Sapong Village, Thailand - After 26 years as a Muslim village official, Satopa Pangoy was forced to make a wrenching decision: remain loyal to the government and risk death or surrender to threats of the Islamic insurgents by quitting his post.
It's the kind of choice increasingly facing moderate Muslims in southern Thailand since insurgents often use terror tactics rather than coaxing in an attempt to get their religious brethren to sever bonds with the Buddhist-dominated government.
Of the more than 2,200 people who have died since the insurgency erupted in early 2004, more than half have been Muslims, ranging from impoverished rubber tappers to civil servants and religious leaders.
"Hooded Muslim men came to villagers' houses and said they were coming to govern the village," said Satopa, who eventually resigned as assistant village chief. "They warned us not to report them to the authorities. If we do, they will kill us."
Once peaceful and remote, Satopa's Sapong village and its 850 residents have been thrust unwillingly into the heart of the conflict. Thai police say this mountainous area of Yala province is one of the rebel strongholds and have imposed a curfew to curtail the violence.
While secretive in their aims, the insurgents are generally believed to be fighting for a separate state, and they clearly are trying to wean Muslims in the country's southernmost provinces away from the authorities.
The insurgents have distributed leaflets threatening to kill Muslims employed by the government and those who work on Fridays, the Muslim holy day. The rebels have also urged Muslims to shun government hospitals, police stations and schools.
None of the 213 students at Pakaruesong elementary school in the south's Pattani province, all of them Muslim, showed up when the new semester began last month after insurgents threatened to attack the students, said education official Surasak Pansrikrai. Similar drop-outs have occurred at other schools in the region.
Maj. Gen. Samret Srirai, a senior military commander in the south, says the insurgents are attempting to form economic, military and political structures parallel to state institutions at the village, district and provincial levels. The rebels already have imposed taxes on some villages.
Rural Muslims, religiously conservative but hardly radical, often are caught in the middle.
"Once they take sides, they become a target. If they keep their mouths shut, they can survive," says Srisompob Jitpiromsri, a political scientist from Prince of Songkhla University in Pattani province. "Most Muslim teenagers are supporters of the insurgents. The adults are hesitant and they have not sided with anyone."
Satopa, the 53-year-old ex-village official, is typical. While he doesn't support the quest for a separate Islamic state, he is disheartened by the tactics and attitude of the security forces.
"The military roams the streets with its guns but never comes to talk to us," Satopa said. "They think all Muslims are insurgents."
Awae Masae, a Muslim volunteer in a government-organized defense corps, was shocked when police raided his house earlier this year and hauled him off for interrogation. He was suspected of taking part in torching a public school that he and fellow villagers helped to save from the flames.
"They pointed a gun to my head and tried to force me to confess. But I said I knew nothing about it," said Awae, who was later released.
Thus many southern Muslims fear both the insurgents and the authorities.
Muslims, a majority in the deep south, have long felt they were mistreated by government officials and relegated to second class citizenship in the predominantly Buddhist country.
While the government has recently stepped up a "hearts and minds" campaign, most of the 30,000 troops and police deployed in the south are strangers in what to them can seem like a foreign country, where most people speak Malayu rather than Thai and practice an unfamiliar religion.
Even well-meaning government attempts to curb the violence have alienated some Muslims.
The curfew imposed in parts of Yala province has squeezed economic and social life in close-knit rural communities. Authorities often cut off mobile phone signals to prevent phone-triggered bombings, and villagers are barred from stockpiling food and medical supplies to prevent anyone from secretly providing material support for insurgents.
The military's dusk-to-dawn curfew keeps villagers at home. It also has forced tea shops, where residents once gathered to chat after the evening prayer, to close their doors — leaving roads dark, empty and silent.
"Living in the area under curfew makes me feel like I'm in Iraq," complains Usoh Da-o, a 40-year-old rubber tapper.
But many Muslim southerners and community leaders also are opposed to the terror tactics of the insurgents such as beheadings and bombings that kill innocent bystanders.
"It is against Islamic principles to use violence," says Abdulbasi Jehma, deputy chairman of Yala Islamic Council. "However, the government has to find the root causes of why some Muslims want to separate from Thailand. If there is justice, no one will want to separate."
As the tug of war between insurgents and the government intensifies, average Muslims can expect to find themselves ever more in the middle.
"If the government cannot adjust policies properly and Muslims perceive state power to be weakening, the growing climate of fear could force them to turn their allegiance to the insurgents," says Srisompob, the political scientist. "The military has a bad image. Even people who disagree with the insurgents dislike them."