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Gaza hospital warns fuel deliveries cover only two days of operations

Gaza hospital says it received only two days of fuel
Despite a fragile truce observed since 10 October, Gaza remains engulfed in a severe humanitarian crisis

When the Generators Whisper: A Night at Al-Awda Hospital

There is a particular, metallic hush that descends on hospitals running on borrowed power—a hollow, urgent kind of quiet that speaks louder than any alarm. In Nuseirat, a dense, battered district in central Gaza, Al-Awda Hospital lives by that sound. For days the generators had been faltering, and with them the fragile rhythms of birth, trauma care and children’s wards.

“When the lights dim, everyone holds their breath,” Ahmed Mehanna, one of the senior managers who has spent the last several months negotiating water, medicine and fuel, told me over the crackle of a radio. “Most services had to be temporarily stopped because the generators could not run.”

Those words felt like the opening scene of a long tragedy. Al-Awda tends to roughly 60 in-patients at any given time and sees nearly 1,000 people seeking treatment every day—mothers, the elderly, children with fevers or wounds. Under calmer circumstances the hospital needs between 1,000 and 1,200 litres of diesel each day to keep lights on, ventilators humming and sterilisation units working. When I visited, staff said the stock had dipped to some 800 litres.

Then, as twilight folded into the blue of evening, the hospital received 2,500 litres from the World Health Organisation. “We resumed operations immediately,” Mehanna said, relief tempered with caution. “This will last only two and a half days.” The WHO has reportedly promised another delivery the following Sunday.

Life on Two and a Half Days

Two and a half days. That figure has become a shorthand for how precarious life is here. It is not just a technical detail; it determines whether a mother in labour will have lighting for a safe delivery, whether an infant with pneumonia will have oxygen overnight, whether surgeons can finish an operation without counting the seconds between each beep.

“We rented a small generator to keep the emergency, maternity and paediatrics units alive,” Mehanna explained, but even the rental is a stopgap. “If fuel is cut for longer periods, it becomes a direct threat to our ability to deliver basic services.”

In the maternity ward, a midwife named Fatima—her face tired but steady—showed me where they had resorted to battery-powered lamps for deliveries on some nights. “We do what we must,” she said. “But there is fear. Not a dramatic fear, but a quiet one. The kind that sits with you through the shift.”

Mohammed Salha, the hospital’s acting director, made a starker claim. “We are knocking on every door to continue providing services,” he said, “but while the occupation allows fuel for international institutions, it restricts it for local health facilities such as Al-Awda.” His accusation—that restrictions are deliberate—was voiced in a tone that mixed anger and exhaustion. International agencies deny many of the accusations historically leveled at authorities in contexts like this, while local health workers say the cumulative effect is the same: lives delayed, and often lost.

Inside a City of Rubble and Routine

Walk the avenues around Nuseirat and you meet a city of quotidian survival: a grocer carefully measuring rice into paper bags; teenagers in a damaged courtyard kicking a deflated soccer ball; the scent of roasted coffee and za’atar wafting from a stall where people try to barter for fresh fruit. Over all, the intermittent call to prayer rises from minarets that still stand amid fractured buildings.

Yet everything here moves under the calculus of scarcity. Fuel is a currency, electricity a luxury. People plan around the hours when generators can run: when to charge a phone, when to cook, when to run a fan for a child with a fever. Hospitals are the fulcrum of this daily negotiation—small sanctuaries where the humanitarian crisis is most sharply visible.

Ripple Effects Beyond Gaza

The pressure at Al-Awda is part of a larger regional turbulence. In Lebanon, the Israeli military announced that it had killed a member of Iran’s Quds Force, identified as Hussein Mahmoud Marshad al-Jawhari, accusing him of plotting attacks from the Syria-Lebanon corridor. The strike reportedly took place in the Ansariyeh area. Israel has been conducting near-daily strikes in Lebanon in recent months—part of what it calls an effort to stem the influence of Iran-backed groups, notably Hezbollah.

“We are constantly on alert,” said a Lebanese medic who asked not to be named, speaking from the shadow of a checkpoint outside the south. “The war’s breath reaches us even if we are not in the headlines.”

The wider diplomatic backdrop includes a US-backed ceasefire last November that sought to halt open conflict between Israel and Hezbollah and required the disarmament of armed groups in certain border areas. Whether such agreements will hold under renewed tit-for-tat strikes is unclear.

