INDIA: They are the forgotten victims of Asia's catastrophic tsunami, but India's gentle Nicobarese tribe are determined that their voices should finally be heard.
The tsunami robbed the tribe of 5,000 of its men, women and children, nearly a fifth of its total population on the remote islands, 1,200km (750 miles) from the Indian mainland.
Tribal leaders are now facing up to a new challenge - defending their lands from illegal settlers and an indifferent bureaucracy.
"We have been heavily exploited and now we have lost our lands and our livelihoods," tribal leader John Paul wrote to the lieutenant-governor of the Andaman and Nicobar islands. "Either you kill us, or you remove the non-tribals from our land."
For several days after the tsunami, many people on these idyllic forested islands, ringed by blue seas and pristine coral reefs, saw no sign of help. Officials were either dead, had fled to the provincial capital, Port Blair, or seemed indifferent to their plight.
"The initial reaction was very bad," said Rashid Yusuf, a tribal prince, who says hundreds of lives were lost unnecessarily. "Many people were unconscious after the tsunami but they could have been saved.
"There was a boat here, but the assistant commissioner said it could not be used for rescue operations as he had received no orders from Port Blair. So we had to save ourselves and use our own canoes."
The assistant commissioner has since been posted elsewhere, but the indifference of authorities remains a source of anguish to tribal leaders.
The islands are ruled directly from Delhi through a lieutenant-governor, a system unchanged from British colonial rule. Lacking their own parliament, Prince Yusuf says their voices are scarcely ever heard thousands of miles away in New Delhi.
The Nicobarese are a peaceful race of pig and coconut farmers, Christians who live with their extended families in thatched houses by the sea. Now most of their pigs are dead and their plantations flooded by sea water.
In the past 30 years, the government has settled thousands of mainland Indians in these supposedly protected tribal islands, as well as refugees from Bangladesh and Sri Lanka.
The abundant and lush islands looked attractive from the crowded mainland, and it was a good way to cement their allegiance to the new Indian nation. But tension between natives and new arrivals has never been far from the surface.
The tsunami has made a bad situation worse. In the island of Katchal, most of the 4,000-odd victims were tribals living by the coast. Settlers from Sri Lanka, who work on a rubber plantation in the interior, were largely spared, and now outnumber their hosts.
"The problem in Katchal is that these people want more land," said Michael Solomon, a tribal chief who lost his five-year-old granddaughter to the tsunami. "But we can't give them more land, so it's better they leave."
Tribals accuse the settlers of descending on the shores in the tsunami's wake, and plundering the dead. "They cut off fingers to remove rings, stole chains and jewellery," said Joseph Vish (67).
The Indian military considers the islands to be of vital strategic interest, lying on some of the world's busiest maritime routes. An air base and a listening post have added to a culture of secrecy, and they are off-limits to foreigners and mainland Indians without a permit. - (Reuters)