A fine day to let off steam, until the police arrive with their batons

It is a fine day for a demo. Gone is the snow and rain of two days ago. The sun stands high in the blue sky

It is a fine day for a demo. Gone is the snow and rain of two days ago. The sun stands high in the blue sky. All the roads to the Hussein mosque in central Amman are blocked by police.

The taxi drops us at the top of a slope, and we follow a television team, heavily laden with cameras and tripod, into the square before the mosque. It is a handsome building, its walls arranged in Byzantine stripes of pink and gold stone, with triangular Nabatean arches and two tall minarets.

A crowd is assembling in the fenced courtyard and the street, men line up before the fountain to wash before the Friday noon communal prayer.

Overhead from the minaret, "Allahu Akbar," "God is Great," sings out over the city. "Come to pray, come to pray." Ribbed metal shutters of shops still open thunder down. One television team positioned in the centre of the street opposite the mosque gate is surrounded by a crowd of interviewees longing to have their views on the war on Iraq broadcast to the world.

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All one can see of the interviewer is a bright red kerchief on his head. The congregation quickly takes its traditional shape, filling the square, the street in front and on either side.

The crowd is hushed before the brief introductory prayer followed by the imam's weekly sermon. Words and ideas in the text are carefully chosen to get the message across without upsetting the authorities.

Arabic is a rich language and there are a good many ways to make political points. Iraq and Palestine are mentioned together. No more than a mention is needed. After the sermon the congregation performs a three-bow prayer, beginning with the first verse of the Koran, the Fatiha, ending with "Amin", the closing amen.

The demonstration, organised by the Islamic Action Front and licensed by the governor, begins as soon as the congregation rises. A man raised on the shoulders of friends begins the chant: "Down with Amreeka, up with Iraq."

There are no pictures of Saddam Hussein, no flags, only words. A crowd of some 3,000-4,000 veers right and moves down the street.

Two blocks of helmeted security police in blue uniforms carrying batons and plastic riot shields move in on either side. There are scuffles, flailing batons, a whiff of tear-gas mixes with the aroma of grilling kebabs.

There has been some letting off of steam and the government has shown who is in charge. This scenario has been acted out in every Arab capital and city of any note throughout the region.