Violence and Its Human Toll in the West Bank

Closer to home for many Palestinians, the West Bank remains volatile. In a tragic incident this week, a man from the occupied West Bank carried out a stabbing and car-ramming attack in northern Israel that killed two people and left the attacker wounded. Israeli police and emergency services reported that a 68-year-old man and a young woman died in separate episodes. Magen David Adom, Israel’s emergency service, confirmed the fatalities.

The violence there is part of a grim pattern. United Nations figures show that this year has been one of the most violent on record for attacks by civilians against Palestinians in the West Bank, with more than 750 injuries attributed to settler violence. Between 7 October 2023 and 17 October 2025, UN data records more than 1,000 Palestinians killed in the West Bank—most in operations by security forces, and some in clashes or settler attacks. In the same period, 57 Israelis were killed in Palestinian attacks. Numbers like these are not just statistics; they are communities rearranged and families redefined.

What Do We Do With This News?

As a global reader, what are you meant to feel when you learn that a hospital’s fate can hinge on two and a half days of diesel? Outrage, yes. But also a pressing sense of the fragility of systems we take for granted: the electricity that powers neonatal incubators, the supply chains that deliver vaccines, the diplomacy that keeps borders open for humanitarian aid.

Ask yourself: how do we prioritize the sanctity of hospitals in conflict zones? How do international institutions move from episodic-deliveries to reliable lifelines? And how do stories from places like Nuseirat become more than a momentary headline? These are policy questions, but they are also moral ones.

“Aid is a bandage when what’s needed is steady, surgical care,” said one international health expert, Dr. Lina Haddad, who has worked in Gaza for a decade. “Short deliveries of fuel help, but what we need is predictable access—so hospitals can plan, staff can rest, and families can hope.”

Back at Al-Awda, a young father named Omar cradled his newborn in the dim after the WHO delivery. “We are grateful for this fuel,” he said, rubbing the baby’s tiny fingers, “but gratefulness is not the same as certainty.” His words lingered as the generator hummed its thin, essential song into the night.

Closing Thoughts

Numbers and dispatches will continue to arrive: promises of more fuel, accusations from officials, strikes across borders, and the steady count of casualties. But in the rooms between those headlines are people—midwives, patients, managers like Mehanna and Salha—who measure hope by the hours a generator can run. They teach us that resilience is not merely endurance; it is the stubborn insistence on dignity in a world that often forgets what that word truly costs.

Dowladda Soomaaliya oo si adag uga hadashay Aqoonsiga Israel ee Somaliland

Dec 26(Jowhar)-Dowladda Soomaaliya oo goordhow war-saxaafadeed kasoo saartay Aqoonsiga Isra1l ee Somaliland ayaa si adag u diidday tallaabadan aoo ay ku sheegtay mid sharci-darro ah oo lagu waxyeelleynayo madax-bannaanida Soomaaliya, iyadoo caddeysay in Somaliland ay tahay qayb aan ka go’i karin Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya.

Three Killed After Heavy Rains, Flash Floods Strike California

Three dead as heavy rain, flash floods hit California
Debris from storm damage covers a car in Wrightwood, California

When the Sky Opened: California’s Holiday Storms and the Quiet Aftermath

It began as a low, steady roar — the sound of rain threading down gutters, pooling on tarps and racing along asphalt. Then it became a full-throated thing, a daylong percussion that turned streets into rivers and hillsides into sluices of mud and broken brush. For millions of Californians, the holidays were rearranged by water: canceled gatherings, desperate rescues, and highways that looked more like streams than roads.

AccuWeather’s senior meteorologist, Tom Kines, summed it up plainly: “Think of this as one last round from the Pacific — heavy, persistent, and focused on Southern California. We expect another 1 to 3 inches of rain today in spots, then a real easing.” That’s roughly 2.5cm to 7.6cm, and while the numbers feel clinical, the scenes on the ground did not. In some places, residents had already seen more than 10 inches (about 25.4cm) from the initial surge of storms earlier in the week.

The conveyor belt from Hawaii — the infamous Pineapple Express

Meteorologists call it an atmospheric river; surfers and fishermen call it the Pineapple Express. Either way, this narrow, moisture-laden plume folded warm ocean air into California’s winter and delivered an intense dose of rain. The National Weather Service warned of a “broad plume of moisture” with the potential for numerous flash floods and debris flows, particularly in landscapes still raw from recent wildfires.

