IRAQ - Private Electricity.

The following are extracts from an article on private electricity supply in Iraq published on Sept. 25, 2006, by The New York Times: "In offices across Iraq, a ritual plays out every morning during the hottest months. Haggard employees drag themselves in and slump into their chairs, moaning about what a bad night's sleep they had: The power went out, the backup generator was broken, the heat was unbearable, the baby would not stop crying, mosquitoes were everywhere. Inevitably, these grievances...gather in a cloud of fury and swoop down on one target: the generator man, probably the most vilified figure in Iraqi society after Saddam Hussein.

"Iraq has three sources of electrical power. At the low end is the frail national grid, which provides only about one hour of electricity every four hours - a total of six hours a day - and sometimes falls short even of that. At the top is the personal-size generator, a feature in many homes, though the steadily rising cost of fuel now makes it a luxury for most families. Filling the gap, and carrying the load for much of urban Iraq, is the generator man, owner and operator of the neighborhood power plant.

"Throughout Baghdad, for example, there is at least one generator every few blocks to help power nearby homes and businesses. The machines sit beneath tin roofs, on the sidewalk or in empty lots - hulking contraptions the size of small cars, jury-rigged with tubes and pipes that sputter and belch and make a deafening racket. Customers run wires from their homes to the local generator, converging into one wild, polychromatic river of wire which comes to a halt at a makeshift fuse board.

"In theory, the generator man provides 10 to 12 hours of power a day during periods of peak demand, switching on when the national grid switches off. His services are especially valued during summer, when temperatures are high and air-conditioners are essential for sleep.

"The generator man offers a better option, theoretically, than the personal generator, allowing families to pay less for stronger current which will allow them to run all their major appliances simultaneously, rather than having to decide whether to forgo the television and computer for the washing machine or the air-conditioner for the refrigerator. A subscription for about 10 amperes from the generator man - typical for an average middle-class family in the capital - costs about $65 a month, a fraction of the cost of drawing a similar current from a personal generator for several hours a day. But in practice, most people in Baghdad say, the generator man often falls short of his promises".

"...Many Iraqis say the generator man employs tricks to save money: He starts his generator late and turns it off early; he prolongs repairs after breakdowns, real and bogus; he claims he cannot get fuel because of national shortages. Yet, they say, he never reimburses customers for lost hours. 'They are a bunch of thieves!', said Yusra, 47, an industrial engineer who lives in the Mansour neighborhood of Baghdad and who requested that her last name not be published for fear of reprisals from her generator man. 'They are ruling our lives - not day by day, but hour by hour!' Firas, 19, a university student who lives in Sa'idiya, another Baghdad neighborhood, and who asked that his last name not be published, said his generator man fiddled with the wires which lead to the homes of customers who offended him, causing interruptions to the service, or decreasing the current.

"Talk to the generator man, however, and you will meet the self-styled savior of the republic. Without him, he says, the country would collapse. 'It's a tiring job', sighed a generator man who gave his name as Abu Fatma to protect his identity. His generator, near Firdows Square in Baghdad, supplies power to about 95 homes and businesses. Like the dozen or so other generator men interviewed, Abu Fatma, 28, and his brother and partner, Hatem Abdul Karim, 22, were relaxed and unconcerned by the hate they engendered.

"On a recent afternoon, they were hanging out at Abu Fatma's machinery repair workshop, around the corner from the generator, waiting for the national power grid to shut down so they could jump into action. Next to the generator was a windowless hut, not much bigger than the generator itself, containing a mattress and a television. This is where Karim, as the chief operator, lives around-the-clock.

"...Generator men insist that the laws of the free market apply to their business - the unhappy customer can always run his line to another generator. But disgruntled customers are often dissuaded from switching by the expense of running a wire to another generator and paying a new subscription fee. And for many who switch, life remains the same. 'This year we changed our subscription three times, from bad to worse', said Firas, the university student, who said his family had fallen victim to a ploy commonly used by new generator men: They begin by offering more hours and lower rates than their competitors, but once they have captured a share of the market they lower the hours and raise the rates.

"The generator man, perhaps because of his visibility and accessibility, becomes the embodiment of all that is wrong in Iraq - or, at least, all that is not working as it is supposed to work, which to most people is just about everything. 'Most of our customers are really angry', said Muhammad, a university student and the co-owner of a generator in [Baghdad's central area of] Karada. 'Very few people sympathise with us', he said. 'Most care only about themselves'".