Fear of war, as well as Saddam, on the streets of Baghdad

Standing under a hot sun, Azad Najid Barzan rolled up his grimy trousers to show gouged scars on both legs. "That was in the war against Iran, but I survived," he said.

It is now an excruciating waiting game for Iraq's long-suffering people. Will it be war or peace? Will there be rivers of blood in Baghdad or will the UN inspections avert conflict?

Many Iraqis, in a country where fear runs deep, are caught between endemic fatalism and cautious optimism that war can be avoided. From beside a puddle of motor oil, in a street of mechanics' workshops, Mr Barzan said: "But when the Americans attack, I fear I will be killed, and there will be no one to support my family."

Mr Barzan, an ethnic Kurd from Sulaimaniyah, reflects the fatalism felt by many Iraqis about the future. The coming of the UN weapons inspectors, they feel, may have postponed an US military onslaught but it has not cancelled it.

The restarted activities of the UN, the flights from Cyprus bringing in personnel and equipment, the newly cleaned, white, four-wheel drives again on the streets are all seen as just a shadow play which may be replaced soon enough by the grim reality of bombing.

Others, more circumspect, believe the next month will be critical in deciding between war and peace as the international monitors begin their work. Yesterday, churches in Baghdad held special prayer services, with the city's Christians being asked to fast for a day to show solidarity with their Muslim compatriots during Ramadan.

At the Syriac Catholic Church in Ras al-Grayyeh, George Petros, a 49-year-old clerk, said: "We are praying that both sides, our government and the UN, are given strength by God to show wisdom and patience in the coming days.

"Any mistake can have such terrible consequences; so many people can be killed. The Americans are looking for an excuse to invade, the UN and our government must make sure they do not get one."

Across town at the Canal Hotel, the UN headquarters that were abandoned with such haste in December 1998, just before US and British warplanes started bombing, the advance UN party and Iraqi workers were still busy yesterday clearing the old United Nations Special Commission (Unscom) offices on the top floor. The new occupants will be teams from the UN Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission (Unmovic) and the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA).

Eighteen inspectors will arrive on Monday, with a final rotating strength of 333. The UN is trying to keep the numbers low, in case they have to stage an emergency evacuation again. The first inspections will start on Wednesday. But it will take time to establish secure communications and the more sensitive operations will not start until then.

The teams will be accompanied by armed guards. Hiro Ueki, the Japanese-born UN spokesman who will be in the front line of a propaganda offensive which the Iraqi regime is bound to unleash, said: "We are hopeful that everything will go smoothly, and the Iraqis have promised their full cooperation. But we are preparing for all eventualities."

There has been little in the Iraqi media, government-controlled, about the UN operation, and at the Shah Bander tea shop, off Rashid Street, there was curiosity. "We have been told a lot of them were American and Israeli spies last time," Mohammed Yunis, a 24-year-old teacher, said. "The ones you met, did any of them strike you as spies? There are all kinds of satellite dishes at the building. Why are they there? It is most suspicious." An elderly man at a nearby table scratched his silver beard. "Mohammed, you talk like a fool. There is no need for this. We are all loyal Iraqis here."

But just a few miles from central Baghdad, loyalty to the regime stretches thin. The poor, violent, sprawling suburban slum is called, ironically, Saddam City. It is home to 40 per cent of the capital's population of about 10 million and almost every one is a Shia. They make up half of Iraq's population but see the levers of power staying in the hands of the Sunni minority, who total 37 per cent, including the Kurds in their autonomous regions.

The township exploded three years ago with the assassination of Grand Ayatollah al-Sadr and two of his sons, which Shia clerics blamed on the regime. Here, people look at strangers with wariness and are even more careful with their words. But one young man said: "The inspectors are here to look at weapons which can be used against other countries. But that does not solve all the problems. People are not happy here, and there are a lot of guns. We do not want foreign interference but I do not want to think what will happen here if war breaks out."