Taipei (AFP) – Taiwanese residents holding plastic bags of rubbish stand on a footpath as a yellow garbage truck playing classical music over a loudspeaker pulls up.

For decades, the tinkling of Beethoven's "Fur Elise" or Tekla Badarzewska-Baranowska's "Maiden's Prayer" has alerted Taiwanese households to take out their garbage.

Like clockwork, residents emerge from their apartment buildings carrying bags of pre-sorted rubbish as the musical garbage trucks approach.

"When we hear this music, we know it's time to take out the trash. It's very convenient," 78-year-old Lee Shu-ning told AFP as she waited outside her tower block in Taipei.

Residents toss plastic bags of general refuse into the yellow compaction truck, and tip food waste and recycling into bins carried by another vehicle.

For the elderly, taking out the trash has become a social event and many arrive early to sit and talk around the collection points.

"I can chat with some old neighbours and friends, it's nice," Lee said, before disposing of several bottles and cans.

"It's also a kind of exercise," she added.

But not everyone is a fan.

"I think it's quite inconvenient because it comes at a fixed time every day," said 31-year-old beautician Dai Yun-wei after dumping her rubbish in the truck.

"Sometimes we're not home or we're busy, so we can't throw away the trash."

Taiwan's musical garbage trucks have been an almost daily feature of life on the island since the 1960s, Shyu Shyh-shiun of Taipei's Department of Environmental Protection told AFP.

Taiwan imported German garbage trucks pre-programmed with "Fur Elise", Shyu said, but added it was not clear how the "Maiden's Prayer" became part of the repertoire.

The trucks operate five days a week, usually in the late afternoon and evening.

Yang Xiu-ying, 76, has made a living out of helping her neighbours dispose of their garbage.

She receives NT$11,200 ($380) a month from 28 households in her lane to sort their trash, load it onto a trolley and take it to the refuse trucks.

"Some people get off work late, some elderly people find it inconvenient, so they take it downstairs and I dump the garbage for them," Yang said, wearing two layers of gloves and long protective sleeves.

Others have turned to digital solutions for their rubbish problem.

The young founders of Tracle created an app enabling people to book a time for their trash to be taken away.

"I think our value is that we save a lot of time for them," co-founder Ben Chen said.

"We enhance their life quality."

Over the past 30 years, Taiwan has been cleaning up its waste management act.

An economic boom had led to an explosion of garbage, with almost no recycling, landfills overflowing and people protesting air and ground pollution.

In response, the island ramped up recycling, increased incineration and made people responsible for sorting and dumping their own trash in the trucks instead of leaving it on the ground for collection.

Taipei residents are also required to buy government-approved blue plastic bags for their general waste to encourage them to use less and recycle more.

"In the beginning, everybody feels... that it's not very convenient," Shyu said.

But once people started noticing the cleaner streets, "they feel this is a good policy".

The city's recycling rate has surged to nearly 67 percent, from two percent in 2000, and the amount of garbage sent for incineration has fallen by two-thirds, Shyu said.

And, he said, smiling, the trucks are "almost" always on time.

Diwaniyah (Iraq) (AFP) – Iraqi table tennis player Nur al-Huda Sarmad adjusts her wheelchair before striking the ball into play, braving sweltering heat, social stigma and inadequate facilities as she dreams of taking her team to the Paralympics.

Sarmad and seven other Iraqi women who live with disabilities train three times a week at a community centre in the southern city of Diwaniyah, preparing for an upcoming tournament that could qualify them for the national Paralympic team.

The facilities, however, are far from Olympic-standard.

"The tennis tables are broken, there are power outages and we even have to buy our own paddles," said Sarmad, 25.

With no dedicated training facility, the team often has to share the three second-hand tables at the public community centre with visitors.

In the scorching Iraqi summer they cannot turn on the fans, which would disrupt the movement of the balls.

And the air conditioner that could provide some relief remains off-limits in a country grappling with chronic power cuts, especially in summer when temperatures approach 50C. The community centre is powered by a generator, but it can barely sustain the essentials.

These practical issues "affect our training" and hinder the players' progress, Sarmad said.

The team also faces obstacles in the form of insufficient government funding for sports, and conservative views on women's rights and people with disabilities.

Paralympic champion Najlah Imad, the first Iraqi to snare a gold medal in table tennis, told AFP that "despite the difficult circumstances, nothing is impossible".

Imad, who now relies on sponsorship deals, encouraged her fellow players to keep fighting.

"You can do anything," she said.

Sarmad, who has already won several medals including bronze in a tournament in Thailand, takes pride in the fact that despite the many challenges, "we overcame all this, we became players".

The state-owned community centre provides the team a stipend equivalent to $75 a month to cover transportation costs, but the players had to purchase their professional paddles, at a cost of $200, out of their own pockets.

The players often have to rely on taxis to travel to training sessions and back, but "sometimes cabs refuse to take disabled people", said Sarmad.

Coach Mohammed Riyad, 43, said that table tennis "has developed in Diwaniyah solely through personal efforts... due to the lack of support from the state".

Riyad, a member of the Iraqi Paralympic Committee, said that funding sports was not a priority in a country where decades of conflicts, neglect and endemic corruption have devastated infrastructure.

Through the Paralympic Committee, he has managed to acquire old equipment for Sarmad and her fellow players.

He said that "the state only focuses on football, despite the achievements of table tennis players" like Imad, who brought home the Paralympic gold from the 2024 Paris Games.

Iraq has a long tradition of women's sports, with teams competing in regional football, weightlifting and boxing tournaments.

But there is also vocal opposition seeking to exclude women and bar mixed-gender events.

In southern Iraq, a largely conservative area where Sarmad's team is based, organisers of a marathon last year had made it a men-only event after a social media controversy over women's participation in sports.

Iraqis living with disabilities often face additional challenges amid a general lack of awareness about their rights and inclusion.

For award-winning table tennis player Iman Hamza, 24, society mistakenly sees women with disabilities like her "as helpless people who cannot do anything".

"But we became world champions."

Wellington (AFP) – New Zealand sheep farmers are fighting to stop the loss of pasture to fast-spreading pine plantations, which earn government subsidies to soak up carbon emissions.

Concern over the scale of the farm-to-forest switch led the government to impose a moratorium in December on any new conversions not already in the pipeline.

But farmers say forestry companies are flouting the clampdown.

Last month, farmers launched a "Save our Sheep" campaign to reverse the loss of productive farmland.

Sheep numbers have plummeted to around 23 million, down from a peak of around 70 million in the 1980s, according to official figures.

Falling wool prices and rising milk and beef costs initially drove the decline, but the emissions trading since 2008 has added to the strain.

The government is now investigating potential breaches of its moratorium by forestry companies, which have been buying up farmland as recently as June.

Federated Farmers -- a lobby group for rural communities -- submitted to the government "a list of properties we believe have been sold for carbon forestry" since the halt, a spokesman said.

The federation is concerned about the sale of more than 15,200 hectares (37,600 acres) of farmland, he told AFP.

Dean Rabbidge, who runs a farm outside the Southland town of Wyndham, said some of the newly purchased farms had already been planted with pine trees.

"They're just ploughing on ahead, effectively giving the middle finger to the government announcement," Rabbidge told AFP.

The moratorium had created a "gold rush", he said.

"It's criminal what's happening."

Agriculture and Forestry Minister Todd McClay said the government would change the law by October because it had become more profitable to plant pine forests than to farm sheep.

"The law will include clarity on what qualifies as legitimate evidence of a pre-December investment and enable any specific cases to be properly assessed," McClay said.

"Anyone who has bought land since December 4, 2024, irrespective of whether they also had trees or not, will not be able to register this land into the emissions trading scheme."

Rural New Zealand once abounded with rolling pastures, rickety wire fences hemming in millions of sheep chewing on the green grass.

But Rabbidge said those days were gone.

"You won't see anything now," he said. "You're just driving through long pine tree tunnels -- shaded, wet, and damp."

New Zealand is one of the rare countries to allow 100 percent of carbon emissions to be offset by forestry.

"We're not anti planting trees," sheep farmer Ben Fraser told AFP.

"There are areas of land that should be retired, that aren't necessarily productive."

But the trading scheme had driven an excessive loss of sheep pastures to forestry, he said.

"That's the issue here."

Fraser, who farms near the North Island town of Ohakune, said he had seen an exodus of people from the district in recent years.

"Since 2018, there've been 17 farms converted to forestry," he said.

"That's about 18,000 hectares gone. So you're looking at about 180,000 sheep gone out of the district, plus lambs."

The loss of sheep impacted the region.

"If the farms thrive, then the towns thrive because people come in and spend their money," he said.

"You've got farm suppliers, your fertiliser guys, your supermarkets, your butchers, all of that stuff struggling.

"The local schools now have less kids in them. The people who stayed are now isolated, surrounded by pine trees."

Rabbidge said the same was happening in Southland.

"This whole thing is just so short-sighted," Rabbidge said.

"Businesses here are forecasting anywhere between a 10 and 15 percent revenue reduction for the next financial year, and that's all on the back of properties that have sold or have been planted out in pine trees," he said.

"Think of all the shearers, the contractors, the transporters, the farm supply stores, the workers, the community centres, the schools, rugby clubs. Everything is affected by this."

Government figures from 2023 show agriculture accounted for more than half of New Zealand's total greenhouse gas emissions.

But farmers argue they have been working hard to reduce emissions, down more than 30 percent since the 1990s.

"I could put a leg of lamb on a plate in London with a lower emissions profile, transport included, than a British farmer," Rabbidge said.

"We just use our natural resources. We're not housing animals indoors and carting feed in and manure out.

