When slash-and-burn plantation fires spread, these Indonesian women douse the flames

|
Lindsey McGinnis/The Christian Science Monitor
Power of Mama firefighters patrol in the sparse forest and palm oil fields in their district. They operate even during the rainy season.

The women adjust hard hats over hijabs and pull on knee-high boots. Then they set off into what was once a dense forest of rubber and bamboo trees but is now a patchwork of small-scale palm oil fields.

Everyone knows who they are. Their scarlet, elbow-patched uniforms with flames snaking up the torso, and the image of a firefighter emblazoned on the chest, give it away.

This is the Power of Mama.

Why We Wrote This

The palm oil industry has put Indonesian Borneo at risk of devastating wildfires. Ahead of International Women’s Day March 8, The Christian Science Monitor joins an all-female firefighting force on patrol.

Across Kalimantan, the Indonesian part of the island of Borneo, lush rainforest hosting carbon-rich peatland and one of the country’s most significant populations of orangutans meets illegal logging and palm oil farms. That adds up to wildfires.

So Power of Mama members have started patrolling for fire risks, urging farmers to follow the rules about slash-and-burn clearing, and challenging stereotypes about women’s roles in rural Indonesian life along the way.

Female forest rangers in Indonesia are rare, says Eulis Utami, director of an nongovernmental organization called Hutan Itu Indonesia, or Indonesia is Forest, which aims to educate Indonesians about their tropical rainforest, the world’s third-largest. But when women are given training and information, she says, “They protect the forest with their whole hearts.”

Lindsey McGinnis/The Christian Science Monitor
Local Power of Mama patrollers pose for a photo in Sungai Putri, Indonesia, Feb. 25, 2025.

The environmental stakes

In untouched forests of West Kalimantan, orangutans build their nests high up in trees. Hornbills soar through the vines with deep swoops of their wings. The chirps of songbirds mingle with the “o-ho!” calls of gibbons.

But this habitat is shrinking. West Kalimantan has lost more than a third of its tree cover since 2000.

Indonesia is the world’s largest producer of palm oil, and nearly all of it comes from either Sumatra or Kalimantan. The farms have wreaked havoc on peatlands, one of the world’s most important carbon sinks. When the bogs are cleared, the water table sinks and soil becomes highly flammable.

A new consciousness about the risks of fire spread rapidly to this community in 2019, when agricultural burning amid drought conditions sparked fires that raged for months. Millions of acres of peatlands and rainforest burned. And it kept many of the mothers who would eventually form the Power of Mama up at night, worried about the effects of smoke and haze on their children’s health.

Lindsey McGinnis/The Christian Science Monitor
This plot used to be part of a dense peatland forest in Sungai Putri, Indonesia, that protected the local community from floods and fires.

The Power of Mama was launched in 2022 by Yayasan International Animal Rescue Indonesia (YIARI), whose long-term goal is to save the critically endangered orangutan. The women’s group has since expanded to eight villages, covering more than 125 hectares (over 300 acres), in an area called Ketapang.

According to data from West Kalimantan’s environment and forestry agency, Ketapang is the area that lost the most forest coverage to fire in the region last year – over 900 hectares.

YIARI intentionally made women part of the solution. Male farmers have been impervious to NGOs trying to convince them to protect the forests, but they listen to their wives, says Anna Desliani from YIARI. “Women have influence in their families,” she says.

Jacob Turcotte/Staff

One of the newest branches is in the community of Sungai Putri, which counts 2,000 residents. Farmers here have long tended rice paddies but many switched to more lucrative oil palm trees in 2017.

“It’s sad because ... before it was real forest,” says Misnati, a patroller who, like many Indonesians, has just one name. She says she misses the sounds of gibbons and the cooler air the forest brought. She also felt more protected from fire and floods when the forest served as a buffer zone.

Sara Miller Llana/The Christian Science Monitor
Misnati – who, like many Indonesians, goes by only one name – explains how she helped put out a fire in Sungai Putri, Indonesia, Feb. 25, 2025.

The Power of Mama doesn’t aim to stamp out cultivation – in fact, most of its members’ husbands toil in palm oil now. But they have been educated on the risks of clearing land by burning, of overcultivating, and of smoking in a highly flammable field. And that knowledge gives them an authority that many had never known. “People now have more respect for us – or are afraid of us,” says Irma, the Sungai Putri coordinator.

Celebrating forest

When it comes to forests, the discussion is always “heavy,” explains Ms. Utami. It’s about deforestation, wildfire, conflict. That’s why Indonesia is Forest, which introduces young town dwellers to the rainforest, focuses on positive narratives that make people want to protect Indonesian biodiversity.

The Power of Mama is, in its own way, cultivating a similar enthusiasm.

Lindsey McGinnis/The Christian Science Monitor
Palm oil fruit is piled just off the patrol path, near a shelter for palm oil workers. The Power of Mama is seeking to ensure that farmers follow safety regulations to avoid wildfires.

On this day rainy day, the women aren’t on high alert. They walk the land and talk with farmers. Passing a patch of blackened vegetation, Misnati recalls her proudest moment: when she figured out how to connect a hose to a water pump and put out a fire here last year.

She stops to look around. Before the Power of Mama, “I’d never venture this far into the land alone,” she says. “I’ve gotten to know the landscape even though I’ve lived here my whole life.”

She has also gotten to know the other women in the community; many of them patrol with their arms around one another. Together they’ve found shared purpose.

“We need to be a role model, to set an example,” says another patroller, Lita, sporting an upcycled crossbody purse made of plastic detergent sachets she collected from her neighbors. Other women are wearing them, too. “If we don’t do this, who will?”

Ismira Lutfia Tisnadibrata supported reporting for this story.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
Real news can be honest, hopeful, credible, constructive.
What is the Monitor difference? Tackling the tough headlines – with humanity. Listening to sources – with respect. Seeing the story that others are missing by reporting what so often gets overlooked: the values that connect us. That’s Monitor reporting – news that changes how you see the world.

Give us your feedback

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

 

Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

If you’re looking for bran muffin journalism, you can subscribe to the Monitor for $15. You’ll get the Monitor Weekly magazine, the Monitor Daily email, and unlimited access to CSMonitor.com.

QR Code to When slash-and-burn plantation fires spread, these Indonesian women douse the flames
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Asia-South-Central/2025/0306/indonesia-forest-fires-women-fighters
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe