Latest news with #Fadi
Montreal Gazette
26-04-2025
- Business
- Montreal Gazette
Freed: A restaurant is only as good as its recipe book
I went to my favourite Chinese restaurant recently, a simple place we've loved for 30 years. We ordered our usual favourites, but in moments we realized nothing was the same. It was all bland and tasteless. I asked a waiter if it was the chef's night off, but it turns out the chef was off for good, retired after decades. But he hadn't passed on or written down any of his recipes. I don't know the story behind that, but others in Chinatown have told me that top Chinese chefs have become expensive because they can get good pay in Toronto and Vancouver. Apparently, my place's recent new owner wasn't willing to pay for another first-class chef. So I'm looking for a new Chinese spot, along with other longtime patrons I know. All because 30 years of great cooking was never recorded. It turns out my restaurant's excellent food existed only in the mind of the chef, like an explorer who discovers an exotic land but neglects to leave any maps behind. I thought of this again two weeks later when I stumbled into a late-night restaurant on Sherbrooke St. W.: a burger and kebab place called Crusty's. The place is lavishly decorated in nostalgic technology: battered calculators, old cameras, dial phones, sewing machines and half an antique Ambassador car jutting from a wall. Another wall had a striking massive painting of a New York night scene, maybe 25 feet long. Curious, I asked the owner about it. His name is Fadi Dehni, and he'd come here from Lebanon five years earlier. To my surprise, he wasn't crazy about the painting: he had once studied art and thought 'the perspective is off' on some figures. But he was crazy about cooking. Fadi gave a monologue about his passion for recipes: how he adjusted and readjusted them, constantly seeking 'perfection.' 'Most importantly, every tiny recipe change I do or refine is handwritten down meticulously in the book, so anyone can duplicate it. I measure each gram, each grain of spice. 'This way every dish is always exactly the same,' he said emotionally. 'So no matter who makes it or when, it will taste precisely the same.' 'If something happens to me, my kids or someone else can still make it. It's all written down in the book, so it can live forever.' Much of Fadi's precision comes from being trained in engineering in the U.S. He immigrated to Montreal in 2020 with plans to open a printing business as he had done in Lebanon, but his dreams were shattered by COVID. Like many immigrants, he was forced to earn a living doing menial restaurant jobs, but he quickly rose to become manager, then later ran a large restaurant in the Laurentians. Finally, he bought Crusty's, his Sherbrooke St. restaurant, and applied his scientific training to his cooking methods. Yet even with all this written data, Fadi is forever refining his food formulas based on customer feedback, then recording each minute change. 'Do you notice there are no garbage cans in the entire restaurant,' he asked. It's true, there isn't a trash can to be seen. Why? He pointed to a pile of small, used plastic food baskets with leftover clients' crumbs in them. 'I look at them to see if people finish their meal and if not I may ask them why not — was there something wrong?' For instance, not long ago, he noticed a basket where someone had left most of his marinated chicken dish, and Fadi rushed after him. 'What's wrong?' he said. 'Too salty,' he was told. 'I tasted the leftovers in his basket and, yes, someone in the kitchen had added salt to the premixed marinade, which already had the precise and perfect amount of salt. This cannot be! 'So I went into the kitchen and made the day's marinade all over again.' As we talked, Fadi kept breaking away to talk to customers at other tables to see how they liked their meal. He brought several additional mushrooms to a woman who felt there weren't quite enough in her burger — perhaps a change he will add to the next day's mushroom-burger recipe, then record in the 'book.' 'When people eat here,' he explained, 'I want them know they can always have the exact same experience.' Talking to Fadi, it was hard not to think of my Chinese restaurant where the knowledge of decades has been lost in time, like some foodstuffs of my youth. I used to love the black pumpernickel and rye bread at the St. Lawrence bakery, but since it closed years ago it's impossible to find their equivalent. I fear the same fate for my favourite Hungarian csabai sausage shop, whose owner will probably be retiring soon, with no one prepared to replace him. I suspect the shop's unique recipe will disappear with him. Unfortunately for me, Fadi doesn't make Chinese food (or Hungarian sausage), so I'll have to keep looking for a new Chinatown favourite. If you have one, let me know. Then let's all make sure the chef is writing down his recipes.
