I clearly remember my first day at an UNRWA school in a refugee camp in Gaza. I was five years of age. It felt like my life was over.
The distance from Block 5 of the Nuseirat Refugee Camp to the New Camp – located within the municipal boundaries of Nuseirat - was long, exhausting and terrifying.
I had to walk for several miles, on a very dusty journey that compromised my new, specially tailored red suit and orange sandals.
On the arduous journey, passing through citrus orchards and heaps of sand, I was accompanied by hundreds of children, some more experienced and confident, and others, like me, crying all the way to the UNRWA Elementary School for Boys.
On the way, I learned about the 'crazy man of the orchard', the disheveled guard who chases after unruly children whenever they try to pluck orange fruits from the Hirthani trees. I also learned about the unleashed dogs that belonged to some Bedouin tribe, whose bites may result in many rabies injections and terrible pain.