Naxxar Bus Blaze: Three Vehicles Lost but Village Spirit Unbowed

Shock and ash spiralled over Naxxar yesterday afternoon as three Arriva-era buses were turned to blackened shells in a ferocious blaze that erupted inside the old Magnolia Depot behind the parish church. By the time the last hose was rolled up at 6.42 p.m., little remained except smouldering frames, the acrid smell of burnt rubber and a village left asking how one of its quiet back-lanes became the scene of Malta’s biggest bus fire since the 2014 Ħamrun garage disaster.

Eyewitnesses say the first lick of orange was spotted just after 4.15 p.m. By a group of children walking home from Stella Maris College. “We thought someone was barbecuing,” 12-year-old Leah Vella told Hot Malta, still clutching her schoolbag. “Then the sky went black and we heard pops like firecrackers.” Within minutes, Civil Protection Department units from Birkirkara, Mosta and the Valletta rapid-response station were screaming through the narrow, vine-walled streets, dodging parked Alfa Romeos and the inevitable delivery van double-parked outside the każin.

Firefighters battled for almost an hour to stop flames spreading to an adjoining yard where 22 privately-owned classic buses—some dating to the 1950s King’s Own Malta Regiment fleet—are stored by enthusiasts. “Had the wind shifted north, we’d have lost a living museum,” said Martin Galea, president of the Malta Bus Preservation Trust, visibly shaking as he surveyed the scene. “These vehicles carried our grandparents to weddings, to the ferry, to protests in Valletta. They’re the colour and clatter of Maltese memory.”

While no injuries were reported, the human ripple was immediate. Bus operator Malta Public Transport confirmed the loss of three “reserve fleet” vehicles—two King Long diesel bendy-buses and a 2011 Volvo that had only last week been repainted in the new turquoise livery. Evening peak services from Valletta to Mellieħa and vice-versa were cancelled, stranding tourists at Balluta Bay and forcing office workers to improvise lifts via Facebook group “Naxxar Noticeboard”, which gained 300 members in the space of an hour.

For a village that prides itself on orderly Sunday processions and the Baroque splendour of its untouched façades, the inferno felt almost personal. “My son calls them ‘the big turtles’,” said resident Claire Zammit, pointing to the twisted metal. “He waits at the stop just to wave at drivers. Today he cried all the way home.” By nightfall, someone had tied a blue-and-white ribbon to the depot gate; a neighbour placed a jar of freshly picked ġbejniet on the wall “for the firefighters”, a gesture as Maltese as pastizzi at sunrise.

Mayor Anne Marie Muscat Fenech Adami cut short a council budget meeting to open the local primary school as an emergency rest centre. “In Naxxar we look after our own,” she said, handing out bottles of Kinnie donated by the nearby kiosk. Yet questions are already swirling. The depot has been leased to a private coach company since 2012; residents complain that engines are sometimes left idling for hours, and planning permits for a proposed solar-panel canopy—intended to reduce fire risk—have languished since 2019. Police and an independent fire investigator sealed the site overnight; arson has not been ruled out, though sources close to the inquiry say an electrical fault in a battery compartment is the “most aggressive line of enquiry”.

Economically, the timing stings. With tourist numbers already nudging 90% of pre-COVID highs, every lost bus matters. “We’re racing to lease replacements from Gozo and Sicily,” a Malta Public Transport spokesperson admitted, promising extra coaches for this weekend’s Festa tal-Madonna tal-Ungerija—Naxxar’s beloved patronal feast that fills the streets with brass bands, petards and sugary imqaret. Whether the traditional triduum procession can weave past a blackened depot remains to be seen, but village florist Marisa Bonnici is defiant: “We’ll hang garlands on the scaffolding if we have to. The feast goes on. That’s what we do.”

As the embers cooled, the real Maltese miracle revealed itself: not a single classic bus was lost, no one was hurt, and by 8 p.m. The village band club had already posted a Facebook event: “Solidarity BBQ—all proceeds to CPD volunteers.” Bring your own ħobż biż-żejt, the invite reads. In Naxxar, even tragedy ends with food, community and the stubborn promise that tomorrow the buses—somehow, somewhere—will run again.