"Everything's done outside and done at low cost, low and moderate intensity."

Kanthararom (Thailand) (AFP) – As Cambodia and Thailand traded deadly strikes, fleeing civilians on both sides described their cross-border neighbours as "siblings" and "friends" -- swapping calls for peace against the backdrop of artillery barrages.

The death toll from three days of fighting has risen to 33, the majority civilians, after a long-running border dispute sharply escalated into combat waged with jets, artillery, tanks and ground troops.

"Relations used to be good -– we were like siblings," said 56-year-old Sai Boonrod, one of hundreds of Thais sheltering at a temple in the town of Kanthararom after evacuating her border village home.

"But now things may have changed," she told AFP. "I just want the fighting to end so we can go back to being like siblings again."

Over the Cambodian border, 150 kilometres (90 miles) from Sai's temporary home, a similar scene plays out: hundreds of evacuees huddled in makeshift tents on a temple site, surrounded by emergency food rations and their hastily packed clothes.

"We are neighbours, we want to be friends," one 50-year-old told AFP, speaking on condition of anonymity at the temple shelter in Phumi Bak Thkav.

"But they are attacking us. We are fleeing homes because of them."

Tensions have long flared over the countries' shared 800-kilometre border, peppered with ancient temple sites claimed by both nations.

The previous most deadly clashes broke out between 2008 and 2011 -- leaving at least 28 people dead.

But stretching her legs on a bamboo mat, Sai said "it was never this violent" in previous times.

She is one of more than 170,000 evacuated from the countries' border zones, but her husband stayed behind to help guard neighbours' livestock and belongings.

"I want them to negotiate, to stop firing quickly... so the elderly can return home and the children can go back to school," she said.

The UN Security Council held an urgent meeting on Friday and both sides have said they are open to a truce -- but accused the other of undermining armistice efforts.

This flare-up began with a gun battle in late May killing one Cambodian soldier, and festered with tit-for-tat trade restrictions and border closures before hostilities spiked on Thursday.

At 73 years old, Suwan Promsri has lived through many episodes of border friction -- but said this one feels "so much different".

He said resentment of Cambodians among Thais -- including himself -- is growing, with patriotic online discourse fanning the flames.

In February, Bangkok formally protested to Phnom Penh after a video of women singing a patriotic Khmer song in front of a disputed temple was posted on social media.

The fighting has also been accompanied by a wave of online misinformation and disinformation from both sides.

"Before the internet, I felt indifferent," said Suwan. "But social media really plays a part in fuelling this hatred."

Despite the divisions, he is united with his Thai neighbours, and those over the border in Cambodia, in his calls for peace.

"I want the government to realise that people along the border are suffering. Life is difficult," he said.

"I hope the authorities work on negotiations to end the fighting as soon as possible."

Oddar Meanchey (Cambodia) (AFP) – In the leafy grounds of a Buddhist pagoda, hundreds of Cambodians fleeing deadly clashes with Thailand take refuge in the open air, most sitting on the ground while a lucky few doze in hammocks.

The deadliest fighting in over a decade between the two neighbours has sent thousands of villagers fleeing the border zone in Cambodia.

As artillery clashes erupted Thursday, Salou Chan, 36, grabbed some belongings, clothes, his two kids, and sped away from his home, about 20 kilometres (12 miles) from disputed temples on the frontline.

"I fear for the safety of my children, they are still small. For me, I could have stayed at home, but I worried for my children -- they were scared of the sound of gunfire," he told AFP.

"I don't know when I will be able to return home but I want them to stop fighting soon. Nobody's looking after my rice paddy and livestock."

He and his family have joined hundreds of others in the grounds of the temple in Oddar Meanchey province.

With no proper shelter, most sit on the bare ground and rig up makeshift tents with plastic sheeting.

The evacuees have only the food and water they brought with them to sustain them while they wait for the chance to go home.

A long-running border dispute erupted into intense fighting on Thursday with jets, artillery, tanks and ground troops doing battle, and more exchanges on Friday.

Thailand says more than 138,000 people have been evacuated from its border regions, and 15 people killed.

Cambodia has been more tight-lipped about casualties, though Oddar Meanchey provincial authorities reported one civilian -- a 70-year-old man -- had been killed and five more wounded.

Chhorn Khik, 55, who fled to the pagoda with her two grandchildren, said she was relieved to have escaped the conflict zone.

"I am no longer scared. Yesterday I was so scared, I was crying along the way," she told AFP.

"I feel pity for the soldiers at the frontline. We are scared, but we could escape, but those soldiers, they are fighting for us and the nation."

Thailand has said it is willing to start talks but also warned that the conflict could develop into a full-blown war if Cambodia is not willing to de-escalate.

Yoeun Rai, 55, who fled with 10 of her family, said she was so anxious she could not eat.

"I am praying this will end soon so that we can go back home," she told AFP.

Surin (Thailand) (AFP) – When the first salvo of Cambodian artillery screamed across her village, Thai seamstress Pornpan Sooksai's thoughts turned to her five beloved cats: Peng, Kung Fu, Cherry, Taro and Batman.

"I suddenly heard a loud bang," the 46-year-old told AFP. "Then our neighbour shouted, 'They've started shooting!' So everyone scrambled to grab their things."

Nearly 140,000 people have been evacuated from the Thai frontier, fleeing with the belongings dearest to them as the country trades deadly strikes with neighbouring Cambodia for a second day.

Pornpan was hanging out laundry in her village in the border district of Phanom Dong Rak, but did not hesitate to corral her quintet of cats -- even as the cross-border blasts rang out.

"Luckily they were still in the house. I put them in crates, loaded everything into the truck, and we got out," she said at a shelter in nearby Surin city, camping out alongside her fellow evacuees.

Tensions have been building between Thailand and Cambodia since late May, when a Cambodian soldier was shot dead in a firefight over a long-contested border region.

Tit-for-tat trade curbs and border closures escalated into conflict on Thursday, and each side has accused the other of firing the opening shot in the battle now being waged with jets, artillery, tanks and troops.

At least 16 people have been killed, according to tolls from both sides, the majority of them civilians.

But Pornpan was well-prepared to save her felines.

"Since I heard about the possible conflict two months ago, I stocked up on food and bought cat carriers," she said.

"If I leave the cats behind, they'd die."

Alongside her cats, Ponrpan also evacuated nine other family members, including her elderly mother with Alzheimer's.

The process took its toll once the adrenaline wore off midway through their escape.

"I was terrified the whole time. I was scared the bombs would hit us or the house," she said.

"I had a panic attack in the car. My body went numb. I had to go to hospital during the evacuation."

At the Surin city shelter her cats have been installed in their portable kennels -- drawing curious children waiting out the conflict alongside their parents on the gymnasium floor.

Skittish from the sudden onset of gunfire, they are slowly recovering from their ordeal.

"One kept trying to escape its crate, wouldn't eat and kept crying," Pornpan said.

q"Another one was panting -– maybe heatstroke. I had to splash water on it."

Surin (Thailand) (AFP) – Sitting on plastic mats in a sports hall, desperate evacuees told AFP of fleeing in terror from thunderous artillery bombardments as Thailand and Cambodia clash.

More than 100,000 people have been evacuated from their homes in four Thai border provinces amid the worst fighting between the two neighbours in over a decade.

As artillery fire thundered on Thursday, thousands of people in northeastern Surin province fled their homes and sought refuge in makeshift shelters set up in the town centre.

In the sports hall of Surindra Rajabhat University, nearly 3,000 people were packed tight on rows of plastic mats, scattered with colourful blankets and hastily packed personal belongings.

"I'm worried about our home, our animals, and the crops we've worked so hard on," Thidarat Homhuan, 37, told AFP.

She fled with nine other family members, including her 87-year-old grandmother who had just been discharged from hospital.

"That concern is still there. But being here does feel safer, since we're further from the danger zone now. At least we're safe," she said.

Thidarat was babysitting for a teacher at a local school when she heard what she described as "something like machine gun fire", followed by the heavy thud of artillery.

"It was chaos. The kids were terrified. I rushed to the school's bunker," she said.

Inside the shelter, evacuees slept side by side beneath the gym's high roof, surrounded by the hum of electric fans and quiet murmurs of uncertainty.

The elderly lay bundled in blankets, babies dozed in cradles while youngsters played quietly. Pet cats rested in mesh pop-up crates near the public restroom.

It is the first time the university has been fully activated as a shelter site, said Chai Samoraphum, director of the university's president's office.

Classes were abruptly cancelled, and within an hour, the campus was converted into a functioning evacuation centre.

Thousands of evacuees from four districts next to the border were placed into six locations across the campus.

"Most of them left in a hurry. Some have chronic health conditions but didn't bring their medications, others only managed to grab a few belongings," Chai told AFP.

With help from the provincial hospital, the centre is also caring for people with chronic illnesses and providing mental health services for those struggling with trauma, Chai said.

Border clashes between the two nations have left at least 14 people dead in Thailand, officials said, including one soldier and civilians caught in a rocket strike near a petrol station in Sisaket province.

Thidarat said the current conflict feels more severe than the last major clashes in 2011.

"It wasn't this serious back then. People's houses weren't damaged like this. There were no announcements about civilians being injured," Thidarat said.

"This year is much worse -- the number of deaths and injuries is really devastating."

As clashes go on near the border, there is no clear timeline for when people can return home.

For now, the shelter provides a sense of safety -- and a place to wait for a sign that it's safe to "go back to normal life," Thidarat said.

She already had a message for those in power: "I want the government to take decisive action -- don't wait until lives are lost."

"Civilians look up to (the government) for protection, and we rely on them deeply," she said.

