Victims of ETA retain doubts as Basque party seeks power

"This is ETA's heart in the city. My friends would be terrified if they heard where I was, " says Mapi de las Heras, an elegant 75-year-old, standing next to a bar called the Belfast Irish Tavern.

This is the first time she has been here since her husband, Fernando Mgica, a prominent Socialist politician, was shot dead nearby by ETA gunmen 15 years ago. It emerged that one of his two killers, Valentin Lasarte, currently under arrest, was the son of the owner of a bar where the couple used to go every day.

Now, despite growing hopes that the 42-year Basque conflict may soon be over following ETA's permanent, general and verifiable ceasefire announced recently, relatives of ETA victims such as Mapi are not convinced. They denounce this as a ploy to put pressure for its political wing, Batasuna, to be legalised so it can run in municipal elections in May. They recall what happened in 2006 when militants broke another ceasefire with a bomb attack on Madrid airport that killed two people.

"I found graffiti sprayed on a trash container in the centre saying, 'f*** you, Potu', referring to my husband soon after he was murdered … even my dog was getting death threats," says Mapi, who has lived in exile in Madrid for many years like thousands of other Basque opposed to ETA.

Batasuna is expected to present its new party statutes in the coming days, though the government insists it must cut its ties with ETA and renounce violence. ETA has killed 825 people during its terror campaign.

The registration of the new party is expected to coincide with the arrival of a new international monitoring group led by Brian Currin.

The South African lawyer was behind the Brussels Declaration announced last year, which called on ETA to declare a permanent ceasefire and was signed by four Nobel peace winners, including Archbishop Desmond Tutu and former Northern Ireland politician John Hume. Mr Currin says it is crucial that Batasuna is legalised and believes that multi-party negotiations may start as early as late this year, emphasising that ETA did exactly what was expected.

"I'm disappointed by the Spanish government's reaction," Mr Currin told The Scotsman. "The peace process is like building a house. In the Basque Country before, they always tried to start by the roof; this time they're laying down solid foundations first."

In Oiartzun, however, a small rural town 15 miles from San Sebastian, one of a handful of places still in the hands of pro-Batasuna groups, few believe peace is around the corner.Here everyone has a friend or relative who belongs to ETA or is in prison. Like Eluska Urkizu, 24, whose uncle has spent 24 years in jail. "He's now jailed in Ciudad Real, 600km from here, but he's been in countless prisons: Pamplona, Huesca, Soria, Madrid."

Asked about peace, she replies angrily: "Peace, what peace? A few days ago the police arrested ten people who don't even belong to ETA. It's always the same: on the one hand they continue the repression and on the other they demand a ceasefire, they don't want peace but we, Basques, have no other choice."