Coming home on Sunday after a long day at work, there was still no rest. Several of my neighbours in Gaza were escaping the late evening heat of their apartments to sit outside our building chatting about the previous two days that had seen the bloodiest inter-Palestinian fighting in two years, between forces of the Islamist Hamas rulers of Gaza and gunmen of an al Qaeda-style group. It left 28 people dead.

Knowing I'ma journalist, and discovering that I had been at the scene of the clashes, down in the south of the Gaza Strip at Rafah, the neighbours started bombarding me with their questions. Most of them were confused about what exactly happened between these two groups, which both endorse Islam as a political ideology.

Some of them asked whether the clashes would have a backlash and whether they should keep a distance from Hamas police stations and even restaurants to avoid being blown up by followers of the Jund Ansar Allah (the Warriors of God), whose leader had been killed in the fighting with Hamas security forces.

Most of the neighbors did not condone the radical splinter group's support of the use of force to impose Islamic law on Gaza's community of 1.5 million people, nearly all of whom are Muslim. But some were confused over the religious implications of such clashes with Hamas, which also sees itself as a guardian of Islamic orthodoxy.

"Killing in the name of Islam?" said Mustafa, one of my neighbours, reflecting on the clash of two groups both sure of their beliefs. "But who among the dead will go to heaven and who to hell? Who was the good guy and who was the evil one?"

"Those wanted to establish an emirate," said Abu Hassan, referring to Jund Ansar Allah. "Do you know what that means? Like the Taliban in Afghanistan. That means American warships will sail to Gaza."

Others complained that Hamas itself sometimes seemed no less extreme in its religious views than these small, al Qaeda-like groups. They cited a recent campaign by Hamas's religious affairs ministry in Gaza to encourage women to wear headscarves and adhere to Islamic values. "Hamas police are stopping couples walking in streets and checking their IDs," one of the neighbours complained. "Am I supposed to carry around my marriage certificate whenever I go out with my wife?"

As a reporter, I tried to listen more than talk, and my answers to their questions were mostly similar to the various stories we wrote during the day. For an even more detailed view of the challenge to Hamas from al Qaeda-aligned Jihadists, and an insight into the details of their different brands of political Islam, I'd recommend this recent research report by Are Hovdenak of the International Peace Research Institute in Oslo.

I am struck, though, by how this sudden, complex and bloody controversy has become the talk of ordinary Gazans, some of whom seem unsure where their sympathies, or their duty as Muslims, should lie. It seems for now an inexhaustible source of conversation.

Running to the lift as it suddenly came to life after a typical hours-long power cut, I got away from my inquisitive neighbours and gratefully went up to my floor and opened my apartment door, looking forward to a rest.

"So," asked my wife, "What really happened down in Rafah...?"

People who lost their houses remain homeless, living with friends, with relatives and in rental apartments and their hopes to rebuild their homes seem remote following news of a setback in Egyptian efforts to reach a long-term truce between Israel and Hamas earlier this month. In daylight those people visit tents they established on and near the rubble of what were once their houses in order to receive Arab and other foreign visitors who visit to assess the damage and promise aid to come. International donors will discuss funding at Sharm el-Sheikh in neighbouring Egypt on Monday. Bulldozers have cleared streets in areas where the Israeli army operated in January but the rubble of houses, offices and Hamas security headquarters remained unremoved. Hamas policemen helped by United Nations teams acted to remove several unexploded bombs from several locations after two children were killed playing with an object recently.

Visitors are often received by appeals, anger, despair and some of mistrust by those who lost their houses or loved ones. International envoys have urged Hamas and Fatah to reunite in order for the donors to find an official recognised party to deal with over Gaza reconstruction plans. But for aid to come and crossings to open and allow construction materials into the coastal territory, efforts by Egypt need to succeed to recocile Hamas with both President Mahmoud Abbas Fatah movement and, up to a point, with Israel.

There are many questions that torment Gazans when talking about these issues and the failure in previous initiatives to reconcile Hamas and Fatah hover like a ghost over conversations. Will Abbas and Hamas be able to form a unity government, one Israel, the United States and the West would agree to cooperate with and support? In a visit to Prague on Monday Abbas said Hamas needed to respect existing peace deals with Israel to be a partner in a unity government with his Fatah group.

"God's willing it will work. Enough is enough," said Hassan, a Fatah activist, whose brother was detained by Hamas. "We want to see an end to this. Since Fatah and Hamas leaders met recently we have begun to feel better and we hope it is going to be really better," he said. Hamas activists also want an end to arrest campaigns against them by Fatah security services in the Fatah-run, Israeli-occupied West Bank. The issue of prisoners foiled Egypt's efforts to reconcile the two groups on November and it remains an issue of dispute that cast a shadow of doubt over the current Cairo intervention. Hoping to corner the factions and push them to reconcile, the Egyptian proposal has stitched the thorny files together - a truce with Israel, reconciliation talks and Gaza reconstruction, and any failure in one of these files would heavily affect the other.