Koatinemo (Brasil) (AFP) – A ceramic pot and the shell of a turtle, once hunted for its meat, are the most recent traces of an Indigenous community thought to live deep in the north Brazilian Amazon.

Archaeological finds like these keep turning up, and date back to at least 2009, with members of a neighboring clan claiming to have caught glimpses of individuals who live in the Ituna/Itata region in Brazil's northern Para state.

For now, the nameless, elusive people -- perhaps belonging to more than one group -- remain among dozens of so-called "uncontacted" communities believed to roam the world's biggest rainforest.

"My sister-in-law told me: 'Over there! Over there!' And it was a little boy staring at me from up close," recounted Takamyi Asurini, an elder in Ita'aka -- an Indigenous village of about 300, whose accounts of close encounters have fed theories of the existence of uncontacted people in Ituna/Itata.

Asurini showed AFP a scar on his ribs he said was the result of being shot with an arrow by an unknown person in the jungle.

Such testimonies, and the objects found, are not considered proof of the existence of people in Ituna/Itata.

But it is enough for the region to enjoy a provisional protected status meant to prevent invasions by miners, loggers and ranchers -- preserving both the forest and the people thought to live there.

The area covers tens of thousands of hectares and is similar in size to Sao Paolo -- the biggest city in Latin America.

It became one of the most overrun Indigenous territories in Brazil under former president Jair Bolsonaro, a backer of agro-industry on whose watch Amazon deforestation surged.

Now, lobby groups want the Ituna/Itata region's protection to be made permanent, which would mean stricter land use rules and enforcement.

For this to happen, the government's National Foundation of Indigenous Peoples (Funai) would have to send expeditions to look for undeniable proof of the group's existence.

Part of the challenge is the dense Amazon jungle is home to rich, varied ecosystems that support migratory agriculture for Indigenous peoples, who may travel to hunt, fish and gather food seasonally.

Under law, any searchers cannot make contact with them -- potentially putting them at risk of diseases they have no immunity to -- but are to look instead for footprints of their life in the forest.

Brazil recognizes 114 "uncontacted" Indigenous groups who live with no or minimal interaction with others.

About a quarter are "confirmed," while for the rest -- like in Ituna/Itata -- there is "strong evidence" that they exist.

For Luiz Fernandes, a member of umbrella group Coordination of the Indigenous Organizations of the Brazilian Amazon (COIAB), there has been "historial neglect" of the issue by the state, which he says "recognizes the possibility of the existence of these peoples but does not guarantee effective measures to protect the territory."

Added Mita Xipaya, an Indigenous activist: "the state needs qualified records" to prove that an area hosts uncontacted people, "but for us it is different: we perceive them in nature, in the sounds we hear, their presences, sometimes their smells."

The Brazilian Amazon has lost nearly a third of its native vegetation since records began in 1988, according to environmental NGO Instituto Socioambiental -- except in Indigenous territories where the figure is less than two percent.

From 2019 to 2022, the Bolsonaro government suspended the provisional protection measures decreed for Ituna/Itata, prompting an invasion by land grabbers, turning it into the most deforested Indigenous area in Brazil.

Though the protection was reinstated under his leftist successor Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, the consequences persist, and miles-wide patches of devastated soil intersperse areas of green rainforest, AFP observed during a recent flyover.

Brazil will in November host the COP30 UN climate conference in the Amazonian city of Belem under Lula, who has sought to position himself as a leader in forest preservation and the fight against global warming.

"It's not just about taking care of the forest but also of the people who inhabit it, because it's through them that the forest remains standing," COIAB coordinator Toya Manchineri told AFP.

Karachi (AFP) – Ahmed Raza is invisible in the eyes of his government, unable to study or work because, like millions of other Pakistanis, he lacks identification papers.

In the South Asian nation of more than 240 million people, parents generally wait until a child begins school at the age of five to obtain a birth certificate, which is required for enrolment in most parts of Pakistan.

Raza slipped through the cracks until the end of elementary school, but when his middle school requested documentation, his mother had no choice but to withdraw him.

"If I go looking for work, they ask for my ID card. Without it, they refuse to hire me," said the 19-year-old in the megacity of Karachi, the southern economic capital.

He has already been arrested twice for failing to present identification cards when stopped by police at checkpoints.

Raza's mother Maryam Suleman, who is also unregistered, said she "didn't understand the importance of having identity documents".

"I had no idea I would face such difficulties later in life for not being registered," the 55-year-old widow told AFP from the single room she and Raza share.

Pakistan launched biometric identification cards in 2000 and registration is increasingly required in all aspects of formal life, especially in cities.

In 2021, the National Database and Registration Authority estimated that around 45 million people were not registered. They have declined to release updated figures or reply to AFP despites repeated requests.

To register, Raza needs his mother's or uncle's documents -- an expensive and complex process at their age, often requiring a doctor, lawyer or a newspaper notice.

The paperwork, he says, costs up to $165 -- a month and a half's income for the two of them, who earn a living doing housework and odd jobs in a grocery shop.

Locals whisper that registration often requires bribes, and some suggest the black market offers a last resort.

"Our lives could have been different if we had our identity cards," Raza said.

In remote Punjab villages like Rajanpur, UNICEF is trying to prevent people from falling into the same fate as Raza.

They conduct door-to-door registration campaigns, warning parents that undocumented children face higher risks of child labour and forced marriage.

Currently, 58 percent of children under five have no birth certificate, according to government figures.

Registration fees depend on the province, ranging from free, $0.70 to $7 -- still a burden for many Pakistanis, about 45 percent of whom live in poverty.

"Our men have no time or money to go to the council and miss a day's work," said Nazia Hussain, mother of two unregistered children.

The "slow process" often requires multiple trips and there is "no means of transport for a single woman," she said.

Saba, from the same village, is determined to register her three children, starting with convincing her in-laws of its value.

"We don't want our children's future to be like our past. If children go to school, the future will be brighter," said Saba, who goes by just one name.

Campaigns in the village have resulted in an increase of birth registration rates from 6.1 percent in 2018 to 17.7 percent in 2024, according to UNICEF.

This will improve the futures of an entire generation, believes Zahida Manzoor, child protection officer at UNICEF, dispatched to the village.

"If the state doesn't know that a child exists, it can't provide basic services," she said.

"If a child does not have an identity, it means the state has not recognised their existence. The state is not planning for the services that the child will need after birth."

Muhammad Haris and his brothers, who have few interactions with the formal state in their border village in the mountainous province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, have not registered any of their eight children.

"The government asks for documents for the pilgrimage visa to Mecca," a journey typically made after saving for a lifetime, he told AFP.

For him, this is the only reason worthy of registration.

Longyearbyen (AFP) – It's a pretty risky business trying to take a blood sample from a polar bear -- one of the most dangerous predators on the planet -- on an Arctic ice floe.

First you have to find it and then shoot it with a sedative dart from a helicopter before a vet dares approach on foot to put a GPS collar around its neck.

Then the blood has to be taken and a delicate incision made into a layer of fat before it wakes.

All this with a wind chill of up to minus 30C.

For the last four decades experts from the Norwegian Polar Institute (NPI) have been keeping tabs on the health and movement of polar bears in the Svalbard archipelago, halfway between Norway and the North Pole.

Like the rest of the Arctic, global warming has been happening there three to four times faster than elsewhere.

But this year the eight scientists working from the Norwegian icebreaker Kronprins Haakon are experimenting with new methods to monitor the world's largest land carnivore, including for the first time tracking the PFAS "forever chemicals" from the other ends of the Earth that finish up in their bodies.

An AFP photographer joined them on this year's eye-opening expedition.

With one foot on the helicopter's landing skid, vet Rolf Arne Olberg put his rifle to his shoulder as a polar bear ran as the aircraft approached.

Hit by the dart, the animal slumped gently on its side into a snowdrift, with Olberg checking with his binoculars to make sure he had hit a muscle. If not, the bear could wake prematurely.

"We fly in quickly," Oldberg said, and "try to minimise the time we come in close to the bear... so we chase it as little as possible."

After a five- to 10-minute wait to make sure it is asleep, the team of scientists land and work quickly and precisely.

They place a GPS collar around the bear's neck and replace the battery if the animal already has one.

Only females are tracked with the collars because male polar bears -- who can grow to 2.6 metres (8.5 feet) -- have necks thicker than their heads, and would shake the collar straight off.

Olberg then made a precise cut in the bear's skin to insert a heart monitor between a layer of fat and the flesh.

"It allows us to record the bear's body temperature and heart rate all year," NPI researcher Marie-Anne Blanchet told AFP, "to see the energy the female bears (wearing the GPS) need to use up as their environment changes."

The first five were fitted last year, which means that for the first time experts can cross-reference their data to find out when and how far the bears have to walk and swim to reach their hunting grounds and how long they rest in their lairs.

The vet also takes a biopsy of a sliver of fat that allows researchers to test how the animal might stand up to stress and "forever chemicals", the main pollutants found in their bodies.

"The idea is to best represent what bears experience in the wild but in a laboratory," said Belgian toxicologist Laura Pirard, who is testing the biopsy method on the mammals.

It has already shown that the diet of Svalbard's 300 or so bears is changing as the polar ice retreats.

The first is that they are eating less seals and more food from the land, said Jon Aars, the lead scientist of the NPI's polar bear programme.

"They still hunt seals, but they also take eggs and reindeer -- they even eat (sea)grass and things like that, even though it provides them with no energy."

But seals remain their essential food source, he said. "Even if they only have three months to hunt, they can obtain about 70 percent of what they need for the entire year during that period. That's probably why we see they are doing okay and are in good condition" despite the huge melting of the ice.

