Firefighter Tun Tun was praised as a hero after he got badly burned during a callout at a blazing apartment block in Yangon.

The 47-year-old father of two was searching for a resident believed to be trapped inside in 2013 when a backdraft explosion knocked him out cold and burned the skin of off his hands, arms and and feet.

In recognition of his sacrifice, he was invited to Nay Pyi Taw to collect a Ye Thurein Medal, which is given to public servants for outstanding performance in the line of duty.  

He was also given a prize of 60,000 kyat, about $60 at the time, and treated to dinner at the residence of then president Thein Sein, who he caught a glimpse of during the ceremony.

“I got to have dinner at the president’s house, where I’d never been before,” he said, chuckling, but “that was all.”

After the pageantry was over, Tun Tun was left to get on with the business of rebuilding his life, with limited assistance from the government.

The small cash prize did little to help the fact his injuries had damaged his ability to earn a livelihood.

What would be more helpful, says his wife Daw Ohnmar, is ongoing financial support to cover the costs of more reconstructive surgery.

Tun Tun has restricted movement in his hands because of the burns, and he says he cannot afford the transport and other costs that would come with going back into hospital for more treatment.

While the fire service has reimbursed the family for some money they spent on medicine, he has had to cover everything else himself.

“He sacrificed his body. It would be great if they would take care of the expenses for treatment until he can flex and extend his hands,” said Daw Ohnmar.

Tun Tun’s case highlights the lack of support available for firefighters who are injured on the job and their families.

The fire service has kept him on the payroll even though he can no longer work. But even before the accident, his salary of up to 250,000 kyat, roughly $160, wasn’t enough to cover family expenses, he said.  

Before he was injured, he would spend his time between callouts working as a hairdresser.

He kept his uniform close by as he trimmed fringes and tamed stubble at his small barbershop near the fire station, he said, always ready to abandon a customer mid-cut if the sirens began blaring.

Now, he would struggle to wield his scissors, even after around 30 reconstructive surgeries over the last six years.

The family’s only other source of income now is a dried snack stall they run from out in front of their home, but it isn’t much.

On top of his salary, Tun Tun and his family are allowed to carry on living in staff housing in Yangon.

But when he reaches the retirement age of 60 he will lose both the salary and this home, unless one of his children joins to fire service, in which case they could continue living there.

The fire service did not respond to Myanmar Now’s questions about Tun Tun’s financial situation.

Hot smoke

Tun Tun entered the inferno at the Kabar Aye Villa in Yangon’s Mayangon township with two other firefighters. They had been told a resident, a foreigner, was trapped inside.

When they got inside and began searching, the resident was nowhere to be seen.

They were about to break down an interior door to search the next room when they noticed hot smoke bursting out of a crack in the door.

This was a sign that an explosion was about to happen. His colleague managed to escape in time, but before Tun Tun reached the front door, the changing air pressure forced it to slam shut, trapping him inside.

The blast knocked him unconscious. When he came to, he was outside, where he remembers silently praying to Buddha. “I considered myself dead and relaxed my mind,” he said.

“I didn’t feel a thing at first, but I was in severe pain when they put me on the stretcher and carried me to the hospital.”     

He later found out that the resident he had gone inside to rescue had not been at home when the blaze broke out.

Tun Tun’s helmet protected his head and his blue suit gave some protection to his torso, arms and legs. But he wasn’t wearing gloves, and his boots were not enough to protect the skin on his feet.

He spent three days receiving emergency treatment at the North Okkalapa General Hospital before being transferred to Yangon General Hospital, where he was held for another two months.  

Daw Ohnmar remembers the early moments after Tun Tun arrived at the hospital viscerally.  

“I could only see bones and white tendons when they removed the bandage,” she said.

When Tun Tun tried to move his wrists and elbows, he felt intense pain, as if his skin would be torn apart, she said. It took another two years before he was able to flex these joints.

Surgeons used tissue from his thigh for skin grafts to treat his burn scar contractures, areas of the skin that tighten after being burnt.

He had to wait weeks between surgeries for his thigh tissue to grow back before they could operate again.

“I can’t even remember the surgeries very well; there have been so many,” said Tun Tun as he held up his left hand to show where he has regained some ability to move his fingers.

“It was very painful when they took the skin grafts. I couldn’t walk for two weeks,” he added.

Tun Tun used to have tattoos of roses on his arms, but they have been replaced with scar tissue.

Childhood dream

Tun Tun and Daw Ohnmar hail from Budalin township in Sagaing region. After they married they moved to Yangon, where they had two daughters and where, at age 21, he joined the fire service.

He had wanted the job since he was child, inspired by his schoolteacher father who volunteered as a reserve firefighter.

Fighting fire for so many years requires passion, Tun Tun said; he sees it as more of a vocational hobby than a job.

Tun Tun now spends most of his time at home. From here, he hears the fire engines’ sirens blaring when there’s a callout.

He can no longer ride along, he says, but he likes to follow the sound as the wailing recedes into the distance.