Before Hassan died, he rescued me from Dibo’s gang when they attacked me the first time.
Dibo was an unusual boy, much like a dwarf. His legs were bowed, and his head was bigger than his torso.
A man’s head on top of a boy’s body. That alone was enough to instill fear in the hearts of children. He didn’t just frighten us—his juniors—but people his own age, too. They chose to join his gang to avoid confrontation with him.
When they saw “Hassan the Palestinian” in a fedayeen uniform and the outline of a weapon on his shoulder, they scurried off like rats.
However, he didn’t show up the next time. No one came to rescue me from that pack of “rotten” boys who used to chase little kids and rob them of whatever money, toys or even scraps they happened to have on them. It was all booty that th