Yemenat
26-04-2025
- General
- Yemenat
Shepherding the Sheep
My younger sister, Nadia, shared the task of shepherding the sheep with me. She would often deliberately defy me, ignoring my calls and rebelling against my authority, treating me as if I were an old man burdened by age and senility. I would strike her repeatedly and with severity, sometimes leaving me feeling exhausted. Unfortunately, I repeated this behavior once with my son, Fadi—a regret I still harbor deep within me. I remember it with great sorrow, filling my heart with grief and remorse. Thus, violence recurs, and cruelty in interactions is passed down from father to son, and from son to those beneath him. This dynamic is mirrored in the authority of a president over his subordinates, a manager over his employees. This situation is not limited to individuals in society; it extends to nations and what is referred to as the international community. The relationships between nations often center on the subjugation of weaker states by more powerful ones. The weaker nations compensate for their vulnerabilities by exerting dominance over their own people, intensifying oppression, humiliation, and subjugation. They persist in coercing and subjugating their citizens through every available means of repression, wielding the power and influence they possess, particularly the resources of the people they oppress. * * * Our flock of sheep was small at first, but it grew in number, never reaching a large size. I herded the sheep during my youth, still a child exploring the thresholds of life with my tender fingers. I have many stories and deep connections with the sheep. The sheep belonging to my parents filled my small world with memories that have proven resistant to fading over the more than fifty years that have passed. No sunset or forgetfulness has erased them. My memories of the sheep I tended are still vivid in my heart and mind, despite more than half a century of a rich, tumultuous life filled with everything imaginable. The memories and images I hold dear have not faded, even if they have drifted far from me or if I have soared high to the moon. I still remember the names of those sheep, their shapes, and many of their stories, while I find my memory struggles to recall my son's age! My memory is still ablaze with details from over fifty years ago, while other more recent memories elude me, some of which are hardly a stone's throw away. The same memory that retained those details betrays me when it comes to what is more important and more recent. * * * In 2009, when a Swiss immigration judge asked me during the interview about my children's names and ages, I was flustered by a question that should have had an obvious answer. I failed to mention the names of my seven children. I struggled even more to identify the age of any of them, leaving the judge astonished, who compared us to a farm of rabbits as I resorted to the trick of arranging them with a year's difference between each one. Meanwhile, the Palestinian translator scrutinized my face, pointing out that I resembled President Saleh—though I had never seen anyone among us who shared that resemblance. But I realized that we Yemenis also seem similar to outsiders, just like Koreans, Chinese, and others. In conclusion, it is beautiful and important to retain memories of all that is lovely and nostalgic, but without forgetting what is more significant. * * * In wonder, there is also bitterness and tragedy. Our collective memory today, in some respects, lives in a state of deep-seated hatred, recalling a distant history soaked in blood, reviving the burdens of enmity and grievances from the wide-ranging tragedies that occurred fourteen hundred years ago and continue to this day. Our history is filled with massacres, bloodshed, hatred, and the most painful and bitter reality is that we do not seek to learn from what has happened as a lesson or a moral. Instead, we