A 34-year-old worker at the meat processing company Embutidos Monells, in Sant Miquel de Balenyà (Osona), died on Monday after becoming trapped while operating a machine. It is a company that produces 45% of the bacon sold throughout SpainThe company also specializes in cooked ham, turkey, and cured pork loin. It works with all supermarket chains, and 65% of its products are sold sliced. The company's CEO, Maria Àngels Sebastià, confirmed the accident to the newspaper ARA but declined to provide further information because "it is under investigation by the competent authorities." "We are deeply saddened and deeply regret the loss," she emphasized. The incident occurred around 6:30 a.m. So far, only the worker's age—34—has been released; his nationality has not been specified. The Embutidos Monells factory in Sant Miquel de Balenyà employs approximately 650 people, 55% of whom are foreign nationals from forty different countries. In addition, the company has another production plant in Les Masies de Voltregà, also in Osona, with another 150 workers. Emergency Medical Service (SEM) personnel were dispatched to the factory, but were unable to save the worker's life. Citizen security and investigation patrols from the Vic police station of the Mossos d'Esquadra (Catalan Police) were also dispatched and reported the accident to the duty magistrate in Vic and the Catalan Government's Department of Business and Labor.

It's a village in Osona with little more than four streets and only about 1,200 inhabitants, but it's home to the meat processing plant that produces 45% of the bacon sold in all of Spain. The company employs more than half the village's population, and 55% of those workers are foreigners from forty different countries. The village is called Sant Miquel de Balenyà and belongs to the municipality of Seva; the meat processing plant is Embutidos Monells. They could be considered an example of what's happening throughout the region, but perhaps taken to an extreme.

Fifty-year-old Sylvie remembers almost vomiting on her first day working in a slaughterhouse. She had to cut the pigs' tongues and hearts with a knife in a room so cold her hands nearly froze. They were enormous pigs, weighing between 80 and 100 kilos, unlike anything she'd ever seen. "In my country, pigs are small. Here, they're as big as cows." And endlessly, one pig after another. Like on an assembly line.

It's a village in Osona with little more than four streets and only about 1,200 inhabitants, but it's home to the meat processing plant that produces 45% of the bacon sold in all of Spain. The company employs more than half the village's population, and 55% of those workers are foreigners from forty different countries. The village is called Sant Miquel de Balenyà and belongs to the municipality of Seva; the meat processing plant is Embutidos Monells. They could be considered an example of what's happening throughout the region, but perhaps taken to an extreme.

Fifty-year-old Sylvie remembers almost vomiting on her first day working in a slaughterhouse. She had to cut the pigs' tongues and hearts with a knife in a room so cold her hands nearly froze. They were enormous pigs, weighing between 80 and 100 kilos, unlike anything she'd ever seen. "In my country, pigs are small. Here, they're as big as cows." And endlessly, one pig after another. Like on an assembly line.

Anti-government protests in Iran continue to escalate. Tonight, massive demonstrations filled the streets of Tehran and other cities across the country, with calls to overthrow the Islamic regime. Authorities responded by cutting off internet access nationwide. Phone lines are down, flights have been canceled, and news websites are only updating intermittently. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei delivered a televised address in which he accused the protesters of acting under the orders of Donald Trump and warned that Iran "will not yield to those who commit acts of vandalism." The trigger for the protests this time was high inflation and the collapse of the local currency, the rial. But after twelve days, the demonstrations are putting the ayatollahs' regime on the ropes. Since December 28, the wholesale shops in Tehran's Grand Bazaar, Iran's economic engine, have been closed. Schools in the capital also suspended classes, and universities canceled end-of-term exams. The mobilizations have spread like wildfire across the country's 31 provinces: there have been demonstrations in more than a hundred cities.

"Praised be the most holy sacrament"," the nun would announce loudly in the middle of the dormitory in the morning. And they, half asleep in bed and with their eyes still stuck shut with sleep, would answer in unison mechanically:May He be forever blessed and praised"The nuns would wake them up like that day after day. Maria Forns remembers it perfectly, even though it was more than half a century ago. She was 16 years old when she was placed in a convent against her will.

She's a woman and an imam. A binomial that is a priori antagonistic. Seyran Ateş She was born in Turkey into a Muslim family but grew up in Germany. A lawyer by profession, she has lived under police protection since 2006. She began receiving death threats because she helped Muslim women who were being forced into marriage. Later, because she published the book Islam needs a sexual revolution (Islam needs a sexual revolution). And finally, because she opened a liberal mosque in Berlin, the Ibn Rushd-Goethe Mosque, where women and men pray together in the same space. The documentary Seyran Ateş: Sex, Revolution and Islam (Seyran Ateş: sex, revolution and Islam) tells her life story.

