destroyed

Ein el-Hilweh, occupied West Bank – Adel Daraghmeh lies on his side on a thin mattress laid straight onto the dusty ground, one arm flung out, a sandal hanging half off his foot. “We don’t sleep, we barely drink, we barely eat,” he says weakly.

Above him, a patchwork of dark tarpaulins and old blankets is tied together between a few bent wooden poles – the only thing standing between his family and a sun pushing past 43 degrees Celsius (109 degrees Fahrenheit) in the early afternoon.

They are homeless again – their home destroyed days before by an Israeli bulldozer despite a court injunction they believed protected them. Beside him, his wife, Kheirieh, sits on a chair, a small plastic cup of water cradled in both hands.

About 30 metres up a slope, a settler-built fence now cuts across the hillside, cutting Adel and his brothers off from land their flocks grazed for generations. Past the fence, on the crest of the hill, an Israeli flag flies – visible from where Adel lies. “Isn’t this a disgrace, what we are living in?” he asks, more than once, over the course of an hour.

Adel manages diabetes with daily medication, but it’s been a struggle to obtain it in recent days. “They bulldozed the medication [in the house],” says Adel. “Our things, our household goods – all gone. They destroyed us. Our phones, the solar panels – no electricity, no water.”

As the family has learned in recent weeks, as Israel gears up for fiercely contested elections in October, even an Israeli Supreme Court injunction may not stop the bulldozers from coming now.

‘Five minutes to clear the whole area’

The wreckage of the Daraghmehs’ house is still scattered: clothes, a pulverised medicine cabinet, a hollowed-out mini-fridge with its door hanging open, and split cinderblocks.

Even after their son Hilal’s home was demolished shortly before without warning, the July 28 demolition of Adel and Kheirieh’s home came as a shock. With Adel a short drive away in Tubas collecting medication, Kheirieh was home with their daughter, Hanaa, when Israeli soldiers, settlers and Civil Administration officials arrived with a bulldozer and about 10 other vehicles. “They came while I was asleep,” she says.

Kheirieh walked out to meet them with the family’s legal papers – proof, she believed, that the home was protected by an earlier Israeli Supreme Court order barring demolition until the family’s case was resolved.

The court had suspended a 2022 demolition order while a case brought forward by the family progressed.

Soldiers took the documents, read them, conferred among themselves, and handed them back.

Then the bulldozer started anyway.

“Five minutes to clear the whole area,” one of them told her, she says.

“I told him: I can’t. I can’t clear the area. I’m on my own, and I’m ill,” she says. Already sick, and now seeing the bulldozers bearing down on her home with nearly everything she owned inside, she blacked out, waking up three hours later in an ambulance.

“And before I knew it, the bulldozer had started,” she says. “The whole house – all of it. All our belongings. Gone.”

“No order, no law,” added Adel weakly from the ground. “No humanity.”

‘Discriminatory’ system

“The army and the settlers demolished … despite the existence of a court order prohibiting it,” says Tawfiq Jabareen, the lawyer representing the Daraghmeh family, referring to the initial July 2 demolition of Hilal’s home. “The prosecution claimed it was a mistake by the army, and that it would not happen again – but the demolition was repeated.”

“The law and court rulings mean nothing to the settlers,” adds Jabareen, “who try to circumvent them by every means, believing that imposing facts on the ground is stronger than any law or court ruling.”

The Daraghmehs are herders of livestock who have lived along the Ein el-Hilweh spring, in the northern Jordan Valley, for generations. Four brothers and their families live in the area. “I was born here,” Adel says. “My father was born here.”

Nearby are the illegal Israeli settlement of Maskiyot and several settler outposts established in recent years, subjecting the extended family to numerous attacks, thefts and raids.

Like herding communities across Area C of the West Bank – under complete Israeli military and administrative control – the family has spent years navigating demolition orders under a planning system that leaves Palestinians almost no legal path to build.

Adel has had his home demolished before and spent significant money to rebuild it, he explains. What’s different now, they say, is that even that limited process – a warning, a demolition order, followed by a chance to appeal – has stopped applying to them at all. No demolition order was presented for either Hilal’s home or Adel’s when they came to bulldoze them despite the court injunctions.

Soldiers, settlers and Civil Administration officials arrived together during the demolitions, according to the family and activists present.

Allegra Pacheco, chief of party of the West Bank Protection Consortium and a lawyer who has represented Palestinians before Israeli courts for decades, says the irregularity of such demolitions is no aberration in an otherwise functioning system.