exert tremendous effort to entrench and foolishly repeat it, or we re-produce it in a multiplied manner, dragging it along with all its tyranny, oppression, savagery, and horror, in an attempt to impose it on a future that we neither can nor will be able to overcome its challenges. How we long today to transcend this rubble that weighs as heavily as mountains. We need to strive toward the future, to rise and confront its challenges; without this, we will continue to live in death, blood, and hatred until extinction. I wouldn't say it's certain that we can escape the misery, backwardness, and dissolution we find ourselves in. * * * I still remember 'Hajb' and 'Khors,' as well as 'Biraq,' and the rebellion of 'Enab,' which fits the saying 'wherever it is tethered, it finds its place.' I remember 'Qadriyah' and 'Bahriyah,' my poor mother's sheep. These were some of the elements of my small world that I once lived in and belonged to. I still recall 'Hajb,' the milking goat, whose body was larger than usual, said to be descended from an ancient Indian lineage. When my father called her from the mountaintop, she would come rushing to him. One day, she was afflicted by the 'evil eye' and died—at least that's what they claimed! I remember the goat 'Khors,' from whom my mother gave me her unborn kid as a reward for my care of the family's sheep and for my diligent efforts in herding them. I named the unborn kid 'Biraq' before her mother gave birth, and she was the first possession I could call my own. The blind poet Bashar Ibn Burd begins one of his poems with: 'O people, my ear is in love with some of the living… and the ear sometimes loves before the eye.' I fell in love with 'Biraq' even before I had seen her or heard her voice, and even before her mother gave birth to her. It was a captivating and enchanting love from a child who yearned for his dream to have a presence that could accommodate both him and his great affection. I loved 'Biraq' while she was still in her mother's womb, growing and developing gradually. I watched her mother's swelling belly every day, like a farmer awaiting the harvest, or a child eager for the dawn of Eid, hastening its arrival to rejoice, don new clothes, and unleash joy into the air. 'Biraq' emerged from her mother's belly into the world, radiant as the fresh morning. Beautiful as the deep, dark eye with its black and white. Her birth enveloped me in a joy so immense that it could not be contained within the universe itself. 'Biraq,' the hornless goat, grew up peacefully. She does not love wars; neither does she care for youthfulness or military displays. Gentle as a dove, her whiteness as pure as snow. When she is sad, her sorrow is as dark as mourning attire. I continued to raise her, surrounding her with care, tending to her day by day. I earned her through my persistent efforts and nourished her with the sweat of my brow. There was no suspicion of ownership by another, no corruption tainting her, and no piety under the influence of evil. Each day, 'Biraq' grew, but she did not rush through any stage, nor did she regress to the age of dinosaurs. She did not reach out to a killer, nor did she steal from a suffering people, nor did she take the rights of the needy and the poor. Perhaps 'Biraq' does not pray or flatter, but she possesses a purity that could nourish a land and its people with clean water. She grows as God intended, without the oppression of our days and months, nor does she rely on poisons and drugs to hasten her growth. She develops slowly, not at the speed of corruption seen in the petty states and militias ruled by warlords. She speaks plainly without slander or pretense, without turning the back of a grasshopper into the feathers of a dove or silk, and she does not create art from the croaking of frogs.
The Intercept
27-03-2025
- Politics
- The Intercept
Gaza Journalist Fadi al-Wahidi Avoided Israel's 'Red' Zone. Israel Shot Him Anyway.
