AN INTERVIEW WITH HTUN HTUN OO
23.09.23
‘WHAT I GAIN FROM PEOPLE I MET, THEY TAUGHT ME MORE THAN I TAUGHT THEM. I REALLY WANTED TO HELP THEM BUT THEY HELPED ME MORE’.
On a Tuesday, mid afternoon, I enter a small kitchenware shop in the main street of my town for the first time. 'Kanaung' kitchenware, names after a revered Burmese crown prince. A shop I’ve never noticed before, busy with people and piles of silverware. A radio drones on with chants of Buddhist teachings in the distant background, a sound only familiar once before. It takes me back to foggy mornings in Burma, with sleepy eyes watching mahogany robes run off into the distance. Htun Htun Oo greets me warmly.
An early November morning in Inle Lake, Myanmar, 2016
He is the owner of the shop. Htun, pronounced ‘ton’, or as he affectionately likes to joke 'water' (H2O), is soft, peaceful, strong, and gentle, like him. I have known Htun for a period of time; however, it feels like we have been friends for a long while. Over a series of weeks, I meet up with Htun at his shop and am invited to his home, with the goal of documenting his extraordinary life. To date, this interview series has felt exhilarating and honestly, easy. Yet, on this occasion I’ve asked myself perhaps whether I am underqualified. Holding the vastness of Htun’s life and his stories in my grasp seems too large. The day before writing this, I sat with a woman who fled from the Taliban. These people are giving me their greatest and most vulnerable asset to present. And so, I feel daunted at the task of doing their story justice, yet i also see the incredible gift to set myself aside and listen to this array of stories. So, in this series, I share three parts of Htun’s story, for you. To unveil the vanier and reveal the fountain of undiscovered inspiration that is awash in our fast-paced communities. And for Htun, to thank him for trusting me with his story and the friendship I have been gifted with.
With green teas in hand, I begin the recording and have the privilege of listening to Htun unfurl the expense of his life. Htun is so many things. A father. A son. An ICU nurse. A trauma surgeon. A Burmese freedom fighter. A husband. A jungle paramedic. A business owner. An author. A Buddhist. An aspiring politician. A joyous being. His life is not a single story, but a mural which is the falling together of marvellous pieces.
I publish this piece today, the 20th anniversary of Htun’s momentous arrival to Australia. When he first came, Htun lived out of his car and in tents with his small son for 8 months. He worked 9 jobs in one year. His education did not transfer. He needed to retrain first to get a certificate in aged care, learn better English, and then get onto a Bachelor of Nursing. Currently, he works four days a week as a nurse in the ICU, runs a community group and owns the kitchenware shop we stand in. Customers float in and out of the store, each time, Htun pauses the recording, introduces himself and welcomes the guests to his store. Yet, despite this unassuming scene that plays out in front of me, Htun is anything but.
I have always strongly believed that acquisition of knowledge does not come through intelligence but through curiosity. Never more so than meeting Htun has it been so evident to me. Htun takes me into a back room, filled with books and dusted loose items. Pulls out the handful of books that he has authored, and softly he begins to speak. Inhis early life, during his time at university the pro-democracy uprising of Burma began. Htun was studying geology at the time. Htun has been arrested in Thailand, Burma and Italy for his pro democratic actions. It was at this time that Htun’s direction changed and he began training to be a trauma surgeon, under two Norwegian doctors.
Htun conducting surgery in a makeshift hospital
Alongside this, he was a pioneering figure in translating critical first aid books to Burmese, he founded many hospitals and medical clinics, and led international organisations. Their focus was on teaching village community’s landmine first aid. His books and efforts are the life raft of hundreds of Burmese and Thai communities, the innocent suffering the collateral damage in the aftermath of a war. Htun and his team raised survival rates from 50% to over 84% for landmine victims. He spent 15 years in the Burmese jungle on the Thai border doing this work. The photos Htun shows me of this time are chilling; limbs with bits shattered into fleshy messes. The thin frames of aids victims, Htun holds up in his arms.
