Thursday, February 5, 2026
Home Blog Page 37

Greenland’s prime minister tells Trump “That’s enough” over threats

'That's enough' - Greenland's PM reacts to Trump threats
Donald Trump said: 'Let's talk about Greenland in 20 days'

When Greenland Became a Word on the World Stage

On a bright, bitter morning in Nuuk the houses stood like a string of beads along the fjord—reds and yellows and blues against a backdrop of looming ice. A woman pushed a stroller past a café whose windows fogged with steam; a fisherman in a wool cap read the latest headlines on his phone and shook his head. For the 56,000 people who call Greenland home, the place is both intimate and immense: small communities clustered on a coastline that skirts a continent-sized ice sheet.

Then a headline arrives from thousands of miles away and the private rhythms of island life become entangled in big-power talk. “We need Greenland from the standpoint of national security,” came the line from the President of the United States aboard Air Force One, repeated with the bluntness of command. “We’ll worry about Greenland in about two months … let’s talk about Greenland in 20 days.”

The words ricocheted around a world that has long been paying closer attention to the Arctic. For some they were a blunder; for others a reminder that geography rarely stays quiet. For Greenlanders they were a provocation.

A firm reply from Nuuk

“That’s enough now,” Jens-Frederik Nielsen, Greenland’s prime minister, wrote on Facebook. “No more pressure. No more insinuations. No more fantasies of annexation. We are open to dialogue. We are open to discussions. But this must happen through the proper channels and with respect for international law.”

It was not only the prime minister who reacted. Across Europe capitals issued pointed reminders: Denmark—responsible for Greenland’s foreign affairs under the constitutional arrangement of the Kingdom of Denmark—stood firm; Britain’s prime minister said plainly the destiny of Greenland belonged to Greenland and Denmark; France’s foreign ministry described borders as not being changed by force.

Why a piece of ice matters to empires

Greenland is vast—about 2.16 million square kilometers, roughly four times the size of Texas—but almost 80% of that landscape is the Greenland Ice Sheet. What catches global attention is the narrow slice of coastline that opens to the North Atlantic and the Arctic Ocean, and the strategic lines that pass through it.

  • Population: roughly 56,000 people, concentrated in just a few coastal towns.
  • Military presence: the United States operates Thule Air Base in northwest Greenland, a facility with weather and missile-tracking roles dating back to the Cold War.
  • Environment: as the Arctic warms faster than the global average, new shipping lanes and access to untapped resources become possible.

That combination—strategic location, changing ice, and known deposits of rare-earth and critical minerals—turns Greenland into a geopolitical prize in some calculations. “It’s not just about land,” said an Arctic security analyst I spoke to over a crackling phone line. “It’s about monitoring the northern approaches, about satellite and missile tracking, about resource access. Whoever controls Greenland has a vantage point.”

Voices from the fjord and the capital

Back in Nuuk, responses were human-sized, textured and often wry. “We’ve been here a long time,” said Aput, an elder who sells smoked halibut at the market. “Our houses are small, our dogs are many. We don’t want to be a trophy in someone else’s history book.” Her voice carried the quiet steadiness of someone whose life is measured by sea ice and seasons, not policy briefs.

A fisherman named Lars told me, “Of course countries will look at Greenland. But our people—our language, our schools—these are not for sale. Please don’t treat us like a map coordinate.” When I asked whether talk of annexation changed how he felt about Denmark, he shrugged. “Denmark is part of our history, yes. But the future? We will decide that.”

Social media and symbolism

The moment was amplified by the strange theatre of social media. An image of Greenland bathed in American flag colors, posted by a former White House official with the one-word caption “SOON,” generated outrage. “Disrespectful,” Nielsen wrote in reply. “Our country is not for sale, and our future is not decided by social media posts.”

Danish diplomats attempted a steadier tone. Jesper Moeller Soerensen, Denmark’s ambassador in Washington, offered what he termed a “friendly reminder” that Denmark has worked closely with the United States on Arctic security and that the two nations remain close allies. “We are allies and should continue to work together as such,” he said.

What the world sees—and what should worry us

This episode is more than a diplomatic squall. It is a window into a larger story: the reawakening of strategic competition in the Arctic among NATO countries, Russia and China; the scramble for access to minerals and new shipping lanes as ice retreats; and urgent questions of indigenous rights and self-determination in places whose voices have too often been sidelined.

China has been increasing its Arctic activity in recent years—research partnerships, mining interest, and shipping ambitions—prompting warnings from several Western capitals. Russia, meanwhile, continues to fortify parts of its Arctic coastline. In such a crowded geopolitical field, every outburst of rhetoric matters.

“No one decides for Greenland but Greenland and Denmark,” Finland’s president wrote on social media, echoing a line that has been taken up across Scandinavia. It is a simple sentence with heavy implications: international law, post-war norms and the principle of self-determination still count for something.

Looking past headlines: the human stakes

Pause for a moment and consider what is at risk if loud voices override local ones. Greenlanders face economic choices—mining projects promise jobs but also threaten fragile ecosystems; climate change brings both disruption and new opportunity, altering access to fish stocks and transport routes. Social cohesion can fray if decisions are made in faraway capitals without meaningful consent.

