Rory Carroll and Qais al-Bashir in Baghdad
Wednesday October 12, 2005

Two and a half years of relentless bloodshed has convinced the outside world that Baghdad is not so much a city as an event, a maelstrom of violence.

The ferocity and frequency of bombings and shootings has turned Iraq's capital into a maze of military checkpoints, concrete blast walls and razor wire.

But despite the images of burning cars which flicker nightly on CNN, the city is still, for those who live in it, home. A place to work, play and raise children.

Why they stay, and how they cope, are questions Baghdadis ask each other all the time. Thousands have fled, but the vast majority have stayed, savouring what normality survives and making the best of abnormality.

In the 1970s this was one of the glitziest, most developed capitals in the Middle East. Wars with Iran and a US-led coalition in 1991, followed by a decade of crippling sanctions, degraded the infrastructure.

Most residents were relieved when Saddam Hussein's regime fell in 2003 but corruption, waste and insurgent attacks have since crippled the supply of electricity and clean water.

Insecurity is the biggest problem. To leave your house is to risk being shot by a twitchy American or Iraqi soldier, or being shredded by a bomb planted by the road or detonated by a suicide attacker.

Violence has claimed almost 400 lives across Iraq in the past fortnight, including more than 40 yesterday.

A referendum on a draft constitution on Saturday could stabilise the country, if it is deemed legitimate and draws Sunni Arabs into mainstream politics, or mark a milestone on the road to full-scale civil war.

Saddam Hussein will be entitled to vote, according to Iraqi officials, but the outcome will be determined by ordinary people, mothers, labourers, shop owners, voices seldom heard amid the din of war.

'There is just one bombing or shooting a week here - it's nice'

Tariq Mustafa, 54
printing shop owner

My biggest fear is the car bombs. They can go off at any time. There have been nine big blasts near my shop since the war. The last one blew in all our windows and collapsed part of the roof.

I'm nervous when I come to work. So is my family. I think some relatives are taking medication for the stress. Whenever we hear of an explosion in our area we use our mobiles to check up on each other.

The business has suffered because we no longer have foreigners coming to us to print business cards or company brochures. We used to work till midnight to get orders finished, but now we are out of here by 10pm.

The security has improved in the past few months but my family still feels trapped at home. They haven't had a night out in Baghdad for three years. No more restaurants, nothing. The only thing we do is head north to Sulaimaniya for two weeks in July. It's normal there.

Um Mawj, 40, mother, and her daughter Mawj, 11, and son Manar, 10

We have just moved to a new neighbourhood from Doura [an insurgent hotspot in southern Baghdad]. We had a big house with a garden, a blow-up pool, a decent school. But it became impossible. Every day there were shootings, bombings and kidnappings.

My nephew was kidnapped, my friends' children were kidnapped. They all paid ransoms. When I dropped my children to school I'd wait outside until they finished and take them straight home. My daughter's exam was cancelled because of a bomb alert.

We put the house up for rent. I was worried it would be taken by squatters but we finally got a tenant last week who will pay £230 a month. That's the same we're paying for the tiny apartment we've found in a safer part of town. We had to pay a lot up front so it's been a stretch financially. But there is just one bombing or shooting a week here. It's nice.

The children's schoolwork doesn't appear to have suffered but they are fighting more than they used to because they are more nervous. The only place they're allowed to ride their bikes is around their grandfather's garden.

Wisam Wadi'he, 40
alcohol-shop owner

Most of the alcohol shops in Baghdad have closed. It has become too dangerous, we are targets for everybody. I am the last one open in my neighbourhood. I don't like feeling exposed but this is a family business I inherited from my father and grandfather. We are Christians and we have run this shop since 1961. We have a licence from the tourist board.

The biggest problem is extortion. Men in police and army uniforms come in all the time - eight times this year I think - looking for money.

The other problem is the bombing. Last week I was nearly killed. I was driving to the shops around 10am to get groceries when a suicide bomber blew himself up near a restaurant.

There are no real security precautions I can take. I have to trust that the people in the neighbourhood, my friends, my customers, will look out for me.

Sarmad Riyadh, 35
antique dealer

If the Americans left tomorrow I would close my shop immediately. No one wants his country to be occupied but in Iraq we have no security. We have a government of ghosts, no one is in charge. You see the police around the city but when they come here they just ask for money.

The lawlessness is everywhere. One of my best friends was shot dead recently while driving through town. No one seems to know who did it or why. There is a risk every time a US or Iraqi army patrol comes near that you might get blown up along with them.

My family stays indoors all the time. We are like prisoners. I got an extra two televisions for the house. We would like to leave but where would we go? A friend in Germany told me the Europeans don't want Iraqis because they think we are all terrorists. I read that some people in the US want their troops to leave. I invite them to come visit for one month to understand that this is not a normal situation. For the time being we can't stand on our own feet.

Yanar Muhammad, 44
women's rights activist

Some people say I am too outspoken for my own good. I believe that the state should be secular and that Iraq should reflect the aspirations of women in the 21st century. We are facing a religious ideology that oppresses women domestically and politically.

Iraq is a worse place for women than it was under Saddam. The streets are not as safe. Politicians are going back in time and trying to force us all to wear the veil. Things have improved a bit. In 2003 you did not see a women on the streets without a veil. Now there are a few.

I refuse to wear a headscarf and organise protests. For that I have had death threats. I always travel with a guard. And I have a pistol in my handbag. But that is no guarantee. You cannot stop an explosion. My only protection [from insurgents and religious militias] is that I am seen as patriotic. The so-called resistance know that I am anti-occupation.