When the fighting rages, Amanullah commands 100 government troops near the front line. When the shooting stops, he runs a prosperous currency exchange shop out of an old shipping container.

Amanullah, like every Kabul resident, knows that to survive in this shattered city you have to be flexible. This rugged Asian nation has been at war for 16 years and its robust people have learned to cope, and in a few instances thrive, under the most extraordinary circumstances.Kabul, once a lively city of bustling markets, has been ravaged by the Islamic militias that have battled for power since ousting a communist government in 1992.

There hasn't been electricity or running water for almost two years. The nominal government doesn't function. Schools are rare and there is no formal economy.

None of this stops the enterprising Afghans, who are legendary for their survival skills.

When the money-changing market was wiped out by heavy battles along the Kabul River last year, the industry quickly re-emerged in the less volatile western side of town as dozens of operators set up shop in shipping containers.

Amanullah, a husky, bearded man who wears a camouflage jacket and a bandolier of bullets, keeps in contact with his troops across town via walkie-talkie.

"People have had a bad life the past few years," said Amanullah from the comfort of his office, warmed by a stove. "What we all want now is peace and security."

Piled on a nearby chair were about 50 separate stacks of Afghan money, each as thick as a brick and each one worth the equivalent of $1,000. As the business day closed, Amanullah's assistant piled the cash into a suitcase for safekeeping at home.

On Chicken Street, a shopping district catering to rich Afghans and the city's handful of foreigners, shop owners take orders for whiskey, vodka and beer - all illegal in the Islamic state - and deliver to your home.

The government has tried to crack down on drug dealers selling hashish and gun sellers offering a wide array of weapons. But the officials are always a step behind the businessmen, who never seem to lack for supplies or customers.

In a city with few schools, boys become breadwinners at an early age. Boys no older than 10 often tug at your elbow to offer cigarettes. Others fill in potholes with dirt and try to flag down passing motorists for a tip.

There are so many grease-stained kids working at Syed Rahman's car repair shop that it could be mistaken for an orphanage.

Mohammed Hamid, who looks younger than his 14 years, has in fact lost his parents to the war and he supports his three younger brothers on his monthly salary of 12,000 Afghanis, the equivalent of $5.

"It's not enough for all us, but we sometimes get free food, too," said Mohammed, who was busy repairing the front wheel of a taxi.

With so many people living at the margin, precious little is wasted. Carts of old tires are hauled to a shop where they are made into shoes. Phone and electrical lines have been torn down for the copper, which can be resold.

One man was seen hacking apart rockets - before they had been fired - to sell as scrap metal.

Kabul has seen only sporadic fighting in recent days as a U.N. mission tries to establish a cease-fire and create a multiparty government. But the relentless fighting over the past three years has caused about half the city's 1.5 million people to flee.

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Thousands of those still in Kabul now live in mosques, schools or badly scarred apartment buildings.

On the dusty streets, chaos reigns. At most every intersection, a hapless police officer in a white hat tries to impose order on the traffic, only to find himself ignored by man, beast and vehicle.

Many of the men on bicycles are small-time traders who regularly risked death and crossed the front line, which was a free-fire zone recently.

There were almost daily casualties among the traders who brought loads of flour or wood into the city for no more than $2 or $3 a day.

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