Live From Baghdad

Hazem Hashem and Shama Ali picked a crazy time to fall in love. After the 20-year-old mechanic tied the knot with his 18-year-old cousin, the newlyweds headed to Baghdad's Ishtar Hotel, where they were greeted by folk dancers swaying to the beat of trumpets and drums. Yet as the couple checked into the honeymoon suite, with its scenic views of the Tigris River, thoughts of war intruded on their joy.

Hashem is an Iraqi army conscript. That makes it almost certain that he will be on the front lines if the U.S. leads an invasion of Iraq. "It's his duty to defend his country," remarks Ali, radiant in her white dress. She says it with a sigh of resignation that is frequently heard on the streets of Baghdad these days. If interviews conducted mostly in the presence of a government minder are an indication, most Iraqis feel that although Saddam Hussein agreed last week to new U.N. weapons inspections, war is coming nonetheless, either because their government will try to cheat the inspectors or because Washington wants to change Iraq's regime, no matter what. Iraqis aren't letting their worries paralyze them. "We're used to crisis, but we can't just sit here and die," says Amer al-Gailani, 21, a student at Baghdad University. "We are trying to enjoy what is left of our lives."

With garlands of colored lights decorating Baghdad for the holy month of Ramadan, the city is engulfed more by holiday spirit than war fever. After the U.N. eased sanctions against Iraq in 1996, local markets grew flush with everything from Korean TVs and Japanese cars to Syrian trousers and Egyptian milk. For reasons unknown, the government recently gave families an extra month's supply of such rationed items as rice and beans. Millions of dollars of illicit revenues are sloshing through the economy, thanks to oil smuggled across the borders with Jordan, Turkey and Iran. Iraqis are thus enjoying a relatively bountiful Ramadan, the time when Muslims fast during the day but join communal feasts called iftars at sunset.