Ramallah, my home city, has been utterly transformed during its half-century of struggle against occupation. But what has really been achieved? By Raja Shehadeh
It must already be 8am, I think, as I listen to the national anthem blasting out of St George’s school near my house in Ramallah. I am standing at the bathroom sink, manoeuvring the razor around the deep folds in my face that have formed over the past few years.
I look in the mirror. It is all there in front of me: the bags under my eyes, the furrowed forehead, the corners of my mouth that used to be mobile but have now descended into a permanently sad expression. I try to convince myself that I am as old as my face, which is not at all how I feel. Mine is already the face of an older man, sombre and serious, with thin lips and wrinkles. I have aged with the years and with the occupation. This day, 5 June 2017, marks its 50th anniversary.
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