A few minutes later, they slowly approach the improvised checkpoint, where dozens of enthusiastic young Arabs are waiting for them, standing by small fires in the middle of the day, on the sides of the road.
The driver of the Israeli car had already been taken out of the car and suffered severe kicks and murderous blows in all parts of his body with iron bars. Yehoshua's heart is pounding in his chest like a madman but his face wears a poker face as he exits the door of the Land Rover. He tightens his grip on the rifle slung over his shoulder. He steps boldly towards the Arab who seems to be the leader of the group of young men. He is now holding the hairs of the unfortunate Jew who is now sitting on his knees, broken and beaten and crying.
YEHOSHUA
Salam Alikum.
THE YOUNG ARAB (almost defiantly)
Alikum Salam. (short silence). Israeli?
YEHOSHUA (offended)
You do not see? We are from Qatar!
ARAB YOUTH
Please be respectful!
The young Arab hands Yehoshua the gun.
ARAB YOUTH
You can kill a Jew with your own hands.
Yehoshua bursts into laughter and claps his hands on his thighs, as if he heard a good joke.