Support Us © THE INTERCEPT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Al Jazeera cameraman Fadi al-Wahidi is carried to the hospital after being shot in an Israeli attack on Jabalia, Gaza Strip, on Oct. 9, 2024. Photo: Hamza Z. H. Qraiqea/Anadolu via Getty In partnership with This investigation, conducted by Arab Reporters for Investigative Journalism, is part of the Gaza Project, a collaboration involving over 40 journalists from 12 organizations coordinated by Forbidden Stories. The image of Al Jazeera cameraman Fadi al-Wahidi lying motionless on the pavement quickly spread among journalists in Gaza. His press vest is visible but it turned out to be useless; he was shot in the neck, just above the flak jacket. It was October 9, 2024, and al-Wahidi had been reporting on the displacement of Palestinian families in Jabalia in the northern Gaza. The al-Saftawi neighborhood, where he was working, had been designated by the Israeli military as a 'yellow' zone, outside of the 'red' evacuation area. In video footage of that day, gunfire erupts. Moments later, al-Wahidi lies on the ground, unmoving. His colleagues are unable to reach him immediately for fear of being shot themselves. The image of al-Wahidi lying motionless recalled the lifeless body of Shireen Abu Akleh, the Palestinian American journalist who was killed by the Israeli military in the occupied West Bank city of Jenin in May 2022 — another journalist in a press vest, shot while reporting. 'Fadi, Fadi, Fadi is injured!' Imam Bader, a journalist on the scene that day, shouts in one video, his voice thick with anguish. 'Fadi, do you hear me? Move if you can,' he calls out, crouching behind a white car near where al-Wahidi lay. 'Oh God, oh God!' Islam Bader, a journalist with Al Araby TV, was across the street. 'We felt like the gunfire was right over our heads,' he said. 'The bullets didn't stop. They were chasing us. But in that moment, you can't look around, you can't tell what's happening. I crossed the street, and suddenly I heard the guys shouting, 'Fadi, Fadi!' I was trying to make sense of what was going on, and they said Fadi had fallen.' Six journalists, including al-Wahidi, said in interviews that they were directly targeted despite standing in broad daylight, wearing press vests, and reporting from a 'yellow' zone. Arab Reporters for Investigative Journalism, The Intercept, and their partners geolocated the position of the journalists that day, confirming they were approximately 650 meters outside the evacuation zone. In several videos, the flak jackets are clearly marked 'PRESS.' 'We were shot at directly,' al-Wahidi said from his hospital bed in Gaza, before his evacuation from the Strip. 'Even now in my ears, the bullets are bouncing off the door next to me, into the walls next to me.' 'We were fully identifiable as journalists,' said Mohammed Shaheen, a journalist for Al Jazeera Mubasher, who was also there that day. 'The gunfire was aimed directly at us.' A video taken by al-Wahidi himself — obtained by ARIJ, The Intercept, and their partners but never posted online — captured the last 16 seconds before he was hit. He's running, filming in selfie mode, when the screen jolts and the video cuts off. Al-Wahidi and his colleagues weren't the only journalists attacked in Jabalia that day. A kilometer way, about half an hour earlier, Mohammed al-Tanani, a cameraman for Al Aqsa TV, was killed in an airstrike. Tamer Lubbad, the channel's correspondent, was injured in the same attack. They, too, were in the 'yellow' zone designated by the Israeli military, according to Lubbad. 'It's clear to everyone that we are journalists,' Lubbard said, noting that they were wearing press gear. 'We were targeted.' Only three days earlier in Jabalia, 19-year-old journalist Hassan Hamad became the youngest reporter killed by Israeli forces during the war in Gaza. Five journalists, including al-Wahidi, said they were directly fired at by a 'quadcopter' drone, despite wearing press vests and reporting in the daylight from a safe zone. Geolocation shows al-Wahidi and his colleagues were outside the 'red' evacuation area, in the 'yellow' zone designated by the Israeli military the day before the attack. Based on forensic analysis, experts and doctors believe the bullet that struck al-Wahidi's neck was a high-velocity round, likely fired from above. Despite numerous witness accounts, the use of sniper drones in Gaza remains unverified through video or photos, though Israel possesses the technology. The Israeli military has not responded to questions about al-Wahidi's case but said it does not target journalists. The Committee to Protect Journalists, or CPJ, has said the