But if warming reduces their seal hunting further, "perhaps they will struggle", he warned.

"There are notable changes in their behaviour... but they are doing better than we feared. However, there is a limit, and the future may not be as bright."

"The bears have another advantage," said Blanchet, "they live for a long time, learning from experience all their life. That gives a certain capacity to adapt."

Another encouraging discovery has been the tentative sign of a fall in pollution levels.

With some "bears that we have recaptured sometimes six or eight times over the years, we have observed a decrease in pollutant levels," said Finnish ecotoxicologist Heli Routti, who has been working on the programme for 15 years.

"This reflects the success of regulations over the past decades."

NPI's experts contribute to the Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Programme (AMAP) whose conclusions play a role in framing regulations or bans on pollutants.

"The concentration of many pollutants that have been regulated decreased over the past 40 years in Arctic waters," Routti said. "But the variety of pollutants has increased. We are now observing more types of chemical substances" in the bears' blood and fatty tissues.

These nearly indestructible PFAS or "forever chemicals" used in countless products like cosmetics and nonstick pans accumulate in the air, soil, water and food.

Experts warn that they ultimately end up in the human body, particularly in the blood and tissues of the kidney or liver, raising concerns over toxic effects and links to cancer.

Rarotonga (Cook Islands) (AFP) – A 1,000-tonne ship is exploring the far-flung South Pacific for riches buried beneath the waves, spearheading efforts to dredge the tropical waters for industrial deep-sea mining.

Fringed by sparkling lagoons and palm-shaded beaches, Pacific nation the Cook Islands has opened its vast ocean territory for mining exploration.

Research vessels roam the seas searching for deposits of battery metals, rare earths and critical minerals that litter the deep ocean's abyssal plains.

The frontier industry is likened by some to a modern-day gold rush, and decried by others as environmental "madness".

AFP visited the sunburst-orange MV Anuanua Moana at the Cook Islands' sleepy port of Avatiu, where it loaded supplies before setting sail for the archipelago's outer reaches.

"The resource in our field is probably in the order of about US$4 billion in potential value," said chief executive Hans Smit from Moana Minerals, which converted the former supply ship into a deepwater research vessel.

It is fitted with chemistry labs, sonar arrays and sensors used to probe the seabed for coveted metals.

For two years it has sailed the Cook Islands, halfway between New Zealand and Hawaii, gathering data to convince regulators that deep-sea mining is safe.

While exploration is far advanced, no company has started mining on a commercial scale.

"I want to be mining before 2030," Smit said from the ship's tower, as whirring cranes loaded wooden crates of heavy gear below.

"Absolutely, I think that we can."

Large tracts of seabed around the Cook Islands are carpeted in polymetallic nodules, misshapen black globes encrusted with cobalt, nickel, manganese and other coveted metals.

Demand has been driven by the rise of electric vehicles, rechargeable batteries and durable alloys used in everything from construction to medicine.

The Cook Islands lay claim to one of just four major nodule deposits globally.

Moana Minerals -- a subsidiary of a Texas-based company -- owns the rights to explore 20,000 square kilometres (7,500 square miles) within the Cook Islands' exclusive economic zone.

"If we put one mining ship on there, and we started producing metals, we will be one of the largest mines around," said Smit.

Few countries are as reliant on the ocean as the Cook Islands, a seafaring nation of some 17,000 people scattered across a chain of volcanic isles and coral atolls.

Pristine lagoons lure wealthy tourists that prop-up the economy, fridges are stocked with fish plucked from vibrant reefs, and local myths teach children to revere the sea.

Many Cook Islanders fear deep-sea mining could taint their precious "moana", or ocean, forever.

"I have seen the ship in the harbour," said tour guide Ngametua Mamanu, 55.

"Why do we need the mining stuff to destroy the oceans?"

Retiree Ana Walker, 74, feared foreign interests had come to plunder her island home.

"We think that these people are coming over to make money and to leave the mess with us."

Deep-sea mining companies tout the need for critical minerals to make electric vehicles, solar panels and other "green" technologies.

The idea holds some allure in a place like the Cook Islands, where climate change is linked to droughts, destructive cyclones and rising seas.

"If all goes well, there is good that can come out of it. Financially," said third-generation pearl farmer James Kora, 31.

"But it relies on how well we manage all those minerals. If the science says it's safe."

Marine biologist Teina Rongo squinted into the sunlight as his small boat motored past the Anuanua Moana, an emblem of an industry he views with deep distrust.

"We were never about exploring the bottom of the ocean, because our ancestors believed it is a place of the gods," said Rongo.

"We don't belong there."

Deep-sea mining companies are still figuring the best way to retrieve nodules that can lie five kilometres (three miles) or more beneath the waves.

Most focus on robotic harvesting machines, which scrape up nodules as they crawl the ocean floor.

Critics fear mining will smother marine life with plumes of waste, and that the alien noise of heavy machinery will disrupt oceanic migrations.

Environmentalist Alanna Smith said researchers knew very little about the deep ocean.

"We'd really be the guinea pigs of this industry, going first in.

"It's a risky, risky move."

A US-backed research expedition in the 1950s was the first to discover the "enormous fields" of polymetallic nodules in the South Pacific.

Waves of Japanese, French, American and Russian ships sailed the Cook Islands in the following decades to map this trove.

But deep-sea mining was largely a fringe idea until around 2018, when the burgeoning electric vehicle industry sent metal prices soaring.

Mining companies are now vying to exploit the world's four major nodule fields -- three in international waters, and the fourth in the Cook Islands.

The International Seabed Authority meets this month to mull rules that could pave the way for mining in international waters.

Although the Cook Islands can mine its territory without the authority's approval, it still has a stake in the decision.

The Cook Islands also own one of 17 contracts to hunt for nodules in the international waters of the Clarion-Clipperton Zone, halfway between Mexico and Hawaii.

So far, the Cook Islands has said its approach -- even in its own waters -- would be closely "aligned" with the authority's rules.

But it remains unclear if it will proceed without those regulations.

"We're not setting time frames in terms of when we want to get this started," said Edward Herman, from the Cook Islands' Seabed Minerals Authority.

"I think the time frames will be determined based on what the research and the science and the data tells us."

Many of the Cook Islands' South Pacific neighbours want to see deep-sea mining banned.

French President Emmanuel Macron delivered a scathing indictment in June, saying the "predatory" industry was environmental "madness".

But the Cook Islands has powerful friends.

It signed an agreement with China earlier this year for the "exploration and research of seabed mineral resources".

"There was a lot of noise," said Herman, referencing the backlash over the China deal.

"And obviously there's a lot of interest... whenever China engages with anyone in the Pacific.

"And we understand, we accept it, and we will continue."

Turkey (AFP) – Deep in the mountains of Turkey's southeastern Hakkari province, bordering Iran and Iraq, Kurdish livestock owners and farmers have gradually returned with their animals after decades of armed conflict between Kurdish militants and the Turkish army.

"We've been coming here for a long time. Thirty years ago we used to come and go, but then we couldn't come. Now we just started to come again and to bring our animals as we want," said 57-year-old Selahattin Irinc, speaking Kurdish, while gently pressing his hand on a sheep's neck to keep it from moving during shearing.

On July 11 a symbolic weapons destruction ceremony in Iraqi Kurdistan marked a major step in the transition of the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK) from armed insurgency to democratic politics -- part of a broader effort to end one of the region's longest-running conflicts.

The PKK, listed as a terror group by Turkey and much of the international community, was formed in 1978 by Ankara University students, with the ultimate goal of achieving the Kurds' liberation. It took up arms in 1984.

The conflict has caused 50,000 deaths among civilians and 2,000 among soldiers, according to Turkey's President Recep Tayyip Erdogan.

Alongside with several other men and women, Irinc practices animal husbandry in the grassy highlands at the foot of the Cilo Mountains and its Resko peak, which stands as the second-highest in the country with an altitude of 4,137 meters (13,572 feet).

A place of scenic beauty, with waterfalls, glacial lakes and trekking routes, Cilo has gradually opened its roads over the past few years to shepherds and tourists alike as the armed conflict with PKK died down on the backdrop of peace negotiations.

But the picturesque mountains had long been the scene of heavy fighting between the Turkish army and PKK fighters who took advantage of the rough terrain to hide and strike. It left the Kurdish farmers often at odds with the army.

"In the past we always had problems with the Turkish soldiers. They accused us of helping PKK fighters by feeding them things like milk and meat from our herd," another Kurdish livestock owner, who asked not to be named, told AFP, rejecting such claims.

"Now it's calmer," he added.

Although the peace process brought more openness and ease to the region, tensions did not vanish overnight.

Checkpoints remain present around the city of Hakkari, and also to the main access point to the trekking path leading to Cilo glacier, a major tourist attraction.

"Life is quite good and it's very beautiful here. Tourists come and stay in the mountains for one or two days with their tents, food, water and so on," said farmer Mahir Irinc.

But the mountains are a hard, demanding environment for those making a living in their imposing shadow, and the 37-year-old thinks his generation might be the last to do animal husbandry far away from the city.

"I don't think a new generation will come after us. We will be happy if it does, but the young people nowadays don't want to raise animals, they just do whatever job is easier," he lamented.

An open truck carrying more than a dozen Kurdish women made its way to another farm in the heart of the mountains, where sheep waited to be fed and milked.

The livestock graze at the foot of the mountains for three to four months, while the weather is warm, before being brought back to the village.

"We all work here. Mothers, sisters, our whole family. Normally I'm preparing for university, but today I was forced to come because my mother is sick," explained 22-year-old Hicran Denis.

