LONGWA, India — Longwa is a hilltop village known for its largest structure, a tin-roof house belonging to the Angh, a hereditary tribal leader. What worries the villagers now is not the prominent structures but the invisible line that cuts through their lives: the boundary between India and Myanmar. This border, although present, never really mattered to the Konyak tribe who inhabit this region. “I eat in Myanmar and sleep in India,” remarks Tonyei Phawang, the Angh, whose residence straddles this line.
For the first time, the Indian government is taking measures to regulate cross-border movement, retracting the policy that previously allowed Indigenous people to cross freely. Discussions of constructing a border fence that could physically split villages like Longwa have stirred concerns.
On a bustling Thursday in December, Longwa’s markets were alive with activity, welcoming shoppers from the Myanmar side, their motorbikes loaded with essentials such as salt, flour, and clothing. The nearest significant market in Myanmar is a day’s journey away in Lahe. Historical ties have allowed the locals to seamlessly cross the border for shopping, schooling, or medical needs, with only a hilltop boundary marker betraying the presence of an international line. According to the Angh and the village council, when this division was marked in the 1970s, their forebears were unaware of its full implications.
Naga tribes, like the Konyak, naturally extend across the mountainous terrain dividing India and Myanmar. Historically, their villages were strategically placed on hilltops for protection, a fact overlooked when colonial powers established the border under an agreement with Burma’s monarchy. Although Indian law prohibits dual citizenship, residents in Longwa embrace dual identities. “I am from both India and Burma,” says Phawang, utilizing the alternative name for Myanmar. The village chief actively participates in both nations’ elections.
The links between the two countries extend further as Phawang leads six Konyak villages in India and over 30 in Myanmar, maintaining traditions that include an annual feast. Until recently, the Indian state had minimal influence here, allowing residents to hold documentation from both countries. However, with the revocation of the Free Movement Regime in February 2024, to tighten internal security and preserve the demographic composition of northeastern India, changes are becoming evident. Border activity only started ramping up when soldiers began scrutinizing travel documents, although local movement remains uninterrupted once the day’s duties are done.
Despite this, the prospect of a border fence looms. Home Minister Amit Shah announced plans for a border fence spanning the entire 1,643-kilometer Indo-Myanmar demarcation. Implementing this could dissect the village’s homes and institutions, with 170 of its 990 structures, including a school, church, and army camp, situating on the boundary.
Residents, like young Wangron Konyak, traveling long distances to pick up family for vacations, worry about the implications of restricted movement on education and daily life. Longwa’s inhabitants, alongside state representatives, are opposing these changes. In February, the state government of Nagaland opposed both the cancellation of cross-border policies and fencing proposals, a sentiment shared by protesting residents who carried slogans advocating for Indigenous rights.
According to analysts like Khriezo Yhome, efforts to halt cross-border interaction could infringe upon the U.N.’s Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Villager Yanlang expressed the sentiment prevailing in Longwa: “There is no Burma Longwa or India Longwa. How can one village and one family be divided?” Such words resonate deeply, highlighting a shared history and questioning the division’s legitimacy.