“You can bring money and machines,” said a young teacher in Sisimiut. “But we will lose ground that we can’t get back: language, traditions, the way we understand the sea. Development must be in partnership, not imposed.”

Questions to carry forward

What does it mean for a people to control their future when the world’s powers suddenly discover value in their backyard?

How do notions of security—to one country a strategic advantage, to another a threat—get balanced against rights of self-determination?

And perhaps most urgently: as climate change redraws coastlines and opens access to resources, who gets to decide what happens next?

Closing thoughts

The headlines may move on, but the conversation about Greenland will continue. For now there are firm words from Nuuk and Copenhagen, reminders from allies, and the tired, wary faces of people who watch ice calve into cold water and wonder what comes next. “We are not a chess piece,” said a shopkeeper on the main street in Nuuk. “We have names and stories. Remember them.”

In a world where distance is no protection and every coastline can be measured for value, these small statements of dignity—spoken in simple, stubborn tones—are an argument worth hearing. They remind us that when geography and power collide, the human story must not be the footnote.

Video shows skiers forming heart-shaped tribute after Swiss fire

Watch: Skiers make heart-shaped tribute after Swiss fire
Watch: Skiers make heart-shaped tribute after Swiss fire

A slope shaped like a heart: an alpine town holds its breath

The morning sun laid a sugar-icing of fresh snow over the Crans-Montana plateau, and for a few trembling hours the usual chatter of skiers and the hum of chairlifts were replaced by silence—an almost reverent hush that felt like a physical thing.

Below the ridgeline, on a broad, gentle run that normally hosts children in bright snowsuits and confident holiday skiers, a group moved with careful choreography. They were not carving new tracks or racing for a view; they were forming a symbol. From above, their skis and poles traced a bright, painstaking heart against the white. It was a human mosaic: friends, seasonaires, instructors, visitors—each one a small gesture of solidarity for the 40 people whose lives ended in a blaze that ripped through the Le Constellation bar in the small hours of New Year’s Eve.

“We wanted something that shows we are together,” said Marie Dupont, a local ski instructor who helped organize the formation. “There are names behind those numbers. We wanted those names to feel loved.”

Inside the night: how a celebration turned tragic

People come to Crans-Montana for powder and peaks, for the hush of pine forests and nights that shimmer with Alpine lights. On the last night of the year, Le Constellation—like many mountain bars—was full of holiday energy: champagne bottles, music, laughter, the loosened restraint that comes with a collective countdown to a new year.

Authorities say investigators have pointed to a likely ignition source: sparklers attached to or affixed to champagne bottles, raised close to a low ceiling, where embers caught a combustible surface. It is a small, terrible sequence of events that has been the undoing of 40 lives and left 119 others injured—many severely.

“We had no idea it could happen so fast,” a survivor, who asked not to be named, told me. “The ceiling was low. It was packed. One moment people were singing, the next it was smoke and shouting. I ran, but I saw friends who didn’t make it.”

Swiss emergency services say the earliest reporting showed rapid fire spread inside the bar’s enclosed space. Local firefighters and mountain rescue teams were on scene within minutes, and patients were rushed to hospitals across the canton. Officials later confirmed all 40 victims were identified on Sunday, a grim milestone for families waiting for news.

What investigators are saying

Investigators have been methodical, combing through CCTV, eyewitness accounts, and the remains of the venue. “Initial findings suggest that indoor pyrotechnics—sparkler-style devices used on bottles—played a central role,” a spokesperson for the Valais cantonal police told reporters. “We are treating this as a major incident and examining every aspect, including product source and how it was used.”

Many countries and venues have strict rules about indoor pyrotechnics; many consumer sparklers are intended for outdoor use and can pose significant fire risks in confined spaces. Fire-safety experts stress that even a small ember near flammable materials can become catastrophic when a crowded room leaves people little room to escape.

“This is a heartbreaking reminder that celebrations need safety built into them,” said Dr. Anya Fischer, a fire-safety specialist who studies mass gathering incidents. “A seemingly festive device becomes deadly in the wrong context: low ceiling, packed room, limited exits. Regulations exist for a reason.”

The human cost and a community’s response

Numbers tell part of the story: 40 dead, 119 injured. But behind each statistic is a life—teenagers planning university, workers who saved for seasons in the Alps, a band of friends who had met on holiday years earlier. Many of those who died were young, which has made the grief in Crans-Montana and beyond feel almost unbearable.

“There are families who came for one night and will never return,” said Mayor Lucien Favre in a brief statement. “Our thoughts are with the victims and with those providing care and support. We stand together in this difficult time.”

Local volunteers have organized donation drives, counseling centers, and vigils. The Crans-Montana tourism office released a video of the heart formation on its social channels with a short message: “In deep solidarity, Crans-Montana and the entire ski community mourn together.” That clip—simple, quiet, human—has been watched and shared well beyond the canton, a reminder that some moments break past municipal borders.

“We had guests who pulled over on the pass to lay flowers,” said Jean-Claude, a hotel concierge who has worked in the resort for twenty years. “It’s not just the town. It’s visitors, alpinists, the whole winter community.”

