Freedom

               

“Let me go out and sweat a little”, I thought to myself. Although it was mid October, the weather in Cairo was still quite warm and the trees were still green, as was the grass.
It was around 6:00 PM and I had just come back from my work a short time ago. I was feeling down. Whether it was because of the continued heat or it was because of my irregular way of life, I couldn’t figure out. The best thing that I could do to over come that lame feeling at the time, was to go out and do a little work out in the nearby park.
I put on my sports suit, grabbed my mobile and took a little bottle of Gatorade form the refrigerator, before going out.
I walked down the Gasr-el-Suez street at an accelerated pace to warm myself up before getting to the park. The park wasn’t so crowded as it used to be in the early afternoons, but still there were a good number of people around. There were people sitting at the benches and talking and laughing and having a good time of it.  Still others were walking around, apparently trying to burn out that extra fat, which becomes a hazard with time.
I jogged around the nearly 2 Km circumference of the park, before spotting a nice grassy patch, where I could do push-ups and sit-ups. I stretched my back before lying down on it to do my first set of 100 sit-ups. Finishing with the sit-ups I turned over on my hands to do the push-ups. As I started getting up on my feet, I saw a few uniformed police officers standing right by my side. There were four of them.
One of the police officers said: “ Masah-al-Khair!” (Good evening)
I nodded in response. The same officer again said something in Arabic that I could not understand. I said: “Sorry, but I don’t speak Arabic.”
The officer, who’s face kind of lit-up listening to it, said: “ Your papers please.”
I picked up my sports jacket from the ground and reached inside the side pocket to discover that I didn’t have my passport or any other ID on me. I said, with a usual smile: “ Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have my ID on me.”
The officer said: “ Where are your papers?”
I said: “ At home.”
The officer, whose name, as it was stated on the badge, was Masood al Bakr, said: “What are your papers doing at home?”
This was the stupid most question that someone could even think of. What could the papers do at home? I wanted to say: “ doing my laundry.» but I checked my words and said: “ Nothing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean what I said. My papers are doing nothing. They are lying in my coat pocket most probably.”
“Your papers are lying in your coat pocket, because most probably you don’t have proper documents!”
 I put on a more serious expression on my face saying: “ Now don’t jump to conclusions officer. Everything’s ok with my papers. The thing is that when I came out here to exercise I didn’t think that I needed my ID to better work out.”
Officer Masood said: “Don’t try to waste my time with this trash. We’ll see if everything’s ok with your papers, at the precinct. Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You know what? I think you’re not just an illegal, you’re a dangerous element, worth a thorough check.» and finishing his sentence, he said something in Arabic to his fellow officers. I couldn’t understand what he said, but acting on what he said the two of the by standing police officers signaled me to raise my hands wide open. And before I could say or do anything, Officer Masood said something in Arabic again and the two officers brought me face down on the ground.
I couldn’t believe what was going on. I was being held down on the ground and the police officers were body searching me, or better say searching my pockets and stripping me of my belongings. Not only that they took my wallet, mobile and the rest out of my pockets, they even took my watch and chain off.
Then I was ordered to get up. The two police officers who had been searching me handed over all my belongings to Masood, who after keenly inspecting my wallet and others articles, put everything in a paper bag.
I was infuriated. I said: “ You think you can get away with this? No way! You’ll answer for all of this. I’ll sue you.”
Masood said: “ I’m taking you in for threatening a police officer on duty and resisting routine check.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Everything I said or did was being used against me. Maybe I had taken the wrong stance. I had to remember that I wasn’t somewhere in Manhattan. It was Cairo, the center of the police state called Egypt. I had to put my ideas of human rights and civil rights behind my back and the only thing I had to remember was that god and police were the synonyms in that land of Pharos.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Masood saying: “Yalla.” (Lets go). Two police officers flanked me and pushed me to walk. As we reached the gate and were about to exit an Idea came to my mind I said: “Officer if my ID is the only thing that can satisfy your doubts, why don’t you wait here and give me just 10 mins to go and bring back my passport from my apartment.”
Masood looked at me with a sarcastic smile on his face and said: “You’re real clever. You want me to let you go just like that huh.”
In the meantime we had already reached a maroon Fiat without the usual police sirens or signs and one of the policemen went around to the driver side, while the one who held my left hand opened the back door and signaled me to get in. I got in followed by the policeman who was on my right. Masood took his seat in the front and the last policeman came around to sit in the back seat from the other side.
