Imlisanen Jamir
In Wokha, the firefighters show up — even when the gear doesn’t. Even when their suits are threadbare, their boots are cracked, and their station building leaks every time it rains. They still show up. That’s the part most people don’t see when a fire engine arrives late, or when the flames get too far ahead. The public sees failure. What they don’t see is how the system failed these firefighters first.
Earlier this week, The Morung Express published a report from Wokha Fire Station, where personnel opened their doors and told a story that deserves statewide attention. The station has just three fire engines for the entire district, covering remote subdivisions like Bhandari, Sanis, and Ralan. Their equipment is a patchwork of the old and barely working. Firefighters lack basic safety gear — no suits, no gloves, no helmets, no face masks. And the building itself, built over two decades ago, is literally falling apart. This isn’t a station — it’s a symbol of abandonment.
Yet the men continue. When wildfires tore through the outskirts of Wokha earlier this year, they responded. When electrical fires crackled through crowded localities, they got in their trucks and drove — often knowing they wouldn’t have enough water, or that the roads would choke them with traffic, or that angry crowds would be waiting. They went anyway.
This is not just a Wokha story. It’s Nagaland’s story. Across the state, fire and emergency services are stretched to breaking. According to recent state data, Nagaland has just 21 fire stations — far fewer than the 48 stations recommended by national standards for a state of this size and terrain. Several newly carved districts, including Tseminyu, still do not have operational fire stations. In April, a fire near Tseminyu, caused during a field-clearing operation, rapidly spread through plantations and farmland. There was no fire station to respond. Instead, it was local youth volunteers and villagers who braved the blaze. A fire emergency office is under construction there — but for a new district, “under construction” is too late when the fire’s already burning.
It’s worth noting that official data shows a 32.79% decline in reported forest fire incidents in Nagaland last year. But that figure hides a deeper truth. Even one major fire — in a town with no fire station, or a village hours away from the nearest fire engine — is one too many. And the fires are still coming. Dimapur has seen multiple large-scale blazes this year alone. Rural areas continue to rely on local volunteers and prayer.
What happens when bravery runs out? When the next call for help echoes through a district, and there’s no truck that can make it in time?
The state can no longer rely on improvisation. It must invest. It must listen. And it must respond — not with another round of promises, but with actual water tankers, fire suits, breathing gear, trained personnel, and buildings that don’t collapse when it rains. Firefighters cannot run into danger with their hands tied behind their backs.
The Wokha report we published is not an outlier. It’s a warning. And like any good warning, it comes not with anger, but with urgency. The question is no longer if the next fire will come — but who will be ready when it does.
Comments can be sent to imlisanenjamir@gmail.com