“When vegetation is stripped away by fire, the soil loses its sponge,” explained Dr. Ana Velasquez, a hydrologist at UC Davis. “That means the same storm that might normally soak into a slope runs off — fast and furious — and becomes wildfire-to-flood fallout.”

Where the Crisis Folded into Daily Life

Wrightwood, a mountain town that usually rings with the quiet clack of snow on pine boughs, became a scene of urgent rescues. Muddy water raced along streets, cutting off homes and trapping cars. Christopher Prater, a spokesperson for San Bernardino County Fire, described crews bumping flashlights in the dark, guiding residents from porches and doorways to safety. “People were clinging to railings and mailboxes, shaking — and our teams were just flat-out working to get them somewhere dry,” he said.

Across Los Angeles County, officials issued the kind of blunt advisory that makes people sit up and reassess holiday plans: “We’re not clear yet. Roads, waterways and flood channels remain dangerous. Check conditions before venturing out.” The county also declared a state of emergency, a step that unlocks resources but also underscores how quickly seasonal weather turns into a civic test.

In coastal neighborhoods like Pacific Palisades and Malibu — places still carrying the scars of January’s wildfires — authorities were especially concerned. Burn scars are hydrologic red flags; where brush once anchored soil, nothing remains but exposed earth. That domino sequence — flame, loss of vegetation, then flood and debris flow — has become a familiar pattern across the West.

A statewide picture: snow, wind, and alerts

It wasn’t just the coast. Northern California grappled with its own volatile mix. The San Francisco Bay Area woke to emergency alerts about flash flooding, and the National Weather Service even flagged a severe thunderstorm near Santa Cruz as potentially capable of producing a tornado — a reminder that this storm system carried more than rain. At higher elevations, the Sierra Nevada braces for heavy snowfall, a seasonal boon for reservoirs but a logistical headache for travel and emergency services.

The Human Toll and the Holiday Travel Crunch

This is where statistics and lived experience collide. AAA had estimated that more than 14.5 million Californians would be on the road over the Christmas period — mostly by car. For many, the coming lull in rain offers a practical relief: drier roads and fewer sudden closures. But for others, the damage is ongoing: at least three people were reported to have died in storm-related incidents, including a person struck by a falling tree.

“We lost power for two nights, and for a few hours it felt like the whole world had shrunk to the wet glow of the streetlight,” said Maya Hernandez, who lives in a hillside apartment above Studio City. “When the water rose at the base of the hill, you realize how fragile our little networks really are.”

First responders and neighbors: the story beneath the headlines

Police, firefighters and volunteers moved through darkened streets and muddy yards, often with the same unglamorous tools: chainsaw, rope, a flashlight dug from a drawer. Volunteers brought hot coffee and sandwiches to crews who had been working nonstop. “We’ll do what we can,” said a firefighter who refused to give his name because he was still on a shift. “It’s what we train for, but you never get used to the fear in someone’s eyes when their home’s at risk.”

What this storm says about climate and resilience

Scientists caution against attributing a single weather event to climate change, but they also emphasize that warming oceans and a warmer atmosphere alter the behavior of atmospheric rivers — making them wetter and sometimes more erratic. California’s winters have always been mercurial; what’s different now is the compounding of extremes. Hinterlands denuded by fire are less forgiving. Urban drainage systems built for a different era struggle with concentrated downpours.

Dr. Velasquez noted, “We’re seeing the same ingredients in different combinations: more moisture in the air, hotter ocean temperatures, and landscapes changed by fire. The result is a higher potential for both epic drought and sudden inundation.”

Practical next steps and how you can help

For residents and travelers, common-sense precautions matter. Check local alerts, avoid driving through flooded roads (just a foot of water can sweep a car away), and keep an emergency kit handy. For those further afield who want to help, community organizations and local food banks often coordinate immediate relief for displaced families.

  • Monitor official channels: NWS, county emergency pages, and local news.
  • Don’t drive through standing water — turn around, don’t drown.
  • Check on neighbors, especially the elderly or those with mobility challenges.

Looking forward: questions to carry with us

As the rain eases and crews begin to map damage, Californians will confront the old work of repair and the harder work of planning. How do we rebuild in places that burn and then flood? How do we align holiday travel habits with weather risk? And, at a broader level, how do coastal and mountain communities invest in resilience when extremes feel like the new normal?

“We have to stop treating one crisis as a separate event and start seeing them as linked,” Dr. Velasquez urged. “Wildfire, flood, snowpack — they’re chapters in the same book now.”