"I told my mother: don't do this anymore, because it's so tiring. But when you live in a village, livestock is the only work. There's nothing else," she said.

Phnom Penh (AFP) – The generation of Cambodians who may find themselves in the firing line when the country introduces military conscription is split between quiet pangs of anxiety and proud proclamations of patriotism.

"My family is poor. If I am called in for the service, I am worried that my family might face financial issues," 25-year-old tuk-tuk driver Voeun Dara told AFP in Phnom Penh. "It is worrisome for me."

Citing rising tensions with Thailand, Prime Minister Hun Manet says Cambodia will next year activate a long-dormant law requiring citizens aged 18 to 30 to enlist in the military.

Hun Manet has proposed conscripts serve for two years to bolster the country's 200,000 personnel after a territorial dispute boiled over into a border clash, killing one Cambodian soldier in late May.

Graphic design student Ray Kimhak's brother-in-law, a volunteer soldier, has already been deployed to the countries' 800-kilometre-long (500-mile) border.

But the 21-year-old says he would gladly join him if compelled by conscription.

"He said it was a bit difficult to sleep in the jungle, and it rains a lot. But these difficulties don't discourage me at all," Ray Kimhak told AFP at his university in the capital.

"We are ready to protect our territory because when it is gone, we would never get it back."

Cambodia's conscription law dates back to 2006 but has never been enforced. Hun Manet has said it will be used to replace retiring troops, though it is unclear how many citizens are set to be called up.

The country of 17 million has a long and dark history of forced enlistment.

Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge communist regime, which ruled from 1975 to 1979, conscripted fighting-aged men, and sometimes children, into its ranks as it perpetrated a genocide that killed two million.

One 64-year-old who was conscripted by the Khmer Rouge at 17 told AFP he supported the government's decision, despite standing on a landmine during his time as a soldier.

"I was forced to be a soldier by Pol Pot," he told AFP, speaking on condition of anonymity from the Thai border town of Sampov Lun.

"Being a soldier is not easy, but I support the government's plan of military conscription in the face of a border dispute with Thailand. We need to protect our land."

Under the newly activated conscription legislation, those who refuse to serve in wartime would face three years in prison, while peacetime refuseniks would face one year behind bars.

Sipping green tea at a cafe, 18-year-old IT student Oeng Sirayuth says he fully supports Hun Manet's call to arms.

"We should be ready, because tension with our neighbouring country is growing," he said. But personally he hopes for a deferral as he finishes his studies.

"I am a bit reluctant because I have never thought that I will have to join the military service," he said.

"I think 60 percent of young people are ready to join the military, so these people can go first, and those who are not yet ready can enter the service later."

Under the modern-day conscription legislation, women will be allowed to opt for volunteer work rather than military service.

But 23-year-old internet provider saleswoman Leakhena said she stands ready to serve on the frontlines.

Last month her family delivered donations to Cambodian soldiers patrolling the border, where tensions have spiked with Thailand over a disputed area known as the Emerald Triangle.

"We have to do something to protect our nation," said Leakhena, speaking on the condition that only her first name was revealed.

"I feel proud for our soldiers. They are so brave," she added.

Cambodia allocated approximately $739 million for defence in 2025, the largest share of the country's $9.32 billion national budget, according to official figures.

Hun Manet has pledged to "look at increasing" the defence budget as part of reforms to beef up the military.

But one young would-be conscript urged the government to defer its plans as the country recovers its finances from the Covid-19 pandemic.

"Our economy is still struggling," said the 20-year-old fine art student, who asked not to be named.

"We are in the state of developing our country, so if we enforce the law soon we might face some problems for our economy."

Political analyst Ou Virak also said Cambodia's military faces challenges from within as it seeks to win buy-in from a new generation of conscripts.

"Military training, chain of command, and military discipline are all issues that need to be addressed," he told AFP.

"For conscription to work and be generally supported and accepted by the people, trust needs to be earned."

Cabo Rojo (Puerto Rico) (AFP) – Gloria Cuevas thought she would live forever in her pink, century-old house on Puerto Rico's west coast -- but then her landlord decided to transform the home into an Airbnb.

Cuevas left her home -- now purple and split in two -- and her beloved city for another further south, forced out by the rising cost of living and an explosion of short-term rentals on the US Caribbean island territory.

Puerto Rico -- long a draw for sun-worshipping tourists -- is also a hotspot for foreign investment and offers tax incentives to attract outsiders.

"At first, I couldn't come back here," Cuevas, 68, told AFP, gazing at the home she once made her own. "It made me feel sad and angry at the same time."

Cuevas's experience is becoming an all too familiar tale across the island, where signs promote mansions for sale, and the Airbnb logo is plastered on homes where locals once lived.

Intensifying Puerto Rico's gentrification are laws that encourage primarily wealthy mainland Americans to move there in exchange for preferential tax treatment.

The program originally enacted in 2012 was meant to spur economic growth and attract investment on the island, an unincorporated territory under US control since 1898.

Those relocating must acquire residency and buy property to keep the significant incentives -- but many Puerto Ricans as well as some US lawmakers say this is driving up housing prices and encouraging tax evasion.

"Colonialism kills us, it suffocates us," Cuevas said. "It's a global theme. It's a class war."

Ricki Rebeiro, 30, moved to San Juan more than a year ago, bringing his packaging and marketing business that services cannabis companies with him.

He told AFP that basing his work in Puerto Rico saves his company millions of dollars annually, and that he pays zero personal income tax -- what amounts to the equivalent of "a whole second income" that he says he tries to reinvest locally.

"I believe that the locals are probably upset that they're not reaping the same benefits of somebody like me," said the entrepreneur, whose family is based in Pennsylvania and Oklahoma.

The system is "unfair," Rebeiro said, "but I also don't believe that I should be the one to blame for that. I didn't structure the program."

Puerto Ricans in recent years have slammed their government for what they say is a hyperfocus on outsiders at the expense of locals, as the rich -- including people like the famous content creator-turned-boxer Jake Paul -- move in.

In Cabo Rojo, a seaside city about an hour's drive south of Rincon on the island's western coast, some residents are taking the matter into their own hands.

During a recent canvassing effort, a group of activists urged their neighbors to protest a massive development project called Esencia, which would transform more than 2,000 acres (810 hectares) of recreational land and more than three miles of beaches into a $2 billion luxury resort and residential development.

Dafne Javier's family goes back generations in this area -- her great-grandfather was the last mayor in the municipality under Spanish occupation, and the first under US rule.

The 77-year-old said the Esencia project would "totally change the landscape," creating a gated town within a town.

Protesters say it would destroy the natural habitat of some endangered species, while exacerbating problems with potable water, electricity supply and trash pick-up.

Project investors have called Puerto Rico "one of the most promising growth markets in the world" and vowed Esencia would create "thousands of jobs."

But those jobs will be minimum wage, Javier predicted, and the wealthy newcomers "won't mix with us."

Christopher Powers is married to a Puerto Rican with whom he has children, and has lived in Cabo Rojo for 20 years.

"They have no idea what they're destroying, and if they do have an idea what they're destroying, then they should be ashamed," he told AFP of the developers.

"Not only is it ecologically destructive, not only will it be an economic disaster for those of us who live here, but it's also against the sort of spirit or values of the Caborojinos."

Cuevas is hopeful her story and others like it will crystallize for her fellow Puerto Ricans what they stand to lose.

"We have to keep fighting. We have to educate our youth. Have you heard of Bad Bunny?" she said, referring to the Puerto Rican global superstar whose music and current residency in San Juan has amplified discussion of gentrification and cultural dilution, on the island and beyond.

"This is ours," Cuevas said. "We're not going to leave."

Qaffīn (Palestinian Territories) (AFP) – A guest house in the shape of a plane would stand out anywhere in the world, but in the occupied West Bank devoid of airports, Minwer Harsha's creation helps aviation dreams take flight.

"So many kids want to come," said 27-year-old Harsha, who built the guest house in the hills of the northern West Bank, within view of the separation barrier between Israel and the Palestinian territory.

"And that's the goal: since we don't have planes or airports, people come here instead," he told AFP.

Harsha said he designed the concrete plane himself, with a master bedroom in the cockpit and a children's bedroom in the tail.

The price tag, between 1,000 and 2,000 shekels (about $300-$600) per night, is out of reach for most Palestinians, particularly as unemployment soars due to the war in Gaza.

He has nonetheless been pleased with the reactions to his chalet, having initially faced scepticism.

"I wanted to bring something unique, something new to the area and to Palestine," Harsha said of the unit, which opened a month ago.

Since its launch, his red and white concrete plane has become a local landmark, featuring in local media and on social networks.

Harsha said he originally wanted to place a Palestinian flag on his chalet and call it the "Palestinian Queen", but avoided such signs out of caution.

The guest house is located in the West Bank's Area C, which covers more than 60 percent of the territory and is under full Israeli control.

"I just made it look like a plane. I avoided politics entirely because of the hardships our people are going through," he said.

"We're a people who are constantly losing things -- our land, our rights, our lives."

Israel has occupied the West Bank since 1967, and frequently demolishes homes it says are built without permission in the mostly rural Area C.

Though no airport currently services the Palestinian territories, both the West Bank and Gaza once had their own terminals, in east Jerusalem and the southern Gaza city of Rafah, respectively.

Both were closed during the Second Intifada, the Palestinian uprising of the early 2000s, and what remains of east Jerusalem's airport is now isolated from the rest of the West Bank by Israel's separation barrier.

Despite difficulties and threats of demolition, Harsha believes that Palestinians can find freedom and fulfilment in projects like his.

