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Victims of oppression seldom have a chance to face their tormentors. But Ahmad Jamal gets the opportunity nearly every day. He can usually spot them by their cars — late-model Toyota Avalons, Peugeots, Mercedes and BMWs issued to Baathist leaders, with Iraqi license plates. These former officials from the Iraqi Ministry of Defense, the mukhabarat (Iraqi secret police) and other parts of the Iraqi state apparatus cruise Amman's streets, roam its malls and enjoy its restaurants. "Two years ago, they brought us misery," Jamal says. "Now they're living it up in exile in Amman and we have to face them."

Some of these same people harassed him and made it difficult for him to find work in Iraq. He'd love to give them a piece of his mind, but Jamal says nothing, fearing the loss of his six-month visitor's visa. Instead, he just stares and tenses up.

Jamal is one of tens of thousands of poor and middle-class Iraqis who have arrived in Jordan in recent months to escape the chaos in their native country. He flew into Amman in June, after local insurgents killed his father and ordered him to leave his home or face death. So he packed up his 1-year-old quadruplets, wife and mother-in-law, and flew to Amman seeking safety. He was in for a shock.

Familiar faces from the former regime are everywhere, because a first wave of privileged Iraqis landed here last year, cash in hand. Entry was easy and the city was ready for their business, whether at the new Mecca Mall, now dubbed the Iraqi ghetto, or at luxury stores in flashy neighborhoods like Abdoun and Sweifieh. Their investments in the ritzy Deir Ghbar area are setting record prices for real estate. Last year, Iraqis became the No. 1 buyers of luxury homes in the capital; the value of home purchases rose by 20% shortly after the war.

The most visible members of the exiled élite are Rana and Raghad Hussein, Saddam's daughters, who arrived in the summer of 2003 after King Abdullah II granted them asylum. At first they lived with their collective brood of nine children in a royal guesthouse. They recently moved into a mansion. These days you can often spot them sauntering through Mecca Mall and other Amman shopping districts, surrounded by bodyguards. They've been known to make impulse buys, picking up a $30,000 bracelet at a jeweler and emptying the racks at designer boutiques. According to one local merchant, the sisters are looking to sell some of their bling, too. He says he was offered jewelry last year, including a $500,000 diamond necklace that "no Jordanian would ever buy," though it was available at a steep discount. "Iraqis are keeping a lot of us in business these days," says another jeweler.

The second wave of Iraqis can't afford such extravagances. They're buying cheaper apartments or simply renting. "They don't have the same kind of money," says one real-estate agent. The newcomers tend to stay near the University of Jordan or downtown, where a room for the night costs less than a cappuccino at the Mecca Mall. "A hundred dollars doesn't go far here like it does in Baghdad," says Jamal.

That only makes the sight of the former Baathists harder to bear. Few of the new-wave Iraqis would dare confront their former oppressors; most confine their defiance to hostile stares. Sometimes anger boils over into action. According to reports, Raghad's encounter with a fellow exile turned nasty after she asked the woman if she, too, came from Iraq. "Yes, but I will not speak with you," the woman is said to have snarled, spitting on the ground.

Jordanian security officials worry that more serious violence could break out between exiled factions, or that militants will bring their battle to Amman. "Especially with a place like Iraq, you have to be careful of whom you're letting in. And you have to watch them very closely," notes an official at the Foreign Ministry. Jordanian secret police keep close tabs on the exiles in Iraqi-dominated areas; Jamal has been interviewed once. Anyone who causes trouble is deported. "We're trying to apply the rule of law and ensure [Iraqi exiles] will abide by the rule of law," says government spokeswoman Asma Khader.

For now, Jamal silently endures the sight of his former tormentors living the high life. He has a couple of months left on his visa; he has no idea what he'll do when the visa expires, and his money will run out even sooner than that. "It's chilling," he says. "When I see them, I think, What a tragedy. They're spending Iraq's money. Our money."

• HASSAN FATTAH | Amman
• Fleeing Iraqis arrive in Jordan only to find that their old oppressors are thriving in Amman