This morning Samar and her 12 year old daughter Saba moved out of the house Samar's lived in for 34 years. Tonight they will stay in the damp, ratty apartment which their old neighbour, Abu Nidhal, has just moved into.

They are the last of eleven families being evicted by the landlord Abdul Aziz Khoderi, known as Abdul Aziz to the families and Aziz Khoderi in the US, a member of one of the richest families in Iraq. He lives in Texas and came back to Iraq a few days ago to finish the process his agents have been carrying on. By a law passed about 3 weeks ago, it's illegal to evict tenants for at least the next year except in certain specific circumstances.

Samar's been through the courts, the occasional Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs and the Coalition Provisional Authority. The former told her only Bremer could help her. Many judges are still as corrupt as they ever were and a fat bribe still goes a long way. The latter has a US army major as senior advisor (ie, the "minister"'s superior) who declared himself in favour of the landlord's rights. The Palestinians, he said, did well under Saddam, as if that justified denying them any rights at all now. His British deputy, Irene Friendly, of all the names, denied any knowledge of the non-eviction law, as did the rest oif the department.

Either it takes a very long time for information to be passed from the emperor to his departments or his edicts are quickly forgotten. Hatra, here in Iraq, was the eastern-most outpost of the Roman empire. Surely even Caesar could have got a message here in that time.

This was social housing, rented by the government from the owner and free or very cheap to tenants, more or less in the vein of Housing Benefit in the UK. Aziz himself says it was a generous rent from 1982, when his family bought the building, until 1990 but the collapse of the Dinar during the years of economic sanctions meant the value fell to nothing. Abdul Aziz’s agents expect him to knock down the buildings and either speculate or build something else on the land.

The agents have been round to harass and intimidate the women living there. Sometimes they brought the Iraqi police, once even some US troops. A human rights advocate who was helping them was threatened and then arrested. In front of Canadian TV cameras, Aziz promised Samar would be given an apartment and a job. When the cameras were gone he reneged on both.

Yesterday Samar made us thick coffee flavoured with cardamom in the usual tiny, dainty cups, served on a table improvised from the tray and a plastic spool in a room containing two wooden chairs, a bed made on cardboard on the floor and a calendar on the bright yellow wall with a picture of a pink skinned blonde baby. Aya and two cousins carried out the remaining furniture - a bookcase, a small TV, a square cupboard. It was going to Samar's sister’s house because they haven’t got anywhere to go yet.

Samar is divorced. Her family disapproves. Her brother sorted himself out a new apartment through the ministry but did nothing to help the rest of his family. She doesn’t want to live with her mother because she doesn’t want her own daughter to grow up internalising the same oppressive attitudes towards women that were foisted on her throughout her life, both by society and her own family. She agreed, finally, to be rehoused with her mother if it’s the only way to get somewhere to live.

Part of the problem is that Samar's Palestinian. Saba was born in Iraq. Palestinians were privileged under Saddam and landlords were forced to accept lower rent for them. Now it’s difficult for them to get apartments even if they have the money to pay a market rent because of discrimination against them. One contact told us he would ask about an apartment in a nearby block but looked doubtful when he heard they were Palestinians. He could try, he said, but the landlord might not agree.

Walking back through Betouin, one of the poorer parts of Baghdad, we stopped to chat to a small horde of young homeless men who are squatting a former Mukhabarat (secret police) building. They’re paid to take care of the burnt out remains of the building next door. Faroukh thought we were mad to walk down that way - there were Ali Babas down there. A few vehicles of troops went past and Abu Mohammed stroked his boy’s cheek and gestured. There, he said, were the Ali Babas.

Ali Baba gets a very bad press. In a classic case of victim blaming, it seems everyone’s forgotten that he was the one being robbed by the forty thieves, not the leader of the bandits. His muddied name is now synonymous with all dishonesty and crime in this country.

We were barely through Samar's door before explosions and gunfire caused a disturbance. Saba was scared so the two of us sat on a cushion in the corner and cuddled till it was apparent that it was only a short outburst. Someone said it was rockets being fired. Incidentally, we’ve not heard that Saddam’s been captured so I’m supposing the gunfire and red flares the night before last were part of a battle, but I didn’t find anything about it on the internet. Perhaps it’s too common to rate a mention.

Sami, the landlord’s agent, had come round while we were away. We explained about the apartment and tried to dream up more possibilities. So tonight Samar and Saba are in Abu Nidhal’s house. Tomorrow, we don’t know, but along with the law against eviction of tenants came an order to clear public buildings, many of which have been squatted by homeless people. There's no knowing how many families are without adequate housing. Among all the billions spent here, it seems there isn't enough to provide housing for all the displaced people.