After a few days of interviewing citizens in Colombo, I headed north to the front line between the LTTE and the government. North of the garrison town of Vavunia lies the roughly one-third of the country that is completely controlled by the Tamil Tigers. The farther north we traveled, the more frequent the checkpoints. Even Tamils lucky enough to have the proper travel papers have to spend hours at each checkpoint.

The country director of Care International took me to Vavunia, home to hundreds of thousands of internally displaced people. The first stop was at a model program administered by Care for war widows. It was hardly what one would normally consider model circumstances. Sri Lankan army helicopters swarmed overhead, constantly on the lookout for LTTE members.

I interviewed one of the widows, a fierce Tamil woman who lived in a small straw hut with seven of her daughters. Despite having to bring her children up in a period of war, she seemed to hang on to her plot of land and a chicken coop with dignity. And her daughters wore smiles and went to school.

We also visited a "welfare center," or government-run refugee camp. They are, without question, miserable places. People can't cook for themselves. The conditions are unsanitary. Residents walk for miles just to get water. Schools are either pathetic or nonexistent. Rape, incest, and violence are endemic.

But the most shocking aspect of the welfare camps is that, because of Sri Lanka's pass system, an i.d. system that limits the movement of many Tamils, people essentially cannot leave. Hence, many international aid workers dub them "concentration camps."

It was also nearly impossible to film in the welfare center. The administrator of the province and the military personnel who oversee the camps said it was strictly forbidden. The camp administrator did say that I could walk through the camp without shooting anything and interview residents outside the camp.

It was a small opening, and I took it. I rolled tape as I walked and conducted several interviews out of sight of the camp office. It wasn't textbook shooting, but I think it worked.

When it came time to leave, several uniformed army officers were waiting for me in the camp office. I used the direct approach, smiling and thanking the camp administrator profusely. I said that I hoped I could come back again for a visit. Just then, the daily monsoon rains broke out. As I made a dash for the waiting van, the army guys were pointing at the camera. I pretended not to notice and prayed they wouldn't think it was worth the hassle to come after us. They didn't.

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