war in Gaza is the deadliest conflict for journalists the organization has ever documented. At least 165 Palestinian journalists have been killed since October 2023, according to the organization. Other groups, like the Palestinian Journalists Syndicate, put the number of Palestinian journalists killed in Gaza at above 200. The death toll of the 18-month war now exceeds the number of journalists of any nationality killed during World War II, which lasted six years. The precise number of journalists wounded since the start of the war remains unclear. CPJ puts the figure at 59, though the true number is likely higher due to challenges in documentation. Journalists in Gaza have long said they were being targeted by Israeli forces. Since October 2023, Reporters Without Borders has filed four complaints with the International Criminal Court accusing Israel of committing war crimes against journalists. The organization says it has 'reasonable grounds to believe that some of these journalists were deliberately killed.' The Israeli military has repeatedly denied targeting journalists, including in a statement to the consortium for this story, but has also accused some of the journalists of having connections to militant groups, without providing substantiated evidence. The Israeli military did not respond to specific questions about al-Wahidi's case, but a spokesperson said military officials 'outright reject the allegation of a systemic attack on journalists.' The spokesperson said they cannot address 'operational directives and regulations as they are classified' but added that commanders adhere to law of armed conflict. Irene Khan, the United Nations special rapporteur on freedom of expression, has documented cases of journalists who said they were targeted. 'There have been clearly cases,' she said, 'where I have taken testimony from journalists who were injured, perhaps, or those who were around in that area where it's very clear that they were targeted.' 'I was filming a report for my colleague Anas al-Sharif,' al-Wahidi recalled of the moments before the attack. 'We were surprised by a drone [that] appeared and fired directly at us.' The six journalists interviewed all said they were fired on by Israeli drones — what Palestinians in Gaza commonly refer to as a 'quadcopter,' referring to four rotors, but used as a catchall for drones that carry firearms. Shaheen, the Al Jazeera Mubasher journalist, said that when the quadcopter fires, 'it's precise, not random. The gunfire hit exactly where the journalists were standing.' Read our complete coverage The existence of sniper drone technology is well-documented, and Israel has been developing it since at least 2017. Yet, despite widespread accounts of attacks from people in Gaza and witnesses to their aftermath, no visual or photographic evidence of the weapon has emerged. (The Israeli military did not respond to the consortium's questions about whether sniper drones were being used in Gaza.) James Patton Rogers, a drone expert at Cornell University, said the technology exists and will likely be deployed in the future but emphasized that without footage, he cannot confirm its use in Gaza The Palestinian journalists, for their part, don't need to wait for confirmation. 'We lived through it, we didn't just see it,' said Shaheen. 'No one dares to raise a camera, as you never know where it might strike next,' said Islam Bader, who is certain the journalists were fired on by a drone. 'Without a shadow of a doubt, it came from a quadcopter.' The journalists said they have learned to distinguish between the constant hum of surveillance drones, which they have grown accustomed to, and the sharper, unique reports of firing 'quadcopters.' 'The sound of the drone's fire is distinct,' said Imam Bader, 'and the shots and the sound of the gunfire comes from above.' ARIJ, The Intercept, and their partners obtained and reviewed multiple medical reports detailing the devastating impact of the bullet that struck al-Wahidi. The two surgeons who operated on the journalist in Gaza — a vascular surgeon and a neurosurgeon — said a single bullet entered from the front-left side of his neck, just above his vest, and exited at a lower point in the back, near the upper vertebrae of his spinal cord, damaging them as it passed through. Jinan Khatib, a forensic expert accredited by the Lebanese Ministry of Justice, reviewed CT scans and photos of al-Wahidi's wounds and told the consortium that one could 'reasonably conclude that the bullet was fired from a higher level in relation to the victim.' Dr. Ghassan Abu Sitta, a professor of conflict medicine at the American University of Beirut, who was in Gaza during the early months of the war, also reviewed the images and reports. 