Dawn breaks and an Iraqi teenager with shaggy hair and a dirty face climbs down into a charcoal pit.
Nouad, 14, is a charcoal burner in the central Euphrates valley, but his future is uncertain.
Since the fall of Saddam Hussein's regime in April last year, the price of wood has shot up while that of charcoal has remained the same.
Generation after generation of Nouad's tribe have followed the same trade.
"We do not know how to do anything other than burn wood to make charcoal," said the 46-year-old head of the clan, Yusef Nawfal al-Zobai, who has eight children.
The charcoal, sold to merchants, is mainly used by kebab vendors and people who smoke Middle Eastern water pipes known as "nargileh."
None of his 25-strong clan who live in a camp have been to school, nor, like about 40 percent of Iraq's population, can they read or write.
The youngest among the tribe, comprised of four families, are unable to tell their own age.
"I would like my children to have a better life, to become police officers or traders," said Zobai.
But he doesn't know where he would get the money to give them the chance.
"Because of inflation, a truck-load of wood now costs us 150,000 dinars [US$105] whereas before it was 8,000 dinars," said Zobai.
If he increased the price of his charcoal, he said, "customers would go elsewhere."
Every day, his tribe of nomads produces between 60 and 70 sacks of charcoal, each weighing 50kg and fetching 1,000 dinars.
"The small amount we make goes on food," said Zobai.
Before the war, the inflation rate was already a staggering 70 percent, according to figures provided by the Coalition Provisional Authority.
There have been no official figures published on inflation since US President George W. Bush declared an end to major combat operations on May 1, but prices continue to rise.
The clan members work hard from 7am until 10am.
The men haul wood into the pit 1.5m deep and 1.5m wide. They set it alight and cover the pile with a sheets of metal and soil.
The following morning, the boys and men uncover the hole, climb down inside and haul the smoldering charcoal out with metal dishes.
The women stand by the pit with rakes to spread the pieces and pour cold water over the black lumps to cool them before filling sacks.
Camped out close to the pit and about a kilometer from the center of Muhawil, a tiny village, the clan is cut off from the outside world, without access to electricity or running water.
"We do not understand anything about what is going on in the country," Zobai admitted.
"During the war, absolutely nothing happened in the village. The only thing I know is that it is tougher now than it was before because the price of charcoal has stagnated and that of wood has soared," he sighed.
Next to him, the youngest clan members, blissfully unaware of their uncertain future, imitate the adults in a sort of game.
One five-year-old boy grabs a pick-axe twice his size and starts attacking a mound of earth. The adults watch on smiling.
Thirteen-year-old Abir does not remember when she started to work.
"For a long time," she said.
"I cannot go to school because I do not have a fixed home, but I would like to have one, I would really like to learn how to read and write," she said.
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