Questions for tomorrow: safety, tourism, and how we commemorate

After the initial shock, difficult conversations begin. How do small tourist towns protect the celebratory moments that are part of their economy and culture? What regulation and training should be required for venues that host large crowds? And how do communities rebuild the trust that is shaken when a place of joy becomes a site of loss?

There are policy questions and moral ones. Many jurisdictions have tightened rules on indoor pyrotechnics after tragic incidents elsewhere; some venues now require professional display companies, flame-retardant materials, and certified safety officers on the premises. Yet enforcement can be uneven, especially during peak holiday nights when venues operate at capacity and oversight is stretched thin.

“We will need a national review of how these devices are sold and used,” said Senator Mireille Basset, who has called for parliamentary hearings after the tragedy. “This should not be about assigning blame—it must be about preventing another family from waking to such grief.”

How the world watches

Crans-Montana is a small place with global connections: holidaymakers from across Europe and beyond, luxury chalets, world-class slopes. The images of a heart-shaped formation, of candles and skis arranged like a vigil, will travel. They will be engraved alongside stories of policy and mourning in the public imagination.

And they will prompt other communities—coastal towns lit with fireworks, urban clubs, festival organizers—to ask themselves: what precautions do we take when we turn up the music and the lights and invite strangers to share the night?

Remembering, and moving forward

There are flowers at the base of the slope and names whispered in alpine cafés. There are practical needs—medical care, counseling, housing for those who cannot face hotel lobbies where they once danced. There are also rituals, small and large, that begin to stitch a community back together: a choir on the town square, shared meals, a memorial plaque that will someday sit on a bench where skiers rest and look at the mountains.

When I left Crans-Montana, a group of teenagers were writing names in the snow with their skis. They moved slowly, reverent strokes, and then they photographed it, perhaps to remember or to carry the memory elsewhere. “We will not forget,” one of them said simply. “We owe them that.”

How do you honor people lost in a flash of smoke and light? Perhaps by asking again and again whether our celebrations are worth the risks we take—and by making sure the answer is safety first, joy second. For a town on the edge of the world’s winter playgrounds, the work of remembrance and reform begins now.

DEG DEG: Wasiirka Arrimaha Dibadda Israel oo ku wajahan magaalada Berbera

Jan 06(Jowhar)-Wasiirka Arrimaha Dibadda ee Israa’iil, Gideon Sa’ar, ayaa lagu wadaa in saacadaha soo socda uu ka dago Garoonka Diyaaradaha ee magaalada Berbera, sida ay sheegayaan warar lagu kalsoonaan karo.

Maduro insists he remains president amid a not-guilty plea

Maduro says he is still president amid not guilty plea
Nicolas Maduro is seen in handcuffs after landing at a Manhattan helipad

When Dawn Fell Over Caracas: A Country Shackled and a World Watching

There are mornings in capitals that arrive like any other: vendors sweeping the corner, the scent of strong coffee drifting from a street stall, the clatter of buses finding their rhythm. Then there are mornings when history barges into the ordinary and rearranges everything. This was one of those mornings for Caracas—when the skyline was split not by thunder, but by the sudden, surreal presence of foreign warplanes and a story that will be retold around kitchen tables and in diplomatic backrooms for years to come.

On 3 January, in a dramatic operation that stunned both allies and adversaries, former Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro was brought into Manhattan custody. At 63, wearing an orange shirt and moving with the slow, unbowed cadence of a man who has survived countless battles, he stood before a federal judge and spoke three short words that echoed with defiance: “Estoy inocente” — “I’m innocent.”

From Caracas to Manhattan: The Courtroom and the Capture

The picture was almost cinematic: a leader who once presided over a petrostate, now standing in a packed courtroom in New York. Beside him, his wife, Cilia Flores, entered a plea of not guilty as well. The judge, in a brief but firm exchange, reminded them of courtroom protocol, curbing any long statements and setting a new hearing for 17 March while ordering both to remain in custody.

“I was captured at my home in Caracas,” Maduro told the court through an interpreter, his voice calm, as if narrating an unavoidable fact. “I am president of the Republic of Venezuela and I have been kidnapped here since 3 January.”

Outside the courthouse, the story took on immediate political weight. Thousands marched across the capital—some in open support of a man they still saw as a protector of the Bolivarian Revolution, others in bewilderment, anger, or quiet dread. In the government’s seat of power, Delcy Rodríguez was sworn in as acting president, handing the reins to a familiar face as the nation held its breath.

A Nation on Edge: Streets, Voices, and the Long Shadow of Oil

Walk through Caracas these days and you’ll hear the past in the present: the slow shuffle of retirees who remember the Chávez years, the clipped impatience of taxi drivers who know the routes by heart, the laughter of children chasing pigeons across cracked plazas. Yet under that everyday noise is an electric tension.

“We were sleeping; then the planes,” said Rosa, a vendor who sells arepas along Avenida Bolívar. “My niece’s phone rang with rumors. We don’t know who will be safe. We just know the lines at the grocery are longer, and the price of a kilo of rice keeps rising.”

Venezuela is a nation of roughly 30 million people—lively, resilient, and exhausted after decades of economic collapse, migration, and political stalemate. And beneath the human drama lies the geological and geopolitical prize: the world’s largest proven oil reserves, estimated at over 300 billion barrels. Oil—once a golden river—has by now become a complicated liability: difficult to extract, crippled by a creaking infrastructure and years of sanctions and mismanagement.