So when you next glance at a local forecast, consider the broader narrative hidden in those little icons of cloud and sun. The sky’s weather is also a weather of policy and planning — and in the end, our collective choices will determine whether the next storm finds us ready, or surprises us again.

Six killed in deadly mosque explosion in Syria

Six dead after mosque explosion in Syria
The scene of the explosion in Homs

A mosque turned to rubble: a Friday in Homs that will not be easily forgotten

On an ordinary Friday afternoon, when the call to prayer threads through the narrow lanes of Wadi al-Dahab, something ruptured in a way that will echo for a long time. A blast tore through the Ali Bin Abi Talib Mosque on Al-Khadri Street, killing six worshippers and wounding at least 21 others, Syrian authorities said. For residents here — a patchwork quarter in a city scarred by conflict — life tilted again toward fear and uncertainty.

“We were praying. Then everything went quiet, then there was a sound like thunder,” an elderly woman who lives two streets away told me, her voice trembling. “People were on the floor. I can still smell smoke.” She asked to remain anonymous, afraid of reprisals. Her words are the kind that persist: small, intimate, and unbearably human.

The immediate scene: smoke, chaos, and unanswered questions

Syria’s Interior Ministry described the incident as a “terrorist explosion” during the mid-day prayers. State media SANA published stark images: a gaping hole in a wall, blackened beams, prayer carpets strewn with books. Ambulances wailed through the streets. Neighbours peered from doorways, some with tears on their faces, others with phones held high, capturing what they could for the world to see.

Investigators are still trying to determine the exact cause. The Britain-based Syrian Observatory for Human Rights said it was not immediately clear whether the blast was a suicide attack or an explosive device. A Homs-based security source, speaking on condition of anonymity, suggested the device may have been placed inside the mosque. For now, the truth sits behind barricades and forensic gloves.

Why this place matters: Homs, memory, and fault lines

Homs has long been a city of converging histories: pre-war, it was a commercial hub of central Syria, its markets and neighborhoods thick with memory. Today, the city bears the ghost of Syria’s civil war — checkpoints, empty houses, and the scars of sectarian violence that erupted as the country fractured. While the city as a whole has a Sunni majority, several neighbourhoods are predominantly Alawite, the religious minority from which President Bashar al-Assad draws his roots.

That demographic mosaic is not academic; it has been weaponized before. The synagogue of sectarian reprisals and tit-for-tat violence reopened repeatedly during the conflict. In March of this year, coastal regions — home to many Alawite communities — witnessed mass killings. A national commission of inquiry reported at least 1,426 Alawite civilians killed during that wave of violence; the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights put the figure higher, at more than 1,700.

Voices from Wadi al-Dahab: fear, anger, and fragile resilience

“We are a neighborhood of prayer and tea and children running in the courtyard,” said Sheikh Omar al-Bassam, the imam at a small nearby mosque who came to offer condolences. “This attack is not just on a building. It is on the little things that hold us together.”

A local shopkeeper, Ahmed, described the scene outside the mosque in blunt, simple terms. “People opened their shops to help carry the injured. Then the sirens came. We are tired. Tired of always fearing what will happen next,” he said, hands still stained with ash.

A volunteer doctor who rushed in with a private ambulance had a different kind of weariness. “There were six bodies and more than twenty wounded,” she said. “Most of the injured were men in their 30s and 40s. We have seen these wounds before but every time it feels new.” She too asked not to be named, fearing for her safety.

Quick facts about the attack and its context

  • Casualties reported: 6 dead, 21 wounded.
  • Location: Ali Bin Abi Talib Mosque, Al-Khadri Street, Wadi al-Dahab, Homs.
  • Investigation status: Cause — whether suicide attack or planted device — remains under investigation by security services and monitoring groups.
  • Broader context: Homs has witnessed intense sectarian and armed conflict during Syria’s decade-long war; recent years have seen renewed attacks on minority communities.

What this attack reveals about a fragile peace

Attacks on places of worship are not only acts of immediate violence; they are symbolic strikes aimed at eroding trust between communities. Whether the goal is to provoke retaliation, to intimidate a minority, or to destabilize a tenuous post-war equilibrium, the psychological impact is massive. People do not just mourn the dead; they grieve the loss of normalcy.

Think about that for a moment: how does a society rebuild when the sanctuaries of daily life — mosques, schools, markets — become targets? How do neighbors resume their small kindnesses if walking to the bakery feels dangerous?

