WHEN 16-year-old Thang Bik was smuggled into Malaysia from Thailand last year, his older sister was already safe in Melbourne.
But despite his family ties to Australia, the prospects of a family reunion are bleak. As Sung Khun explained last night from her home in the suburb of Reservoir, "because of the way we left Burma, we are invisible".
Thang Bik's arduous journey from his village in Chin state, in Burma's far west, took him 22 days -- through Burma, Thailand and eventually Malaysia.
It was epic. At one stage he could barely breathe, crushed by other men piled on top of him, hiding under nets in the back of a suffocatingly hot van.
Now he lives in a rundown three-bedroom flat in Kuala Lumpur with a second, older sister and 25 others from his village, including a toddler and two babies.
There is little furniture; most of the residents sleep on mats on the floor. The bedrooms have been subdivided with flimsy plywood partitions that end well shy of the ceiling. There is one bathroom.
They chip in to pay 1400 Malaysian ringgit (about $435) a month for the flat, which is considered extremely expensive.
Thang Bik might earn 30 ringgit a day, if he's lucky, for odd jobs including installing electrical wiring. But asylum-seekers and refugees can't work legally in Malaysia, and he has already been arrested and sent to one of Malaysia's feared detention centres for one month and 24 days. Yet despite the hardship, more than 90,000 asylum-seekers and refugees now living in Malaysia see it as the stepping stone to another life.
"We had no choice; we had to leave the country," Thang Bik said ruefully, remembering his village of Thaung Zang in Burma, near the Indian border. "We feared persecution; we had to run."
Soldiers from Burma's armed forces occasionally visited the agricultural village, assaulting the men, sometimes sexually assaulting the women, hauling away young men for forced labour on various projects or for "portering" -- carrying heavy loads.
Thang Bik's parents remain in the village with his 17-year-old brother. "My parents were not targeted by the soldiers; they were old enough," he said, explaining their decision to stay put. "Even if they came here (to Kuala Lumpur), they can't do anything. But I miss them very much."
Sung Khun, 22, lives with her partner, Tluang Hup, in the back of a basic, subdivided house in Reservoir. She is studying English; he works installing solar panels. They grew up in the same village.
As was her younger brother's, Sung Khun's escape from Burma was fraught. She fled in 2006, first to the sea port of Koh Kong, near the Thai border, then paid people-smugglers 2000 ringgit to take her to Thailand.
She recalled being stowed away on the boat, freezing through the night and being led shivering and frightened into the Thai jungle.
She arrived in Malaysia without papers and was imprisoned by immigration authorities. She spent three months in various prisons before she was identified by the UN High Commissioner for Refugees as a genuine refugee.
Although she owes her new life to the UNHCR, she is frustrated at its inability to help her brother, who spent last Christmas in detention, and her older sister Rosie, also living in Malaysia.
"I want my brother and sister to come here, but there are many problems," Sung Khun told The Australian.. "Because of the way we left Burma, we are invisible."
Thang Bik is one of about 1300 unaccompanied children and youngsters registered by the UNHCR in Malaysia. Most are teenagers, over the age of 15, but there are some younger children. The village of Thaung Zang has a population of about 800 and according to the consensus in Thang Bik's sitting-room, about 50 people from the village have been resettled in Australia via humanitarian programs. Thang Bik wants to join them, and join his sister in Reservoir, but he knows it will probably take a long time.
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