PALEMBANG; Near-constant forest and land fires in South Sumatra have continued to smoulder for more than two months, leaving farmers with smaller harvests, businesses losing customers and residents seeking treatment for respiratory problems.
By Wahyudi Soeriaatmadja and Karina Tehusijarana | Published: Oct 23, 2026
In Ogan Ilir regency, on the outskirts of Palembang, South Sumatra, near-constant forest and land fires for more than two months have left the ground so dry in some areas that simply stepping on it kicks up a visible cloud of dust and ash.
Nita Herman, 52, has to breathe it all in as she works on her small farm, growing rice and vegetables. The fires and the resulting haze mean she cannot get as much work done as she needs to.
“My chest feels tight. When I drink, it feels like there’s a fish bone stuck in my throat,” she told The Straits Times as she worked on Oct 17.
The day before, Palembang’s air quality reached a record high of 1,477 on the US AQI scale, equivalent to PM2.5 levels of 800. It had since dropped to an AQI of 699 (PM2.5 425), but the choking air remained thick.
While haze from fires in Sumatra and Kalimantan has affected Indonesia’s neighbours, local communities such as Nita’s bear the brunt of the environmental catastrophe.
“Every year, we suffer,” Nita said.
On Sept 10, the Health Ministry said the fires had affected more than 12.5 million people in Kalimantan, Jambi, Riau and South Sumatra, where the fires are most widespread.
Forced to harvest early because of drier-than-usual weather, Nita estimated that her rice paddy would yield only about two tonnes, compared with 3.5 tonnes in 2025.
More than the reduced income from her farm, however, Nita worries about her son, 23-year-old Eko Prasetyo, a firefighter who has not been home since Aug 15.
“If it doesn’t rain, he can’t come home,” said Nita, who also has a younger daughter.
Eko is one of more than 60,000 personnel deployed nationwide to fight land and forest fires, which have intensified during a strong El Nino year.
The blazes scorched more than 200,000ha between January and July, according to the Forestry Ministry’s SiPongi monitoring system, while the resulting haze spread across parts of South-east Asia. By comparison, about 99,000ha were burnt between January and July 2025.
In South Sumatra, the effects are not only environmental but also economic and health-related. Farmers are seeing smaller harvests, while businesses that depend on tourists are losing customers. Residents are also flooding clinics seeking treatment for respiratory problems.
The crisis has renewed questions about whether Indonesia is adequately equipped to tackle fires that return almost every year.
Nita said Eko was in Sungai Baung, north-east of Palembang, a region that takes eight hours to reach from Ogan Ilir by boat and truck.
As peatland fires there continue to smoulder, Eko’s brigade has set up camp in nearby woodlands to keep the flames under control. They return to the firefighters’ command centre in Simpang Tiga, a few hours’ drive away, only to collect food and supplies.
“If they leave, the fire can spread again,” Nita said. “So they have to stand by in their tents.”
Rake Sandi, 39, who has been a firefighter for 17 years, said the greatest danger comes when the wind suddenly changes direction while a crew is deep inside a burning zone.
“Before you know it, you’re surrounded by smoke,” Rake told ST on Oct 17, as he was being sent to a new hotspot. “You can evade the flames, but it’s very difficult to escape the smoke.”
A sudden shift in the wind once caused a colleague to collapse while they were fighting a blaze in Palembang’s Gandus district. After getting their colleague to safety, the crew returned to the fire.
“For wildfires, we need to get to the centre of the fire and try to cut it off there. But that’s where it gets very dangerous when the wind shifts,” Rake said.
“I’ll tell him, yes, it can be dangerous, but we’re doing it to help people, and we’re equipped with training and knowledge,” he said. “Insyaallah, my colleagues and I will be all right.”
While firefighters risk their lives, local businesses are watching their livelihoods dwindle.
In Palembang’s city centre, Ponco Pramono, 46, is struggling to keep his restaurant, Mie Celor 26, open.
The Palembang noodle restaurant is popular with Indonesian tourists, who usually visit the city for its food. The restaurant’s signature mie celor is a noodle dish made with coconut milk and shrimp broth, served with bean sprouts and a boiled egg. But as the haze worsens, Ponco’s profits have fallen.
“In September, our sales dropped by 20%,” Ponco told ST on Oct 15. “This month, it’s even worse – it is down 40%.”
Haze has affected more than 200 flights to Palembang since the beginning of October, deterring visitors. Locals are also staying home more, leaving Mie Celor 26’s usually packed dining room relatively sparse.
“We have 10 employees here and we want to keep everyone, but things are hard,” Ponco said.
People are angry. “We pay taxes every year, but the government cannot protect us,” he lamented.
Roadside vendor Marlini Suwandi, 44, is also watching helplessly as her income takes a hit.
She usually earns around 200,000 rupiah (S$14) a day selling vegetables near the Pasar 26 wet market in Palembang. But since the haze worsened in mid-October, her sales have fallen by half.
“The gorengan (fried snacks) cart vendors are my usual customers, but with all this smoke, many of them aren’t going out any more,” she told ST. “When the haze wasn't as bad, there were still many people shopping. Now, it’s gone down by a lot.”
On top of all this, parents worry about the toll the fires are taking on their children’s health and futures.
Schools in Palembang have moved lessons online to keep students indoors since Sept 9, and the switch has been hardest on those already struggling to keep up. Many students in public schools in Indonesia lack access to laptop computers, so they attend Zoom classes on their mobile phones.
At SMPN 13, junior high school teacher Dewi Buana, 51, said not every student has a phone of their own. One Grade 9 student had managed with online lessons until his phone suddenly broke down.