Local response, international attention, and the limits of protection

Authorities have pledged to pursue the perpetrators. “We will find those responsible and bring them to justice,” a regional official declared, speaking in a televised statement. Yet, statements rarely replace the immediate needs of survivors: medical care, trauma counseling, and the sense that their daily routines are safe again.

Humanitarian groups working in Syria warn that attacks like this complicate relief efforts and deepen mistrust. “When places of worship become battlegrounds, humanitarian access becomes more fragile,” said Leila Haddad, an analyst with a regional NGO. “Aid flows are already constrained; security incidents make vulnerable communities even harder to reach.”

Broader implications: sectarianism, displacement, and cycles of violence

Syria’s war has not been purely military; it has also been social and demographic. Attacks that single out a religious or ethnic community accelerate patterns of displacement, segregation, and the hardening of identities. Over time, neighborhoods that were once mixed become homogeneous, and memories of coexistence fade.

Those changes matter beyond Syria’s borders. They echo in the geopolitics of the region, in the policies of neighboring states, and in the stories refugees take with them into exile. They also raise questions about accountability and reconciliation: who will investigate? Who will remember?

Can healing begin here?

After the sirens have faded and investigators have gone through the ash, the work of rebuilding trust begins in small ways: a neighbor bringing tea, a volunteer helping a family rebuild broken windows, an imam offering a prayer for peace. These gestures do not erase loss, but they are the first, fragile stitches.

So I ask you, the reader: when news like this arrives as a headline, how do you respond? With a click, a scroll, a passing sympathy? Or with sustained curiosity — learning the names of neighborhoods, the histories of people, the ripple effects that reach far beyond a single street?

Incidents like the attack on the Ali Bin Abi Talib Mosque are more than moments in a news cycle. They are tests of a community’s resilience and the international community’s willingness to engage beyond slogans. If there is a lesson in Wadi al-Dahab’s rubble, it is this: peace requires more than declarations; it needs protection, investigation, and the patience to rebuild the ordinary rituals of life.

For now, Homs waits. It counts its dead, tends its wounded, and holds its breath — while the rest of the world watches and wonders what comes next.

Turkiga, Masar iyo Jabuuti oo ka hor-yimid Aqoonsiga Israel ee Somaliland

Dec 26(Jowhar)-Dawladdaha Soomaaliya, Masar, Turkiga iyo Jabuuti ayaa si wadajir ah u cambaareeyay tallaabada ay Israel ku sheegtay inay ku aqoonsatay Somaliland, iyaga oo ku tilmaamay mid aan gabi ahaanba la aqbali karin isla markaana xadgudub ku ah midnimada, madaxbannaanida iyo wadajirka Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya.

War-saxaafadeed ay si wadajir ah u soo saareen Wasiirada Arrimaha Dibadda dalalkan ayaa lagu adkeeyay in tallaabadan ay ka hor imanayso xeerarka caalamiga ah, isla markaana ay khatar ku tahay xasilloonida iyo amniga Geeska Afrika.

Dhanka kale, Madaxweynaha Jamhuuriyadda Federaalka Soomaaliya, Xasan Sheekh Maxamuud, ayaa wadahadal taleefan la yeeshay hoggaamiyayaasha dalalkan, isagoo uga warramay halista amni iyo siyaasadeed ee ka dhalan karta arrintan, islamarkaana wuxuu adkeeyay baahida loo qabo isku-duwid iyo mowqif mideysan oo looga hortago tallaabo kasta oo wax u dhimaysa qarannimada Soomaaliya.

Hoggaamiyayaasha Masar, Turkiga iyo Jabuuti ayaa muujiyay taageero buuxda oo ay u hayaan midnimada dhuleed iyo madaxbannaanida Soomaaliya, iyagoo ballan qaaday inay sii wadi doonaan dadaallada diblomaasiyadeed ee lagu difaacayo danaha Qaranka Soomaaliyeed.

Arrintan ayaa imaneysa xilli xaaladda gobolka ay aad u nugushahay, taasoo ka dhigaysa arrintan mid si dhow isha loogu hayo.

Israel oo sheegtay iney Aqoonsatay Somaliland

Dec 26(Jowhar)-Israel ayaa si rasmi ah u aqoonsatay madaxbannaanida Jamhuuriyadda Somaliland, sida lagu sheegay warsaxaafadeed maanta oo ay taariikhdu tahay 26.12.2025.

