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‘It was like drawing an R on our lives, branding us official Refugees’
by Somaia K Abu Nada
Somaia K Abu Nada

SEVENTY-TWO thousand knives stab the Palestinians’ hearts, expanding that wound of displacement inside them with every day that passes.

May 15 marks the Nakba, when the Israeli gangs fired their bullets towards the unarmed Palestinians, leaving no choice for them but to carry their souls and keys and escape the ghost of death.

No-one can imagine how the Palestinians felt that day. Their pain was unbearable; it was like stripping them of their original identity, their lands, air, sky, crop and sun, and drawing a capital R on their foreheads, branding them as official refugees.  

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