Beit Iba and SarraObservers: Alix W., Susan L. (reporting)Guest: Isabella L.Summary: A “dog’s life.” The sight of a couple of dogs, handsome ones,at the checkpoint in Beit Iba, petted by the soldiers, and clearlyfavored and wanted around by them, stirs one of the university studentdetainees in the compound to comment to us, “They have a better lifethan we do.” They do indeed.15:00-15:30 SarraNothing special about the busy “to-ing and fro-ing” at the checkpointtoday: just many transits going back and forth, disgorging theirpassengers for checks with the soldiers. What was interesting — a manand a woman hastening to tell us that, since we were present, thechecking was proceeding much more quickly and efficiently than withoutour presence. “You should see what it’s like without you.”The road to Kocin is still in bad shape, according to the locals. 15:45-16:45 Beit IbaLeading up to the checkpoint, many vendors with bananas and citrusfruit as well as lots of fresh looking fish. Even more surprising,closer to the checkpoint, by the quarry, a new chicken run, full of hens! There are four student detainees in the compound who maintain they’re”sometimes detained.” There seems little rhyme or reason as to whentheir daily lives are disrupted. One tells that the travelrestrictions for going into or out of Nablus have been lifted forstudents: needs to be checked. Again, this week, as last, no DCOrepresentative at the checkpoint.Today’s soldiers, reservists, will be dubbed, “the pony tail brigade.” The reason is clearly visible beneath their helmets. But theirappearance is misleading. They’re uncooperative, and won’t talk to us.Checking to and from Nablus moves quite quickly. There’s no attempt tokeep people behind the turnstile, but, instead, one soldier invents aninvisible line which the Palestinians may not cross before they reachthe pill box to show their IDs. A new opportunity to throw weight around.When first we arrive, there are two military police checking IDsinside the pillbox, and later, a couple of younger soldiers, who are,at first, ready to talk. One lets a whole group of people enteringNablus through without even glancing at their IDs, just waving themon. Again, as last week, a youngster, not “of age” tries to leaveNablus without any ID but with a young man, “his cousin.” He has toturn back, and tries to sneak through by the vehicular crossing, butis gently turned around by the pony-tailed captain who sprints afterhim. The other soldier checking IDs in the pill box is even willingto find out for us what’s going on with the detained students. He’sthe one who greets the Palestinians, in pidgin Arabic, trying to befriendly, “welcome,” “good bye,” etc. A few minutes later, he tellsus, “We can’t talk to you.” The pony-tailed captain is charming with the Palestinians, with us,but once he understands that we’ll ask questions, gives out noinformation and has clearly told the other soldiers to say not a wordto us. He also acts strangely, takes the detained students from thecompound, one by one, to the concrete cell, enters it with him, twoother pony-tailed soldiers standing outside the open door, as he makeseach student turn out his pockets and asks him questions. According toone student, the questions are just ridiculous (but familiar to anyonewho lives here: where they’re going, where they live, etc. etc.) Thelast thing we find out is that there is something common to all fourstudents: a name, “Moustaf.” Maybe the General Security Service islooking for somebody with this name, but are proceeding to do so bylooking for a needle in a haystack.