'The injury is consistent with a high-velocity gunshot wound,' he concluded. 'The bullet was fired from above, because the entry point is higher in the neck than the area of damage in the spine, so it's a downward trajectory of the bullet.' Islam Bader was the first to reach al-Wahidi after he was shot. Journalists at the scene carried him to the car and rushed to the Baptist Hospital in Gaza. Al-Tanani and Lubbad, the other journalists killed and injured in Jabalaia that day, were brought to the same hospital. Al-Wahidi suffered severe injuries. The spinal injury left him unable to move his lower body. Two surgeries stabilized him, but Gaza's health care system, which is damaged by repeated Israeli attacks on hospitals, lacked the resources for his treatment. Medical supplies were running low, and hospitals were overwhelmed. He needed to be evacuated. Israel refused, citing security concerns, but the calls for his evacuation grew. U.N. human rights officials issued a joint statement demanding his immediate transfer. 'Israel has an obligation under international law to facilitate that right,' they wrote. The Israeli Ministry of Defense unit responsible for civilian life in the Occupied Territories denied the request, according to the statement. (The Ministry of Defense did not respond to requests for comment.) Al-Wahidi was only allowed to leave after a ceasefire was brokered. On February 8, 2025 — 122 days after he was shot — he traveled to Egypt. It's unclear what about al-Wahidi's status — or the purported security threat he posed — had changed. Al Jazeera cameraman Fadi Al-Wahidi receives treatment at a hospital in Cairo, Egypt, on Feb. 10, 2025, months after being shot by Israeli forces while covering events in the northern Gaza Strip. Photo:For weeks after the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect in January, no journalists in Gaza were killed. On March 15, however, while the ceasefire was still in effect, at least seven people, including at least two journalists, were killed in two Israeli strikes in Beit Lahia. Israel took credit for the killings and accused the journalists, without evidence, of being members of Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad. (The Israeli military declined a request for more information.) Just two nights later, on March 18, Israel launched a wave of airstrikes across Gaza, killing more than 400 people in a single night and effectively ending the ceasefire. On March 24, two journalists were killed within hours: Palestine Today correspondent Mohammed Mansour and Al Jazeera Mubasher correspondent Hossam Shabat. As the war returned in full force, journalists once again fear for their lives. Al-Wahidi turned 25 last January. As a result of his injuries, he said, he feels like his hands have electric currents running through them; it keeps him up at night. 'The painkillers don't work,' he says, his voice frail. In photos from his hospital beds in Gaza, Cairo, and now Doha, however, al-Wahidi is almost always smiling — a smile that belies the way a single bullet permanently reshaped his life. 'Since the injury, I can't walk. I can't do anything,' he said. 'And that's been my reality. I hope that I can walk again, so I can go back to planning the future I was dreaming of.' With additional reporting from Zarifa Abou Qoura of ARIJ; Anouk Aflalo Doré, Frédéric Métézeau, Mariana Abreu, Youssr Youssef, and Samer Shalabi of Forbidden Stories; Nicolás Pablo Grone, Yassin Musharbash, and Luisa Hommerich of Die Zeit; and Carlos Gonzales of Bellingcat. Join The Conversation
Khaleej Times
04-03-2025
- Khaleej Times
Galaxy S25: Three key features to look out for in Samsung's latest AI-powered device
Samsung has once again raised the bar with its latest flagship, the Galaxy S25, and at the heart of this innovation is AI. From cross-app functionality to enhanced gaming and camera features, the S25 is all about pushing technological boundaries. But if a Samsung representative had to convince users to buy the latest model, what features would they highlight? We spoke to Fadi Abu Shamat, Head of the Mobile eXperience Division at Samsung Gulf Electronics, to find out. In a chat, we explored the standout features of the new device, the UAE's unique market trends, and how AI is redefining the smartphone experience. The AI That Works Across Apps When asked about his personal favorite feature in the Galaxy S25, Fadi was quick to highlight Samsung's multi-modal AI agent, a truly groundbreaking innovation. 