"If you want a sack of cement, you need Fatah and Hamas to unite and you need a truce. If you need fuel, you need peace between Hamas, Fatah and Israel," said Abu Mohammed Ali, who works for a telephone company. "It is like a scorpion's web."

By Nidal al-Mughrabi

Voices get loud and excited over the radio Reuters news crews use in Gaza to call in the latest information. Some people complain there are no "Western reporters" inside. But we all work for Reuters, a global agency that sets the international standard.

After two full weeks of bombardment we are all worried about our families but we work and work the story. We hope it will stop.

"They bombed a car in Beit Lahiyah," says one colleague working in northern Gaza.

"Three dead arrived in Shifa hospital," says another in Gaza's largest hospital.

"Several people were injured when Israeli planes bombed the tunnels," said a third from southern Gaza Strip near the border with Egypt.

I field these calls in our office where we have put duct tape crosses on every window to limit flying glass if a strike is too close. Still, the largest window in the hall was blown out.

We have a fixed camera on our high-rise building but our cameramen are being cautious not to point their cameras from the windows, in case they are mistaken for weapons. (Such mistakes were given as the reasons why a US tank blasted our Baghdad bureau in 2003, killing and wounding colleagues, and was also the reason given for an Israeli tank killing our colleague here in Gaza, Fadel Shana, nine months ago.)

The camera can show the blue Mediterranean sea a few blocks to the west, or point the other way to where Israeli ground forces are closing in, perhaps little more than a kilometre away. At night it used to show bright lights and traffic.

Now it is empty streets and a few cold electric lights. Nothing much moves after dark these days. And we choose, for safety reasons, not to stay in the bureau overnight. We look after our families and keep in touch with contacts and colleagues by phone, ready to head out and film if necessary.

We all get to the office around 9 a.m - typically about 10 of us, with another dozen colleagues working in other parts of the Gaza Strip. The strikes have usually been going on for a few hours by then. We call that information in to our bureau in Jerusalem where colleagues have been updating our main report around the clock. The updates go on all day long.

I often have no time to write up stories myself. It all moves so fast. I use two land phones, an Israeli mobile phone, and a Palestinian mobile phone that is intermittent.

Inside Gaza, we use text messages to communicate. We have to monitor local television and radio stations because they are often first with developments that we race to check. Those checks are essential, of course. The mixture of confusion and deliberate propaganda that accompanies any war, means that our standards of cross-checking everything and ensuring readers understand the sources of information need to be rigorous.

Every day is a new life written for me and for my family and also for the Reuters team in Gaza. Shelling and air strikes have hardly spared any place in the whole Gaza Strip. The heart of the city of Gaza has been hit several times.

Some areas seem to have been hit simply because a Hamas policeman walked nearby, or some militants were detected at a street corner by the Israeli forces. The high-explosive attack that follows can be devastating, taking out not only targeted people but a house or some passers-by.

The movement of our crews is restricted to hospitals and major strikes at places that are important, or where we think there may have been a high death toll. It is simply too dangerous to do otherwise. We cannot be with Hamas leaders or accompany the fighters to film them since that would be too great a risk.

"Please take care. Do not enter a place right after it is bombed. Wait a bit, it may be hit again." This is a warning I issue to our crews 30 times a day.

We urge our cameramen and photographers to avoid main roads outside the city, and to look carefully where they drive.

"Try not to pass by a police station even it was already bombed. Do not go by a money exchange shop, or a house of a Hamas leader. Do not pass by a place the Israel army has threatened to bomb. Avoid passing close to a mosque."

This is also my daily advice to myself -- a list I repeat mentally as I drive back and forth.

Inside the office we have breakfast together, lunch too sometimes, and we send meals to people on outside missions. At one stage we did not see our outside crews for almost five days. When they returned to the office there was a big welcome scene. We hugged one another and thanked God we were safe, that all of us were safe.

Four journalists have been killed since the offensive began. One worked for Algerian and Moroccan television, another two for local Gaza broadcasters. The fourth was the special presidential cameraman for Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas.

When the main security complex was hit, 200 metres from our office, a piece of shrapnel penetrated the wall of our TV production room and made a hole. Part of the ceiling broke but everybody was safe. Many times we have ducked under the tables when huge blasts from air strikes shook the office. We also hear the whistle of outgoing Gaza rockets fired at Israel from inside the city.

Our families are our main concern.