"I encourage everyone who has land to work on it and invest in it -- with creativity and ambition," he said, flanked by his two brothers who helped him build the unit.

Harsha himself has more plans for his land.

"After this aeroplane, we'll build a ship next year," he said.

"It will be something unique and beautiful," he said, pointing out that while many West Bank Palestinians have seen planes flying overhead, a large number of people from the landlocked territory have never seen a real ship at all.

Bangkok (AFP) – Reverence for the saffron-robed Buddhist monkhood is deeply woven into Thai society, but a sex extortion scandal has besmirched the clergy and left the devout questioning their faith.

Thai police this week arrested a woman accused of bedding at least 11 monks in violation of their vows of celibacy, before blackmailing them with thousands of secretly taken photos of their trysts.

The monks are said to have paid nearly $12 million, funnelled out of their monasteries funded by donations from laypeople hoping to increase their merit and prospects for reincarnation.

The scandal provoked outrage over hypocrisy in the monkhood, concern their status shields them from scrutiny, and soul-searching across society about the role of religion.

"I'm not involved in the religion like I used to be," 33-year-old motorbike taxi driver Mongkol Sudathip told AFP. "I don't have full respect for it anymore."

King Maha Vajiralongkorn has cancelled invitations to more than 80 monks who had been due to attend his upcoming 73rd birthday celebrations, citing "inappropriate behaviour that caused mental distress among the Thai people".

Theravada Buddhism has been the spiritual backbone of Thai identity for more than two millennia, and still shapes national laws banning alcohol on religious holidays and protecting sacred objects.

Thai men are traditionally expected to ordain as monks at least once in their lives for a period lasting as short as a few weeks or as long as decades.

The clergy are bound by 227 strict rules, including a ban on masturbation, touching women and even handling objects directly from them.

Monks traditionally survive on alms, food offerings and a modest $170 monthly stipend, but some pocket fees for lectures, blessings and ceremonies -- blurring the line between faith and fortune.

In a TV interview, the woman at the heart of the scandal said she had developed a "splurging attitude" as her monk lovers lavished her with shopping trips worth up to $90,000 a day.

Motorcycle taxi driver Mongkol said he now prefers to donate to hospitals or schools for underprivileged children. "It feels more meaningful than giving money to temples," he told AFP.

This month's scandal is not the first to rock the monkhood.

In 2017, police raided Wat Dhammakaya temple north of Bangkok, arresting its former abbot over allegations of laundering $33 million in public donations.

This May, police held another monk in the capital over allegations of embezzling nearly $10 million from a temple for an online gambling network.

Buddhism scholar Danai Preechapermprasit said repeated scandals -- especially among senior monks -- have "shaken people to the core".

"People question whether donations are used for spiritual significance or personal desire," he told AFP.

"I think Thailand has reached a point where it's difficult for monks to even walk down the street."

A powerful lawmaker has pledged tighter regulations within three months -- including mandatory donation disclosures and laws treating monk misconduct as a criminal offence.

"This case does not represent Buddhism as a whole," said national police chief Kitrat Panphet on Thursday, pledging a new task force to probe misbehaving monks.

"It's about a few individuals doing wrong," he said.

In Buddhist tradition monks are viewed as the Buddha's spiritual heirs, entrusted with preserving and passing on his teachings.

But at Wat Bowonniwet in Bangkok -- one of Thailand's most revered temples -- only 26 monks were ordained this year, a steep drop from nearly 100 before the Covid-19 pandemic.

A monk there, speaking to AFP anonymously, blamed societal changes after the pandemic, which forced people into isolation -- saying nowadays "people prefer to live outside the temple life".

But independent Buddhism expert Jaturong Jongarsa said temples are increasingly being treated as "a garbage dump" -- where families send drug addicts or LGBTQ youth to be "corrected".

"Temples are no longer seen as the sacred spaces they once were," he told AFP. "People send their problems to the temple and hope they'll go away."

Still, not all Thais have lost faith.

Camphun Parimiphut, a 52-year-old security guard from Maha Sarakham in Thailand's northeast, said: "Buddhism is about the teachings, not the individuals who fail it".

Because of corruption scandals he now avoids giving money to monks -- preferring to donate only food. But his devotion remains steadfast.

"You can lose faith in monks," he said. "But never lose trust in Buddhist teachings. They still teach us how to live a good life."

Brussels (Belgium) (AFP) – In a small, refrigerated room at a Brussels university, parka-wearing scientists chop up Antarctic ice cores tens of thousands of years old in search of clues to our planet's changing climate.

Trapped inside the cylindrical icicles are tiny air bubbles that can provide a snapshot of what the earth's atmosphere looked like back then.

"We want to know a lot about the climates of the past because we can use it as an analogy for what can happen in the future," said Harry Zekollari, a glaciologist at Vrije Universiteit Brussel (VUB).

Zekollari was part of a team of four that headed to the white continent in November on a mission to find some of the world's oldest ice -- without breaking the bank.

Ice dating back millions of years can be found deep inside Antarctica, close to the South Pole, buried under kilometres of fresher ice and snow.

But that's hard to reach and expeditions to drill it out are expensive.

A recent EU-funded mission that brought back some 1.2-million-year-old samples came with a total price tag of around 11 million euros (around $12.8 million).

To cut costs, the team from VUB and the nearby Universite Libre de Bruxelles (ULB) used satellite data and other clues to find areas where ancient ice might be more accessible.

Just like the water it is made of, ice flows towards the coast -- albeit slowly, explained Maaike Izeboud, a remote sensing specialist at VUB.

And when the flow hits an obstacle, say a ridge or mountain, bottom layers can be pushed up closer to the surface.

In a few rare spots, weather conditions like heavy winds prevent the formation of snow cover -- leaving thick layers of ice exposed.

Named after their colouration, which contrasts with the whiteness of the rest of the continent, these account for only about one percent of Antarctica territory.

"Blue ice areas are very special," said Izeboud.

Her team zeroed in on a blue ice stretch lying about 2,300 meters (7,500 feet) above sea level, around 60 kilometres (37 miles) from Belgium's Princess Elisabeth Antarctica Research Station.

Some old meteorites had been previously found there -- a hint that the surrounding ice is also old, the researchers explained.

A container camp was set up and after a few weeks of measurements, drilling, and frozen meals, in January the team came back with 15 ice cores totalling about 60 meters in length.

These were then shipped from South Africa to Belgium, where they arrived in late June.

Inside a stocky cement ULB building in the Belgian capital, they are now being cut into smaller pieces to then be shipped to specialised labs in France and China for dating.

Zekollari said the team hopes some of the samples, which were taken at shallow depths of about 10 meters, will be confirmed to be about 100,000 years old.

This would allow them to go back and dig a few hundred meters deeper in the same spot for the big prize.

"It's like a treasure hunt," Zekollari, 36, said, comparing their work to drawing a map for "Indiana Jones".

"We're trying to cross the good spot on the map... and in one and a half years, we'll go back and we'll drill there," he said.

"We're dreaming a bit, but we hope to get maybe three, four, five-million-year-old ice."

Such ice could provide crucial input to climatologists studying the effects of global warming.

Climate projections and models are calibrated using existing data on past temperatures and greenhouse gases in the atmosphere -- but the puzzle has some missing pieces.

By the end of the century temperatures could reach levels similar to those the planet last experienced between 2.6 and 3.3 million years ago, said Etienne Legrain, 29, a paleo-climatologist at ULB.

But currently there is little data on what CO2 levels were back then -- a key metric to understand how much further warming we could expect.

"We don't know the link between CO2 concentration and temperature in a climate warmer than that of today," Legrain said.

His team hopes to find it trapped inside some very old ice. "The air bubbles are the atmosphere of the past," he said. "It's really like magic when you feel it."

Seoul (AFP) – South Korea is set to overhaul its adoption system on Saturday by ending the decades-old practice of outsourcing adoptions to private agencies, which has led to widespread allegations of abuse.

South Korea, Asia's fourth-largest economy and a global cultural powerhouse, sent more than 140,000 children overseas between 1955 and 1999.

But an official enquiry concluded this year that the international adoption process had been riddled with irregularities, including "fraudulent orphan registrations, identity tampering, and inadequate vetting of adoptive parents".

The rights of South Korean children had been violated, the landmark investigation by a truth commission found.

The independent body established by the state called for an official apology and blamed the government for the issues, especially a failure to regulate adoption fees that effectively turned it into a profit-driven industry.

On Saturday, South Korea will introduce a "newly restructured public adoption system, under which the state and local governments take full responsibility for the entire adoption process," South Korea's Ministry of Health and Welfare said.

The change is a "significant step towards ensuring the safety and promoting the rights of adopted children," the ministry added.

International adoption began after the Korean War as a way to remove mixed-race children, born to Korean mothers and American soldier fathers, from a country that emphasised ethnic homogeneity.

It became big business in the 1970s to 1980s, bringing international adoption agencies millions of dollars as South Korea overcame post-war poverty and faced rapid and aggressive economic development.

But the system failed children, the truth commission said in March, with a failure to follow "proper legal consent procedures" for South Korean birth parents resulting in highly-publicised reports of lost children being put up for overseas adoption.

The commission's chairperson Park Sun-young said at the time it was a "shameful part" of South Korea's history.

Under the new system, key procedures -- such as assessing prospective adoptive parents and matching them with children -- will be deliberated by a ministry committee, in accordance with the principle of the "best interests of the child".

Previously, this had been done by major adoption agencies, with minimal oversight from the state.

"With this restructuring of the public adoption system, the state now takes full responsibility for ensuring the safety and rights of all adopted children," said Kim Sang-hee, director of population and child policy at the Ministry of Health and Welfare.

