Security forces prevented a group of protesters from proceeding with a planned march to parliament earlier today, surrounding demonstrators in a lot adjacent to the Omar Makram Mosque in Cairo's Tahrir Square--an area previously designated as the march's starting point. The event, organized by the National Assembly for Change (NAC)--a movement founded by potential presidential candidate Mohamed ElBaradei--was not approved by the Ministry of Interior, which instead warned would-be protesters of “severe consequences” if the march proceeded as planned. The demonstration was intended to protest the state of emergency which Egypt has suffered under for the past 30 years. Ministry warnings, widely circulated in the state-owned and independent press, are presumed to have contributed to the modest turnout, with only about 100 protesters showing up at Omar Makram this morning--a crowd quickly overshadowed by a similar number of journalists and several times as many security officers. Friction between the two sides was evident from the beginning as the first wave of protesters--predominantly female political activists and independent MPs--argued with the officers in charge about who would be allowed to enter the open area that the NAC had chosen as the march's starting point. “Tell your commanding officers that we came to stage a peaceful protest and you're the ones forcing us to sit in the streets and block traffic,” prominent activist Shahinda Maklad shouted to a group of soldiers blocking entry to the courtyard. The diminutive woman walked along the line of officers, admonishing each in turn. “If we had freedom, or even the pretense of it, things would be different,” Mohamed Abdel Koddous, head of the Journalists Syndicate's freedom committee, said, poking his head over the shoulders of the towering plainclothes security officers that surrounded him. “Instead, we're here suffering on behalf of 80 million citizens. The record will show that at least some Egyptians were prepared to stand up for their rights.” Eventually, as more protesters arrived--crowding over the limited sidewalk space and spilling into the street--police officers reluctantly granted them access to the previously prohibited area. “This is what the government does with our money--they waste it on pointless ‘security measures',” muttered Dr. Medhat Khafaga, a political activist and surgeon at the Cancer Institute, as the stream of protesters was allowed by security forces to squeeze through a narrow opening in an otherwise impenetrable wall of soldiers. “The people are starving and the government spends 58 percent of the national budget on security. That's over LE150 billion.” Meanwhile, the surrounding wall of officers was reinforced by the arrival of second and third waves of security forces as well as plain-clothed “thugs,” who--with their surly demeanor--reinforced the negative stereotypes traditionally associated with them. Satisfied with gaining access the march's staging area, protesters inevitably began to argue amongst themselves, despite the group's relatively small size. Unable to decide on the wisest course of action, demonstrators soon splintered into several sub-groups, each trying to out-chant the other. Cautious MPs urged younger, more energetic protesters to “calm down” and “think things through”--a call which several protesters interpreted as cowardice. “We came here for a march, not to stand around and cry,” screamed one infuriated activist. Both sides failed to realize that, by this point, security forces had successfully pulled off their ambush, effectively trapping them--along with members of the press--in the small area. Employees of Tahrir's administrative Mugamma building were greatly entertained by the spectacle, with several of them dangling out of windows to watch the scene. Some tried to grab the attention of television cameras. With protesters forbidden from leaving the area or staging their march, collective frustration soon reached a boiling point. The shift in mood was reflected by the protesters' increasingly strident chants, some of which likened President Hosni Mubarak and his cabinet ministers to a "pack of thieves." After a brief lull in activity, tempers finally erupted as protesters attempted to push through security forces and escape from the area that they had argued so strenuously to enter. The ebb and tide between the two sides soon escalated into fistfights, then an all-out brawl, and, finally, a stampede. Security forces succeeded in not only knocking down protesters, but trampling over them, brandishing batons--along with what appeared to be aluminum window-pane fittings--at the fleeing crowd. One protester was brutally attacked by a group of soldiers who knocked him down as their uniformed colleagues descended upon him using weapons, fists and boots to keep the hapless man on the ground. The man's passport, the only form of identification authorities could find on him, was also taken. Just as suddenly, the violence ended. Police officers dragged away a struggling Ahmed Abou Doma, a young demonstrator who spent the better part of the morning on a fellow activist's shoulders, chanting tirelessly to the crowd and chastising protesting MPs for their reluctance to engage in any “meaningful” acts of protest. “They call for unity, but then they're the first ones to back out and split us up,” Abou Doma told Al-Masry Al-Youm minutes before his arrest. “This is the result of emergency law. There's more police and security officers here than on the Egypt-Gaza border. They know they should be afraid of us.” As security forces began to withdraw, shell-shocked protesters took a few minutes to collect themselves. One older woman could be seen limping through the crowd, passing out mints to her fellow activists. Minutes later, though, protesters renewed their chants, this time calling for the immediate release of Abou Doma. Employing a new strategy, they approached the wall of officers once more, this time with women--most of whom were from the Egyptian Women for Change movement--at the front-line, in the belief that security forces would be less likely to directly attack female activists. The assumption, however, proved to be a false one, as a second, albeit less intense, wave of violence ensued. Protesters retreated once again, and security forces tightened their enclosure in response, supported by the arrival of even more soldiers. After several uneventful minutes, the horde of frustrated protesters gathered around activist Gamila Ismail, who, in a lengthy announcement, admitted that the planned march seemed improbable given the circumstances. But Ismail refused to admit defeat, vowing instead that efforts would be renewed in the near future. “The march will take place,” Ismail firmly declared to a crowd of clearly unsatisfied protesters. The day's events did not end there, however. Protesters, having given up on the possibility of a march, began to disperse, only to be stopped by security forces that refused to let them leave. At this point, the activists' angry chants quickly gave way to pathetic pleas: “Why are you doing this to us?” they asked. “We just want to go home.” One young protester, on the verge of tears as he appealed to a female officer for “sympathy,” began crying in earnest after said officer grabbed him by the cheeks and violently rattled his head around. “Why are you so fat?” Al-Masry Al-Youm overheard the officer ask.
