This account was written by Aziz Hatim of the Los Angeles Dawoodi Bohra community immediately after the initial blazes on January 8, 2025.
We live in Los Angeles. We are safe.
But yesterday, January 9, 2025, the fires in Los Angeles stopped being just “a” story - they became our story. You might say, things got real.
In this city, fire is an ever-present threat, but especially so during the Santa Ana winds that blow down off the desert towards the ocean. The Woolsey Fire a few years back was one such reminder—a fire that crept within yards of homes, forcing evacuations for up to a week. For the Dawoodi Bohra community here, it was a harrowing ordeal, though we were fortunate to escape loss of life or property. I took photos during those days, capturing the eerie beauty and devastation just miles from our home.
This year’s fire feels different, somehow. Instead of one massive fire, we have several. Until yesterday, they were distant, leaving their mark in the sky with vast, rock-like plumes towering incomprehensibly over the horizon.
At 2:45 pm on Thursday, the distance vanished.
A new fire erupted at the Victory trailhead—just three miles from my home. A place I know well. We hike there, bike there. A beautiful wilderness right on our doorstep.
Within fifteen minutes, the fire gained a name: the Kenneth Fire.
In the screenshot, looking due west, you can see how the winds drive the smoke southwest, pushing the fire to spread in that direction as it consumes the available underbrush. The trailhead, marked just above the word “Vista,” was the fire’s origin point. Within 15 minutes, the blaze expanded rapidly from 20 to 50 acres. By 3:15 p.m., the first mandatory evacuation orders were issued.
The evacuation zones as of 3:15pm.
In the zone map, red indicates mandatory evacuation areas, while yellow marks warning zones. Several community members live within the red zone and evacuated to the homes of others, including ours. Our home lies in the yellow zone near the “D” in Pomelo Drive. The masjid complex is also in the yellow zone, near the “H” in Hatteras, where many residents chose to evacuate due to its proximity to the red zone. The fire originated just west of the red zone, about halfway up the map, with its plume and winds pushing southwest.
By then, any hope of productivity had vanished, and the community sprang into action, working the phones to check on one another, extend invitations, and coordinate plans. The conversations were almost formulaic:
“Are you okay?” (Yes.)
“Where are you?” (At home/at work, figuring out where to go.)
“Come over here.” (Okay, I’ll be there soon/I’m staying put for now but will come over later.)
Messages of support also poured in from our sibling communities in Bakersfield, Orange County, and even Fremont.
In the yellow zone, as invitations came in from distant friends and I extended my own to those nearby, there was little to do but wait. Patience, in moments like these, is often the hardest part—having faith, offering prayers, and trusting that what lies beyond our control is still unfolding according to the will of Allah for our benefit.
وَٱتَّقُواْ ٱللَّهَۚ وَعَلَى ٱللَّهِ فَلۡيَتَوَكَّلِ ٱلۡمُؤۡمِنُونَ
(Al-Ma’idah)
Be mindful of Allah. And in Allah let the believers put their trust.
وَٱسۡتَعِينُواْ بِٱلصَّبۡرِ وَٱلصَّلَوٰةِۚ وَإِنَّهَا لَكَبِيرَةٌ إِلَّا عَلَى ٱلۡخَٰشِعِينَ
(Al-Baqarah)
And seek succour through patience and prayer. Indeed, it is a burden except for the humble.
As we watched and waited, fire helicopters began making repeated trips overhead, ferrying water from the Chatsworth Reservoir to the fire zone southwest of us. Their flight path was directly above our home.
By 4:30 p.m., our evacuated friends began arriving. By this time, the fire had already burned significantly to the southwest, leaving behind a blackened scar.
The map above shows the burn area extending away from us—we're marked as the blue dot. The fire's active margin is located at the lower-left edge of the burn area. The screenshot from TV coverage captures the fire’s starting point at the trailhead (the upper right of the burn area), now reduced to a blackened scar.
By maghrib, we called out the azaan and prayed.
And then, slowly, things began to improve.
Whatever stress we felt, it was alleviated in part by the arrival of an unexpected blessing: volunteers of Faiz al Mawaid al Burhaniyah, a worldwide Dawoodi Bohra initiative that provides meals to each community household, delivered meals to all evacuees, even those who had not signed up that day. Dedicated volunteers picked up meals from the masjid for those on the list and arranged platters of chicken and rice from a local restaurant for others.
My family and friends gathered, sharing food, conversation, and a sense of solidarity. By around 7:30 p.m., the forward progress of the fire had been halted at the burn margin, and by 8:00 p.m., all evacuation orders were lifted.
Gradually, everyone returned home, spending the night in their own beds—grateful to be safe for the moment. The Kenneth Fire had been defeated through a combination of prayer and action.
As our friends departed, however, we were reminded that the larger emergency for greater Los Angeles was far from over.
The Palisades Fire continued to burn in Topanga Canyon, having caused significant damage to much of Pacific Palisades and the Malibu coastline along PCH. From my driveway, I could see the smoke rising beyond the ridgeline.
The night was mostly uneventful, although the Kenneth Fire flared up at 4 a.m. The next morning felt like any other; we headed to work and went about our daily routines. However, it was impossible to completely forget the situation at hand.
The threat was far from over, as the fire could potentially move further north, escaping the mountains and reaching the valley floor.
Reminders of the fire’s power were flooding the local news. For example, here is a satellite view of the destruction of the community of Altadena, CA:
What does this experience teach us? First and foremost, it highlights the power of anasat. The bonds we form as we gather together—whether sharing meals, offering support, or engaging in prayer—are more than mere social connections; they represent a living force that unites us as a community.
Beyond that, it also shows the fragility of our existence. There have been tragedies aplenty in the past month among members; and yet we persevere. In the midst of this, we have each other, our community, and that continues to enrich our lives, even in tragedy.
We pray for all of Los Angeles.