Activists, however, say the measure should be merely a starting point and warn it is far from sufficient.

"While I think it's high time that Korea close down all private adoption agencies, I don't believe... having the state handle new adoptions is enough," said writer Lisa Wool-Rim Sjoblom, a Korean adoptee who grew up in Sweden.

The government should prioritise implementing the findings of the truth commission, issue an official apology, and work to help the tens of thousands of Koreans who were sent abroad for adoption, she told AFP.

"The government urgently needs to acknowledge all the human rights violations it enabled, encouraged, and systematically participated in, and, as soon as possible, begin reparations."

New York (AFP) – In gloomy corridors outside a Manhattan courtroom, masked agents target and arrest migrants attending mandatory hearings -- part of US President Donald Trump's escalating immigration crackdown.

Trump, who campaigned on a pledge to deport many migrants, has encouraged authorities to be more aggressive as he seeks to hit his widely-reported target of one million deportations annually.

Since Trump's return to the White House, Homeland Security agents have adopted the tactic of waiting outside immigration courts nationwide and arresting migrants as they leave at the end of asylum hearings.

Missing an immigration court hearing is a crime in some cases and can itself make migrants liable to be deported, leaving many with little choice but to attend and face arrest.

Armed agents with shields from different federal agencies loitered outside the court hearings in a tower block in central New York, holding paperwork with photographs of migrants to be targeted, an AFP correspondent saw this week.

The agents arrested almost a dozen migrants from different countries in just a few hours on the 12th floor of the Jacob K. Javits Federal Building.

Brad Lander, a city official who was briefly detained last month by ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) agents as he attempted to accompany a migrant targeted for removal, called the hearings "a trap."

"It has the trappings of a judicial hearing, but it's just a trap to have made them come in the first place," he said Wednesday outside the building.

Lander recounted several asylum seekers being arrested by immigration officers including Carlos, a Paraguayan man who Lander said had an application pending for asylum under the Convention Against Torture -- as well as a future court date.

"The judge carefully instructed him on how to prepare to bring his case to provide additional information about his interactions with the Paraguayan police and make his case under the global convention against torture for why he is entitled to asylum," Lander said.

After his hearing, agents "without any identifying information or badges or warrants grabbed Carlos, and then quickly moved him toward the back stairwell," he said.

Lander, a Democrat, claimed the agents were threatening and that they pushed to the ground Carlos's sister who had accompanied him to the hearing.

The White House said recently that "the brave men and women of ICE are under siege by deranged Democrats -- but undeterred in their mission."

"Every day, these heroes put their own lives on the line to get the worst of the worst... off our streets and out of our neighborhoods."

Back at the building in lower Manhattan, Lander said that "anyone who comes down here to observe could see... the rule of law is being eroded."

Hod HaSharon (Israel) (AFP) – "We mothers of soldiers haven't slept in two years," said Ayelet-Hashakhar Saidof, a lawyer who founded the Mothers on the Front movement in Israel.

A 48-year-old mother of three, including a soldier currently serving in the army, Saidof said her movement brings together some 70,000 mothers of active-duty troops, conscripts and reservists to demand, among other things, a halt to the fighting in Gaza.

Her anxiety was familiar to other mothers of soldiers interviewed by AFP who have refocused their lives on stopping a war that many Israelis increasingly feel has run its course, even as a ceasefire deal remains elusive.

In addition to urging an end to the fighting in Gaza, Mothers on the Front's foremost demand is that everyone serve in the army, as mandated by Israeli law.

That request is particularly urgent today, as draft exemptions for ultra-Orthodox Jews have become a wedge issue in Israeli society, with the military facing manpower shortages in its 21-month fight against the militant group Hamas.

As the war drags on, Saidof has become increasingly concerned that Israel will be confronted with long-term ramifications from the conflict.

"We're seeing 20-year-olds completely lost, broken, exhausted, coming back with psychological wounds that society doesn't know how to treat," she said.

"They are ticking time bombs on our streets, prone to violence, to outbursts of rage."

According to the army, 23 Israeli soldiers have been killed in Gaza over the past month, and more than 450 have died since the start of the ground offensive in October 2023.

Saidof accuses the army of neglecting soldiers' lives.

Combat on the ground has largely dried up, she said, and soldiers were now being killed by improvised explosives and "operational mistakes".

"So where are they sending them? Just to be targets in a shooting range?" she asked bitterly.

Over the past months, Saidof has conducted her campaign in the halls of Israel's parliament, but also in the streets.

Opening the boot of her car, she proudly displayed a stockpile of posters, placards and megaphones for protests.

"Soldiers fall while the government stands," one poster read.

Her campaign does not have a political slant, she maintained.

"The mothers of 2025 are strong. We're not afraid of anyone, not the generals, not the rabbis, not the politicians," she said defiantly.

Saidof's group is not the only mothers' movement calling for an end to the war.

Outside the home of military chief of staff Eyal Zamir, four women gathered one morning to demand better protection for their children.

"We're here to ask him to safeguard the lives of our sons who we've entrusted to him," said Rotem-Sivan Hoffman, a doctor and mother of two soldiers.

"To take responsibility for military decisions and to not let politicians use our children's lives for political purposes that put them in unnecessary danger" .

Hoffman is one of the leaders of the Ima Era, or "Awakened Mother", movement, whose motto is: "We don't have children for wars without goals."

"For many months now, we've felt this war should have ended," she told AFP.

"After months of fighting and progress that wasn't translated into a diplomatic process, nothing has been done to stop the war, bring back the hostages, withdraw the army from Gaza or reach any agreements."

Beside her stood Orit Wolkin, also the mother of a soldier deployed to the front, whose anxiety was visible.

"Whenever he comes back from combat, of course that's something I look forward to eagerly, something I'm happy about, but my heart holds back from feeling full joy because I know he'll be going back" to the front, she said.

At the funeral of Yuli Faktor, a 19-year-old soldier killed in Gaza the previous day alongside two comrades, his mother stood sobbing before her son's coffin draped in the Israeli flag.

She spoke to him in Russian for the last time before his burial.

"I want to hold you. I miss you. Forgive me, please. Watch over us, wherever you are."

Beijing (AFP) – A 60-year-old farmer in China has built his own "Big Black Fish" -- a homemade submarine that can accommodate two people, dive eight metres and stay underwater for 30 minutes at a time.

Zhang Shengwu, a villager in China's eastern Anhui province, recently launched his five-ton sub into the river near his rural home, state broadcaster CCTV reported Thursday.

Footage from CCTV showed Zhang piloting the seven-metre (23-foot) steel craft from its hatch while surfaced and diving down with the hatch closed.

After seeing footage of submarine construction on TV in 2014, Zhang, a former carpenter who also worked in shipping, decided to start building his own.

"I've been around the water for many years and seen iron boats and wooden boats, but I had never seen a boat that can dive into the water," Zhang said.

"I thought, if others can do it, I can do it too."

Despite his wife's opposition to the "expensive, risky, useless" idea, Zhang began pursuing his submarine dream, first by spending 5,000 yuan ($700) on steel plates, engines and other materials.

The inventor launched his "first generation" sub in 2016, but it leaked.

"It was like a dream. I was both afraid of it leaking and hoped to go deeper," Zhang said.

Years later, after spending another 40,000 yuan on a new hulking steel structure, pouring two tons of concrete into the bottom of the submarine, and adding two ballast tanks, Zhang's Big Black Fish was ready for sea trials.

Unlike the Chinese navy's advanced nuclear-powered submarines that can spend months submerged, Zhang's sub uses a small battery and electric motor, can travel just four knots per hour and needs to surface after half an hour.

He plans to build an even bigger submarine in the future.

Zhang is not the first Chinese inventor to take a deep dive into submarine construction.

In 2015, a villager in China's northern Shaanxi province accumulated a debt of 200,000 yuan to fund the construction of his 9.2-metre-long submarine.

In 2009, karaoke bar worker Tao Xiangli cruised around a local reservoir in Beijing in a homemade submarine.

Saint-Christophe-en-Oisans (France) (AFP) – June's heatwave has caused French Alps snow and glaciers to melt faster, causing water shortages at mountain shelters just before the summer tourist hiking season gets into full swing.

"Everything has dried up," said Noemie Dagan, who looks after the Selle refuge, located at an altitude of 2,673 meters (8,769 feet) in the Ecrins, a mountain range overtowered by two majestic peaks.

The snowfield that usually supplies water to her 60-bed chalet already "looks a bit like what we would expect at the end of July or early August", she said.

"We are nearly a month early in terms of the snow's melting."

The mountain refuge, lacking a water tank, relies on water streaming down from the mountain. If it runs out it, the shelter will have to close.

This happened in mid-August 2023, and could happen again.

Dagan's backup solutions to avoid such a scenario include plastic pipes a kilometre long (0.6 mile) -- installed with difficulty -- to collect water from a nearby glacier close to the Pic de la Grave.

But the slopes along which the pipe was laid are steep, unstable and vulnerable to increasingly violent storms ravaging the range.

In the 15 years that she has worked in the sector, Dagan has witnessed "a metamorphosis" of the mountains and glaciers that are "our watertowers", she said.

"We are basically the sentinels who have seen what is coming."

Thomas Boillot, a local mountain guide, said the possibility one day of seeing water supply issues affecting the mountain shelters had "never even crossed our minds".

But such cases have increased "and there will likely be more," he added.

Some snowfields once considered eternal now melt in the summer, precipitation has become scarcer, and glaciers change shape as they melt -- factors that combine to disrupt the water supply for chalets.

