MINNEAPOLIS (AP) — Rows of businesses stood shuttered inside a sprawling complex of Somali businesses on a recent afternoon.
Karmel Mall in south Minneapolis contains more than a hundred small businesses in suites offering everything from clothing and food to insurance and accounting services. On Thursday, the noisy hallways inside lay quiet, save for occasional chatter between neighboring vendors. The smell of fried food still wafted from the bakeries, the central heating hummed and the sound of Quran recitation flowed quietly from some shops.
But many sellers sat alone in their clothing stores, waiting for the occasional customer to walk by. Everyone is afraid of federal immigration agents, business owners said. Sellers and customers, citizens and noncitizens. Some don’t bother opening shop because they aren’t expecting any customers.
“It’s been like this for three weeks now,” said Abdi Wahid, who works at his mom’s convenience store in the mall. “Everywhere it’s all been closed up, all the stores.”
Karmel Mall is an economic hub for the area’s Somali population, which is the largest in the U.S. But it also features housing, a mosque and Quran classes, serving as a robust community center for the area.
The economic impact of the Trump administration's “Operation Metro Surge” stretches beyond the Somali community: many immigrants are on edge, afraid to go to work or leave their homes amid the immigration crackdown.
But President Donald Trump has made the Somali community a special target of his deportation rhetoric after recent government fraud cases in Minnesota in which a majority of defendants had Somali roots. Since December, Trump has made numerous jabs at the community, calling them “garbage” and saying “they contribute nothing."
Wahid said early afternoons at the family business once meant 15 to 20 customers. These days, it’s tough to get one.
Wahid is a citizen, but he said the fear extends beyond just immigrants. Citizens are also scared of coming in, especially following the killing of Renee Good and the ICE raid at Roosevelt High School in south Minneapolis.
“I think that caused a lot of people to not even want to come,” he said, because they could be targeted “just because of their race.”
Homeland Security assistant secretary Tricia McLaughlin said in a statement that law enforcement uses “reasonable suspicion” to make arrests under the fourth amendment.
“A person’s immigration status makes them a target for enforcement, not their skin color, race or ethnicity,” she said.
Upstairs, Bashir Garad runs Safari Travel & Accounting Services. Not only has the crackdown in Minneapolis meant he's lost almost all his customers, but his existing clients are canceling upcoming trips because they’re worried they won’t be let back into the country.
“They see a lot of unlawful things going on in the city," he said. “They look at something bad, and then they think some bad things may happen to them.” The majority of his clients are East African, and nearly all are U.S. citizens. They still hesitate to travel.
“The government is not doing the right thing,” he said. “If there’s a criminal, there’s a criminal. Regardless, there are ways to find the criminal, but to marginalize the community’s name, and a whole people, that is unlawful.”
Ibrahim Dahiye, who sells electronics, said winter always used to be slow, “but now it’s totally different. No one comes here. All the stores are closed, few are open.”
Since the crackdown began, Dahiye said his business is down $20,000 monthly, and he’s now pooling funds to make rent.
He said he's lost most of his customers. His employees are too frightened to come to work. He tapped his jacket pocket, saying he keeps his passport on him at all times.
“I don’t know what we can do,” Dahiye said. “We believe in Allah, but we can’t do anything.”
A sign is taped to the outside of the 24 Somali Mall in Minneapolis, Thursday, Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Abbie Parr)
A view of the 24 Somali Mall in Minneapolis, Thursday, Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Abbie Parr)
A view of the 24 Somali Mall in Minneapolis, Thursday, Jan. 15, 2026. (AP Photo/Abbie Parr)
CHERNOBYL, Ukraine (AP) — On contaminated land that is too dangerous for human life, the world’s wildest horses roam free.
Across the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Przewalski’s horses — stocky, sand-colored and almost toy-like in appearance — graze in a radioactive landscape larger than Luxembourg.
On April 26, 1986, an explosion at the nuclear power plant in Ukraine sent radiation across Europe and forced the evacuation of entire towns, displacing tens of thousands. It was the worst nuclear disaster in history.
Four decades on, Chernobyl — which is transliterated as “Chornobyl” in Ukraine — remains too dangerous for humans. But the wildlife has moved back in.