“This is a continuation of the deterioration of any pretence of legal protection for Palestinians,” she says. Even the ordinary planning process was built to fail Palestinians, she argues. Under a zoning system inherited from Jordanian and British Mandate-era law, Israel changed some of the laws to the detriment of Palestinians, leaving most Palestinian areas in Area C without approved building plans, while Israeli settlements – illegal under international law – are zoned and built freely.

“The Israelis set up the system to be discriminatory and to fail Palestinians,” says Pacheco. “So people build anyway, get the stop-work order, then demolition [order] – which you can appeal. But you’re appealing to the one who made the rule to discriminate against Palestinian construction.

“There’s no way for Palestinians in general to win under the current Israeli legal framework.”

As lines blur between authorities and settlers, who exactly spearheaded the demolition – soldiers, settlers, the Civil Administration – was unclear even to the family. “They’re all the same when they come,” says Hilal. “They’re all together.”

According to the United Nations’ Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), since January 2023, more than 6,200 Palestinians, including more than 3,000 children, have been forcibly displaced, including more than 2,300 people since the beginning of 2026 alone. More than 907 Palestinian structures in the occupied West Bank have already been demolished this year.

Al Jazeera reached out to Israeli authorities and the military for comment on the events described in this article, but no response has yet been received.

‘Nothing is holding them back’

A short walk from the rubble of his parents’ home – and his own – Hilal sits under the shade of a tree beside the spring that sustained his family for generations, one that he and his flocks can no longer use.

Minutes earlier, he’d watched two settlers cool off at the spring, dousing themselves with water as one of them changed into a military uniform on the bank.

Hilal’s own remaining cattle – most of the herd already stolen, confiscated or sold – scrounge instead for whatever run-off is left once the settlers are gone. “We used to drink from this spring, and carry water on the donkey,” he says. “But they stopped us. The settlers fenced it off.”

Later, he rides his donkey across the road to what remains of his home. What had been walls and a roof is now a field of scorched rubble and gnarled metal piping, bent and knotted where the bulldozer dragged it. On his donkey, Hilal points to where each room had stood. He estimates the losses at 170,000 shekels ($57,000).

“Not a single thing I got to take – all of it is gone,” he says.

Next door, at the home of Adel’s brother, Qadri – which was previously demolished in August last year – several relatives, who asked not to be named for fear of reprisal, describe an extended family bracing for its turn.

“Nothing is holding them back now,” one son says. “They don’t even need an order any more. Of course we are scared they will come for us next.”

Prevented from rebuilding by nearby settlers and soldiers, Adel and Kheirieh now rely on relatives for help getting basic supplies. “All of our family helps each other,” says one relative, “but it is so hard when we don’t have enough, and we might be next.”

Following earlier thefts by settlers and confiscations from authorities a year and a half ago, the family had another 50 head of cattle stolen by settlers, they say.

Amid deteriorating health, an exhausted, heat-stricken Adel sits up from lying on the ground only when the topic of past weddings comes up. His hoarse voice strengthens, and he breaks into a wide smile. Softly, he begins clapping out the rhythm of a dahiyyeh – the sung, chanted line-dance of Bedouin celebrations – his wavering voice rising over the sound of his own hands.

“What beautiful times together,” he says. “Beautiful.”

Then, as if that singing expended the last of his dwindling energy, he sinks back onto the sweat-stained mattress and exhales. “Inshallah those times will return,” he says. “Inshallah.”

US Vice President JD Vance claims Washington has “destroyed” Iran’s nuclear programme and degraded its military, as Tehran demands US compensation and an end to the naval blockade before reopening the Strait of Hormuz.

Chad le Clos says his apartment in South Africa was destroyed by a fatal fire – the night after the swimmer became the most decorated athlete in Commonwealth Games history.

Le Clos picked up his 21st medal to overtake Australia’s Emma McKeon as the athlete with the most medals in Commonwealths history, when South Africa took bronze in the men’s 4x100m medley relay in Glasgow last week.

It was the 34-year-old’s third medal of the 2026 Games, having won silver in the mixed 4×100 ⁠medley and bronze in the men’s 4×100 freestyle relays.

Only days later, Le Clos has revealed that a fire destroyed his home of more than a decade in Sea Point, Cape Town and killed one of his neighbours.

“It has taken me a while to process this heartbreaking tragedy,” the 2012 Olympic gold medallist wrote on Instagram, external.

“On the evening of 30 July, amid breaking the all-time Commonwealth record, a fire started in my apartment block, which quickly spread to my home. Sadly my home, where I’ve lived for more than a decade, burnt down and there is nothing left to salvage.”