Markets, Muskets, and Migrants

Within hours of the raid, global markets reacted. Shares in major US oil companies jumped, and indices like the Dow Jones and the FTSE 100 hit new records, a reflection of investors pricing in a new and unpredictable chapter for Venezuela’s oil. “Access to oil,” President Donald Trump declared in a blunt public comment following the operation, suggesting a willingness to take control of the country’s oil industry—but only after “fixing” what he described as the country’s broken institutions.

Such pronouncements, and the military means used to effect them, have international actors uneasy. Brian Finucane of the International Crisis Group said he was alarmed by what he described as a growing willingness to sideline international law. “An operation of this scale in a sovereign state, with civilian casualties reported, raises profound questions,” he said. “It’s not just about one regime; it’s about precedent.”

And the human toll, in the immediate term, is palpable. Cuba reported 32 of its nationals killed during the operation; U.S. officials said nearly 200 personnel were involved in the raid, with some injuries on both sides. “We prepared for the worst,” said a U.S. Defense official, speaking on background. “But we also planned for restraint.”

Voices from Inside and Out

The country’s opposition figures offered a fractured chorus. Maria Corina Machado, a prominent opposition leader who has been in exile since leaving to accept a Nobel prize, denounced the new acting president. “Delcy Rodríguez is rejected by the Venezuelan people,” she told a broadcaster from an undisclosed location. “She is one of the main architects of persecution and corruption.” Machado also signaled her intent to return, telling supporters she would come back “as soon as possible.”

Meanwhile, diplomats and former officials warned that the path ahead could be darker before it gets better. Brian Naranjo—a former U.S. diplomat expelled from Venezuela in 2018—said he has never been more worried about Venezuela’s future. “There’s a very real possibility things get much, much worse before they get better,” he told me. “Any transition that does not center Venezuelan civil institutions risks more collapse.”

What Caracas Feels Like Today

At a small tienda near El Silencio, an old man named Jorge rolled a cigarette and looked at the skyline where the air patrols had been. “We lived through shortages,” he said. “We lived through marches. But this—this feels like someone picked up our house and shook it to see what was inside.”

Across town, a nurse at a public hospital spoke quietly about long shifts and the uncertainty of supplies. “We treat whoever comes,” she said. “But if the power goes, if the oxygen stops—who will answer for that?”

Beyond Borders: What This Moment Means

Ask yourself: when a powerful nation uses force inside another sovereign state in pursuit of resources and to capture a leader, what message does that send to the rest of the world? To governments watching their own oil, to internal opposition movements, to the millions of migrants who have already left Venezuela? This episode forces a global reckoning with sovereignty, resource politics, and the limits of coercion as a tool for change.

There are sobering precedents: toppling a leader does not instantly repair institutions, rebuild pipelines, or return the skilled doctors who left. Nor does it guarantee quicker or fairer elections. As one Venezuelan academic put it over coffee: “You cannot fix decades of decay with a headline.”

Questions to Carry Forward

  • Will international law and humanitarian concerns be upheld as power shifts hands?
  • Can an economy as dependent on oil as Venezuela’s be diversified in time to staunch the humanitarian wounds?
  • Who will be the legitimate voice for Venezuelans inside the country and out—those who have stayed, those who fled, or those now claiming authority?

We are in a moment that will be studied in classrooms and argued in parliaments. But at the core are people like Rosa and Jorge and the nurse—whose lives are measured in daily realities, not geopolitical strategy. They need food on the table, water in the taps, hospitals that run, and schools for their children.

For now, Caracas waits. The plaza lights burn long into the night. The rumor columns churn with new theories. Diplomats redraw travel plans. Embassies send terse cables. Outside the noise, many Venezuelans simply hope for an end to fear and scarcity. They hope that whatever comes next will be rooted in law, dignity, and a chance for ordinary lives to recover.

And you—how do you weigh a moment when force meets a failing state? When resources, geopolitics, and human suffering collide? In the days and weeks ahead, the answers the world chooses will matter—deeply, and forever—to the people living under the shadow of Venezuela’s oil fields and beyond.

Agaasimihii NISA Fahad Yaasiin oo lagu soo dhaweeyay magaalada Muqdisho

Jan 06(Jowhar)-Agaasimihii hore ee hay’adda Nabad Sugida iyo Sirdoonka Qaranka ee NISA Fahad Yaasiin Xaaji Daahir ayaa saaka lagu soo dhaweeyay garoonka diyaaradaha Aden Cadde, iyadoo ayq wehlinayeen  labo kamid ah aasaasayaasha Midowga Haybqd Qaran.

Two popes attend Catholic Jubilee, drawing 33 million pilgrims to Rome

'Two-pope' Catholic Jubilee draws 33m pilgrims to Rome
Pope Leo XIV delivered his Sunday Angelus blessing yesterday overlooking St Peter's Square

The Last Pilgrim: Rain, Bronze and the Quiet Closing of a Jubilee

The rain came like an insistence—a steady, silver curtain that turned cobblestones into mirrors and umbrellas into a moving constellation outside St Peter’s Basilica.

