Copyright 2003 Agence France Presse

Agence France Presse

October 24, 2003 Friday

SECTION: International News

LENGTH: 634 words

HEADLINE: With jobs scarce, Iraq's informal sector thrives

BYLINE: PATRICK MOSER

DATELINE: BAGHDAD, Oct 24

BODY:
Reeking of petrol and tugging on his smudged T-shirt, Gazwan Hassan Abud
cracks a huge grin when asked about the future. "I'll be an engineer, like my
uncle."

But right now, Gazwan, whose harsh voice belies his 12 years of age, sells
petrol by the liter in the streets of Baghdad. And the uncle he is so proud of
is unemployed.

A Mercedes pulls up and honks. The boy rushes over, pours five liters (1.3
gallons) of gas into the tank, and counts his earnings -- 500 dinars (25 cents),
about twice what he had paid the gas station attendant.

"Life is good," says Gazwan, who, with his 10-year-old brother Seif has
joined the millions of Iraqis working in the informal sector.

Jobs were already scarce before the war as a result of 13 years of sanctions
and decades of economically disastrous dictatorship. The US-led coalition says
about 60 percent of Iraqis already had no jobs before the war.

Now the situation seems even worse.

"The numbers on unemployment are reaching 70-80 percent. It's very high,"
says Mahmud Othman, a member of Iraq's interim Governing Council.

"Things need to be changed."

While there are no reliable statistics, numerous children like Gazwan can be
seen in the streets of Baghdad helping their families eke out a living.

Before the war, Gazwan's father was a taxi-driver whose children spent their
days at school or playing. "He was making good money." Now, dad sells cigarettes
in the street, and his boys contribute to the family income.

All of this does not bother Gazwan. Nor do the fumes of the poor quality
gasoline he sells out of plastic containers, nor the ear-splitting noise of
Baghdad's unruly traffic.

Life is not only good, "it is better than under Saddam."

The mounting criticism of the US occupation has no meaning for Gazwan, who
says he spends half his day at school and the rest of the time making money.

At a nearby intersection, a money-changer weighs kilos worth of Iraqi
banknotes bearing the sartorial, grinning likeness of the dictator whom American
troops toppled on April 9.

Ahmed Musa too lost his job -- as a trader -- after the Americans launched a
war on Iraq. But he is not bitter.

"There is freedom now," he says. Freedom, for example, to set up the
cash-filled cupboard he uses as an office at a busy roundabout, alongside a
dozen other money-changers.

But will it last once some form of order is restored to the chaotic,
war-shattered country? "Inshallah" (God willing). For now, "business isn't bad."

"Before, I couldn't work so freely," says Musa, as his brother sets mountains
of neatly bundled banknotes on a scale and duly registers the day's earnings.

For Hussein Kanbar, 50, freedom means driving his colorful, if rickety,
horse-drawn cart to deliver propane gas to the wealthier neighborhoods of
Baghdad, something that was strictly forbidden under Saddam.

"Life is not too bad now," he says, adjusting his turban over his sun-baked
face, his smile revealing an almost toothless mouth.

But things could get better, God willing, says Kanbar, a father of 10.

For one, the truck that is due to deliver propane from the refinery may
arrive soon.

Omar and about two dozen others have been waiting for the past five days,
some sleeping atop the large containers their horses or donkeys pull through
Baghdad's congested traffic.

"Everything will be better when we get a real government," says Rahim Shami,
40, who started delivering propane after he had to sell his taxi during the war.

For now, Baghdadis try to make the best of the situation.

Like, for example, the small boy who offered to take a stack of
anti-terrorist leaflets from a US soldier to hand them out in his street. The
tracts all ended up as wrappers for the pistachios his father sells.