Htun with a leading world health organisation academic, the man who pushed him to immortalise his knowledge in books In photos you can see that he and his team used Thai cooking pots as lamps, pigs for training, and banana plantations to teach CPR. Often, they had no general anaesthetic so operated dry to save lives. As insurgencies threaten their camps, doctors and nurses study first aid by candlelight. He knows he is inspiring; you can see it in the upturn of his mouth as he speaks. As he recalls with an overwhelming sense of pride, the moments he has lived through and the awe he has witnessed, you can see the incredulity of his life is not lost on him.
As Htun sorts through the box of photos, melancholic nostalgia floods his face. He tells me he has never shown anyone outside his family these photos. The gravity and pride I take in that moment sits. I feel immensely proud and deeply grateful. He sifts through the thousands of photos. Pictures of him with chairs of the world health organisation. Photos with ripped edges of Htun leading and speaking at international health conferences. He sits amongst a flood of professors and academics, surgeons and villagers that gather around him. In these photos, he ages, yet remains gaunt and thin. Htun points out to me how skinny he is in every one of these photos. In these conditions, Htun suffered prolonged malaria.
VOLUNTEERS STUDYING FIRST AID BY CANDLELIGHT IN A MAKESHIFT CLASSROOM OF THE BURMESE JUNGLE
I ask Htun, of all of these experiences, what he is most proud of in his life. He pauses for a moment, draws in a breath.
‘What I can do for others’ he says confidently.
‘what I gain from people I met, they taught me more than I taught them. I really wanted to help them but they helped me more’.
So frequently, we seek out remarkable lives in the distance. Meeting Htun, more than anyone before, for me, draws into question what is it that we see in fame? What is it that we glorify about celebrity status? This modern desire to be famous, to be known online shows perhaps that the miracle of life, an ordinary life is no longer enough. For 20 years, Htun has been in my hometown, his shop right on my daily route and never before have I given it the time to witness the inspiration behind the storefront.
ONE PAGE OF THOUSANDS HTUN IS WRITING TO SHARE HIS LIFE STORY
HTUN OPERATING ON AN AXE WOUND VICTIM IN THE INSURGENCY
Throughout our time together, he teaches me many things, most of which I hope to write another piece about. Yet, one main thing stays with me that he says. One of the greater challenges I struggle with is how to, in the modern system, maintain economic stability yet remain moral. Htun tells me that the messages of the Buddha spread first through the merchants and 'tradies'. 'There doesn’t have to be greed', he tells me. 'Yes, it is necessary to have a profit', he says but he does his business with 'buddha guidance'. ‘The profit has to be honest’, he continues. ‘I will do my business but however, I don’t want to damage my neighbours shops. I pray every day that I want them to sell more than I do to be honest, because I need them’. If we all approached economics in this way, the world would be vastly more harmonious.
TEACHING IN THE JUNGLE Today, Htun has been in Australia for 20 years. He says, '[we] are happy to be in Australia. We are safe, we have food and shelter'. He has four children, two very small, two jobs, his own business and still, every Tuesday and Thursday at 6.30am, he has English lessons. And I always feel he has time for me. As the interview draws to an end, Htun leaves me with some last advice that has guided him through wars, ‘don’t be afraid to say sorry and don’t be afraid to ask for forgiveness’. Through this, he says, we can gain 'freedom from arrogance and ego. If we are free from those things, we become very pure. Very calm'. As I ready to leave, his wife walks in with a small child wrapped onto her body. A small figured woman with a brilliant laugh. There is an unencumbered joyousness between the two of them as they slide between English and Burmese. He tells me they don’t have to, but he and his wife make sure to thank each other every day. Walking out of the store, Htun pulls at the saccharine cheeks of his little son, and waves goodbye to me. Meeting Htun I am reminded of something from Sophocles, the Greek playwriter. He says, ‘the world is so full of wonders but nothing is more wonderful than man’.
The afternoon sun begins to set in the west, and school buses rush past. I have been in the store for hours now, listening and learning. The author of Braiding Sweetgrass says, ‘it is human perception that makes life a gift’. I walk away thinking of this line and realising I am all the better off for knowing Htun. I pull my car out as contentedness fills my body in knowing that this small child will grow up with a father who sees life not as a struggle but a rich and potent chance to create positive change in the world.
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