In the post, Le Clos also paid tribute to his “neighbour of many years” who died in the fire, offering his “deepest and most sincere condolences” to the victim’s family and friends.

“No words can truly ease a loss like this, but I hope the family knows that the thoughts of an entire community are with them,” the Durban-born swimmer said.

According to reports, external, a 93-year-old resident died in the incident.

Le Clos added: “To my fellow neighbours whose homes and lives have been severely affected by this fire, please know that you are not alone. This is a tight-knit community and it is in moments like these that we lean on one another.”

Le Clos, who famously beat Michael Phelps to win 200m butterfly gold at the London Olympics in 2012, said he has launched a fundraising campaign to help his neighbours affected by the blaze.

Phelps was a 14-time Olympic champion and had not lost in the event since 2001 when the United States icon was beaten by Le Clos.

The South African won his first Commonwealth medal in Delhi in 2010 at the age of 18 and now has seven gold, five silver and nine bronze medals across five editions of the Games.

Over his career, he has won four Olympic medals, 16 world titles, seven Commonwealth golds and 10 African titles.

Sumaya Yaghi returns to what’s left of her destroyed home in southern Lebanon after Israeli troops withdrew from her ‘pilot zone’ village under a US-backed agreement.

Jobar, Syria – Ahmad, a Syrian man in his mid-30s, walks down an unpaved road in Jobar, in East Damascus, and points to a small home. It was damaged sometime during Syria’s 13-year war and is now dilapidated after years of neglect.

“That was my grandfather’s house,” Ahmad, who asked to use just his first name due to his sensitive position, told Al Jazeera. Nearby is his mother’s home and a small shop where she sold clothes.

Before Syria’s war broke out in 2011, following the violent suppression of anti-government protests, Jobar was a neighbourhood brimming with life. It was home to a historic mosque and synagogue but today stands as a ghost town after years of shelling, air strikes and chemical gas attacks.

Between 2012 and 2018, when much of Jobar was held by rebels, it became one of the frontlines of Syria’s war. It was repeatedly bombed and shelled by government forces, resulting in around 95 percent of buildings being destroyed. When the government recaptured the Damascus suburbs from the rebels in 2018, Jobar was emptied of most of its citizens.

Today, it stands as a major post-war problem for both Syria’s new government and its citizens, as they try to navigate reconstruction and the return of its former residents.

The Bermuda Triangle

Opposition groups built a labyrinth of tunnels to avoid attacks by the regime and its allies, with daily air raids and shelling.

Locals said the tunnel network meant the area gained the nickname ‘the Bermuda Triangle’, because of how people would get lost there.

In 2018, the regime cut a deal with opposition groups – fighters, their families and other locals could leave the area. Most left for rebel-held Idlib and the regime banned any civilians from entering the area. Shortly after the rebels took Damascus in December 2024 and forced President Bashar al-Assad to flee to Russia, some of Jobar’s residents returned to visit their homes for the first time in eight years.

One former resident, Salem Sawan, 59, a former medic, also known as Abu Yehya, rents an apartment in a nearby suburb. He wants to return to his home but, like other locals, said residents have been blocked from rebuilding.

On a walk around a part of Jobar, Ahmad points to a large tunnel opening that was recently filled with dirt and rubble. “The government must have closed this recently,” he said.

Ahmad said some people had possibly got lost in the complex tunnel network. There have also been reports of buildings collapsing due to the hollowed-out ground below them. Between the tunnels, the lack of infrastructure and an ongoing mine clearance operation in the area, Jobar is a prime example of the struggle Syria faces in rebuilding.

Rebuilding challenges

One of the major issues for reconstruction has been finding financing. Assad left the country in ruins, materially but also economically, along with crippling international sanctions, which the new government has successfully worked to remove.

The World Bank estimated that the total cost of reconstruction in Syria is around $216bn, while almost 90 percent of the Syrian population lives below the poverty line.

“The need for reconstruction is really big and if a specific neighbourhood has no infrastructure at all [the question is] how to channel money into reconstruction,” Cao Yue, the author of a recent report on Syria’s reconstruction for ODI Global, a UK-based thinktank, told Al Jazeera. “We know the government has a limited public budget, so they have targeted international capital, and especially international private capital, and that’s why [there’s been an effort] to cut agreements with international investors, especially from neighbouring countries.”

On a tour of Jobar, Ahmad, the former fighter, points to a building with a missing facade. It was once a few storeys high, but the floors are missing because the iron rods that ran through them were stolen, he said.

