Documentary : Muslims Under the Gun : In tense Algeria, prayers, politics and police converge at mosques each Friday.

Quietly threading their way through neighborhood streets near the legendary and labyrinthine Casbah, in twos and threes, they approached the raw outlines of the unfinished red-brick mosque. The men were bearded, the women wore scarves in a show of traditional Islamic modesty.

Because all roads leading to the mosque in the heart of Algiers were cordoned off, they came on foot. Ahead was a human barrier of police, backed by gendarmes packed into vans and, outside the cordon, soldiers in armored personnel carriers in case of violence.

As Algeria’s political crisis has escalated, attending Friday prayers has become a political statement by Islamic fundamentalists and a venue for their leaders to demonstrate their strength. It has also made mosques a focal point of the broader struggle with the military establishment over the future of democracy in this troubled land, and a place for a rare glimpse into the dynamics of what may become the next major clash over Islam in the Middle East.

Last week the military government that took over here earlier this month banned all gatherings around mosques. And the events that transpired in and around the Bab el Oued neighborhood of the Algerian capital two Fridays ago help to explain why.

The size of the popular outpouring on that Muslim holy day--and the self-discipline that enabled fundamentalists to avoid violent confrontations while getting their message out to the world--offered mute testimony to the strength of their movement.

Angered by the ouster of President Chadli Benjedid in a military-led “white coup” only days earlier, and the cancellation of Jan. 16 parliamentary elections that were expected to put the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) in power, thousands of residents of the poor, seafront neighborhood converged on the unfinished mosque.

FIS also has its own “troops”--both visible and invisible--to counterbalance Algerian forces. FIS marshals were deployed along several blocks of Bab el Oued to instruct the faithful, telling them not to provoke the police, not to say anything to the press that might draw crowds and trouble and where to go.

The mosque had long since filled, as anticipated, so young FIS marshals guided worshipers to adjacent streets, where the Islamic organization had placed barrels of water for pre-prayer ablutions. Their sense of discipline was strict, their organization highly efficient.

Because of the show of strength by both sides, tension was high as the 1:30 p.m. prayers were about to begin, and police refused to allow journalists near the mosque. Officials said bluntly that they no longer recognize press accreditations issued by their own government.

Forced to disperse, a few of us snuck into nearby buildings in search of better vantage points on rooftops from which to observe the scene at Friday prayers below. In the end, though, the story was as much on the rooftops as on the streets.

In one eight-story apartment building, an Algerian teen-ager scrambled to get a key to open the door to the roof for me and a Canadian colleague. Eight women and children were already there.

The scene was stunning. On virtually every building, stretching from the hills beyond the Casbah to the Mediterranean Sea, people were gathered atop roofs, crowded onto balconies or hanging out windows in a show of solidarity with those daring enough to go to Friday prayers.

As the worshipers below unfolded their prayer rugs, mats, sheets, even tablecloths, over the oil-stained streets to kneel, men above joined in the chorus of Islamic incantations. Mothers held small children up to ledges to see.

To make room for the press, residents pushed aside pigeon cages and household laundry, both common to Algerian rooftops. Several foreign TV crews opted for balconies, hiding cameras under blankets provided by their hosts. With a conspiratorial air, everyone seemed ready to help.

As the muezzin wailed, the atmosphere on the rooftops became almost festive. “FIS,” a middle-aged Algerian woman said to me, pointing first to the Islamic graffiti on the walls, shutters and smokestacks of Bab el Oued, then to the faithful now stretched for blocks in all directions around the mosque. “It’s like that everywhere.”

Indeed, Bab el Oued, a teeming suburb where chronic poverty, unemployment and housing shortages often force 12 or more to share tiny apartments, is not an exception. FIS is widely believed to have the support of the vast majority of the more than 9,000 mosques in Algeria.

As the prayer service progressed, an informal network was quickly established across the rooftops. Algerians closer to the mosque motioned to friends and journalists to come join them, pointing out routes across buildings to avoid the police below.

To help us, a teen-ager braved the cordon of police and met us at the corner. A row of police tried to stop us. “They’re coming to visit,” our guide pleaded. We got through. And when we reached the roof of his building, we were cheered by the women we had just left.

Our new hosts, a poor family spanning three generations, immediately offered cakes and coffee and invited us to stay for lunch after Friday prayers. From a balcony across the street, two women in long house dresses and scarves waved a greeting.

The front line of the battle in Bab el Oued was on the streets surrounding the mosque. But the sense of solidarity clearly runs deep, very deep, into the community.

In dozens of interviews, FIS supporters said they were seeking to avoid violence. From loudspeakers dispersed several blocks around the mosque, FIS leader Abdelkader Hachani urged restraint. “I beg you, I implore you, not to respond to provocation by anyone,” he said.

“They have written a scenario for us, but it is a role we will not play,” added the local imam, or religious leader, referring to the ruling council. “We know they want to dissolve FIS. This is a coup d’etat against the Islamic state before it was created.”

In the end, the confrontation at Bab el Oued’s mosque did not lead to violence. Indeed, the local imam even invited the police to join in prayer. One of the unknown elements in Algeria’s political showdown is the level of support for FIS among rank-and-file security forces--and whether those forces would actually take up arms against their brethren. Although the answer is not yet clear, just before the prayer services ended, the police and gendarmes left.

The five-member ruling council clearly senses the threat. Last week, it had Hachani arrested and banned all gatherings around mosques “no matter what the day or hour.”

What the regime may have failed to take into account, however, is the sentiment on the rooftops of Algiers.