Beit Iba, Sunday 3.7.05 PMObservers: Noa P., Yehudit B., Tal H. (reporting)We reached Beit Iba checkpoint at 17:20 without having seen any army barriers on our way.at the checkpoint, 2 soldiers check cars going into Nablus. Cars going the other way had to wait. 3 soldiers see us coming. One of them opens his mouth and out comes a swarm of profanities and vulgar swearing that make the dust-laden air seem pure by comparison (the CP is in an open quarry…). His pantomimed spitting would have won him some great applause at a Yiddish children’s theater.2 Military policemen work the computers inside the checking post, their hefty roars reaching far beyond. checkpoint commander A. (?), without any visible ranks, is a model of contempt, dismissal and frosty bossiness. Again and again we hear those old expressions: “Split! Out of my checkpoint! OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!!!””Come, Ninja, come!” (to a woman whose face is covered with a veil).”Only giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirls!” and of coruse, the “wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-!!!” the moment someone has lost track of the usual subtle hand gestures that determine if the Palestinian is to proceed or freeze on the spot. Only one turnstile working. A little girl bearing a toy gun. A golden opportunity for the CP commander to educate the entire family. He held them close for nearly 10 minutes, half joking half serious.and went to show his buddies what he’d got his hands on. And again. And again.And, yes – a girl has to play with a doll, not a gun. (sic)He finally let them through. Noa asked the commander why at Beit Iba they check everyone entering Nablus, and at Huwwara they don’t. Answer: Because in Huwara paratroopers do what they feel like, whereas at Beit Iba it’s the Haruv recon. unit. Suddenly a powerful loudspeaker adds some music to the scene, sounding from the vehicle checking post. One of the soldiers belts out a line vulgar enough to leave usno doubt as to who the artist is. Finally: a boy, looking about 13 years old, is thrown into the detainee pen, by three soldiers including the commander. ID taken, shirt lifted, belt opened, shouts. We get nearer, the soldiers eyeing us on the side. Apparently in his pocket or wallet they found a keychain? with a 3X5 cm. Palestinian flag. Now his mother and 2 kid siblings join him. The commander preaches to the mother in Hebrew, she begs and pleads in Arabic. Time passes. Noa calls R. of the DCO. They are released, warning fingers raised at them. And we get moving. It’s nearly 19:00. The commander is last seen trying to break the tiny plastic flag with his fingers. He seems to have a hard time. On our way out, our friend the foul-mouthed didn’t miss his opportunity to give an encore, a repeated dose of verbal refuse to close the day.