Baghdad: Whispers of the people's hopes for democracy are beginning to be heard, writes Tim Judah in Baghdad
An eerie air of excitement, horror, fear and expectation hung over Baghdad yesterday. Small groups gathered to discuss the latest news at street corners and friends and family gathered behind closed doors to mull their fate.
By midday yesterday, almost all shops had closed, and armed men, both in uniform and in civilian clothes, were out on the streets. In Saddam Hussein's parliament, his deputies declared their undying love for their leader while, perhaps inadvertently, Baghdad's pop radio station played the theme tune from the hit movie Titanic as one of its morning selections.
A thick haze hung over Baghdad, the result of an overnight sandstorm which had the city's palms bending in the wind and rubbish swirling down the broad boulevards. But something else also hung over the city. Something intangible but unmistakable.
Closing up his shop for the duration of the war, one man, delighted rather than furious - as one might expect - to find a Briton as his last customer, said he thought that the regime of Saddam Hussein would crumble within days of the first missile strikes. Then, with a broad grin on his face, he said: "Democracy!" It was almost certainly the first time in the last three decades that he had ever dared to utter such a word to a foreigner, a stranger, and in front of other Iraqis whom he did not know.
"From today," he said, "no more fear!" And he was not alone. Suddenly, in the past few days, Iraqis have begun to talk as never before. They are discussing openly and with foreigners how long the bombing will last, and few say they expect anyone to die willingly to defend Saddam Hussein. One said he expected that Baghdad's main thoroughfare, Rashid Street, might be renamed Bush Street in honour of the man who was about to liberate them.
Another said: "If the Americans are clever, I hope they can finish the job in seven days, but it may be more. I just hope no one is stupid enough to try and fight. We just want this over and done with."
Whether this is feverish wishful thinking remains to be seen. On Tuesday night, in a rambling press conference, Naji Sabri, Iraq's foreign minister, in full military fatigues, railed against President Bush and Tony Blair, calling them "warmongers, war criminals and idiots". State television has been showing film of mass rallies in support of Saddam and an eclectic variety of other programmes, including religious sermons and the French children's favourite, Babar the Elephant.
Whatever they think of their president, all Iraqis have been making their final preparations for war. But shops have been closing over the past few days as shopkeepers have been carting stock home or to other safe places. The owners have been taping windows to minimise the effect of shattering glass and those with iron shutters or grilles have been leaving them firmly bolted or even soldered together. Some have even taken to bricking up their shopfronts.
The shopkeepers are not frightened of the bombs, but rather looting in the wake of any collapse of law and order. Likewise, office workers have been taking home computers and other valuable equipment, as have government workers; but, for them, the fear is the imminent destruction of their ministries.
Two-thirds of Iraqis rely on government food rations to survive, but in the last few weeks the authorities have issued several months worth of food in advance. Nevertheless, those few food shops which have remained open over the last few days have been packed as people rush to lay in last-minute supplies.
The price of bottled war has shot up from 300 Iraqi dinars to 1,000 dinars and the currency has simultaneously gone into freefall, sliding from 2,400 to the dollar on Saturday to 3,100 yesterday.
Many of those with the means to do so have either left Baghdad or sent their families away. Some have gone to stay with relatives in the provinces while those who can get in have gone to Jordan or Syria. For weeks, the Jordanian border has been closed to all but a lucky few, meaning that many diverted to Syria. That option has now closed, too.
Across town, small sandbagged positions and trenches have mushroomed. These are situated at all strategic locations and in front of all official buildings.
Armed men - from the army, the Baath party and many with no uniforms - were out on the streets yesterday afternoon but, apart from that, there appeared to be no great military preparations.
As the conflict begins, one thing Iraqis fear, among many things, is street battles, and not necessarily between Iraqis and invading forces, but between diehard Saddam loyalists and those Iraqis who have lost their fear of him.