I live in the south west side of Gaza City, not far from the sea, and the sounds of explosions in the district in the street have never ceased for 14 days of war. We've had almost no electricity for 10 days. For safety, my wife, daughter and son squeeze all day into our little hallway, listening to the news on a transistor radio. When one goes to the toilet, they all go together. One goes into the bathroom, the rest wait just outside.

For 14 days we have been sleeping in the same room, which we thought was away from the street and would be safe. But the whole building shook with every explosion and my wife had to leave our bed and hug the kids, sleeping on mattresses. My kids cover their ears a lot of the time when explosions start. My daily lectures about safety --  that we are far from what is happening -- seem pretty useless.

On Thursday the children realised I was just trying to make things easier. An Israeli missile hit a house across the street where we lived and killed a journalist, his wife and his mother-in-law. I was still working and my wife called to tell me and I could hear the children crying in the background. I had to check a colour story bylined in my name by Reuters in Jerusalem. The colleagues there told me to go home and to be with my family, which must be the top priority before anything else.

We have to leave the office before it is too late at night because the streets are empty and scary. Restaurants are closed and bakeries crowded by people in the daytime. One baker helped out with a special delivery, grateful for the work of journalists.

Our Reuters colleagues in Jerusalem are far away but they have some visual contact via our live television monitor, so they can see the smoke, dust and flames caused by Israeli bombing in Gaza. They can get some of the atmosphere. We also have many colleagues on Israel's border with the Gaza Strip, just a few kilometres from our office here, watching and filming the bombs landing around us and the rockets being fired at Israel.

It is hard to get accurate statistics from independent parties on how many fighters have died. Hamas spokesmen do not answer that question. Our cameramen rarely cover funerals of gunmen of Hamas, it is too dangerous. The Israeli army says it has killed "hundreds" of fighters. From the tolls we are compiling from the hospitals, hundreds of civilians have also died.

On Friday Jan 9, an air strike hit a TV production and transmission facility about 100 metres from our office. At least one person was hurt and there was considerable damage. It was used by several Arab TV stations and Iran's Press TV. The Israeli army said the building was not a target but may have sustained "collateral damage" - and they assured us they have the coordinates of the Reuters bureau and that we are not a target. It is worrying nonetheless.

We pray this will stop soon.

Saturday is my day off from being Reuters correspondent in Gaza and I usually sleep until noon.  This Saturday things didn't go to plan.

My 7-year-old son Abdel-Rahman and his sister Dalia, who is 12, came home early from school, as they have been doing their mid-term exams, to wake me up and ask me to take them for breakfast at a seafront restaurant not far from Gaza's port.

We got in the car, and for some reason I didn't take the usual coast road. The decision probably saved our lives.

We had barely taken our table overlooking the sea when we heard one explosion, then another, then a third.

Abdel-Rahman began to cry and Dalia covered her ears with her hands.

I rushed to the front to have a look and saw smoke pouring from the area of the port, and a series of explosions. I figured it was air strikes. Then I heard the roar of Israeli jets.

I radioed my colleagues in television and pictures and told them what I had seen. I tried to phone Reuters' Jerusalem office -- but the mobile phone signal died.

I went to the restaurant's reception and called the office, but I had to keep running back to my children and wife, were, to calm them down.

"Dad, don't leave us," cried Abdel-Rahman. Dalia wept. "Dad, I am afraid. Why? Why did that happen? Do they want to kill us?"

I had no answer as the explosions continued to rock the place that is our home.

I was getting reports by radio about locations that had been hit, including the main police headquarters and another security compound near our house.

What later emerged was that more than 225 people had been killed in dozens of air strikes against the Hamas-ruled strip. Israel said the attacks were in response to daily rocket fire by Gaza militants, which intensified after Hamas ended a six-month ceasefire. On Saturday, one Israeli man was killed by a rocket after the Israeli strikes began.

My wife tried to call her friends in the house, but couldn't get a signal. Then one of her friends got through to her and told her that there was shattered glass everywhere and the sky overhead was thick with smoke.

So we had to stay put in the restaurant and I had to struggle between coping with the tears of my children and the need to get to my office in Gaza.

Colleagues warned me against driving as my car could be hit if I unwittingly drove near any of the security compounds that the Israelis were attacking.

Then there was a lull in the bombings, and I put my family in the car. I took back roads, and drove as fast as I dared with hundreds of people milling around the streets.

"Dad, be careful," Dalia said.

We arrived home to see that the adjacent Hamas security compound had indeed been bombed, and there were crowds in the street.

"I saw body parts and some people had their heads cut off," one man said. "It was a real massacre, Israel has started a war," said another.

In the compound, ambulance workers were still carrying out the injured as bodies, uniformed and in plain clothes, lay on the ground. Women wept and children huddled in the arms of their mothers and fathers.