Zelensky Says ‘Very Good’ U.S. Talks Advance Deal to End War

Zelensky has 'very good' talks with US on deal to end war
Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelensky thanked US President Donald Trump's envoys for their 'intensive work'

When Diplomacy and Destruction Meet: A Night of Missiles, Meetings and Fragile Hope

There are moments when the world feels split in two: one half bent over negotiation tables, the other lit by the orange glow of distant fires. Last week offered exactly that uncomfortable duality — Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky sitting down, in essence, with envoys dispatched by the White House’s inner circle, while across the border Ukrainian forces struck deep into Russian energy hubs.

“We had very good conversations,” Zelensky posted, the words clipped but hopeful, speaking of talks with Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner — envoys representing U.S. interests and a determination, by all accounts, to wring an end to what he called “this brutal Russian war.” He thanked them for “constructive approach, intensive work, and kind words.” It was the kind of message that reads like a bargaining chip: public optimism, private pressure.

Behind closed doors — and on screens

The envoys’ visit and the discussions they reportedly had with Ukrainian negotiators are part of a broader, painstaking process. Kyiv says it and Washington agreed on a draft 20-point plan outlining a pathway toward peace; Russia is now reviewing that text. Zelensky acknowledged that not everything in the draft was to his liking, but celebrated some important deletions — notably any immediate requirement for Ukrainian withdrawal from parts of Donetsk or formal recognition of Moscow’s territorial gains.

“These are small victories in a very large war,” said one Kyiv-based diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity. “Removing the immediate withdrawal clauses is crucial. It buys Ukraine time and preserves options.” Rustem Umerov, Ukraine’s chief negotiator, is expected to continue talks with the U.S. envoys, an acknowledgment that this is a marathon, not a sprint.

Not everyone, though, sees papyrus as peace. Maria Zakharova, the Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman, framed talks with the United States as “slow but steady progress” — a diplomatic phrase that can mean many things. She also accused Western European states of trying to “torpedo the process,” and urged Washington to counteract these spoilers.

Explosions miles away: warfare and the economics of conflict

While diplomats shuffled paper, Ukrainian forces reportedly launched British-made Storm Shadow cruise missiles and long-range domestic drones against several Russian oil and gas facilities. The Ukrainian General Staff reported a strike on the Novoshakhtinsk refinery in Rostov; Russian regional authorities reported fires after drone hits at the port of Temryuk in Krasnodar. Ukraine’s security service said a gas-processing plant in Orenburg — some 1,400km from the Ukrainian border — was also targeted.

“Multiple explosions were recorded. The target was hit,” the General Staff wrote on Telegram. Images and videos circulating on social media showed columns of black smoke, firefighters silhouetted against roaring flames — the kind of images that strip diplomacy of its soothing veneer.

Why the refinery? Because energy is not just infrastructure; it is cash. International analysts have long pointed to oil and gas revenues as vital for Moscow’s war machine. Hydrocarbons have historically supplied a substantial share of federal revenues — often estimated in the low-to-mid tens of percent. Cutting that tap, Kyiv reasons, could blunt Russia’s capacity to sustain operations.

Night-watchers, villagers and soldiers

On the ground, ordinary people mark these strategies with a mix of resignation and defiance. “We woke up to the sound of sirens and then the smell of smoke,” said Olga, a nurse in a small town near Rostov, voice tight with exhaustion. “We don’t talk politics here; we talk about how to get the kids out if the house burns.” A Russian refinery worker, speaking to a regional news outlet, described a “harrowing” night as crews fought flames. “We are not soldiers. We are mothers, fathers, sons,” he said.

On the Ukrainian side, a junior officer in the air force who asked to be identified only by first name, Dmytro, said: “Every target is chosen because it sustains the enemy’s ability to fight. We don’t celebrate the fires. We calculate.” His words carried the weary resolve of someone living inside a calculus of survival.

Border jitters in Europe: balloons, jets and a frayed security tapestry

Elsewhere this week, Poland scrambled jets to escort a Russian reconnaissance plane seen near Polish airspace over the Baltic Sea. At the same time, dozens of objects reportedly crossed into Polish airspace from Belarus overnight — some were identified as likely smuggling balloons. Polish authorities warned the incidents, occurring during the holiday season, could be provocations.

“The mass nature and timing of these incursions make it hard to call them accidental,” said a Polish border official. “There’s a pattern of pressure along NATO’s eastern flank.” Vilnius, too, has reported smuggler balloons disrupting air traffic in recent months — incidents it characterizes as a “hybrid attack” by Belarus, which denies responsibility.

