March 7, 2008
Five years of war have taken their toll on the Iraqi city of Mosul, where people live in fear, many without jobs, electricity or a reliable supply of water.
Engineer Ashwak al-Jaaf lost her husband and the eldest of her six children when unknown assailants killed them following the invasion, writing over their bodies that the pair had been members of Saddam Hussein’s Ba’ath regime.
"I fled to Syria for two years," said Mrs Jaaf, aged 50.
"When I returned I found that everything had been stolen, even my car. Life is very bad now, dangerous and there are no basic services. This is what happens if you leave a country without a strong leader."
In certain parts of Mosul, whole roads are lined with mounds of rubble, the remains of a building destroyed by an American hellfire missile or a car bomb.
Sewage runs in the street and the graffiti on walls advertises house after house up for sale.
Mrs Jaaf said that she too would leave again if she had the resources.
"Before the war, life was perfect. My husband was a manager at the Ministry of Oil and we felt very well protected. I am unable to believe that the situation can ever be restored," she said, blaming the US military for instigating the chaos.
 "They destroyed our country and caused many people to be killed because they wanted to oust Saddam and take Iraq’s oil," she said.
American commanders are working alongside the Iraqi army and the police to stop extremist groups, such as al-Qaeda, from operating in Mosul. Militants, opposed to the US military and US-backed Iraqi Government, have conducted a campaign of killing and intimidation in the city since 2004.
But some local people fear both sides of the fight in equal measure.
 "Both the security forces and the terrorists were created by the occupation and are working against the citizens of Mosul," said Razaaq Jerjes, a 41-year-old doctor who quit his job at a local hospital two years ago after several of his colleagues were murdered by insurgents.
He now works from home, treating people in his neighbourhood.
"I need two days to describe to you the kind of life we have in Mosul," Dr Jerjes said. "First of all there are no services, I mean nothing – no power, no good water, all the streets are broken and pitted with holes left by roadside bombs."
His four children each lost a year of education in 2007 because he felt it was too risky to let them go to school – a problem faced by many youngsters in the city. In addition, there are not enough schools in Mosul so the classes that do take place in safer areas are crowded.
"The main problem is a lack of jobs and there is no leadership here," said the doctor. The unemployment rate in certain districts is up to 70 percent.
The provincial governorate is working to rebuild Mosul’s broken water and power infrastructure, but progress is hampered by ongoing attacks. Some districts are enjoying signs of normality, however, with shops open and teeming with goods, families venturing to local parks and children playing in the street.
 As part of the plan to restore security to Mosul, the US military is erecting a wall of mud and earth around the city in a bid to stop extremist groups from entering in cars laden with bombs and other weapons.
 They are also building scores of checkpoints and joint Iraqi-US outposts, surrounded by concrete blast walls and sand bags. The move is designed to give the security forces a permanent presence in hotspot neighbourhoods.
Residents feel trapped but hope that the new measures will end the violence.
"The mud and concrete barriers cause more suffering to the civilians. We feel as though we are living in Gaza," said Mazin Sajet, a 33-year-old car dealer.
"At the same time, I support the new structures because it gives the security forces more power on the street and makes people feel safer."
A poorly-paid police officer during Saddam’s time, Mr Sajet took advantage of new business opportunities that arose following the invasion, setting up a successful car dealership.
"I am doing really well but I always have to protect myself," said the married father-of-two. "I can’t drive a new car and I tell my neighbours that I am just a worker at the dealership not the owner."
His brother, a former officer in the old Iraqi army, has been kidnapped three times because he refused to join the resistance. He now lives in Jordan.
Mosul was home to thousands of army officers during Saddam’s time. They were all put out of work when the military was controversially disbanded after the invasion. Armed, resentful and with plenty of time on their hands, these men formed a key part of the insurgency.
"Jobs and security are the biggest issues in Mosul. Fix one and you will resolve the other," said Mr Sajet.
Standing on an ugly road of broken buildings and rubbish, Abdul Jabar, a truck driver, said he cannot find words to describe the sadness he feels for his city, a unique patchwork of seven ethno-sects, including Sunni Arabs, who comprise the majority, followed by the Kurds, Christians and Turkomen.
"Look at the garbage strewn everywhere. What does that tell you about the security situation?" said Mr Jabar, aged 68. "I hope the future will be better."
[Picture 1: Rubble outside an old Olympic football pitch in Mosul;
Picture 2: A bridge over the Tigris River that was blown up by extremists;
Picture 3: The crater left by a roadside bomb that hit a Bradley
Picture 4: An abandoned shoe in the rubbish on the side of a broken road;
Picture 5: Not everywhere is bad, children playing in the street of a safer neighbourhood pose for the camera;
Picture 6: Part of the wall of dirt that US forces are building around Mosul;
Picture 7: Like many children, Omar Adel, aged 13, does not go to school. Instead he sells small buns in the street;
Picture 8: Abdul Jabar is angry and upset about the state of his city but he hopes for better times.]
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