Like any other normal seven-year-old, Rohini has her dreams.

"I want to become a doctor so that I can help my people," she shyly confides before going out to play with her friends.

There's just one problem. Rohini is one of many thousands who have become displaced since August last year due to an upsurge in Sri Lanka's ethnic conflict.

Given the unimaginative label of "IDP" (Internally Displaced Person) by aid agencies, they are housed in camps looked after by the government and relief group. Some have been displaced since last summer, while others are relative newcomers.

The east coast of Sri Lanka, from Trincomalee down to Batticaloa, is now full of these "transitional" camps, housing mainly Tamils fleeing the fighting in rebel-held areas to seek refuge in government-held areas.

Rohini has experienced a lot in the last couple of months. With her family, she escaped on foot through jungle routes, and then on rafts and boats through the lagoon and sea, running through crossfire. They're now living in a camp in Batticaloa.

Her mother, Viji, says, "At first we did not want to flee, but the shelling got worse and we had to go. It just wasn't safe anymore."

PAWNS ON A CHESS BOARD

Their story is not uncommon, as the majority of people have been shuffled back and forth like pawns on a chess board, while the war has moved across the east.

Another inhabitant of the camp, Padmini, has a much more harrowing tale to tell. Speaking from her low-roofed tent, donated by a non-governmental group and which she shares with seven others, she recounts how she has been "displaced" since April 2006, moving from one camp to the next.

Of those not lucky enough to have relatives or friends to look after them, most end up in camps converted from schools. With basic water and sanitation facilities, and poor cooking arrangements, life is just about bearable.

When the school buildings overflow, tents or tarpaulin sheets are erected, forcing men and women who don't know each other to live in the same cramped space, with little privacy for women.

During times of emergency it seems that those who've already suffered must go though even more stress - living in a tent with strangers, scorching during the day and shivering at night, with very basic food and not enough toilets.

Yoga, a 48 year old farmer explains the food situation. "We are provided with one curry and a plate of rice - often for days on end. In some camps, with extra funding, they throw in some vegetables now and then."

SCHOOLS TURNED INTO CAMPS

M. Firthous is a volunteer at one of the makeshift camps that have sprung up in Batticaloa, close to where the latest fighting is taking place. A teacher by profession, his school has been converted into a camp and educational activities have been suspended for now.

"These types of crises mean that the education of the children is disrupted whilst the school is used for a camp," he laments. "This does not even take into account education for the displaced children."

Given the disruption, it's not surprising there's a huge disparity in education in this part of the country compared with other regions. Those children that can attend school just aren't in the right frame of mind to continue their education.

With such crises, the sudden influx of displaced people puts pressure on the authorities and humanitarian agencies to meet demands for shelter, food and sanitation. Some camps are well looked after, while others can barely cope.

There have been accusations that humanitarian agencies aren't doing enough. But there is also growing concern regarding security and the conditions agencies are working in.

Following the killings of 17 Action Against Hunger staff last August, agencies have been increasingly reluctant to commit themselves to operations in unsafe situations. Coupled with the recent attacks on U.S. and European diplomats as they toured the east of the country, they're thinking twice.

This gives rise to a dilemma. As a head of mission, does one commit staff to these areas, even though they've narrowly avoided mine attacks and shelling? But what about the people who've been suffering this for the past couple of months? Surely they are more of a priority...

These arguments will go on as long as there is conflict in this part of the world.

RETURN TO NORMALITY?

With all this hardship, fear and uncertainty, there is one thing that unites everybody. Even if it takes months, they all want to go home.

Nadarajah's family house was destroyed by artillery fire. "I lost some members of my family. Even if it takes months for peace to return, I want to go home. I want to start a normal life."

Everyone's looking for a semblance of normality, but the scars of tension and trauma are deep and will remain for a long time.

For Rohini, as she plays on some donated swings set up as part of a child-friendly space, the horrors she's experienced fade away. That is until the sun begins to set and she returns to the temporary tent she shares with her family and a few strangers...

Another day away from home draws to a close.

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