youth do not know how to make mature decisions? I made the decision independently. I was not forced or conscripted to join. I felt the need to join the struggle. I had a vision of freeing my people, a vision that many adults fail to have. I was not jaded or cynical. I am still an idealist. If it were not for the eighteen thousand idealists that have given they lives in our fight for self determination, then there would be no peace talks, no opening of the A9 Road, and no 'you' sitting in front of me now, hearing my story."

"Anyway, it is so ignorant of the West to cry child soldiers! I studied about World War I and II. Children lied then too and joined their country's military, and gave their lives to protect their Homeland. Why aren't they called child soldiers?! Why doesn't the West first look at their own backyard before they go around poking in others?"

Poison Necklaces

Who taught her to speak like this?! Most girls in the Tamil community remain domesticated, unfamiliar with the public sphere and unable to express their ideas in public. I dared to ask her the question, who taught you speak so well?

"I learnt it all in the movement. When I was at home, I was a rebellious child, I disagreed with many things that were customary in our society. However, I was not allowed to express my ideas at home. I was shut out from the world of politics. Politics was only discussed in male circles while the women all crowded in the kitchen and gossiped about the latest love affair or marriage proposal...

"When I came to the movement, I was encouraged to debate issues. We read the paper everyday, and have regular knowledge tests. We need to know about international and national affairs. From the start I was encouraged to write poetry and articles by my leaders. It is the clear vision of our national leader to emancipate our society as well as our nation from the environment that breeds such oppression. Nobody really knows much about our leader. But if anyone bothers to read his philosophies, he is a very forward thinking intellect and pragmatist. You know he does not sleep on a mattress. How many world leaders do you know who do that?"

But, he is also the man that garlands each cadre with a poisonous necklace, with a cyanide pendant. How could he be a great leader when he is taking away the lives of our Tamil youth? I figured I might as well ask her this question, considering she seemed to have an answer for everything else, she may have one for this too...

"The cyanide capsule is not what the world sees it as. Yes, it is a definite threat to the Sri Lankan army as they are unable to intimidate us, nor are they able to obtain information from us. We are dedicated fighters. Unlike the army (Sri Lankan army) we have come voluntarily. We have a higher cause than them. They fight for money. We fight for our people, our language, history, land and culture. Biting the poisonous capsule is simple when you have such a clear vision in life. We have one goal. We know what we are living for. It is for the future of our people, not selfishly for ourselves. So, we tie the cyanide with pride. It is a symbol of our dedication, not our blind following. At the end of the day, it is each fighter that is going to take the capsule, and bite it. Our leader can only give us the capsule. He can not force us to bite it. That is our personal choice. I am ready, willing and able to die for my nation. And if biting a poisonous capsule is the way I must do this, then bite it I shall. I would rather do that than fall in the hands of the enemy and be subject to torture, especially since I am a woman. This cyanide is tied around my neck to protect myself and my dignity"

Her name was Arivalaki, meaning knowledgeable beauty... an appropriate name for she was gorgeous and had also got me thinking...Not the adventure I expected. SB