Somewhere, over the rainbow . . .: Camilla Berens meets the Rainbow Tribe, a collective of squatters without a base for its 'creative projects'

PETER Rainbow bounces down the steps of the Royal Courts of Justice, in the Strand, his arm held high in a defiant salute to the 20 waiting members of the Rainbow Tribe. 'Have we won, have we won?' asks a girl with a neat rainbow painted across her face. 'We've got to get out,' replies Peter. 'But we're always winners. Whatever happens you can't kill the spirit.'

Dressed in a colourful mixture of tie-dye smocks, paisley pantaloons and flower-covered pixie-hats, the group breaks into spontaneous revelry. They dance, they juggle, they blow kisses at the tourists in passing sightseeing buses, they beat a rhythm on a plastic rubbish bin and chant, 'You can't kill the spirit, you can't kill the spirit of the rainbow.'

But the spirit isn't strong enough to sway Master Graham Rose's decision in court E102 and once again the Rainbow Tribe find themselves without a base and a home. Peter Rainbow had argued passionately against the enforcement of a possession order to force them out of the empty Salvation Army hall they have been squatting in since the beginning of July. 'If the Salvation Army won't help the homeless, who will?' asks Peter, an intense 22-year-old full of New Age bonhomie (he greets most people - except the bailiff - with a disarmingly warm hug).

As the collective makes its way back to the hall in Finchley Road, north London, Paulii, a core member, throws up his hands. 'If only they'd come and seen what we were doing. They'd see that we're not into trashing buildings. We're into setting up positive and creative community projects.'

Between October and July, they squatted in a rather upmarket selection of empty buildings including a former bookshop in Hampstead High Street, part of a vacant 10-acre complex of houses owned by the University of London, and an empty five-storey townhouse in Park Lane. Their aim is to establish what they call 'The One World Rainbow Centre'.

The idea, they say, is to set up a kind of 'show squat'. 'It's ridiculous,' says Peter, pushing long curls of hair out of his face. 'There are thousands of empty buildings in London that could be put to good use. What we want to do is create a self-sufficient centre that will encourage self-employment. The Government has shown it's incapable of dealing with unemployment so why not let people do it for themselves?'

So far their attempts have resulted in evictions. But their demonstration of 'people power' met with some success when they squatted in the former Mayfair branch of the fraud-ridden Bank of Credit and Commerce International on the corner of Park Lane and Oxford Street. For almost four months, the bank's vaults were transformed into a vegetarian cafe and alternative market selling clothes, jewellery, alternative magazines, tapes and records. The first floor was used for meditation classes, an information centre for environmental groups, and a general meeting area.

'It was DIY culture in action,' says Peter. 'There are hundreds of skilled or creative people who have little chance of getting a decent job and want to put their energies into something positive. That's what the centre did. It gave people hope. Something to believe in.'

Then one night in January, the basement fire exits were concreted up. 'The fire department arrived a few days later and told us the market was unsafe for public use. We had no choice but to move out,' says Peter.

Despite the succession of evictions, the tribe appears to be surprisingly resilient. And they have plans. A lot of plans. Back at the hall, formerly the Salvation Army's divisional headquarters, Peter lights a candle (the electricity was cut off three weeks ago) and produces a four-page outline of the tribe's aims. There are plans for green campaign groups, community desktop publishing, a creche, a vegetarian cafe, an environment-friendly darkroom, workshops, an art gallery, an alternative healing centre, meditation rooms . . . . All this the tribe claims they can set up without the need for a grant - once they have found a permanent site.

Peter, the apparent driving force behind the project, speaks in passionate rhetoric. But youthful impatience and the tribe's policy of 'squat now, talk later' seems to be self-defeating. Although the 'For Sale' sign is still up, David Rice, the Salvation Army surveyor, says new tenants, a drama school, are about to move in.

He has talked to the tribe at some length and describes their aims as 'very worthy'. But he concludes: 'I would have thought that with all their energy and creativity they could set up a legitimate centre by approaching a local authority or arts centre.'

Would he consider allowing the tribe to use another Salvation Army empty property? 'The answer would have to be no. Most commercial buildings can't be used if more than one household is living there. Regulations prevent it.'

The tribe itself is unmoved by the idea of trying a more conventional approach. 'The way we see it,' says Fi, a fragile-looking 22-year-old, 'it's the same old thing. Lack of funding and too much bureaucracy. No one's going to give a building to someone who's unemployed and homeless. If we did this legitimately, we'd still be talking about it in 2005.'

The core members of the tribe are in their early twenties. Most are well educated. They are passionate about saving the rainforest and 'green awareness' and reflect a deep disillusionment with 'the system'. 'It's just profit before people all the time,' says Paulii.

They could probably get some kind of job tomorrow; but they say they want more. 'A lot of people are looking for an alternative,' says Fi. 'I used to be a secretary but I'd rather channel my energies into something that can help improve my situation and other people's'

The tribe is now facing its fourth eviction in nine months. They say they will keep on squatting; they are convinced that there is a kindred-spirit with an empty building at the end of the rainbow. 'It's got to happen sooner or later,' says Peter with conviction. 'We've just got to keep on going until we find someone. Evictions don't get us down because we believe in what we're doing. You can't kill the spirit.'

(Photograph omitted)