These are not low-quality videos, but the opposite. The set is meticulously prepared, the editing is impeccable, and the sound quality is high. The podcast is called Return to the truth and has 46,800 followers on Instagram. "A man needs his wife to be willing when he wants to be with her. And it is forbidden [in Islam] for her to refuse, unless she has a legitimate reason: menstruation, if she is going through a difficult time… (…) Even if she is cooking, she must stop cooking and go," says Sheikh Yusuf Soldado in one of the podcast's videos, talking with other Islamic influencer Aleksandar Petrov, that is even more popular. Petrov has 508,000 followers on Instagram.

What is happening in Spain and Catalonia is not an exception. All European countries face the same challenge: they don't know exactly what is happening in mosques and they have foreign imams with limited knowledge of the language and the country's social, cultural, and legal context. So far, no country has found a solution for this situation, but most have taken steps. These are some of the initiatives.

A thick curtain divides the carpeted room in two. In the smaller section, a couple of women are teaching a group of girls. The larger section, however, is reserved for boys, and the imam and his assistant are in charge of teaching them the Quran and Arabic. There's a bit of a commotion, nothing like the silence that reigns in the mosque during prayer.

A woman chasing a ball was never well-received in Afghanistan. But with the Taliban's rise to power in 2021, it became completely forbidden. Women cannot play football in Afghanistan, nor can they participate in any other sport. However, the Afghan women's national football team has risen from the ashes, returning to the pitch this October and participating in an international competition. All thanks to Khalida Popal, the team's first captain, who refused to give up. "It has been a very proud moment and our way of fighting against the ideology that considers women should stay in the kitchen," she says with conviction. Of course, the road has not been easy.

Altruistically and unconditionally, 55-year-old Àlex Puy Ampurdanés has taken in four of the people who had occupied the former Civil Guard barracks in Sabadell. "If life had always been easy for me, perhaps it wouldn't have occurred to me to take anyone in. But with my experience, I couldn't say no," he explains. Àlex also lived on the streets for years, and he says he only managed to get back on his feet because someone helped him.

She's a woman, Afghan, and a film director. The perfect combination for the Taliban to consider her. persona non grata After having sidelined women from public life and banned cinema in Afghanistan, Roya Sadat (Herat, 1983) is in Catalonia to present her latest film. Sima's song [Sima's song]. Also, this Monday, in the Asian Film Festival Barcelona His documentary will be screened The sharp edge of peace [The Sharp Edge of Peace], focusing on the only four Afghan women who participated in the peace talks between the Afghan government and the Taliban, which ended with the radicals taking Kabul.

At first glance, the walls appear sturdy and the facade is in perfect condition. Inside, it's true that some windows lack glass, the copper pipes and cables have been ripped out, and the paint on some walls is peeling. But the apartments are in really good condition: they're large, bright, and above all, it's surprising that they've remained closed for more than 25 years despite the severe housing crisis. Even more so considering that they're all public housing. They were part of the former Civil Guard barracks in Sabadell and were abandoned with the deployment of the Mossos d'Esquadra (Spanish police) in the late 1990s. Since then, they've been empty due to a dispute between the Ministry of the Interior and Sabadell City Council.

Fernanda, 76 years old, is from the generation so as not to disturb. The kind who prefers to keep quiet, swallow, endure. All to avoid disturbing others, although this destroys her inside. She has three children but lives alone because, she says, one son lives in London, one daughter is in Madrid, and the one who lives in Hospitalet de Llobregat is content for her to work and take care of the children and the house, and the only thing missing is having to take care of her. And Fernanda doesn't want anything in the world to be a burden, even if she feels alone.

The words of Shaharzad Akbar, director of the human rights organization Rawadari, opened the session, already making it clear that this would be an emotional day. "All of us Afghans in this room wish this tribunal could be held in Kabul," he said before pausing, taking a deep breath, and trying not to burst into tears. He then continued in a trembling voice until he managed to regain a steady tone.

His last WhatsApp It's Monday at 1:43 p.m. Three-quarters of an hour later, I answered her, but my message hadn't reached her. However, I wasn't surprised. I thought her mobile phone battery had probably run out and, given the constant power outages in Kabul and the rest of Afghanistan, she hadn't been able to recharge it. However, this Tuesday morning my Afghan colleague still hadn't answered, and that already made me suspicious. I tried calling her, but there was no line.

A patient with a severe psychiatric disorder committed suicide on August 22 while waiting in an emergency room at the Terrassa University Hospital, sources from the Terrassa Health Consortium (CST) confirmed. The woman had been in the emergency room for two days waiting to be assigned a bed on the psychiatric ward, according to reports. The Newspaper and has been confirmed by the ARA. The CST, the consortium that manages this hospital of the Catalan Health Service (CatSalut), simply stated that the patient's death is "under analysis" by the Patient Quality and Safety Committee.

There are few images of what happened, but some are disturbing: desperate men trying to dig out victims trapped under the rubble with their bare hands in the middle of the night, using their cell phone flashlights to illuminate the scene. A magnitude 6 earthquake struck northeastern Afghanistan on Sunday night, devastating the outcome: at least 1,124 people died and 3,251 were injured, according to a Tuesday update from the Afghan Red Crescent, a humanitarian group working in the region.