Inside, the air smelled of wax and wet wool. Voices rose and fell in a dozen languages. Some carried the tired, triumphant hush of people who had walked for an intention; others laughed with the lightness of those who had simply wanted to bear witness. And at the center of it all stood the Holy Door—an ornate bronze portal usually bricked up, now open for the final time in a year that drew millions.

“We waited ten years to make this pilgrimage,” said Marta Kovács, a nurse from Budapest, wiping rain from her forehead. “When I crossed that threshold, I felt like something heavy inside me eased. You cannot explain it. You have to walk it.”

Numbers that Stir: 33 Million, 185 Countries, One Year of Passage

The Vatican announced that more than 33 million people visited Rome during the 2025 Jubilee, coming from 185 countries to take part in 35 flagship events that marked a once-in-a-generation Holy Year. The statistics read like a map of faith in motion: roughly 60% of those pilgrims came from Europe, 16% from North America, and the rest from across Africa, Asia, and Latin America.

For Catholics—and for curious onlookers around the world—the Jubilee was more than an itinerary. It was a ritual of repair. By tradition, passing through the Holy Door grants the faithful a “plenary indulgence,” a symbolic form of pardon that is meant to encourage reflection and renewal. Tomorrow, the basilica’s bronze door will be ceremonially closed, ending a chapter that began when Pope Francis first opened it a year ago.

A Rare Two-Pope Jubilee

This Jubilee will be remembered for other historic reasons. It unfolded across the waning leaves of one pontificate and the opening pages of another. Pope Francis, who opened the Year, died in April, and the papacy passed to Pope Leo XIV, the Church’s first pope to come from the United States.

“This year has been, in a way, a ‘middle world,’” observed Andrea Gagliarducci, a Vatican analyst. “There was continuity, but also the inevitable sense that a new chapter was being prepared.” The overlap of two pontificates during a Holy Year is extraordinarily rare—the last time a pope died during a Holy Year was in 1700.

Faces of the Jubilee: Youth, Canonisations and a Global Pilgrimage

Amid processions and prayer vigils, the Jubilee staged moments both intimate and spectacular. A festival for young Catholics filled parks with music and conversation; a canonisation heralded the Church’s first saint born in the millennium; parishes around Rome opened their doors and their hearts.

“We tried to make room for every story,” said Archbishop Rino Fisichella at a press briefing that summarized the year. “From the young person who came with a backpack and a dream, to the elderly pilgrim who arrived to give thanks—Rome welcomed them all.” His words echoed in halls still warm from gatherings, and in neighborhoods where parish volunteers offered directions, coffee, and kindness to strangers.

What the Numbers Hide—and Reveal

Large figures can flatten the human texture of an event. But look closely and the Jubilee’s data become intimate: 33 million footsteps, 35 major ceremonies, countless conversations held under octagonal loggias and against the backdrop of a city that has been a theater of faith for two millennia.

  • 33 million pilgrims touched the city in 2025.
  • Pilgrims came from 185 countries to attend 35 headline events.
  • About 60% of visitors were European; 16% came from North America.

Rome—Spruced Up, Strained, Reimagined

Streets that normally hum with local life were swept into procession routes; monuments like the Trevi Fountain received careful attention and cleaning as part of a civic effort to welcome visitors. Mayor Roberto Gualtieri called it “a boom year” for the capital, saying the Jubilee offered a chance to prove Rome could host the world.

But not everyone shared that celebratory view. Local shopkeeper Gianluca Moretti, whose family has run a tabaccheria near Piazza Navona for three generations, said the influx brought strains as well as sales. “We love the pilgrims,” he said. “They bring life. But when buses line up and the tram is packed, people who live here get squeezed. The question is: who benefits, and who pays the cost?”

Critics warned that a city already grappling with overtourism would be pushed to its limits. Public transport—beautiful in its antiquity but patchy in peak hours—sometimes groaned under the load. Yet other Romans found new reasons for optimism: sticky notes of gratitude on neighborhood noticeboards, volunteer groups springing up to offer language help and first aid, and streets buzzing into the night with small concerts and impromptu prayer circles.

Transitions of Power—and of Purpose

Pope Leo XIV, Chicago-born and relatively new to the Vatican’s highest role, is now tasked with translating the momentum of the Jubilee into a clear direction for the future. Since his election, he has published documents that had been prepared under his predecessor and kept promises to continue certain diplomatic trips, like journeys to Lebanon and Turkey that were in Pope Francis’ plans.

“The Jubilee’s end is not an end to renewal,” a theologian at the Gregorian University told me. “It’s the point where ritual has to meet governance—where gestures of welcome become policies and structures that either sustain or squander the goodwill generated this year.”

What Comes Next?

As the Holy Door is sealed, questions remain. Will the influx of faith and curiosity translate into lasting changes for the Church? Will Rome, refreshed in places and frayed in others, capitalize on new attention to tackle long-standing urban problems?

And for you, the reader: what does it mean when millions gather—across borders, languages, generations—to seek renewal? Can a ritual year tilt the balance of a sprawling institution toward empathy and structural reform?

