IT WASN'T LIKE THIS WHEN SADDAM HUSSEIN WAS IN CHARGE OF IRAQ

The rot gnawing away at Baghdad's innards

Before the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003, Al-Batawin's main thoroughfare Al-Sadun Street bustled with restaurants, hotels, upmarket stores and -- most famously -- medical centres.

Today just a scattering of businesses still bother to open their doors, residential blocks stand empty, and those buildings that are occupied have few tenants willing to risk living above the first floor.

by Bryan Pearson Sun May 4, 7:11 PM ET
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20080504/wl_mideast_afp/iraqunrestbaghdadbuildings

BAGHDAD (AFP) - Its traditional wooden-balconied Shanasheel houses in ruins, other buildings crumbling and muddied streets reeking of rubbish, Al-Batawin neighbourhood in the centre of Baghdad is an abject picture of just how far the rot has set in to the once-proud Iraqi capital.

Electricity is supplied only sporadically and water in a trickle, and there are no other services to speak of, so it makes no sense to live too far from the ground in what is now a rapidly eroding urban wasteland.

Most Iraqis know Al-Sadun Street for its medical centres and pharmacies. Many travelled from afar and waited in long queues to see a doctor. And after the consultation there were some 200 pharmacies within a few blocks ready to fill the prescriptions.

Not any more. The 2003 invasion and the sectarian violence it subsequently spawned changed all that. Today most of the doctors have left and just 20 pharmacies remain.

"Before 2003 you could hardly move here, there were so many people coming to see the doctors," said 65-year-old Hussein Abdel Hussein, a wizened bony man with bulging eyes and calloused hands who is caretaker in Al-Janabi Building, once the most famous medical centre but now the most derelict.

"Patients came from all over Iraq. There were so many people we often had to warn people to look after their property because there were thieves about," said Hussein, his voice heavy with nostalgia and too many cigarettes.

Today the thieves no longer bother, and Hussein saves his wheezing breath.

"There are now only seven doctors left and each of them sees only two or three patients a day," said the caretaker who lives in the building with his son -- Al-Janabi's only full-time tenants.

Doctors these days open their doors for only a few hours in the afternoon. With no electricity and few patients, there is little point in hanging about after dark.

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