Water used to arrive "through gravity" from snow and ice reserves higher up, but it is going to have to be pumped from below in the future, he said.

Scientists say that the impact of climate change is nearly twice as severe in the Alps as it is globally, warning that only remnants of today's glaciers are likely to exist by 2100 -- if they haven't disappeared altogether by then.

This year's weather is also dangerous for the 1,400 glaciers in neighbouring Switzerland, where the authorities report that accumulated snow and ice have melted five to six weeks before the usual time.

"Brutal" is the term Xavier Cailhol, an environmental science PhD student and mountain guide, used to describe the impact of the heatwave that he saw on a recent trip to the massif of the Mont Blanc, western Europe's highest mountain.

"I started ski-touring on Mont Blanc in June with 40 centimetres (16 inches) of powder snow. I ended up on glaciers that were completely bare, even as high up as the Midi Peak, at 3,700 meters altitude," he said.

A cover of snow helps to protect the ice underneath by reflecting sunlight, he noted.

"Above 3,200 meters, it's drier than anything we've seen before," he said. "It's quite concerning for the rest of the summer."

A case in point is the accelerated melting of the Bossons Glacier, a massive ice tongue overlooking the valley before Chamonix.

It began with a "patch of gravel" which became larger, and "in fact is speeding up the melting at that location" because its dark colour absorbs more heat.

The melting of the Bossons Glacier is clearly visible from Chamonix, making it a constant reminder of what is happening to glaciers everywhere.

"It's a symbol," said Cailhol.

Reykjavik (AFP) – A volcano erupted on Wednesday in Iceland's Reykjanes peninsula in the southwest, weather authorities said, the ninth eruption to hit the region since the end of 2023.

Live video feeds showed lava spewing out of a fissure in the ground, with the Icelandic Met Office saying that it began just before 4:00 am (0400 GMT).

The weather agency later in the day reported that the main fissure was estimated to be 2.4 kilometres (1.5 miles) long, and that a second smaller fissure, about 500 metres long, had opened up nearby.

Due to high levels of gas pollution in the air, residents were advised to stay indoors.

Broadcaster RUV reported that the nearby fishing village Grindavik had been evacuated, as had the Blue Lagoon, Iceland's famed tourist spot.

Police Commissioner Margret Kristin Palsdottir, told the broadcaster that the evacuation of the some 100 people staying in the village had gone smoothly.

Palsdottir also said they had prevented some tourists from entering the area.

"Of course, we understand that this is a fascinating event, especially for tourists who are not as accustomed to it as we are," Palsdottir said.

Geophysicist Benedikt Ofeigsson told RUV that the eruption didn't seem as big as earlier ones and was in a good location as it wasn't near any infrastructure.

The previous eruption to hit the area was in April, and a risk assessment published on Tuesday didn't expect another eruption until this autumn.

When the first volcanic eruption first hit the area in late 2023, most of Grindavik's 4,000 residents were evacuated.

Since then, almost all of the houses have been sold to the state, and most of the residents have left.

Volcanoes on the Reykjanes peninsula had not erupted for eight centuries when in March 2021 a period of heightened seismic activity began.

Volcanologists have warned in recent years that volcanic activity in the region had entered a new era.

RUV said the latest eruption was not expected to impact international flights.

A volcanic eruption in another part of Iceland in 2010 caused worldwide travel chaos as the ash spewed into the atmosphere sparked airspace closures in Europe.

It is located on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, a fault in the ocean floor that separates the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates and causes earthquakes and eruptions.

Taybeh (Palestinian Territories) (AFP) – Clerics and diplomats walked as if in a religious procession through the streets of Taybeh, a small Christian village in the occupied West Bank where residents blame Israeli settlers for a spate of recent attacks

In cassocks and suits respectively, they answered the call from the local town hall and priests to meet residents affected by the violence and to see for themselves the arson damage on the remains of a Byzantine church.

"It became every day more clear that there is no law. The only law is power," said Jerusalem's Latin Patriarch Pierbattista Pizzaballa.

"Israeli authorities have a role to play in conducting the necessary investigations to find the perpetrators and charge them," French Consul General in Jerusalem Nicolas Kassianides said.

As he walked through the village on Monday, a resident thanked the French diplomat for his presence at the previous olive harvest -- a common practice for Israeli activists and foreigners hoping their presence will deter settler attacks on Palestinians.

The European Union's representative in the Palestinian Territories, Alexandre Stutzmann, pointed to the sanctions imposed by the bloc on certain settlers and their organisations, and said attacks were "undermining the process for peace".

The United Nations keeps a record of the routine violence committed by some of the nearly half a million Israeli settlers who live in the West Bank, excluding annexed east Jerusalem.

Israeli settlements in the occupied territories are deemed illegal under international law.

From July 1-7, the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, OCHA, documented at least 27 settler attacks against Palestinians.

In the villages and communities around Taybeh, Palestinian authorities reported that settlers had killed three people and damaged or destroyed multiple water sources in the past two weeks alone.

The July 7 arson attack on the remains of the Church of Saint George, which date back to the 5th century, was the last straw for many villagers.

"We struggle with daily provocations," said Father Bashar Basiel as he described the damage done to village lands by the settlers' livestock, or the aggressive visits by young hardliners.

"How long will these attacks last?" he asked.

On the sidelines of the visit, residents and officials exchanged photographs and videos of recent attacks and the damage done.

Many questioned how the situation could have got so bad in a quiet village known more for its beer festival and picturesque alleyways than political activism or confrontations with the Israeli army.

"We want peace," local elders recited like a mantra from the sidelines of Monday's procession.

Yet few harbour hope that Monday's visit will change the direction in which Taybeh seems headed.

Daoud Khoury, Taybeh's mayor for eight years, asked the foreign guests how they could combat settler violence "in concrete terms" and "protect Christians".

"In my opinion, the answer is that they can't do much", Khoury said later in the visit.

He said he feared the worsening security situation would prompt more local families to emigrate abroad, severing the connection between Palestinians and their land.

"What do people need? They need a roof over their head and they need a job," said Khoury, who is now in his seventies.

"That's what I expected from the patriarchs. You know, trying to create jobs, trying to build houses."

Like most of Taybeh's elderly residents, he has no plans to leave but feels powerless in the face of gradual settler expansion.

"This is something that's been going on for a while but right now it's expanding... they're just going everywhere, even closer, very close to the houses," he said.

Implicit is the fear that few residents dare to speak out loud -- the potential disappearance of the village.

From a corner of the local cemetery that was also damaged by a fire blamed on settlers, Qassam Muaddi pointed to the latest Israeli settlements on the horizon.

The young journalist was irritated by the day's formalities and said he felt like the situation had reached a deadend.

"The message that we are getting (from the international community) is that we don't matter... and that whether or not we still exist in the coming 50 years doesn't change anything," he said.

Dobropillia (Ukraine) (AFP) – A ravaged car with its engine destroyed and doors riddled with shrapnel lay on the side of the road near Dobropillia, a sleepy town not far from the front line in eastern Ukraine.

Hit by a small, remote-controlled drone, the mangled chassis was a stark reminder of why Ukraine is hurrying to mount netting over supply routes behind the sprawling front line to thwart Russian aerial attacks.

As Russia's invasion grinds through its fourth year, Moscow and Kyiv are both menacing each other's armies with swarms of cheap drones, easily found on the market and rigged with deadly explosives.

AFP reporters saw Ukrainian soldiers installing green nets on four-metre (13-foot) poles spanning kilometres (miles) of road in the eastern Donetsk region, where some of the war's most intense fighting has taken place.

"When a drone hits the net, it short-circuits and it cannot target vehicles," said 27-year-old engineering brigade commander Denis, working under the blazing sun.

"We are shifting into a so-called drone war," Denis told AFP.

FPV (first-person view) drones have already seriously wounded a few of his men. Some are armed with shotguns to shoot them down.

The Russian army has also been deploying nets.

"We weave nets like spiders! For extremely dangerous birds without feathers," the Russian defence ministry quoted a soldier with the call sign "Ares" as saying in April.

An earlier article by pro-Kremlin media outlet Izvestia also showed soldiers mounting netting close to the front.

Drones are also a worry for towns and cities.

Since early July, the town of Dobropillia, around 20 kilometres (12 miles) from the front line, has become a target for Russian FPV drone attacks.

During a recent visit to the civilian hub -- where some 28,000 people lived before the war -- AFP journalists saw residents on the streets rush for cover in shops when a drone began buzzing overhead.

When the high-pitched whirring had died down and the threat disappeared, one woman exiting a shelter picked up her shopping bags and glanced upwards, returning to her routine.

Every day, victims come to the small town's hospital. According to the hospital's director, Vadym Babkov, the enemy FPVs "spare neither medical workers nor civilians".

"We are all under threat," Babkov added.

In Russia's Belgorod border region, which frequently comes under Ukrainian fire, authorities have retrofitted ambulances with metal anti-drone cages -- a technology once reserved for tanks and personnel carrier vehicles.

"Civilians have got used to it," Denis told AFP.

Olga, a waitress in a small cafe and mini-market in Dobropillia, has devised her own way to cope with the constant drone threat.

"When I drive and feel that a drone is going to attack me, I open all the windows to avoid glass shards hitting me," the 45-year-old told AFP.

The atmosphere in the town had become "frightening", Olga said.

The shop next to Olga's was recently hit by an FPV drone, leaving its owner in a coma.

"Now we jump at every gust of wind," Olga said.

"The day has passed -- thank God. The night has passed and we wake up with all our arms and legs intact -- thank God."

But she doesn't know for how long.

"Everything hangs in the air now," she said. We're living day by day."