'The AI working across apps is mind-boggling,' he shared. The feature allows users to make complex, multi-step requests using natural language, and the phone seamlessly executes them across different apps. Fadi adds, 'Imagine asking your S25: 'Find me the nearest concert for my favourite band, check the ticket prices, and set a reminder to buy them.' That requires three different apps working in sync, and AI now makes it happen effortlessly.' Another major AI highlight, as pointed out by Fadi, is the Audio Eraser, which takes noise cancellation to an entirely new level. Whether it's clearing out background chatter from a recorded video or isolating vocals from a music clip, the AI-driven audio separation feature is as futuristic as it is practical. 'What's even more incredible is that it's backwards compatible,' Fadi revealed. 'So even older videos benefit from this innovation.' Cameras, Gaming, and Powerhouse Performance Samsung's smartphone cameras have long been a benchmark in the industry, and the S25 only builds on that legacy. The ultra-wide sensor upgrade from 12MP to 50MP enhances low-light photography, allowing for richer details, sharper images, and improved night videography. 'The S24 already set the bar high, but improving on that was a challenge,' Fadi admitted. 'With the S25, we've taken it a step further.' Gaming enthusiasts are in for a treat as well, with the Snapdragon 8 Elite for Galaxy offering unparalleled performance. Combined with a 40 per cent larger vapor chamber, overheating issues are a thing of the past, making the S25 a powerhouse for mobile gaming. And Fadi, being a gamer himself, really enjoys it. He says, "Gaming on the S25 will be taken to a new level." The UAE's Preference for Ultra Beyond the features, the UAE market stands out globally for its unique consumer preferences. 'UAE consumers have an exceptional affinity for the Ultra variant,' Fadi pointed out. 'We rank among the top three countries worldwide in terms of preference for the most premium model, with over 81 per cent opting for Ultra.' This trend solidifies the UAE as one of Samsung's key global markets, driving the company to continually cater to the region's demand for high-end innovation. Another standout aspect of the UAE market is its incredible linguistic diversity. With over 90 nationalities calling the UAE home, the need for AI-powered language solutions has never been greater. 'Thanks to our collaboration with Google, Galaxy AI now supports over 45 languages for translation and 20 languages for live interpretation,' Abu Shamat said, emphasising the device's adaptability to the region's multicultural environment. Exclusive Offers for the UAE Market To celebrate the launch of the Galaxy S25, Samsung introduced a memory upgrade program for online buyers, allowing customers to get 512GB for the price of 256GB, or 1TB for the price of 512GB. While Samsung aims for consistency in global offers, the UAE remains a focus market where premium promotions and incentives are designed to enhance customer satisfaction. 'We want our consumers, no matter where they are, to enjoy the same premium experience,' Fadi said. Samsung AI: Collaborating, Not Competing With AI increasingly embedded in smartphones, some might wonder if Samsung's latest AI-driven advancements could make external platforms like ChatGPT or standalone AI apps redundant. Fadi disagrees. 'Samsung has always prided itself on collaboration,' he explained. 'Rather than isolating ourselves, we leverage our partnerships—whether with Google, Meta, or Spotify—to create a unified and seamless AI experience. AI isn't about replacing, but enhancing the user experience.' The Samsung Galaxy S25, with features that anticipate user needs, seamlessly integrate apps, and elevate mobile photography and gaming, represents a major leap forward. And in a market like the UAE—where premium devices, linguistic adaptability, and cutting-edge technology are in high demand—Samsung is clearly hitting all the right notes. As Fadi put it, 'We're not here to fight the universe. We're here to collaborate, innovate, and enrich the customer experience.' Here are the official starting prices for the Galaxy S25 series:
The National
12-02-2025
- The National
Palestinian parents horrified by deadly start to 2025 for West Bank children
