But the high life is on offer only to a very privileged few who have found ways to make a killing under nearly a decade of crippling United Nations sanctions.

Arasat, if anything, emphasises “the dangerously widening gap between the rich and poor” — a consequence of U.N. trade sanctions imposed on Iraq after its 1990 invasion of Kuwait, said one Iraqi political analyst.

Most of this country's 22 million people are struggling to put food on the table and shoes on their feet. For some the daily grind of sanctions proves fatal.

For Baghdad's middle class — now virtually wiped out by sanctions — Arasat is a distant memory of oil-rich Iraq's halcyon days as a petroleum power in the 1970s.

Back then, a young petroleum engineer took home about $300 a month. Now, after 25 years of experience, he earns an annual salary of about $30.

And after selling his home and television set, he is preparing to hawk his 20-year-old car in order to buy his children textbooks and shoes.

“We are living by the mercy of God,” said a government official.

By contrast, a driver for the United Nations makes 20 to 30 times the wage of a civil engineer.

Lucky few dodge sanctions

Some have discovered the road to prosperity by dodging sanctions.

“There are new ways of doing business to get U.S. dollars directly into bank accounts,” said a Western government source.

“But after living for a decade under sanctions, wouldn't you try to find a way out?”

People on the street realise the embargo is clearly not fulfilling the stated objective of weakening the government.

“It's hurting the ordinary man,” an Iraqi official said. “And he refuses to be conditioned by his hunger, basic needs and the loss of his children.”

The devastating effects of sanctions are unravelling the fabric of Iraqi society, spawning a new generation of malnourished, ill-educated malcontents.

“Does the United States expect to be welcomed by them at Baghdad Airport when the embargo is lifted?” an Iraqi official asked.

Though demoralised, the average Iraqi refuses to abandon hope. “We live for the light at the end of the tunnel,” a businessman said.

“But even if the embargo were lifted tomorrow, we would not have immediate happiness.”

The chances for an imminent easing of sanctions look remote as the deadlock between the U.N. and Iraq over weapons inspections continues.

In December, the United Nations passed a landmark resolution which aims to ease sanctions provided arms inspectors return to Iraq to root out any remaining weapons of mass destruction.

Baghdad spurned the resolution, calling instead for an immediate lifting of sanctions.

While they await that day, many of the disaffected are becoming more devoutly religious. “There are definitely more women taking to the veil,” an Iraqi analyst said.

Aside from spiritual relief, some material assistance has been provided by the three-year-old U.N. oil-for-food deal, which allows Iraq to sell oil in exchange for humanitarian goods.

But the food basket — rice, flour, sugar, cooking oil, soap and tea — is hardly adequate to feed a family.

The resignation last month of two top Baghdad-based U.N. officials — who quit in protest at the failure of their agencies' programmes — has thrown the spotlight back onto the humanitarian crisis.

Days later, the United States — under increasing pressure over its sanctions stance on both the domestic and international fronts — promised to review its policy on holding up urgently-needed spare parts for the oil sector so as to speed the humanitarian process.

But Iraqis are wary of Washington's last-minute concern.

“We don't think they are going to take major measures,” a senior government official said. “Maybe they will release some of the contracts, but not most.”