Closing, and an Open Invitation

Tomorrow, at the appointed hour—5.30pm local time—the last pilgrim will step through the Holy Door, sealing a year that felt for many like a pilgrimage of the world itself. The bronze will close. The candlelight will drift down to the cobbles. And in the quiet that follows, Rome will keep its scars and its new polish, its questions and its small, stubborn miracles.

“We came to be seen and to be healed,” said Sister Amara, a volunteer from Lagos, as she folded wet vestments after a wet procession. “I do not know what the next day holds. But I know I will carry what I learned here home. That, perhaps, is the Jubilee’s truest work.”

Government backed a peaceful transfer of power in Venezuela, Martin says

Govt favoured peaceful transition in Venezuela - Martin
Micheál Martin is in China for an official visit

When Diplomacy Meets a Raid: Ireland, Venezuela and the New Geography of Uncertainty

From an ornate conference room in Beijing to the sun-baked avenues of Caracas, one event has rippled across hemispheres: the dramatic capture, during a military raid, of Venezuela’s president. It is the sort of headline that bends the world’s attention toward questions that don’t admit easy answers—about sovereignty, about justice, and about how small and medium states navigate a crisis when great powers move.

On a four‑day official visit to China, Ireland’s Taoiseach found himself answering those questions in real time. He did not mince words about the Venezuelan leadership, calling it oppressive and a source of regional instability. At the same time, he stressed that Ireland’s preference had long been for a peaceful handover decided by Venezuelans themselves. Those twin notes—moral clarity and pragmatic restraint—have become the leitmotif of many European capitals as they reconcile human rights concerns with the realities of global trade and diplomacy.

Beijing, Diplomacy, and the View from Dublin

It is an odd image: a leader from a small Atlantic nation, framed against Beijing’s winter sky, offering commentary on an incident that unfolded thousands of miles away. “We never recognized the legitimacy of that government,” he said, sketching the contours of a long-standing Irish stance. “But our aim has been to see a democratic transition fuelled by the Venezuelan people, not by foreign boots or quick, disorderly change.”

He also pushed back on any notion that Ireland might retreat from ties with the United States. “Dialogue is key,” he said. “We export roughly 90% of what we produce to global markets. We cannot turn inward. Engagement—consistent, values-driven engagement—has to be our approach.”

That balancing act—between standing up for international norms and maintaining the economic relationships that sustain livelihoods back home—is a familiar one for small open economies like Ireland. It is also a reminder that geopolitics no longer plays out only among superpowers; the reverberations touch factory floors in Cork, universities in Limerick, and ports in Rosslare.

Caracas: A City Between Fear and Hope

Back in Venezuela, the raid has deepened an already pervasive uncertainty. For many who remained in Caracas after years of economic collapse and mass migration, the sight of troop movements revived old fears. “We’ve lived through blackouts, empty shelves, and the constant worry for our children,” said María, a teacher who has taught in the same barrio for a decade. “If this brings change, we’ll welcome it—but not if it becomes another wound.”

Across town, a taxi driver who asked to be called José laughed bitterly when asked what he thought the raid might change. “They always tell us there will be a better tomorrow,” he said, “but tomorrow keeps taking from us. I want security for my family, not another political story on the evening news.”

Venezuela is, by many metrics, a nation in crisis: its economy has shrunk dramatically over the past decade, millions have left—UN agencies estimate more than seven million Venezuelans have sought refuge abroad in recent years—and everyday life has been upended by hyperinflation, shortages, and a collapsing public health system. Yet the country also sits atop one of the world’s largest proven oil reserves, a paradox that has made it both geopolitically significant and tragically vulnerable to exploitation and mismanagement.

Washington’s Response and Caracas’ Offer

Following the raid, the U.S. administration signalled a pivot: officials suggested they would work with whatever authority remained in place in Caracas to tackle narcotics trafficking and to reopen the country’s oil sector. That posture—less about immediate elections and more about stabilisation and economic access—reflects a broader, often transactional approach to foreign policy.

In turn, Venezuelan acting leadership sought to recast the episode as an opportunity. In a social media statement, the acting president called for respectful relations with the United States and invited collaboration on development projects framed within international law. “Our people deserve peace and dialogue, not war,” the statement read—an evocation of weary populations across the region who yearn for stability but fear external interference.

Voices from the Ground and the Diaspora

Beyond official statements, the human chorus is messy and diverse. A Venezuelan nurse working in Madrid spoke of relief tinged with skepticism: “If this helps us send medicine back home and get family members the care they need, I’ll be grateful. But history has taught us to question quick fixes.”

Meanwhile, an Irish export-manager in Dublin, whose company ships medical devices worldwide, said the episode underlines the economic tightrope his sector walks. “We depend on predictable trade lanes,” he said. “When geopolitics becomes volatile, supply chains and small jobs are the first to feel the shock.”

What This Means for International Order

There are larger, structural questions here. When a powerful nation intervenes—overtly or covertly—in another country’s leadership, it prompts debate about the validity of state sovereignty, the role of international law, and the limits of moral authority. Do harsh regimes forfeit sovereignty? Who gets to draw that line? And can a return to normalcy be built on cooperation with actors who themselves may be tainted by human rights abuses?