Without any hesitation, Shuja Al Saadi, 14, led the way to the scene where his cousin of the same age was killed in an Israeli air strike on the eastern part of the occupied West Bank city of Jenin. Shuja means brave in Arabic, a name that the small, quiet teen lived up to as he calmly pointed out blood stains across the wall and roof of the outdoor terrace where Ahmad Al Saadi – his cousin and friend– and two others were sitting at the time of the strike, not even a flicker of emotion crossing his face. Shuja's father, Fadi Al Saadi, was far less calm. 'Shuja left only 10 minutes before the strike,' he told The National, taking over from his son to explain the scene. He crouched into a nearby basement to grab a plastic chair still covered in blood, a symbol of how close Shuja came to death. 'Ahmad's father didn't want him to go out that day,' Fadi added, the pain and terror clear on his face. Only an hour and a half later, tragedy struck again for the Al Saadi family in the form of yet another Israeli air strike, which killed paramedic and peace activist Tamam Al Saadi, 27, and Nour Al Saadi, 20, who was reportedly wanted by Israel. Tamam was only just starting a break after rushing to the initial attack. Again, Fadi had to deal with the horror of the aftermath, although he said the strike could have been far worse given the dozens of people crowding the streets after Ahmad's killing. 'They were talking to each other by the wall,' Fadi said, pointing to a dent in the ground where the missile hit. 'Nour was completely burnt. I tried to drag Tamam out of the fire but he was cut in two,' he added. In a crowded basement right next to the scene of his son's killing, Muhyedin Al Saadi, 72, sat holding his walking stick and wearing a fur-rimmed hat, surrounded by family. 'Tamam was on a mission,' he said. 'He was looking to the future, to get married and get a home. His house was under construction. Everything just ended.' 'Israel really surprised us with the strike. They can kill us suddenly – it's different from previous years, even the 2002 invasion was not as ugly as this. It's no longer just soldiers coming in and operating on the streets. It's now sudden, from the skies.' Like many parents across the West Bank, Fadi and Muhyedin have been trying to keep their children particularly close in recent weeks. Just as Israel struck a ceasefire deal with Hamas in Gaza, the country launched a massive, seemingly open-ended operation in the north of the West Bank, which it called 'Iron Wall'. It came not long after a weeks-long raid launched by Palestinian Authority security troops, which also shocked the city. Jenin's refugee camp, across the city from the Al Saadi's neighbourhood, was one of the first to be raided in the operation Israel said was targeting terrorists, and Israeli troops remain there, resulting in the displacement of about 16,000 people. It is hard to estimate the exact number of Palestinian deaths in the camp since then, because it is difficult for officials and emergency services to access the area. The most recent spate of violence forms part of a deadly trend for children over the last few years. According to UN organisation OCHA, 224 children have been killed by Israeli troops or settlers since January 2023, almost half of the total 468 child fatalities in the West Bank since it started documenting in 2005. The numbers include 11 children killed by Israeli troops since the beginning of 2025, including six killed in air strikes. Motaz Imad Mousa Abu Tabeekh, 16, was shot by an Israeli sniper on January 21, shortly after troops entered the area. Outside the camp, two-year-old Laila Mohammad Ayman Khatib was killed in her family's sitting room in the village of Muthallath Al Shuhada, just south of Jenin, when Israeli troops fired four bullets through a window, according to NGO Defence for Children Palestine. In the city of Tulkarm, which, like Jenin, has been one of the most raided West Bank cities since October 7, Saddam Hussein Iyad Mohammad Rajab, 10, died last week, 10 days after being shot in the stomach by Israeli troops. Video footage from the scene shows Saddam, alone on a dark street, falling to the ground, clutching his stomach and then screaming in terror realising he had been shot. A man on crutches eventually comes by, raising the alarm, as Saddam lies motionless on the ground. In the city's Nur Shams refugee camp, Sundos Jamal Mohammed Shalabi, 23, who was eight months pregnant, was shot and killed, alongside another 21-year-old woman. Sundos's unborn baby did not survive. These are just some of the children that have been killed since Iron Wall began, a trend that has alarmed even some of Israel's close allies. On Tuesday, France's foreign ministry said it is 'deeply concerned about the many civilian casualties – particularly children – and the people displaced as a result of the Israeli operations in the north of the West Bank'. 'The way the use of force is being employed by the Israeli army in the West Bank is extremely concerning … Children must never be targeted,' the ministry said. The Israeli military did not immediately respond to a request to comment on all the above deaths.
