Deep in Aye Kyaw Zan’s mind lives a peaceful country, a country filled with evergreen forests inhabited by tigers, leopards, and pythons. A mountain stands over his small village of Buthidaung, and a river surrounds it. Zan swam across this stream for an entire month to go to school when he was 10 years old, after the bridge collapsed. But this simply remains a cherished memory for Zan. He can no longer swim.
For that, he said, “you need both legs.”
Zan can’t go back to his village either. He is a refugee from Myanmar, who had part of his right arm and most of his right leg blown off by a landmine in 1984. He has been living in the United States since September 2008, when he arrived in Bowling Green with the help of the International Center, a non-profit refugee resettlement agency.
Unlike many refugees who depend on the International Center’s aid for the first few months, Zan, 44, needs little assistance. His English skills and determination for independence have allowed him to transition easily and quickly into the American lifestyle.
“He went through a lot of struggles,” said Tatiana Sahanic, case manager at the International Center, who has helped Zan establish a life here. “He developed a different personality. He’s stronger in his mind. He moves forward.”
http://www.vimeo.com/4640781
Zan is a student at Western Kentucky University, where he is pursuing a journalism degree. In 2007 Myanmar was the leading country for refugee admissions in the U.S. with 13,896 refugees, 29 percent of total refugee admissions, according to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.
Myanmar is ruled by a military junta that exerts much authoritarian rule over the Myanmar people, according to the U.S. Department of State. The regime has a “contentious” relationship with Myanmar’s ethnic groups, and the military prevents many uprisings from these ethnic groups.
Before he became a WKU student, Zan was in the Myanmar military.
LIFE AS A SOLDIER
Zan originally wanted to go to college after he completed the 10th grade, the highest grade level before college. But Zan had failed his matriculation exam, which is similar to a college entrance exam. The test is very difficult, and without a passing score, Zan could not go to the university. Instead he joined the army.
Zan was sent to the Kayin state, in the southeastern region near the Thai-Burma border, to maintain order and to prevent citizens from uprising who sought autonomy. Life as a private was fairly routine – staying at the front whenever the army marched, watching at night for the enemy, obeying whatever his superior commanded.
But Aug. 8, 1984 changed everything.
Zan and two other soldiers were sent to plant landmines around their camp as protection. Zan stood guard, shuffling the weapon in his arms. When he stepped forward, he accidentally touched a landmine. Zan saw a flash of fire in his eyes, and his body shot into the air.
“It felt like someone hit me in back of my neck with a bat,” he said.
He was unsure of what had happened. He thought someone was attacking him from behind. But within a minute Zan heard another explosion and the cries of his fellow soldiers, and he realized had stepped on a landmine.
Zan struggled to lift his head, and he examined his body. From his ankle to the mid part of his upper thigh on his right leg, the damage was irreparable. His left leg was so masked with blood he couldn’t gauge what kind of trauma had been done. So Zan wiggled his foot it to see if it would move; it did, only his right leg had been hurt.
Part of Zan’s right arm had also been damaged. He was mortified. In the army, they recognize the likelihood of stepping on a landmine, since Myanmar has so many landmine injuries. Most agree that losing a leg comes with the territory, Zan said. But Zan had two injured limbs, and he was devastated.
Within 15 minutes Zan was carried to his army camp, where an army medic performed the immediate and necessary operations.
There was no anesthesia, and even if there had been, there was not enough time. Zan was losing blood, and the army medic had to operate soon. They draped a towel over Zan’s face, so he would not be able to see what was about to happen, but he could still feel it. The army medic, in one swift motion, cut Zan’s right leg off, and then part of Zan’s right arm. After the amputation, Zan received morphine, but the pain persisted.
About a month later, Zan was sent to a hospital in Rangoon, where for the first five months Zan could only lie down. He was too weak and thin to sit up or move around. He could barely talk. Eventually, his body had strengthened enough for him to sit up and remain upright. He got a wheelchair, and had to learn to use it. He could only steer with one hand, which caused the wheelchair to veer off course. In the beginning, he would fall down often. He had to learn to steer with one hand and guide with one foot – a technique he learned from people in a similar condition.
It took Zan nine months to physically recuperate. He was only 20 years old.
“When the landmine exploded, I wanted to commit suicide,” Zan said, but it was too hard to find a pistol to do the job.
For two years Zan lived in a depression, unhappy with himself and his conditions. Then he decided something had to change.
“There was one thing I had to do,” he said. “I don’t want to live like this, so it means I have to live.”
He did not want to be both illiterate and disabled, so Zan decided he was going to pass the matriculation exam and go the university.
LIFE AS A STUDENT
Every day Zan studied, and in 1987 he passed the exam. The university was next. The same year he resigned from the army, and he was accepted into college, where he majored in psychology. However, on Aug. 8, 1988, four years exactly after the landmine explosion, the junta killed more than 1,000 demonstrators who protested against the regime, according to the U.S. Department of State. As a result, the universities closed, and Zan could not go to school.