Experts caution against simplistic narratives. “We have to be careful not to romanticize transitions imposed from the outside,” says Dr. Elena Ruiz, a scholar of Latin American politics. “Sustainable peace usually requires internal buy-in, institutional reform, and economic rebuilding. External actions can catalyse change, but they can also entrench divisions if not paired with robust, multilateral strategies.”

Paths Forward: Practical Steps and Moral Choices

So where do we go from here? There are no easy recipes, but several pillars emerge as essential:

  • Protect civilians and ensure humanitarian access to medicines, food, and basic services.
  • Prioritise multilateral approaches—through the UN, regional bodies, and neutral mediators—to legitimise transition processes.
  • Stabilise the economy in ways that address corruption and uplift ordinary citizens, not just corporate interests.
  • Keep channels open for dialogue between nations, even when disagreement is profound.

These may sound like platitudes when headlines scream with drama. But the slow, often unglamorous work of rebuilding institutions and trust is what determines whether a country emerges on the other side with the rule of law intact or fragmented and resentful.

Closing Questions

As citizens of an interconnected world, what responsibility do we bear when a crisis plays out continents away? How do we weigh the instinct to act against the wisdom of restraint? And how do we ensure that the people most affected—the teachers, nurses, small-business owners—are the ones whose futures are prioritized?

The capture in Caracas has raised those questions again. It has also offered a reminder: geopolitics is not a chess game of capitals; it is a lived reality for millions. For Ireland, for China, for the United States, and for the people of Venezuela, the choices in the coming days will reveal whether diplomacy can be more than rhetoric—whether it can become the steady hand that guides a nation toward a future its citizens choose for themselves.

Two Killed in Wave of Russian Strikes Across Ukraine

Two killed in series of Russian attacks on Ukraine
Rescue workers operate at the site of a Russian drone strike on a private hospital

Dawn Sirens and a City That Keeps Breathing

Just after midnight, when most of Kyiv’s lights were already stamped out and the cold had a bite to it — the mercury hovering around -8°C — the air raid sirens began their long, wailing announcement: stay down, take cover, wait. For hours, the sound folded through apartment blocks, over the Dnipro, and into the bones of people who have learned the rhythms of war better than any calendar.

By morning, images circulated of a private medical clinic reduced to a blackened shell. Rescuers eased patients onto stretchers and carried them past scorched walls. Authorities reported two fatalities in the wider Kyiv region — one person who died in the clinic and another man in his 70s, killed in pre-dawn strikes on the nearby city of Fastiv. Three others were wounded at the clinic, firefighters said.

“We heard the blast and at first thought it was thunder,” said Kateryna, a nurse who rushed to the scene. “Then we smelled smoke and saw the ceiling falling. People were coughing and shaking. I kept thinking: I have to help. There were babies. There were old people. You cannot explain that feeling.”

Power Outages, Cold Homes, and the Human Chain

Beyond the immediate casualties, the strikes introduced another slow cruelty: the lights went out. Local officials reported power cuts in several districts; backup generators and emergency systems were pressed into service to keep water and heating running. For a city already accustomed to improvisation, it became another test of endurance.

“You know what it is to boil frozen pipes at midnight? To wrap a child in every blanket in the house?” said Mykola, a resident of a Kyiv suburb. “We keep the kettles hot, we keep the radios close. But this is fatigue for the soul. How long can people live like this?”

Kharkiv in Darkness: An Assault on Daily Life

Several hundred kilometres east, Kharkiv — Ukraine’s second-largest city with more than a million residents — endured its own night of terror. Mayor Ihor Terekhov reported that five missiles had struck, inflicting “very serious damage” on energy infrastructure. He framed the attack bluntly: it was not merely a military strike, he said, but an attempt to “break us with fear and darkness.”

Damage to substations and distribution lines does something that shelling cannot: it takes away the comfort of everyday life. Heating goes, water pressure drops, and hospitals must reroute patients and surgeries. In winter, that cascade becomes life-threatening.

An energy analyst based in Lviv, who asked not to be named for security reasons, said the targeting of utilities has been a grim calculus of war. “Disrupting energy is strategic. It undermines morale, halts logistics, and forces a population to lobby leaders to seek immediate ceasefires. But humanitarian pressure does not replace sovereignty,” they said.

Diplomacy Under Fire: Paris, Preparations, and a Fragile Momentum

Perhaps the most bitter note of the morning was the timing. These strikes came on the eve of a diplomatic summit in Paris where European leaders hoped to push for a breakthrough on a peace framework Kyiv says is 90% ready. Security advisers from at least 15 countries — including Britain, France, and Germany, alongside NATO and EU representatives — had gathered in Kyiv in recent days to lay groundwork for talks.

“We are trying to iron out the final details,” said one Western security official involved in the preparatory talks. “But every missile fired makes a negotiated settlement harder. It hardens positions on both sides.”

Negotiators face an elemental impasse: Russia insists on territorial concessions, seeking control over the eastern Donbas and other occupied areas — roughly 20% of Ukrainian territory today — while Kyiv refuses terms that would leave it vulnerable to future aggression. The diplomatic tightrope is thin; each explosion tips it a degree further from compromise.

What’s at Stake in Paris

  • The territorial question: whether Ukraine would cede control of occupied regions.
  • Security guarantees: how to ensure any deal prevents a repeat invasion.
  • Reconstruction and reparations: how to rebuild cities and infrastructure.
  • Verification and enforcement: who polices the accord and how.

