Tha U Wah Camp After 18 Year: An old friend of FBR on what has changed and what stayed the same
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In 1993, David and Karen Eubank were invited to help the people of Burma, and the Free Burma Rangers were eventually born out of that call. Dave began coordinating with local ethnic leaders who were fighting against the Burma Army, to provide aid for Karen communities who had become a primary target of the government military. These leaders recognized the value of Eubank's experience as a U.S. Special Forces officer, and began sending teams of young men and women to be trained as humanitarian relief teams.
The first training camp for Rangers was farther south in Karen State, but in 2003, Dave was invited to build a more permanent camp in northern Karen State. The camp was named "Tha U Wa," which means "white monkey" and was the nickname the Karen gave Sahale, Dave and Karen's oldest child (eventually all three Eubank children would grow up there). The size and capabilities of the camp have grown significantly since then. FBR has trained thousands of young men and women to serve their people and there are now 150 teams in Burma giving help, hope, and love, and getting the news out.
Throughout the years, many friends and helpers have come alongside and contributed to FBR trainings, supporting the trainings with their presence, expertise, and funds. Oddny Gumaer is one of these people. Early in FBR's history, she and her husband Steve brought with them a great love and compassion for the people of Burma and a special desire to help children who have suffered trauma. They helped with the development of the Good Life Club program, especially with trauma counseling resources. Dave wrote about Oddney:
Dear friends, the following report is written by Oddny Gumear who along with her husband Steve founded the humanitarian group Partners Relief and Development. Their focus has been on helping children in war zones live free, full lives. We have been friends for 30 years and they’ve been great supporters of our work. They helped take the good life club which my wife Karen started, and bring it up to a whole other level of care and excellence. They now run an organization called Novi that reaches out to children and families in war zones in Ukraine, Burma, Iraq, Syria, and other areas. Steve has been on multiple missions with us and is a close friend to me and our teams. Oddney has also visited our camp before and gone on short missions with us. But this is the first time she has come back in many years. These are her experiences.
The last time I went to Tha U Wah camp was eighteen years ago. Many things are different now, while some things have endured the test of time. Eighteen years ago, it took multiple days to walk to the camp. We walked mostly after dark, quietly, always alert, with Burma Army soldiers known to be lurking in the jungle. This time, the trip was much easier. No fear of Burma Army sneaking up on us. When I arrived at the camp, I was genuinely taken aback. It looked nothing like it did eighteen years ago. Back then, I spent weeks in a small clearing in the jungle. There were a few bamboo houses to sleep in. The only light came from the sun or our headlamps, and we trekked through the jungle to reach the river for our daily baths.
What I saw now was a village full of life, many permanent structures dedicated to all the needs of the camp and community. At night, we had electricity for a few hours thanks to solar panels covering many of the roofs. There was internet in the office. Karen Eubank had received an oven, and we were served fresh bread. There were many more Rangers, spread out in houses across the camp. I was impressed and also surprised. What I still cannot wrap my head around is this: everything in the camp, including a heavy teak dining table and weights for strength training, had been carried in on someone’s back. There may be roads now, and the journey is easier than it once was, but the final stretch must still be done on foot. It is steep, unforgiving terrain, and it's just as challenging as it was eighteen years ago.
The camp has been thoroughly upgraded. Some things are more convenient. But the most important things have not changed.
The Burma Army is still attacking innocent civilians, and Rangers still bring help, hope, and love to the displaced people around them. In fact, the attacks are more brutal and more frequent now than they were eighteen years ago. Villagers are still forced to flee their homes. They are raped, tortured, and killed. Children still grow up without access to healthcare or education, living in constant fear, often hungry, often cold.
Over the next few days, I learned that Tha U Wah camp and the Free Burma Rangers training program have been strengthened for one reason: so that more people can be helped, served, and loved. The training is better, more relevant, and more effective. These young men and women are not attending a camp to learn basic jungle survival. They are training to save lives and offer hope to a people under attack. They are preparing themselves for the very real possibility that they may die while serving others. I cannot adequately describe how moved I felt while watching them. Many of them were the same age as my own children. Their willingness to put themselves in harm’s way for others humbles me. It challenges me in ways that bring me to tears. When they are willing to do this, what is my excuse for doing so little in my comfortable life?
During our time at camp, 179 young ethnic men and women from across Burma graduated from Free Burma Rangers training. Our mission was to accompany them as they moved from village to village in Karen State. These Rangers have been trained to serve communities affected by the brutality of the Burma Army. Their preparation is intense, both physically and mentally, and practically. They learn how to treat the wounded and sick, document human rights abuses, and care for children traumatized by war. Each day we walked for hours. At times, it felt like we were a small army, nearly 250 people moving together through the jungle and mountains. For security reasons, we could not stay in villages for long. The constant threat of drones and aircraft meant that any prolonged presence could trigger an attack. Instead, we camped in the jungle each night. We slept in hammocks, bathed in rivers and creeks, and lived very simply. We brought food and a few cooks, so we ate rice every day. Simple, repetitive meals, but warm and sustaining. Despite the limitations, the Rangers’ work in the villages was remarkable to witness. They treated the sick, ran small dental clinics, and organized full-day programs for children filled with songs, games, dancing, and learning. It was love made visible.
On the final day of the mission, we received news that two villages in the area had been attacked. Around 1,000 people had fled into the jungle with nothing: no food, no supplies. With the last of the money we had brought with us, $650, we were able to buy food for all 1,000 people. There was something so right about spending the very last dollar on us that way.
I heard many heartbreaking stories. At night, lying in my hammock in complete darkness, I could hear drones flying overhead, searching for us. I heard nearby explosions. I saw military aircraft cross the sky. And yet, as terrifying as those moments were, nothing affected me more deeply than watching the Rangers themselves. These are young men and women who choose, voluntarily, to go to the front lines to serve
others. Some of them will die. Last year, on average, one Ranger was killed every month; yet they continue to serve others despite the risk.
I want to express my gratitude to FBR and Dave Eubank for allowing me to join a mission inside Burma and see the progress of the camp, where so many serve and show love to those impacted by the war.
Thanks and God bless,
Oddny with the Free Burma Rangers