Wolves now prowl the vast no-man’s-land spanning Ukraine and Belarus, and brown bears have returned after more than a century. Populations of lynx, moose, red deer and even free-roaming packs of dogs have rebounded.
Przewalski’s horses, native to Mongolia and once on the brink of disappearing, were introduced here in 1998 as an experiment.
Known as “takhi” in Mongolia (“spirit”), the horses are distinct from domestic breeds, with 33 pairs of chromosomes, compared with 32 in domesticated horses. The modern name comes from the Russian explorer who first formally identified them.
“The fact that Ukraine now has a free-ranging population is something of a small miracle,” said Denys Vyshnevskyi, the zone’s lead nature scientist.
With human pressure gone, parts of the exclusion zone now resemble European landscapes from centuries past, he said, adding: “Nature recovers relatively quickly and effectively.”
The transformation is visible everywhere. Trees pierce abandoned buildings, roads dissolve into forest, and weathered Soviet-era signs stand beside leaning wooden crosses in overgrown cemeteries.
Hidden cameras show the horses adapting in unexpected ways. They seek shelter in crumbling barns and deserted homes, using them to escape harsh weather and insects — even bedding down inside.
The horses live in small social groups — typically one stallion with several mares and their young — alongside separate bands of younger males. Many died after their introduction, but others adapted.
Declared extinct in the wild in 1969, Przewalski’s horses survived only through captive breeding before reintroduction efforts rebuilt a global population of about 3,000, according to Florian Drouard, an operations manager at a program for the horses at Cevennes National Park in southern France.
“This species is a remarkable example of successful reintroduction,” he said. “While it is still far from being fully secure, it has shown that with proper preparation, a species kept in captivity can regain the social and ecological behaviors needed to live freely.”
The horse, he said, has proved unexpectedly adaptable, adapted to open landscapes but now also thriving in Ukraine's partly forested environment.
Tracking the animals at Chernobyl takes time. Vyshnevskyi often drives alone for hours, setting motion-sensitive camera traps in camouflaged casings attached to trees.
Despite persistent radiation, scientists have not recorded widespread die-offs, though subtler effects are evident. Some frogs have developed darker skin, and birds in higher-radiation areas are more likely to develop cataracts.
However, new threats have emerged.
Russia’s 2022 invasion brought fighting through the exclusion zone as troops advanced toward Kyiv, digging defenses into contaminated soil. Fires linked to military activity swept through forests.
Harsh wartime winters have also taken a toll. Damage to the power grid left surrounding managed areas without resources, and scientists report increases in fallen trees and dead animals — casualties of both extreme conditions and hastily built fortifications.
“Most forest fires are caused by downed drones,” said Oleksandr Polischuk, who leads a firefighting unit in the zone. “Sometimes we have to travel dozens of kilometers to reach them.”
Fires can send radioactive particles back into the air.
Today, the zone is no longer just an accidental refuge for wildlife. It has become a heavily monitored military corridor, marked by concrete barriers, barbed wire and minefields — a landscape of what some describe as grim beauty.
Personnel rotate in and out to limit radiation exposure. Chernobyl is likely to remain off-limits for generations — too dangerous for people, yet full of life.
“For those of us in conservation and ecology, it’s kind of a wonder,” Vyshnevskyi said. “This land was once heavily used — agriculture, cities, infrastructure. But nature has effectively performed a factory reset.”
Associated Press writers Dmytro Zhyhinas and Vasilisa Stepanenko in Chernobyl, Ukraine, contributed to this report.
Denys Vyshnevskyi, researcher at the Chornobyl Radiation and Ecological Biosphere Reserve, stands in front of a dead wild Przewalski horse in a forest inside the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Ukraine, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. Chornobyl is the Ukrainian name for the city. (AP Photo/Evgeniy Maloletka)
Abandoned houses are seen overgrown with vegetation at the Chernobyl exclusion zone in Prypiat, Ukraine, Monday, April 6, 2026. Chornobyl is the Ukrainian name for the city. (AP Photo/Evgeniy Maloletka)
Wild Przewalski horses graze in a forest inside the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Ukraine, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. Chornobyl is the Ukrainian name for the city. (AP Photo/Evgeniy Maloletka)
