area of southeast Montserrat before the eruption of the Soufrieres Hill volcano. At right, the same home is barely recognisable with its plush garden buried underneath a dense carpet of ash. Photos provided by Dr. Sonia Meade SALEM, Montserrat (AP) -- Cots, not pews, cram St. Peter's Anglican Church. A makeshift hospital fills one primary school; a home for the elderly occupies another. A helicopter roars in to land on what used to be the cricket field.

In this topsy-turvy world, even the topography has changed. Chances Peak -- at 3,000 feet once the highest point on the island -- has been outdone by a dome that glows like a prop from a science fiction movie.

The Soufriere Hills volcano roared back to life two years ago, disrupting thousands of lives and clouding over memories of the verdant vistas that once led Irish settlers to call this Caribbean land the Emerald Isle.

When it's angry, as the kids say, it rumbles and throws a tantrum, flinging tons of searing hot rocks, gas and ash miles into the sky.

Four-year-old Germain Farrell calls it "Ashy Hill, 'cause it's ashy''.

Ravines have disappeared, swallowed by deposits of gray-brown ash that also cover once-wooded slopes. The remaining trees stand petrified, raped of their leaves.

Like the landscape, the volcano has torn apart families forced to leave the island or abandon homes in dangerous zones. More Montserratians live off the island -- an estimated 7,000 -- than the 4,000 who remain.

Half of the 50 or so nurses here are threatening to quit, saying it's too dangerous. Yesterday they went on strike.

Hundreds of farmers are among the displaced, forced to accept handouts from the Red Cross and the government of the British colony, spending days anguishing over their plight in shelters that are the most depressing symbol of the volcano.

Onika Riley, 4, eats her meals on the floor of a government shelter at Gerald's Park. There's no space on the two cots provided for Irene Riley's family of six.

"They said it would just be for two weeks,'' said Mrs. Riley, who has been living in this "temporary'' wooden barracks since November.

Some people have lived this way for two years.

Nearby is what residents call the "sanitary hellhole'' -- plywood pit latrines where flies abound. A heavy rain shower causes faeces to overflow.

Trade winds carry the stench across the whole area, including the heliport where boys once played cricket on weekends.

Many residents blame the local government and Britain for their poor condition.

"Britain should accept full responsibility'' to resettle residents, Erlene Hughes said before boarding a ferry to join the four children she sent ahead of her to nearby St. Kitts.

Hughes noted that Britain fought a war with Argentina over the Falklands, an island colony of white residents. "There are 2,000 people and 10,000 sheep there. In Montserrat, we have way over 10,000 people and maybe 2,000 sheep.

Why's the attention any less for us?'' she asked.

Boredom, anxiety and living in close quarters sometimes makes tempers short in the shelters.

Constanshaw Weekes blames the volcano for destroying her family.

When the volcano began threatening their village of Harris last year, Weekes, a 21-year-old nursing assistant, chose to move with her family to an overcrowded shelter rather than stay in a comfortable house reserved for nurses.

But after a few weeks of living in the shelter, her father got into a heated argument with an elderly man he accused of molesting his 11-year-old daughter.

Thomas Weekes, 62, long had suffered from hypertension. His blood pressure shot up and he died. "If we weren't in the shelter, it would never have happened,'' she said.

Then her mother left Montserrat for a nearby island where she is employed as a housekeeper but earns too little to send money home.

So Weekes became the bread winner for her brother and five sisters, ages 2 to 21.

Lately, she lost one of those responsibilities, when one of her teenage sisters got pregnant in the shelter and left for Tortola.

"All those things would not have happened'' but for the volcano, Weekes said.

"We were all together -- just a good family, and now we are separated.'' VIOLENT VOLCANO -- Above left, the Soufriere Hills volcano illuminates the night sky as lava races down its sides at speeds of up to 100 mph. Below, frequent explosions are a constant reminder of the disaster Montserrat is facing. Scientists predict the volcano may continue its activity for the next five years.