I said: “ Officer if you don’t trust me and don’t want to let me go and bring my passport, why don’t we drive up to where I live and I can just go up to my apartment, accompanied by one of your men to bring my passport.”
Masood said, very harshly: “We are not your servants to follow your orders. The only place where we are going now is the precinct. You can do whatever you want at the police station now.”
I got out of my apartment that day to sweat and realizing the mess that had gotten into, I was sweating. The private car with four policemen and me started off to the precinct. I was so much lost in figuring out the way to get out of the mix-up that I couldn’t even pay attention to where we were heading. The only thing I wanted to do right now was to one way or the other get out of that mess.
I wanted to get out of that car before it would reach the precinct, because at the precinct they could book me in for whatever that might suit them. I could understand that they were not taking me to the police station to hand me a written apology and let me go. But how could I get out? This was the question that I couldn’t answer at that time.
The only good thing that had happened for the last sometime was that the car had been going around on city streets, but was not reaching the precinct and this gave me more time to figure a way out.
Then an idea came to my mind. Why don’t I try to talk to the police officers sitting beside me and try to win over their sympathies? I turned to the officer on my right and said: “Officer I know I’ve been behaving wrongly. I didn’t mean to say anything bad to you guys. I know you are doing your job and have nothing against it. Please trust me I’m not an illegal alien. I’m a law-abiding citizen and would never do anything against the law. Give me a chance to bring my passport.”
The officer listened carefully and then said, in broken English: “No worry. Talk officer Masood. Good man.”
I started with Masood again. I said: “ Officer Masood! Please accept my apologies for my misbehavior.”
He turned back and said: “Don’t apologize so fast. At the police station you’ll have enough time to think about your apologies.”
I said: “ I really understand now that I was wrong to not have my ID on me. I am sorry for that. Please give me a chance to undo my mistake.”
Masood said: “ I’ll see to it that you get a good lesson before you get any chances.”
It was useless. He wasn’t ready for any apologies or compromises. He wanted to show me the downside of freedom of expression and I didn’t want it. My brain was working faster than the fastest computer ever made. I tried one more time. I said: “ Allah will bless you if you forgive a Muslim brother for his unintentional wrong doings.”
The police officer who was sitting on my left said something to Masood and they talked for sometime, after which Masood turned around and said: “ Although I don’t give a damn to all this Muslim brotherhood and all that stuff, when it comes to law enforcement, but my friends here are asking me to close my eyes on your foolishness because you’re a believer.”
I sensed the softness in his words and put in the punch: “God bless you and your friends.”
He looked at my tense expression very attentively and then said something to the driver. The driver pulled over the car and the officer on my right opened the door and getting out himself first signaled me out. I took a breath of relaxation and got out quickly.
I shook hands with the officer who was standing outside and who had helped me in negotiating that freedom and went to the front window to thank Masood once again and get my belongings. I hardly bent over to get in line with the window when Masood brought his hands out and handing me over the paper bag said: “You’re lucky that you’re a Muslim and Allah helped you out here, but next time be careful about keeping your papers on you.”
I just grabbed the bag and before I could even say anything the car raced off.
I was so happy that I had finally gotten out of that mess. Everything was ok now, but I didn’t know where I was. We had driven around for more than an hour so I could have been on the opposite end of the town. I stopped a passerby and after knowing where I was, started walking towards my house. I could have taken a taxi, but I was feeling like walking, because I needed to relax my nerves after all that tension and I always relax myself walking. So I kept walking for sometime, before I decided to check what time it was. I opened the paper bag to take my watch out.
Guess what?
The bag was filled with paper and a few stones and my things were nowhere to be found. It doesn’t take genius to figure out that I was robbed. Robbed by lawmen. This was the limit.
But then I recollected myself and thought more objectively. The car had no sirens. There was no wireless in the car and the car had gone around too long to get to the nearest police station. Most certainly they were not cops at all. Damn!
I rethought my plans and decided to go to the real cops. Now I had to walk to the Tourist police office at Gasr-el-Neil Street, because I had no money.
At the police station, an officer, who was proficient in English, listened to all that I had to report and after I had finished, he looked at me very inquisitively and asked: “By the way, where in fact is your passport?”
That question opened a door for me: A door that closed all the other exits.