For Polish villagers near the Belarusian frontier these events are not abstract. “We keep our children inside when the drones come,” said Marta, who runs a small grocer’s in a border town. “In the winter, we cannot assume safety.” This is the small-scale human terrain where geopolitics becomes daily fear.

The human ledger: counting costs — and doing the math

The exact human toll of the war remains contested, but independent estimates — and the daily witness of hospitals, refugee centers and bereaved families — point to tens of thousands of lives upended. Millions more have been displaced inside Ukraine or forced to seek shelter abroad. Every broken refinery, every flicker of black smoke, translates into lost jobs, disrupted logistics and further displacement.

As for the peace process itself, the questions multiply. How do you negotiate with a state that insists on territorial concessions as precondition? How can mediators ensure any agreement is verifiable and durable? And what role will external powers play when their own domestic politics are often part of the calculation?

What happens next — and why you should care

For the rest of the world, this is not a distant dispute. It is a test of whether diplomacy can coexist with deterrence, whether economic tools — sanctions, gas-price politics — can be made to count, and whether war-era innovations like long-range drones will rewrite the rules of conflict. It is also a humanitarian challenge: winter is coming each year in this war zone, and civilian needs remain stark.

“Peace is not a single document,” an international relations scholar told me. “It’s a tapestry of guarantees, verification mechanisms, and most importantly, political will. You can draft a plan in any capital, but implementation requires states to accept short-term pain for long-term stability.” That, he shrugged, is the trickiest currency of all.

So what should you watch for? Look for follow-up talks involving Rustem Umerov and the U.S. envoys, for any Russian response to the 20-point plan, and for further kinetic activity around energy infrastructure. Listen to voices on the ground: whether in Kyiv, Rostov, Temryuk, Maikop or the small towns along Belarus’s border, because they will be the ones to live with any peace — or any continued war.

And finally, ask yourself: if diplomacy is to succeed, how much discomfort are countries prepared to absorb today to prevent another decade of devastation tomorrow? The answer will shape not just a region, but a world increasingly connected by energy, weapons, and the fragile hope that talks can matter. Will they?

Midowga Yurub, Faransiiska iyo Jarmalka oo cambaareeyay Mamnuucidda Fiisaha Mareykanka oo ah Faaf-reeb

Dec 26(Jowhar)- Midowga Yurub, Faransiiska iyo Jarmalka ayaa dhammaantood si xooggan u cambaareeyay go’aankii dhawaan Mareykanka uu ku mamnuucay fiisooyinka qaar ee mas’uuliyiinta Shiinaha oo ku saabsanaa caburinta Shiinaha ee xorriyadda hadalka iyo xuquuqda kale ee Hong Kong.

Mareykanka ayaa duqeymo u geystay dagaalyahannada Daacish ee waqooyi-galbeed Nigeria

Mareykanka ayaa duqeymo u geystay dagaalyahannada Daacish ee waqooyi-galbeed Nigeria

Dec 26(Jowhar)-Mareykanka ayaa duqeymo ka geystay dagaalyahannada Daacish ee waqooyi-galbeed Nigeria, si loola dagaallamo khatarta sii kordheysa ee argagixisada ee gobolka.

Israel says criticism of new West Bank settlements is unjustified

Condemnation of new West Bank settlements wrong - Israel
A deserted mosque in the settlement of Sa-Nur, south of Jenin, in the occupied West Bank

On the Edge of an Olive Grove: How a Cabinet Decision Reopened a Wound

There is a kind of silence that arrives before the first birdsong in the villages of the West Bank—soft, expectant, threaded with the smell of damp earth and crushed olives. It is here, beneath terraces that have belonged to families for generations, that the abstract language of geopolitics suddenly finds a human voice: the farmer who cannot reach his grove because of a new road, the mother who counts the children at checkpoints, the neighbor who listens for the engines of bulldozers.

Recently, that silence was broken not by machinery but by ink: Israel’s cabinet approved the creation of 11 new settlements and formalized eight more in the occupied West Bank. The move—heralded by some Israeli officials as a matter of security and identity—was met by a sharp international rebuke. Fourteen Western countries, including Ireland, Britain, France, Germany, Spain and Canada, issued a joint statement condemning what they called a unilateral action that violates international law. Ireland’s foreign minister, Helen McEntee, was among those to sign the diplomatic protest.

“A moral line has been crossed,” said a diplomat

“These are not mere administrative adjustments,” one European diplomat told me on background. “They chip away at the possibility of a two-state solution in ways that are irreversible.”

