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On one side of the room are 20 senior reporters and editors from various publications and news outlets. For many, this was their first ontheground reporting in this restive region.

Samut, along with the local imams and a principal of a nearby public school, took turns in answering the questions, perhaps some of the toughest he had ever encountered.

Samut started with a brief introduction of the area where over the centuries kings, sultans and feudal lords built their palaces, while great religions  Hindu, Buddhist and Islam - had penetrated the region and captured the imagination of the local people. Clashes of ideas are inevitable, and some time friction turns to violence.

He spelled out in plain language to the visiting newsmen and women that he and his community are stuck between a new generation of insurgents, who have no qualms about killing him if they feel threatened, and the state agencies bent on pursuing the militants by any means necessary.

"It's best to take the middle path on this one," Samut said.

In other words, stay out of their fight.

While such an attitude is common in the deep South, it is rare to see anybody go on the record with it.

Samut slammed the Bangkokknowsbest attitude, and criticised the central government of being obsessed with political gains rather then looking at long term solutions through improving human resources and capacity building. Such bluntness is quite rare in this region where fear is everywhere and the stake are quite high.

Unlike the past, the current generation of militants are bent on shattering the fabric of the society - the kind that for centuries allowed people of different faiths and ethnicity to coexist peacefully.

Knowing what he and the community are up against, Samut felt the best way through this turbulent time was to stick together. Above all else, be it faith or political leaning, the community comes first.

"When a Buddhist gets shot, Muslims pay them a visit at the hospital," Samut said.

A few chairs down and three imams over to the his left sat Nirom Prodpai, the principal of the local public school, and one of state institutions that has come under consistent attack by the militants because of its role in turning the Malays into Thais  at the expense of their own cultural identity.

Since January 2004, 107 public school teachers have been killed and about 248 schools have come under arson attack.

"I have all the faith in this community. But we are surrounded by violence," Nirom said.

He joked about his last name, which means "safety" because he and his fellow residents know very well that reality could not be far from the truth.

The attitude and approach to the survival of the locals here may not bode well with the authorities and the government security forces who have been trying desperately for the past three years to win the local community over to their side.

One of the reasons for being scared, said Samut, is that the local residents don't know where the insurgents stand, much less their identity.

Samut said today's militants, who are mostly young men in their early 20s, don't seem to have a clear direction.

"Perhaps if they just establish themselves as liberators, then the people won't be so scared," Samut observed.

While the feeling of vulnerability and the daily killings have take their toll on the locals, pitting Buddhists and Muslims, it is not exactly clear as to why communities such as Yalor have managed not to let the fear split them along ethnic lines.

While such unity is rare in the Deep south, Ban Takae in Pattani's Yaring district also displays similar resilience in spite of being surrounded by senseless violence.

Buddhists make up about 30 per cent of the local population. Everybody in this village speaks Malay, including Kern Sangumpai, 76, a Buddhist greatgrandmother.

Just weeks ago, Kern's husband, along with a neighbour down the road, were shot and beheaded. Both of the victims' homes were also torched in the same attack. Their heads were found down the road the next day near an intersection less than ten kilometres from the village.

In spite of the enormous shock and tragedy, Kern's faith in her neighbours and community remain as strong as ever.

"I lived among Muslims all my life and they have always been like family. They have always been there for me," Kern said.

Takae's village chief for the past 30 years, Aziz Chesamahae, said the bonds between Buddhists and Muslims have always been strong here.

"There is not a person in this tambon that Kern doesn't know. Our hearts went out to her and her family," Aziz said.

After giving a brief tour of what used to be her home, Kern hitched a ride from a reporter to Pattani where she sells whatever she can buy from her neighbours. Today, it's herbal leaves. But on most days, it's dried fish and pretty much whatever she can her gets her hands on.

"I buy from Muslims and I sell to Muslims. It has always been like this," she added.

by Don Pathan

The Nation