| It's a strange job being the BBC correspondent here at the moment. At times it can feel like I'm in the wrong place.
Because much of the news on Iraq is being made thousands of miles away in Washington, as the "what to do" debate heats up before the release of the much anticipated - and much-leaked - Iraq Study Group report.
So each day means spending nearly as much time on US websites, working out which policy idea is gaining ground, as on finding out what's happening on the ground.
More troops, or fewer? Speed up the handover to Iraqi units? Talk to the neighbours? The prescriptions change by the day.
Yet while I try to keep up with this US debate, I'm aware that outside of Iraq's political arena, few people here are paying any attention.
"What difference will it make?" said a shopkeeper. "The Americans have given us new plans before. But things only get worse."
The priority these days is surviving; avoiding kidnap or being caught in crossfire. Many Baghdad residents now barely leave their homes, too scared to go out.
Hanging on
When they venture out for food and other needs, they find prices have gone up again.
The official inflation rate is almost 80%. The cost of many staples shot up again with the recent four-day curfew - imposed after the devastating 23 November bombings in Sadr City - because supplies were disrupted.
Tomatoes went from 700 Iraqi dinars per kilogram (about 50 US cents) to more than 3000. They dropped again, but back to 2000.
Tens of thousands of Iraqis are now fleeing every month.
"It's the first thing you talk about with friends," said a doctor I know. "They ask you if you are leaving."
He said he was trying to hang on, but it was getting harder every week.
Few Iraqis have much faith in their own government.
"What has Maliki done since he took over?" asked a businessman I spoke to last week.
Many Sunnis blame the government for their troubles, saying it has failed to clamp down on Shia militias accused of much of the sectarian killing.
But under the constant threat of Sunni insurgent attacks, Shias are driven more and more to the militias for protection.
The Americans may want to hand over more quickly to Iraq's official security forces, but fewer and fewer Iraqis trust these forces.
Playground gangs
The sectarian fissures now run through every level of society. "We have Sunni and Shia gangs now," a 14-year-old boy told me when I visited his school at the weekend.
"They fight each other in the playground."
"We need leaders," said an engineer friend, "people who can lead us out of this situation." There's little sign of that.
Almost every morning this week I've been woken by gunfire or an explosion in the city.
I lie in bed listening - trying to gauge how close it is, waiting to see if it will develop.
Often it does. I hear a burst of return fire, with a different sound. Then a gun-battle starts.
From every direction now, it feels like darkness is closing in.
ANBAR - THE ORIGINAL WAR
Several US media outlets have decided to declare that Iraq is officially in a civil war. The Bush administration rejects this. Nonetheless, the issue is the focus of the "what to do" debate in Washington.
Somehow forgotten is that the original "war" that began after the invasion still rages on - namely the Sunni-led insurgency, centred in Anbar province west of Baghdad.
This still claims by far the most US lives. Of nearly 2,900 American deaths since March 2003, almost 40% have died in this one desert region.
I've been to the province several times since the invasion. I was out there again recently, embedded with US marines near Falluja. On each visit, things seemed to have got worse. Even now, with more US troops in Baghdad than ever, the pattern is unchanged.
Nearly half the 106 Americans killed in October died in Anbar.
Attempts at winning hearts and minds in the overwhelmingly Sunni population have made little difference.
Anyone who co-operates with the Americans - or is even suspected of doing so - will be targeted by al-Qaeda in Iraq or one of the other groups operating there.
Residents say that in many areas, these groups are in control.
Adapting threat
Roadside bombs - or IEDs (improvised explosive devices) - remain the most deadly threat to the Americans, and the insurgents keep adapting, changing the way they set them off.
"They're a lot more devious now," said one marine.
"First, it was pressure plates on the road," said Capt Eric Dominijanni, who is in charge of a company of armoured marine vehicles which patrol the roads around Falluja.
"Then they went to remotes to set off them off. Like garage door controllers."
As the marines deployed "electronic counter measures" to deal with this, the insurgents went back to an old technique, but using timers.
Bedside alarm clocks, anything will do.
"We often find IEDs with washing machine timers," the captain said.
Caught in the middle
Regardless of whether they support the insurgents or not, the people of Anbar are caught in the middle.
One resident of Ramadi - the provincial capital and one of the most violent places anywhere in Iraq - gave me a picture of life there now. I'll call him Farouk.
"We've had no power for two weeks. Everything is difficult. Just to get food, I have to drive five or six km to get to my nearest shop because of all the barriers and checkpoints," Farouk said. "The shop is just 300 metres from my home."
The Bush administration hopes the answer in places like Ramadi is for Iraqi security forces to take over more responsibility.
But the signs are not good. There are already many Iraqi units there. But they're widely hated by locals.
Most are from outside the region, and residents complain their behaviour towards them is often abusive.
"People say the Americans behave better than the Iraqi army and police," said Farouk.
IN IRAQ FOR THE MONEY
The US military depends more than ever on private contractors to keep its operations here going - not just to provide meals and other support services to the 150,000 US troops in Iraq, but to guard the convoys bringing in the food and supplies.
I was talking to one of these contractors recently, as he started his second tour.
He works as a gunner protecting convoys between Baghdad and Kuwait.
"We bring in everything - food, medical supplies and ammunition," he said.
And the convoys are regularly attacked, with far higher casualties than among US troops.
"We had 160 in our group on my last tour," he said. "We lost 40 guys." He was involved in several serious clashes himself.
I asked him why he kept coming back.
"Simple. The money," he replied.
I won't name his company, but the contractor told me he was earning almost US$17,000 dollars a month, tax-free, and with his health insurance covered.
He has a large family.
"Where else can I make that?"
For him, an early American withdrawal would be bad news.
"I need to do this for another three years. Then I can retire."
From BBC | |
