Saving Commander Than Naing

May 1989, Camp Thay Baw Boe: Than Naing was an ex-Burmese army corporal attached to an artillery division. A slight man with a smug face, he conveyed a no nonsense attitude and walked with the gait of someone who though he was important.

He held a post of responsibility as the commander of ABSDF Regiment 206, located in Moe Kel, a few kilometers from Camp Thay Baw Boe. 

His unit, unlike those from Camp Thay Baw Boe, was one of the first armed by the Karen rebels, and it had been involved in combat several times by early 1989.

I knew he looked down on our camp because, although we were the largest camp, we had been given only a few weapons. He considered us cowards.

It was, perhaps, his contempt for our camp and a perceived unfairness in the distribution of food and other supplies that led him to commit certain acts that nearly cost him his life.

The first incident occurred in April, when I was away from camp, escorting 40 students to Manarplaw where we were to form a combined army with the Democratic Alliance of Burma. At the same time, Maj Robertson, the Karen officer handling student affairs in the area, took most our camp residents on a week-long training exercise in a nearby forest.

While most of the camp’s residents were away, Than Naing showed up with some of his soldiers—fully armed—and he forcibly confiscated most of our camp’s food, medicine and some office equipment that was stored in a warehouse.

Later, we confronted him, and he claimed that the supplies had been unfairly distributed. I never knew if this was true or not because I was not involved in the details of food supply. We had complained to Col Soe Soe, the KNU officer in command of student affairs in the region, and the issue was supposedly resolved, including an agreement to return some of the supplies and equipment, which was done.

But Than Naing failed to apologize for his action.

Many of the student revolutionaries in our camp were not satisfied with how the issue had been resolved, and events came to a head on a quiet May afternoon around 4 pm when a blue, rice delivery truck from Mae Sot rolled into our camp. Three people sat in the front seat—commander Than Naing,  Kyaw Zeya from Moe Taung camp on the southern Burma-Thailand border, who died about a year later, and a Thai driver. 

Sitting on the rice sacks in the back of the truck were Kyaw Kyaw, the chairman of the ABSDF Territory Office, and his colleague, Khin Maung Soe. Two foreigners from a relief organization based in northern Thailand also accompanied the food delivery along with several workers from a rice company.

At the time a group of us were chatting in the teashop with Phoo Law Khwa, the officer in charge of the Thay Baw Boe market, who was visiting the camp with his Karen soldiers.

The workers began to unload the rice quota for our camp, and Camp Chairman S. Aung Lwin and I started to chat with the visitors. Some students moved around leisurely, listening to our conversation. Everything was quiet and normal.

Than Naing, with his usual smug look, and Kyaw Zeya got out of the truck to stretch their legs.

Thi Thi Khin, who now lives in Australia, recognized Than Naing and challenged him. She accussed him of being a thief. "Here is Than Naing, the robber!" she said. Hearing her, more women came out of their living quarters to join Thi Thi Khin, shouting abuse at him.  

It was suddenly clear many students harbored a serious grudge and wanted to put Than Naing in his place.

Worried that things could get out of hand, I told the women to go back to their barracks. They ignored me: "Atwin Yei Hmoo (Mr Secretary)! You don't know what happened because you were not in the camp when he stole our supplies. We need to teach him a lesson."

More students arrived on the scene, demanding that Than Naing be held to account for taking the supplies. They called him a coward, a robber and hurled other abuses. Some began to shout, “Kill him.”

Than Naing was outnumbered, and the smug look had disappeared from his face. Sensing the danger, he climbed back into the front seat, leaving Kyaw Zeya standing outside by the truck’s open door. More angry students arrived, surrounded the truck, and joined the shouting. S. Aung Lwin and I tried in vain to disperse the gathering crowd.

Suddenly one student, Aung Lun, lunged forward to punch Kyaw Zeya in the face. Commotion ensued. But it was defused when the students realized the victim wasn’t Than Naing, but the confused Kyaw Zeya, an innocent man who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He looked to us for help, and we told him to move away from the truck. Grumbling and rubbing his face, he followed along.  

S. Aung Lwin and I immediately called the camp leaders for help.