In Iraqi Homes, A Constant Battle Just to Stay Cool

"People say we have democracy now, and they are free to do whatever they want, so they turn on every light and every air conditioner to the max," he said. "We are trying an experiment in certain districts, saying that if they cut down on electricity use, we will restore power there 24 hours a day. We'll have to see how they respond."

Since the summer began, Baghdad has been flooded with imported air conditioners and coolers, which are stacked high in boxes along sidewalks in many commercial areas. Most popular are the compact blue-and-white air coolers from Iran, which cost about $125 and can run on small generators.

But the import boom has nearly killed Iraq's state-subsidized cooler industry, which once produced tens of thousands of simple but sturdy contraptions a year. This week, the main Hilal Industries cooler factory stood nearly silent, with stacks of unsold machines and piles of fresh wood shavings lying untouched.

"Last summer, we sold 28,000 coolers. This summer, we have only sold 12,000," said Ali Shaker Ali, a manager at Hilal Industries. Under Hussein's rule, he recalled, "we had a lot of demand, and the government protected us. Now the borders are open, people are buying generators, and no one is buying from us anymore."

For many urban families, however, the coming of summer means simply having to endure. In one run-down apartment building this week, several neighbors gathered to commiserate. On each balcony was an old Iraqi-made cooler, but the power had been off for five hours and the rooms were stifling. One woman, a baker, was flushed pink from the heat of her oven. Another, a tailor, said she could operate her machine only a few hours each day.

"We take showers, we keep the doors shut, we fill empty bottles to drink, but after 10 minutes, we are hot again and the food starts to spoil," said Laila Rassool, 41, a mother of five. "Without electricity, life is nothing. We have our own government now, but they are doing nothing to help the people."

Across town, in a more modern building, a family was watching television Friday when the power cut off. A teenage boy rose from the couch, flipped on a generator switch, and the cartoons flickered back to life. His uncle said he thought people complained too much about minor postwar problems such as lack of electricity.

"At least we have freedom now," said Haider Jawad, 40, an electrician. "My brother was executed by Saddam in 1983, and when I bought a satellite receiver in 2000, I was always terrified of a knock on the door" because such devices were illegal.

"People should be patient and give the government time to work on these problems," he said. "Compared to the past, a little hot weather is nothing."