MOSUL, Iraq, April 17 -- Yasin Mohammad Salih felt a surge of hope when this northern Iraqi city was freed from the grip of Saddam Hussein's forces a week ago. But on Thursday, the 46-year-old mechanic was seething about the U.S. military. His mentally disabled brother lay dead, shot two days earlier during a riot in which U.S. troops killed at least seven people.

"What kind of humanitarianism Americans talk about, to shoot a person like that?" Salih demanded, waving a tiny photo of his brother Taha, 51. Around him, men in long robes nodded as they sipped tulip-shaped glasses of sweet tea. They had come to mourn in a yellow tent pitched in a working-class neighborhood. But the wake abruptly turned into an outpouring of grievances against the Americans.

"They tell us if Saddam go, they promise a perfect life for all Iraqis. But nothing happen until now," said Koteiba Ibrahim, a neighbor. "We live miserable life: no food, no work, no electricity, no water, no security. All night we are standing here to protect our lives from the thieves," he said, gesturing to the concrete-block homes on the street.

Ahmed Deyari, 14 year-old who suffered wounds in one arm and his face Wednesday during in shooting in Mosul, lies in Republican hospital of Mosul, northern Iraq on Wednesday, April, 16, 2003. Three Iraqis were killed and 11 wounded Wednesday during a shooting in Mosul, and some victims said U.S. troops shot at them. U.S. Central Command said seven Iraqis died a day earlier when American troops opened fire to keep an angry crowd from storming a government complex. (AP Photo/Hasan Sarbakhshian)

The shooting indicated how quickly the welcome accorded U.S. troops is wearing out in some parts of Iraq. It also underlined that U.S. forces face the risk of getting caught in the middle of long-suppressed ethnic and political grievances allowed to flare with the toppling of Hussein's repressive rule.

Mosul is a potential flashpoint for violence, a city dominated by the Sunni Muslims who have long controlled Iraq's government even though the country has a Shiite Muslim majority. The city, Iraq's third- largest, brushes up against a zone claimed by another ethnic group -- the Kurds -- as part of their historical homeland. Kurdish militiamen swept into Mosul last week ahead of their allies in the U.S. military, terrifying many residents who blame the Kurds for widespread looting in recent days.

U.S. forces and Mosul residents offer differing accounts about the riot that broke out in front of the local governor's office on Tuesday. U.S. Central Command has said seven Iraqis died in the clash; hospital officials in Mosul say the total is twice that. Among the wounded was Paul Watson, a reporter for the Los Angeles Times who was stabbed in the buttocks by demonstrators. U.S. troops killed at least three more Iraqis in Mosul on Wednesday in what they said was a foiled bank robbery.

U.S. spokesmen say Tuesday's shootings occurred as a military civil affairs team was setting up space at the former governor's office to receive citizens' petitions. Suddenly, they say, demonstrators started throwing shoes and stones and spitting at Marines protecting the building.

A U.S. Army spokesman in Mosul said Marines fired warning shots above the crowd with a .50-caliber machine gun. Instead of dispersing, the crowd of several thousand grew more agitated. "Soldiers in the windows spotted people in the crowd with AK-47" automatic rifles, said the spokesman, who declined to be identified. He said that the Marines were fired on and responded in kind, killing seven people.

Accounts by local residents who witnessed the clash differed in their details, but all agreed the trouble erupted when an aspiring local politician who recently returned from exile in Syria, Mashaan Jubouri, gave a speech in front of the governor's office. Some witnesses said the speech was pro-American, while others described it as pro-Kurdish.

Ayad Hasun Mohammad, 38, a money-changer, said an American flag went up over the building at one point. In response, a demonstrator jumped on top of one of Jubouri's cars and unfurled an Iraqi flag. He was promptly tackled by Jubouri's supporters, and U.S. soldiers fired shots in the air, Mohammad said.

"After that, the masses took the stones and hit the Americans," he said.

Salih said his brother wound up at the demonstration by chance. Taha Salih used to take a daily stroll through the city center, and apparently joined the crowd out of curiosity. "When the shots began, he didn't know to escape," Yasin Salih said.

Ibrahim, the neighbor, said he saw Taha Salih participating in the demonstration. "We are happy, because he threw stones at the American forces," he declared.

But Yasin Salih insisted his family was not anti-American. "We are not politicians. We are just ordinary people," he said.

In fact, most of the complaints aired at the wake were not political, but practical. That was especially true at the spot where the women mourned. Down the street from the men's yellow tent, in an apartment courtyard with Persian carpets spread over the concrete, aunts, cousins and neighbors sat around Taha Salih's mother, their ankle-length black shrouds puddling on the ground. The grieving mother clutched framed photos of her recently deceased son and another who died in the war with Iran in the 1980s.

"None of the British or American forces were able to protect us" during the looting that followed the fall of Hussein's government a week ago, complained Salih's aunt, Suriya Muhammad Hussein, 60. "Now we hear gunshots. We can't sleep at night" because of the mayhem.

"If the people have security, of course we welcome them," she said of the U.S. troops. But the women felt disillusioned about their liberation by the Americans.

The women had a long list of grievances. Hospitals were closed or had been looted. Electric power and water services had been out for over a week. Cooking gas had become so expensive some were preparing meals over wooden fires. Schools were still closed so children were stuck at home. Food prices had shot up.

"Bush wanted us. He must protect us," said Hussein.

The U.S. Army spokesman in Mosul said the military was working on resolving such issues, encouraging Iraqis who had worked in key sectors such as electricity and water to volunteer their help. He said the military had eliminated its checkpoints around the city today, bringing back a bit more normalcy. He insisted the Army was sensitive to the people's needs.

"We are here in support of them," the spokesman said. "We ask for their cooperation. Their local leaders are meeting with our commanders from day one."

© 2003 The Washington Post Company

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