A little over a decade earlier, Mohammad Hamsho, the former business partner of Bashar’s younger brother, Maher al-Assad, had come under US and EU sanctions for war profiteering and connections to the former regime. One of his companies has repeatedly been accused of extracting iron from destroyed areas for steel production. In January 2026, Hamsho allegedly came to a financial settlement with the new Syrian government, led by President Ahmed al-Sharaa.

Locals like Ahmad and Abu Yehya told Al Jazeera that officials told them they couldn’t rebuild their homes, even on their own initiative. When asked why, they were told there was a plan for the area, but they were not provided with any other information.

There are now reports that the government and private developers are looking to invest in areas like Jobar, and its geographic proximity to central Damascus means that land there is highly valuable.

Media reports say that local officials have proposed that a foreign-backed project for the area could finance a $21bn project that could create up to 200,000 jobs. But the project has a downside. It states that locals in the area will receive only 50 percent of their former homes and 30 percent of areas classified as “agricultural”. When that plan was presented to local councils and activists, it was met with anger.

This struggle between the government and locals is at the core of the struggle over Syria’s future.

“People need housing, but also need basic services like education, sanitation, water, electricity and governance,” Mauricio Vazquez, Head of Policy at ODI’s Global Risks and Resilience programme, and another of the report’s authors, told Al Jazeera. Vazquez added that the struggle is not only a “block of brick and mortar” but about finding ways to build back societies that are “better for Syria”.

As for people such as Abu Yehya, he said he is ready to start figuring out how to rebuild his home. During the war, he regularly had to pick up wounded people or bodies whilst fighting raged around him. He now has back problems, two slipped discs and can barely lift a kilo, let alone a body. “If a body is 70 kg (154 pounds) alive, it’s 140 (308) dead.”

That means he now can’t work.

“Anyone who doesn’t have a child outside [Syria] will die,” he said, sitting across from the local cemetery, filled with the bodies of his former neighbours and friends. Still, he wants to find a way to rebuild his home in Jobar.

Standing nearby was Mahmoud al-Ajouz, a 60-something-year-old gravedigger, who never left the area, even when his children were killed here and when the regime and its allies ordered all civilians out.

When asked about reconstruction, he was adamant that Jobar will thrive again. “We will rebuild with our own hands,” he said, “us and the state together”.

May 31 (UPI) — Fifty-five people were killed, including six children, in an accidental detonation of mining explosives in a rebel-held area of Myanmar, the armed group said Sunday.

The Palaung Self Liberation Front/Ta’ang National Liberation Army, also known as the PSLF/TNLA, said in a statement that many others were also hurt in the blast, which happened Sunday afternoon local time in northern Shan State.

Rescuers told the Shwe Phee Myay News Agency the entire village of Kaung Tat in Namkham Township had been virtually destroyed and that “dozens” had been injured in the disaster.

Local officials have sent out an urgent call for blood donations as emergency workers tried to free victims trapped in rubble.

The PSLF/TNLA confirmed that many homes in the village were damaged when soft gunpowder stored for mining operations accidentally exploded at around 12:30 p.m.

The fatalities included 25 females and 30 males, they said, adding that the cause of the explosion will be investigated in detail.

Authorities, they said, “will take action in accordance with the law.”

The Ta’ang National Liberation Army is one of the main ethnic rebel groups in Myanmar fighting for independence from the central government, which along with its ally the Palaung Self Liberation Front comprise a front of resistance to the country’s military government.

One coastal village was destroyed overnight.

A Devon fishing community was obliterated by a ferocious storm, back in 1917. By daybreak, only a single dwelling remained intact, forcing the town’s inhabitants to seek refuge in nearby settlements.

Hallsands, situated between Beesands to the north and Start Point to the south, boasts a heritage dating back to the 1600s. By 1891, the settlement had fostered a close-knit community of just 159 people.

Yet merely 26 years later, these residents would face catastrophe when all but one would see their homes claimed by the sea.

Luckily, nobody was injured, and while the inhabitants lost their dwellings, they all made it through the night. But their ordeal didn’t end there — it would take another seven years before they secured compensation for what they’d lost.

While it was a deadly combination of howling gales and surging tides that razed the village in a single night, this wasn’t the full picture — Hallsands had fallen prey to Government blunder.

During the 1890s, the UK Government determined that the naval dockyard at Keyham, near Plymouth, required expansion. To source the concrete needed for this project, the stretch between Hallsands and Beesands was dredged.