In the meantime Zan read up on Myanmar history and studied basic English. Every day Zan read one book: classics, novels or history books. He laughs at how much he read. On average it was 300 to 400 pages a night. Except for “Gone With the Wind.” That took him a week.
“As soon as I finished dinner, I started my readings,” he said. “I would finish around 11:30, and I would sleep.”
In 1991 the universities reopened, and Zan returned to college. He graduated with a degree in psychology, and was happy with himself because he was educated.
“Educated people make their own opinions,” he said. “Before then, I didn’t make my own opinion. If someone said ‘good,’ I believed it was good.”
But Zan was not content with his degree. He wanted to do more. He wanted to serve his community, but he was not sure how.
Zan grew restless in Myanmar. Every day he witnessed oppression through the government’s control of the media.
“I’m hungry for justice,” he said. “You might not be as hungry because you see justice. You see the truth. But in Burma (Myanmar), there’s always injustice. You can’t always see the truth.”
Zan wanted to escape his country’s oppression and strict militant rule. He wanted to live in a country where one can write freely, think freely and act freely. He decided to leave Myanmar.
LIFE IN THAILAND
One day in December 2004, Zan got a pass that allowed him to cross into Thailand for one day. Zan was supposed to return in the evening, but he never did; he remained in Thailand. Once there, Zan asked Myanmar people where the office of the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees was located, and he applied for refugee status.
While Zan was waiting for refugee status, he lived illegally in Mae Sot, a town the size of Bowling Green. At any time he could have been arrested and jailed or deported.
Many Myanmar citizens sneak into Thailand on one day passes, said May Pearl, a volunteer at the Burma Campaign in London, which works to promote human rights, democracy and development in Myanmar. In Thailand, refugees can be captured and returned to Myanmar, where they face persecution. She said there are many cases where the immigrants are tortured by both – the Thai and Myanmar authorities.
Zan was lucky and wasn’t caught. Instead, he earned money as a fortune teller, a trade he studied before leaving. He told fortunes for Myanmar migrants and tourists. He also found shelter at a Buddhist temple. The monks accepted him partially because he was a fortune teller.
“It’s like here having a doctor in residence,” he said. “It’s a good thing.”
In June 2006 Zan received refugee status in Thailand, and he went to the Nu Po refugee camp. There are nine refugee camps along the Thai-Burma border, according to the U.S. Department of State.
Life in the refugee camps is quite tough, Pearl said. A health service is available in the camps, but it is limited and faces supply shortages. Thai authorities refuse to give the refugees identity cards, so they cannot work.
“There are some people who have been in the camps for more than 20 years with no better future to go on,” she said.
At the refugee camp, Zan was given the basic necessities: rice, cooking oil and charcoal. He lived in a hut made out of bamboo. In order to get more food like meat and vegetables, he was reliant on donations. The friends he made as a fortune teller would send him money on occasion while there, he said.
After two years in the refugee camp, Zan received permission to come to the United States.
LIFE IN THE UNITED STATES
All refugees must undergo a series of background checks, health evaluations and interviews, said James Robinson, director of the Bowling Green International Center. The documents then verify if the applicant would be in danger if he returned to his native country. Zan passed the test and arrived in Bowling Green in September 2008.
Sahanic helped Zan get an apartment, and provided a Myanmar interpreter to translate Zan’s documents, like diplomas, into English. She said Zan is independent and needs little help.
“He is a survivor,” she said.
Although he has been living here for a little less than eight months, Zan is already very self-sufficient. He wants to remain as independent as possible, and he refuses to let his disability stand in his way. He even has a driver’s permit, and plans on getting his driver’s license someday. Currently Zan depends on WKU’s shuttle service, and he uses either his prosthetic leg or one crutch to walk.
Zan’s strongest dream is to publish a private newspaper in Myanmar, so in January 2009 he enrolled at WKU to study journalism. He wants to learn about American journalism ethics and principles, especially freedom of the press, and share that knowledge with his country. He believes if he can establish a free press paper in Myanmar that the citizens may receive some liberation; the military junta will have less control.
He attends classes three days a week. He listens intently to his professors, although sometimes he has a hard time keeping up. He has to process the information, and translate it from English into the Myanmar language. But this does not stop him from pulling out his binder and taking notes.
Zan hopes to start his newspaper in 10 years – after he earns a Master’s degree in journalism, and has perfected his English.
He does not want to leave the U.S. behind or forget about Myanmar. He hopes to obtain U.S. citizenship and split half his time in Myanmar, and the other half in the U.S.
Zan realizes that the time he last left is crucial. He wants to accomplish so much, and jokingly said he will be almost 60 years old by the time he is ready. He wants to lead a fulfilling life, and be remembered by the Myanmar people as an honest man.
“I want to die satisfied,” he said.