“Their parents have to come to school to pick up their assignments,” she said.
Even for students with phones, online learning has its pitfalls.
Sri Ariyani, 38, whose son is in his final year of junior high school, worries that he is falling behind.
“He joins the Zoom for a bit, and once it’s done, he goes straight into playing on his phone,” she said.
With no Wi-Fi at home, she buys mobile data for 13,000 rupiah for 3GB, intending for it to last several days. But it can run out in a day or two when her children use it to play games.
Stuck at home, they also no longer see their friends.
“At school, they focus on their lessons,” she said. “At home, I can’t watch them all the time.”
But keeping children at home does not always keep them safe.
Firmansyah, 60, a parking attendant, lives in a ramshackle hut on the banks of the Musi River with his wife, daughter and five grandchildren, including two-year-old Arkanza.
“It’s worse here than in the city because the wind by the river brings haze directly to us,” Firmansyah told ST on Oct 15.
Even though the house has no air-conditioning, the haze has been bad enough since August to force his family to keep their doors and windows closed for much of the day.
The family’s health has also suffered.
When ST came across them, Arkanza and his mother, Maulidia, 29, had just returned from the local community health centre, where the toddler had received treatment for a cough.
“The whole house has had runny noses or coughs recently,” Maulidia said.
Firmansyah and his family are not alone. The South Sumatra health agency recorded 52,483 cases of acute respiratory illness in September, the highest monthly total so far in 2026.
As the haze worsened, the agency set up a tent in the city centre in early October to serve as a clinic for residents with respiratory problems.
“Most patients who come here complain of cough or runny noses. Some also have dry eyes,” Dr Indira, a general physician from the South Sumatra provincial hospital Binar who was manning the clinic, told ST.
“We give out medicine depending on the symptoms, and we also provide face masks as well as vitamins to strengthen the immune system.”
The clinic also has oxygen tanks available, although Dr Indira has not yet treated any patient complaining of shortness of breath.
But Firmansyah worries that things will only get worse.
“We’re breathing in the smoke even as we sleep,” he said. “We need help.”
The government has pledged to intensify its response and has accepted firefighting assistance from neighbouring countries. But the fires present a formidable challenge.
Much of the burning occurs on peatlands, where layers of partly decayed vegetation can easily catch fire under dry conditions. Flames can spread underground and smoulder long after the surface appears to be under control, making the fires difficult to extinguish.
“If it’s just a normal forest, the fire can be extinguished very quickly. But peat just keeps burning and burning,” said Nur Asikin, 53, a firefighter with 24 years of experience.
Smoke from the fires has also reduced visibility, hampering the use of water-bombing helicopters. Several local residents in Palembang told ST they had noticed fewer helicopters overhead than during the 2025 fire season.
The National Disaster Mitigation Agency (BNPB), which is handling much of the firefighting response, has also faced funding cuts over the years. Its budget shrank to 491 billion rupiah in 2026, less than a quarter of what it was in 2025.
The recent removal of BNPB head Suharyanto, after his younger brother was arrested over alleged corruption involving emergency relief funds, has placed even greater scrutiny on the agency’s ability to address the wildfire crisis.
The National Disaster Mitigation Agency’s budget has shrunk to 491 billion rupiah (S$34.8 million) in 2026, only 4% of what it was in 2020.
For people living closest to the fires, the immediate priority is relief, whatever the causes of the crisis or its longer-term solutions may be.
The government has repeatedly said that putting out the flames is a priority and has turned to alternative methods, from dry ice to a Brazilian fire-suppressant powder, to bring a quicker resolution to the crisis.
But given how far the flames have already spread, most can only hope for the arrival of the rainy season. At a meeting with agency heads and Cabinet members on Oct 12, Indonesian President Prabowo Subianto acknowledged the limits of the government’s response.
“I suppose in the end (the only solution) is rain,” he said.
Beyond the immediate challenge of extinguishing the fires, the central question is why they keep returning, despite stricter requirements for plantation companies to have firefighting equipment and the construction of fire surveillance towers in fire-prone areas to tackle this longstanding problem.
Despite these measures, a recently released report by the Indonesian Forum for the Environment (Walhi) said thousands of wildfire hotspots continue to be found on oil palm plantations and forestry concessions linked to large conglomerates. All indications are that such companies continue to use slash-and-burn agricultural practices to clear land.
The findings have renewed calls for stronger enforcement and greater accountability for companies whose land is repeatedly burned.
“Future handling of forest and land fires needs to focus on strengthening beneficial ownership transparency, tracing accountability up to the business group level, comprehensively evaluating concessions that repeatedly burn, and strengthening government and corporate accountability in preventing recurring environmental damage,” Walhi said in its report.
The situation in 2026 is not much different from that in 2015, when the country experienced its worst haze crisis. Although the scale of the burning in 2026 is smaller than the 2.6 million ha burnt more than a decade ago, there are concerns that the authorities have not learnt enough from 2015 to prevent a recurrence when the next strong El Nino strikes.
Meanwhile, communities living near these concessions continue to suffer and pay the price for corporate malfeasance.
Back in Ogan Ilir, Nita prays for rain. She is comforted by the occasional call from Eko, when he can get a phone signal.
“He’ll video-call me and say, ‘Look mum, there’s a big fire’,” she said.
At night, however, thoughts of Eko keep her awake.
“I think about whether he’s eaten yet, because he often misses meals when he’s working,” she said. “Hopefully, the rain comes soon and he comes home soon.”