Despite fierce objections from Hallsands locals that this would endanger their community, the dredging pressed on until 1902. By 1900, the beach had begun to drop noticeably, and that autumn a storm swept away part of the sea wall.

This sparked fresh outcry from local residents — and this time, the Government started to take notice.

In September 1901, roughly a year after the town’s sea wall was lost, a Board of Trade inspector determined that future severe storms posed a real threat of significant damage and advised that dredging should cease.

Once dredging was halted, beach levels managed to recover to some extent, though storms kept battering the village and surrounding area.

Catastrophe then hit in 1917, when a storm caused the village to tumble into the sea, leaving just one house standing intact.

That house belonged to Elizabeth Prettyjohn, who steadfastly refused to abandon the village and lived there with her chickens until her death in 1964. The property remains to this day.

Shai Gilgeous-Alexander apparently isn’t amused by a new board game that pokes fun at the Oklahoma City Thunder star’s reputation for garnering foul calls at the hint of contact by an opposing player.

Last week, a lawyer representing the two-time reigning NBA MVP sent a cease-and-desist letter to sports prediction market and fantasy sports company Underdog that includes a demand for the destruction of all copies of the cheeky and extremely limited-edition game Unethical Hoops.

Done in the style of the children’s classic Operation, Unethical Hoops requires players to use tweezers to pull objects from tiny holes, with the slightest touch of a metal border setting off a buzzer indicating failure.

Instead of pretending to be doctors attempting to remove body parts from a patient, however, Unethical Hoops players act as members of an opposing basketball team trying to take the ball from a cartoon character who very much resembles Gilgeous-Alexander.

In this game, the buzzer represents the whistle of a foul-calling referee.

“Shai has made hoops all about foul baiting and now you’re stuck guarding him in Underdog’s new board game,” a description reads on the game’s website. “Don’t get baited. Steal the ball without getting whistled.”

In a letter dated May 22, attorney Eric Fishman of ArentFox Schiff LLP demanded that Underdog “immediately and permanently cease and desist from any and all use of Mr. Gilgeous-Alexander’s NIL in any and all media, including but not limited to your website (including the Unethical Hoops Website)… and any physical goods including but not limited to the board game advertised on the Unethical Hoops Website.”

The notice also calls for Underdog to “immediately destroy all physical goods or advertisements that use Mr. Gilgeous-Alexander’s NIL, including but not limited to the board game advertised on the Unethical Hoops Website,” as well as a promise never to use the star player’s name, image or likeness without his permission.

Fishman did not immediately respond to a request for comment from The Times.

According to the Unethical Hoops website, which remains active more than a week after the date on the cease-and-desist order, only 100 copies of the game were made, to be given away to Underdog users. The giveaway ended as scheduled on Friday.

Underdog declined to comment on the matter other than to point out that the company has pulled comical stunts at the expense of members of the sports world.

“We’ve poked fun at Knicks and Lakers fans, the Red Sox owners, the Mets and more,” a spokesperson said via email. “We like to have some fun with whatever is in the sports fan zeitgeist.”

Gilgeous-Alexander is a four-time All-Star who led the league in scoring last season (2,484 points) and was second in scoring this season (2,117). He led the Thunder to their first NBA title last year and has them back in the Western Conference finals this year (the decisive Game 7 against the San Antonio Spurs is Saturday in Oklahoma City).

While one of the NBA’s biggest stars, Gilgeous-Alexander is often criticized for the number of favorable foul calls he receives — he has ranked second or third in the league for number of free throw attempts per game in each of the last four seasons and is currently second among all players in the 2026 playoffs with 9.8 a game — and the lengths he appears to go to in order to receive them.

After Game 2 against the Spurs, one NBA fan account on X wrote, “Shai flopped on every single shot attempt” and posted a video that showed seven such examples (Gilgeous-Alexander actually attempted 24 shots that night). The post has been viewed 22.7 million times.

Earlier this week, prior to Game 6 of the conference finals, another fan account on X posted a video “ranking all 44 times SGA fell on the floor while shooting during the 2026 playoffs from least to most egregious.” That post has been viewed 1.3 million times.

As the cartoon likeness of Gilgeous-Alexander states in the Unethical Hoops ad, “so much as breathe on me, I’m getting the call.”

The real-life SGA was asked during a TV interview after Game 3 in San Antonio about the “flopper!” chants that rained down on him at Frost Bank Center.

“It’s part of the game,” he said. “It’s nothing. I’ve been dealing with it for a long time. I don’t really hear it. I’m focused on what’s going on on the court.”