It smells unbelievably bad here. To walk down any street, if you dare to, you skirt, or sometimes unavoidably walk through, pools of blood. There are shreds of human flesh, some of them unrecognizable as human remains — all over, on rooftops, plastered to broken windows, on the street. The stench of rotting blood mixes with the more acrid odor of flesh burnt to black char by the rockets fired by the Israeli Army’s American-made Apache helicopters. Volunteer crews are gathering these human fragments and bringing them to Jabalya’s two hospitals but the ambulances cannot possibly keep up with the flood of newly dead and injured. Read more about The "Days of Penitence": Gaza Sinks in a Sea of Blood 

Today (October 15) I planned to go photograph a new discovery of the visual art of Al Quds (Jerusalem). The Coptic Church in the old city is filled with two rows of murals on all of its walls, executed in 1961 by a Palestinian artist who had experienced the Nakbe. A friend stopped me, saying go run now or else I’d would be stuck in the crush of people going to pray the noon prayer at Al Aqsa. Not only is it Friday, but it’s also the first day of Ramadan. And oh, she added, the place will also be full of Israeli soldiers and police — they will seem to number as many as the worshipers, she said. Read more about The First Day of Ramadan 

Today I was dreading having to witness the humiliation of people. I was dreading the frightened children, the crying babies, the old and infirm forced to wait while being bossed around by armed men the age of their sons or their grandchildren. “Stand, wait, walk…” I was dreading having to witness people being threatened or beaten by the Israeli soldiers. I was dreading not being able to intervene physically because my baby daughter Shaden was coming with me. I was dreading the helplessness and the rage that comes with crossing Kalandia checkpoint. But, It was the first training of the olive harvest campaign and I wanted to be there. So I took my daughter Shaden and a very deep breath, and called a cab… Read more about Three hours at Kalandia checkpoint 

Tuwani is a Palestinian village of 150 people in the southern Hebron hills of the West Bank. There are a dozen or so other villages in the area, even smaller than Tuwani. These villages have been on this land for over five hundred years, and have largly maintained their ancient way of life. They build their homes out of stones, with domed stone roofs, or they live in caves. In the 1980s, Israel began building settlments (or colonies) in these hills. They have systematically expanded them, confiscating more and more of these villages’ farm and grazing land. Some of the smaller villages have been destroyed entirely by the Israeli military or rampaging settlers. This simple and loving village of Tuwani has demolition orders on every house and building, including the recently built school and a partially built clinic. Joe Carr reports. Read more about Letter from Tuwani 

WAFA — “Hamdulillah Assalama” (“Praise God for your safety”), the residents of Jabalia Refugee Camp repeat whenever they meet each other in the dusty roads and lanes of the camp. Groups of people are paying condolence visits at dozens of condolence tents scattered in the camp. The scene is eerily similar to theway that people here celebrate and congratulate each other on major religious holidays, such as Eid al-Fitr. Sand mixes with the ash of tyres scattered along the roads of the camp. Every night, the residents burn the tyres in order to create a shield of smoke thick enough to jam the signals of the Israeli drones crisscrossing the sky. Sami Abu Salem reports from northern Gaza. Read more about Jabalia: "Hamdulillah Assalamah" 

“The news from Palestine is so bad and the process of strangulation applied by Israel is so constant and murderous that one expects the worst. But I always find silent resistance, the natural tenacity of life, and the stubbornness of the Palestinians erasing my mental pictures of doom. Still yet, the disastrous applications of the Israelis take my breath away.” Samia Halaby, who was forced to leave Palestine in 1948. Her family emigrated to the United States where she became an artist and taught at American Universities, including the Yale School of Art. These days she is back in Palestine and writing about her experiences. Read more about Strangulation 

Yesterday I arrived at work to the most shocking news. A colleague of mine, Amin Salem from the human resources department, was killed when an Israeli army tank shelled his home in Beit Lahia. Amin’s uncle also died in the shelling and three family members were seriously injured. Everyone at the office is in a state of disbelief. I still cannot come to terms with our loss. Only a few hours before he was killed, Amin walked into my office with some paper work, smiling as usual despite the unbearable situation caused by the occupation army. Read more about Amin Salem 1969 - 2004: UHWC staff member killed during Israeli operation 

The last thing that young Suha Ayub Ibayd remembers before a barrage of tank fire ripped through her home is huddling together with her parents and eight brothers and sisters. They had taken cover in the middle of their living-room floor hoping to find shelter from the mass of military machines that had rumbled into their neighbourhood minutes earlier on October 6. Now she lies listlessly in her hospital bed, trying to absorb as well as any nine-year-old could the events of that morning. She survived with relatively light wounds. The same cannot be said, however, about her younger sister, fighting for her life in the hospital’s intensive care unit, or about many of her neighbours. Read more about Gaza families live in the shadow of death