Monrovia's guns still sound as 'ceasefire' beds in

LIBERIA: A carpet of tinkling brass bullets covers the bridge between government- and rebel-held Monrovia

LIBERIA: A carpet of tinkling brass bullets covers the bridge between government- and rebel-held Monrovia. When the guns were silent yesterday passage was possible. At the rebel end, the scene was worthy of Dante's Inferno.

Tottering buildings were riddled with grenade blasts and thousands of rounds. Intoxicated rebels roared up and down in battered pick-ups, their sirens screaming.

A grinning soldier stood in the middle, his pants falling down and his backside exposed.

Armed teenagers wearing wigs scattered looters with bursts of gunfire. A glow of heat emanated from a burnt-out warehouse. Five bloated corpses, their wrists bound and shot in the head, lay on the verge.

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For the first time since the siege of Monrovia - dubbed "World War Three" by locals - began two weeks ago, reporters were able to cross the chaotic frontline yesterday.

The deployment of Nigerian peacekeepers, the forward force of a 3,250-strong West African mission, brought about the cessation.

"We are on ceasefire," said Maj Gen Seyea Sheriff of Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy (LURD), standing near the chaotic frontline. "If they don't open fire, neither will we."

He said the key to peace was the resignation of President Charles Taylor, who has promised to leave office next Monday. But if he refuses to go into exile, the guns will blaze again, he warned.

Further into the LURD-held neighbourhood, the sense of mayhem receded. Residents said life was difficult but clearly easier than across the bridge.

In the bustling markets food was abundant and cheap. A cup of rice costs five Liberian dollars compared to 20 times that much only a kilometre away, where thousands of people are starving.

Medical care, however, is abysmal. The local brewery serves as the only hospital, and conditions are horrific. A dirty table in the loading bay serves as the operating theatre. With few drugs or equipment, nurses struggle to save a flood of wounded.

Nyeamah Williams (24) had arrived just arrived minutes earlier. His arm torn open by a stray bullet, he grimaced as nurses sprayed iodine on to the gaping wound.

Over 300 people had been treated like this in the past two weeks, said Dr Prince Weah. "We don't have forceps, clamps, needle-holders, anything," he said. "We improvise."

The casualty toll is higher on the government side, where indiscriminate rebel shelling ruthlessly pounded neighbourhoods packed with cowering refugees. Over 1,000 people have died during the ongoing siege.

"It's not us," said Maj Gen Sheriff. "We only hit military targets." But in their own territory, rebels seem to have treated civilians with some caution. Residents said that after an initial looting spree, they were left largely unbothered. "At first the LURD took everything," said Manmeet Singh, one of 24 Indian traders huddling in the ground floor of a boarded-up building. "But then they bring water and food so you can survive."

Down the rutted side streets, hundreds of people flooded out to cheer, dance and sing songs of peace mixed with praise for the rebels, such as "O LURD, we like you." "You see," said Sekou Fofana, a senior LURD official, shouting over the din. "We don't intend to harm anyone. Our war is against Charles Taylor."

But the enthusiasm is mostly born of fear. Residents said they feared violent reprisals if the notoriously ill-disciplined government troops were allowed to take their neighbourhood back.

"We are not praising LURD because they are here," said Abraham Daniel. "But that last time they left, the government forces came. They intimidated us, looted our places, raped our children and even threatened to kill us."

He pleaded for Nigerian peacekeepers to come quickly, adding: "In their absence LURD should be here."

On the other side of the bridge, government soldiers also welcomed the Nigerian deployment. Cdr Cairo Poo-poo said: "There will be a hard feeling [with the LURD] until the peacekeepers arrive. But when they come we will shake hands." Explaining his war name, he said: "You can smell me but you can't dodge me."

At Monrovia airport, Nigerian troops continued to arrive aboard UN helicopters. The West African force says it will enter Monrovia in six days. Aid agencies hope the ceasefire will allow them to rush desperately needed relief to the besieged city.

Meanwhile out in the Atlantic two US warships awaited orders, and a third was on the way. Over 2,000 soldiers are aboard, but President George Bush has not decided whether to send them onshore.

Success for the rescue mission hangs on Mr Taylor's next move. Assuaging fears that he will stay in Liberia, the South African President, Mr Thabo Mbeki, said he had personal reassurances that Mr Taylor would leave "the same day or the day after" he resigns on Monday.

Officials in the Nigerian town of Calabar said preparations were being made to lodge him there.