Relief in Monrovia

By Barnaby Phillips BBC correspondent in Monrovia

Monrovia was in a festive mood on Friday.

The bridge was a "seething mass of humanity"

The sun was shining for the first time in weeks, and thousands of people flocked over the bridge that connects the city centre with the port area.

Civilians have not been able to cross the bridge for weeks. It was the frontline that divided government and rebel forces.

Families and friends have been cut off from each other and, whereas food was always available on the rebel side of the lines, in government-controlled Monrovia, there were severe shortages.

It is no surprise that the vast majority of people returning to the city centre from the port carrying sacks of rice or grain on their heads.

Nigerian peacekeepers control the crowds and American helicopters are clattering overhead.

"We know we are safe now," one man said. "America is a superpower."

We followed one family home.

Human sea

The Saidis have spent the past six weeks sleeping on the floor of Monrovia's masonic temple.

People brought home any food they could find in the port

An imposing building on a hilltop overlooking the city, the temple has become a makeshift home for thousands of people.

It is hot, humid and filthy, and Jerry Saidi was only too glad to be going back to the room he rents in what was rebel-controlled Monrovia.

So too, was his wife Marie, clutching her baby girl Weah to her bosom.

Weah was born at the height of the fighting yet seems happy and oblivious to the chaos and violence that was all around her during her first weeks of life.

Jerry, Marie, Weah and two other sons, Roland and Terry, crossed the bridge at 10 o'clock on Friday morning hugging friends who they met on the way.

Bushrod Island used to be rebel territory. The streets are littered with cartridges and the buildings are pockmarked with bulletholes.

Bittersweet homecoming

Jerry and Marie made their way past excited crowds.

These streets have been virtually deserted for weeks. Today there is a seething mass of humanity.

But the homecoming was a bittersweet moment for Jerry and Marie.

Everything has been taken. My bed, my pots and my chairs. How am I going to look after my family now? Jerry, Monrovia resident

They met their 13-year-old son Junior who was trapped on this side of the line. Thankfully he is safe and well.

Neighbours rushed out of their wooden shacks to say hello.

But Jerry was despondent when he discovered that the door into the single room that he rents had been forced open.

"Everything has been taken," he said. "My bed, my pots and my chairs. How am I going to look after my family now?"

I asked him who he thought was responsible.

"Who knows," he said. "Maybe the rebels. Maybe some other people around here. But thank God we are alive. That is the most important thing."