AH TUN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the morning of February 10, Ah Tun and his family gave tearful goodbyes to their family as they boarded a plane for the first time. The young family was leaving behind the only life they knew and all the people they loved. Three days and four flights later, they would be in Lincoln, Nebraska, a place where very few people spoke their language and the way of life was much different from anything they had ever experienced. They were nervous, sad and afraid, but they had waited seven years for this.

 

Ah Tun and his wife, Shu Nan Tun, spent most of their lives in the refugee camps of Thailand along with more than 140,000 other refugees. Their 7-year-old son Dox Dox and 2-year-old daughter Peace Soe were born in the camps. Ah Tun and Shu Nan Tun fled Burma, their homeland, with their families when they were young because of the violence against the Karen, the minority group to which they belong.

 

Most of these refugees fled Burma because of what many consider to be the longest-

running civil war in the world. The conflict is between the Burmese government and the

ethnic minorities who have reported military attacks by the Burmese army, forced labor,

the destruction of their homes and crops and enslavement.  Although the Thai camps to

which the people flee don’t provide a high standard of living, they at least provide safety.

 

“The situation of the camps are not fun,” said Poe Dee, a family friend of Ah Tun’s who had moved to the U.S. six years earlier. “You cannot go outside. You have to stay inside the fence that surrounds the camp.”

 

Poe Dee said the camp residents were not allowed to have jobs or to get an education because they were trapped inside the camp, which meant they couldn’t make any money and had no way to improve their lives.

 

“You felt like a prisoner,” he said.

 

Ah Tun spent his days working in a community garden growing food for the family, and Shu Nan Tun took care of the children while trying to sell crackers on the street.

 

It was back in 2008 that the family first applied to come to America. Because of the strict laws about staying inside the camps, it took Shu Nan Tun seven years to get her picture taken for her travel documents.

 

When the family was finally able to leave, it took four flights to get them from Thailand to their new home in Lincoln. Their flights were long and difficult. Dox Dox got sick on three of the four, and the wild turbulence, caused by bad weather, scared them all.

“I felt like a toy,” Ah Tun explained through an interpreter.

 

But finally, on February 13, after traveling 13,000 miles, the family stepped foot into a city where they felt safe and free.

In the yellow light of the Lincoln Airport, Ah Tun led the family down the empty hallway toward Ashley Carr, their case manager from Catholic Social Services. A sleeping Peace Soe was slung over Shu Nan Tun’s shoulder, and Dox Dox trailed behind in his over-sized sweatshirt with a giant dollar sign on the back and his small pink backpack dragging on the floor behind him.

 

 “Welcome to Lincoln!” Carr exclaimed.

 

No one in the family spoke English, but they responded with big smiles and firm handshakes. Later, Ah Tun said that although they didn’t understand the greeting, they felt welcomed into their new city.

 

“Let’s go get your bags,” Carr said, gesturing toward the carousel just down the escalator. Ah Tun grabbed three brightly stripped woven bags off the belt, the only possessions they had, and piled them onto a cart.

 

They were ready to go to their new home.

 

The car ride was silent except for the gospel music playing in the background and Carr’s occasional attempt to engage with the family by giving them their first lesson in the local sights: pointing to the University of Nebraska’s football stadium and saying “football” or motioning toward the center of the city and saying “downtown.”

 

Once at their new apartment on G Street, nearly 10 members of the Lincoln Karen community including Pa Naw Dee, a leader for Lincoln’s Karen community, and Poe Dee piled into the family’s small apartment to greet

them with warm rice and cooked vegetables.

 

Carr showed the family around their two-bedroom apartment, explained how to work the

thermostat and the stove, gave them a list of emergency contacts and taught them how to

say, “I speak Karen. I need an interpreter,” in case of an emergency.

 

“You can call me if you need anything,” Carr said as she left.

 

That night, the children had trouble sleeping because they were so jet lagged and the family all slept together in one double bed, although there were plenty of beds for all of them.  When they woke up, they saw snow for the first time.

 

“We don’t know what to do,” Ah Tun said. “Do we go outside or stay home or we just look at the snow?”

 

But despite the snow and their difficulties sleeping, they were happy to be in their new home.

 

The apartment’s carpet is crunchy and stained, a slight smell permeates the whole complex and, although Catholic Social Services did its best to stock the cupboards with food and necessary appliances, there are far fewer belongings than in a typical American home.

 

Still, Ah Tun said, “When we came into our apartment and saw the couches and a good bed, we saw that our living standards had become higher than before.”

 

He is eager to begin learning English and has been bugging his case manager about finding a tutor who can come over once a week to help his family study. “To be well in the United States the first thing is to learn English and the second is to learn the rules and regulations so we can act like other people,” he said.

 

“We are really happy here,” Ah Tun said with his signature smile. “We are not afraid or worried.”