Prayer, song and tears at coup centre

By NAOMI LARKIN in Suva

It is the wrong season for the hibiscus, the bougainvillaea and the fragrant frangipani to blossom in Fiji's Parliament grounds.

And, since Friday, it has also been the wrong season for a more fragile flower, democracy.

Everyone knows the beautiful tropical flowers will bloom again. But will democracy return?

Certainly, a walk along the stretch from the police cordon at the Vuya Rd entrance to Parliament with an accidental escort of four armed men, suggested that democracy had adopted an ugly face.

The men had come out from behind the iron gates of the complex to escort their leader, self-proclaimed Prime Minister George Speight, aged 44, on one of his increasingly frequent forays outside.

One of the armed men whose face is covered with a green balaclava, referred to by his offsiders as "boss," is calling the shots about where the men should be. He and his comrades are dressed in various combinations of jeans, trackpants and T-shirts.

There is a surprising proliferation of Australian rugby union and league jerseys.

Although the men carrying the semi-automatic guns - some with their magazines in their hands and not in their guns - are clearly rebels, the role of the increasing number of men roaming around the grounds is not so clear.

Many of them are villagers who have come to pledge their support for Speight.

Speight, a fourth-generation Fijian with a disarming charm and wild eyes, has held court today in the leafy, palm-filled grounds as if it is already his second home.

He has talked and talked at representatives of the world's media via a series of impromptu press conferences which one journalist described as "soporific."

Wearing traditional formal male attire of a patterned shirt, suluvakataga (skirt with pockets) and smart black leather sandals, the bald-headed Speight has revelled in the publicity.

His conversation has revolved around the democratic rights of indigenous people, his efforts to bring this to fruition and the fact that his beliefs override the law.

This is the first day that international media have been allowed to spend the day inside the compound. We have been told that those who leave will not be allowed back in.

The compound itself is laid out in the style of a traditional Fijian village. The main building, the parliamentary chambers - where the Fijian hostages, both men and women, are detained - has a four-sided base with a pyramid-shaped roof. There are two, two-storeyed office buildings on either side. On the ground floor of one the Prime Minister, Mahendra Chaudhry, and his Indian MPs are being held.

A number of bure - which have no walls - are dotted around the complex. Speight has ordered the media be based in one.

Around 3 pm he greets two groups of people from the villages of Tailevu, about 30km out of Suva. Seated next to two of the chiefs, he breaks down, bowing his head. Locals said he was overwhelmed by the support. Real or staged, his show of emotion was beamed around the world. He then addressed both groups in Fijian, dispelling rumours that he did not know the language.

A group of women in traditional floral dresses begin singing "celebration songs" and the mood, which at times has bordered on tense, lifts.

Elsewhere, his head of security, Vilimoni Tikotani, has called in Fijian for any men with police or military training, or even just "able-bodied" men, to help in the fight.

Holding a handgun and a semi-automatic, he tells them that weapons are limited so they must be prepared to give their lives.

By 6 pm most of the media have left. About 15 local and international journalists have decided to bunk down for the night.

Around 8.15 pm we are ushered into the kitchen and told not to be "heroes" when a confrontation develops between a drunk and armed henchman and his fellow rebels.

It will be a long night.