From Jerusalem, the Israeli government pushed back. Foreign Minister Gideon Saar argued fiercely that external players had no right to dictate where Jews live. “Foreign governments will not restrict the right of Jews to live in the land of Israel, and any such call is morally wrong and discriminatory against Jews,” he said, placing the move in moral and historical terms. And in the corridors of power, the far-right finance minister framed the settlements as a bulwark against a future Palestinian state.

Two Realities, One Landscape

The numbers are stark. Since the 1967 war, Israel has maintained control over the West Bank. Excluding east Jerusalem, more than 500,000 Israelis now live in settlements there, while roughly three million Palestinians call the same territory home. These figures are more than statistics—they map onto olive groves, playgrounds, small factories, and the intertwined daily rhythms of two peoples whose lives are separated by walls, laws, and narratives.

International organisations have been watching this expansion for years. The United Nations reported that settlement expansion reached its highest level in recent years—higher than at any point since at least 2017. For many legal experts, the issue is clear-cut: under long-established international law, the transfer of an occupying power’s civilian population into occupied territory is prohibited. For many Israeli politicians, who draw on historical memory and security anxieties, the insistence that these areas are off-limits resonates as an existential threat.

On the ground: voices of worry and defiance

Walk the dusty lanes near a small Palestinian town and you will hear a range of reactions. “They put up a sign last week saying the road is ‘state land,’” says Ahmad, a man in his fifties who has tended his family’s plot since childhood. “How can a line on paper make my trees disappear from my hands? My grandchildren play under those trees.”

On the other side, an Israeli settler in a newly formalised community speaks through a different lens. “We don’t come here to take, we come to build,” she told me. “This land is part of our story. We are not the enemy.”

Between these two perspectives sits an uneasy truth: every new housing block, every zoning regulation, shifts the balance—practically and psychologically—away from a shared future and toward greater separation.

Why the World Reacted — and Why Israel Calls It Discriminatory

The joint statement from the 14 countries warned that such unilateral actions “violate international law” and risk destabilising a fragile ceasefire that has been in place since 10 October. For many in Europe and North America, the settlements are a tangible obstacle to the vision of two democratic states living side-by-side in peace and security. Governments reiterated their “unwavering commitment to a comprehensive, just and lasting peace” rooted in that two-state idea.

Inside Israel, however, the language of international law is often countered by memory and security. “When we talk to communities that have endured violence,” a senior Israeli official said, “there is a legitimate demand for secure, defensible borders and for areas that preserve Jewish life.” To opponents of the international rebuke, the criticism smacks of double standards and — in the words of some Israeli leaders — discrimination against Jews when they seek to live in what they regard as historic lands.

Experts weigh in

“This is a classic case of policy producing hard facts on the ground,” says Dr. Sara Mendel, an international law scholar I spoke with. “Over time, households built, roads paved, and institutions established become entrenched. That makes reversing course less likely and the diplomatic options narrower.”

Another analyst offered a warning with a historian’s cadence: “Settlements have always been more than architecture. They’re political statements. Each new neighborhood changes expectations and, in turn, policy.”

Bigger Questions: Security, Identity, and the Shape of a Future Peace

This decision is not a single event; it is a symptom. It raises urgent questions about what security means in contested landscapes—whether security is best achieved through separation or through political compromise. It raises questions about identity, too: who has the right to live where, and on what historical or legal grounds are those rights defended?

And it points to a broader global pattern: when entrenched disputes meet assertive populist politics, small policy choices can become tectonic. How do external actors respond? Should diplomatic pressure, economic incentives, and legal argument be enough? Or does the reality on the ground simply outpace the best-laid plans?

What might come next?

  • More diplomatic friction between Israel and Western allies.
  • Increased legal challenges and UN scrutiny of settlement activity.
  • Local tensions that could inflame security incidents, undermining any fragile ceasefires.

None of these outcomes are inevitable. But they are real possibilities—unless political leaders choose, with courage and imagination, a different path.

Leaving the Reader with a Question

As you read these words, imagine standing beneath that olive tree with Ahmad, feeling the rough bark in your palm. Whose claim looks more convincing then? Which future feels more humane? The answers will depend, in part, on how the international community, Israeli leaders, Palestinian voices, and ordinary people choose to act in the coming months.

For now, the groves keep their quiet. The world watches. And the debate over land, law and the right to belong continues, branch by branch, decision by decision, until a different kind of future is chosen.

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