Drones, Denials, and the Fog of War

The conflict’s sky has its own language now: drones. Kyiv has stepped up strikes targeting energy infrastructure inside Russia — a move Ukraine frames as striking at the financial arteries that sustain Moscow’s war machine. Moscow has fired back with daily reports of downed drones, even releasing footage of wreckage near a residence it said belonged to President Vladimir Putin; Kyiv and Western officials have been skeptical of that specific claim.

And then there was another headline-grabbing moment. When reporters asked US President Donald Trump about the reported strike near the Russian leader’s residence, he told them, “I don’t believe that strike happened.” The statement added another layer to an already confused narrative where each side broadcasts its version of events and reality becomes a patchwork quilt of claims, videos, and denials.

“In conflicts like this, disinformation is a weapon as powerful as ordinance,” said Dr. Marta Ivanenko, a scholar of information warfare at a European university. “Narratives shift loyalties, justify actions, and sometimes, tragically, they obscure accountability.”

Behind the Scenes: Leadership Moves and a War That Evolves

Amidst the explosions and the diplomacy, Kyiv is also reshaping its security apparatus. President Volodymyr Zelensky announced plans to replace the head of the SBU, Vasyl Maliuk, moving him to a role focused on combat operations. The change follows a string of high-profile SBU operations — from audacious drone strikes on Russian airfields to reported attacks on a Russian submarine and the Kerch bridge, which links Russia to occupied Crimea.

“We need results that degrade the occupier’s capacity, not just signals,” a Ukrainian official said. “The president is reorganising so that intelligence and asymmetric operations deliver concrete outcomes on the battlefield.”

What This Means for Ordinary People

For the people who live through these nights, politics and strategy are layered on top of simpler fears: staying warm, keeping family together, making sure the elderly neighbour has fuel, feeling safe enough to sleep. The war has carved new routines from old lives.

So what should the outside world take away from another morning of air raid sirens? Perhaps this: wars are not just statistics or frontlines, they are the daily arithmetic of survival. They test institutions — health, energy, diplomacy — and they force ordinary citizens into extraordinary resilience.

As the diplomats board planes to Paris and advisers shuttle between Kyiv and capitals across Europe, ask yourself: what does a just peace look like when the very infrastructure of normal life — heating, water, hospitals — can be weaponised? And who pays for the repair not just of buildings and bridges, but of trust?

Tonight, the sirens might wail again. Tomorrow, a summit will sit under the weight of what happened before dawn. Between those beats, people will carry on: boiling water, wrapping children in blankets, and hoping someone in a room full of leaders remembers what it feels like to be cold and scared and alive.

Maxaa kasoo baxay shirkii aan caadiga eheyn ee Golaha Wasiirada Soomaaliya?

Jan 05(Jowhar)-Golaha Wasiirrada Xukuumadda Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya, oo maanta yeeshay kulan aan caadi ahayn, ayaa looga hadlay xaaladda guud ee amniga dalka iyo howlgalladii ugu dambeeyay ee ay fuliyeen ciidanka xoogga dalka oo guulo waaweyn kasoo hooyey dagaalka lagu ciribtirayo kooxaha Khawaarijta ah, iyo doorashooyinkii goleyaasha deegaanka Gobolka Banaadir, ee dhowaan sida guusha ah uga qabsoomay caasimadda.

Maduro;”Waxaan ahay Madaxweynaha dalkeyga mana gelin wax dambi ah”

Jan 05(Jowhar)Madaxweynihii xilka laga tuuray ee Venezuela Nicolas Maduro ayaa iska fogeeyay dambiga lagu soo oogay ee ah ka ganacsi muqaadaraad iyo haysasho hub kadib markii uu ka soo muuqday maxkamad ku taal magaalada New York ee dalka Maraykanka.

One dead as Storm Leonardo hits Portugal and Spain

Storm Leonardo claims one life after battering Portugal and Spain

0
When the Rivers Forget Their Place: Storm Leonardo’s Wake Across Iberia By late afternoon, a kind of stunned hush settled over towns that had never...
Jailed Iranian Nobel winner Mohammadi on hunger strike

Imprisoned Iranian Nobel Laureate Mohammadi Begins Hunger Strike

0
A Nobel Laureate in Solitary: The Quiet Revolt of Narges Mohammadi There are moments when silence is louder than any chant. In a small cell...
Man jailed for life for attempting to assassinate Trump

Man sentenced to life in prison for attempted assassination of Donald Trump

0
Betrayal in the Bushes: A Close Call on a Florida Fairway There is a strange hush that falls over a golf course when the palms...
Russia says 'progress' in talks with Ukraine in Abu Dhabi

Russia Reports Progress in Abu Dhabi Talks with Ukraine

0
In Abu Dhabi’s heat, a fragile optimism—and the distant thud of war The conference room in Abu Dhabi felt almost cinematic: broad windows, the low...
US removing 700 immigration officers from Minnesota

U.S. Withdraws 700 Immigration Officers From Across Minnesota

0
Minneapolis After the Raid: A City Holding Its Breath There’s a hush over parts of Minneapolis this week that feels less like peace and more...