A ‘magnetic’ personality, larger-than-life spirit
This is the first installment of our eff ort to remember those who lost their lives in the North Complex fires.
BERRY CREEK » He endured unthinkable hardships, particularly during his early years growing up in a country with widespread civil unrest. He was forced to leave his family behind, for the opportunity of a new life in the United States. Yet none of the pain could stop Win Naing living his life and leading many other lives.
Naing could seemingly walk into any room and leave an impression. Family and friends say he had a “magnetic personality,” known for his high energy and booming voice.
He befriended an American family as a refugee in Thailand after fleeing his native Burma — now Myanmar — in the aftermath of the 8888 Uprising in 1988. The family later sponsored his entry into the United States in 1991. It marked the start of his journey in a country where he would eventually become a naturalized citizen, reside in places across the county, all while working several jobs to earn a living.
“He was just so outgoing,” said Mary Munnell, who led Naing’s immigration effort into the U. S, but effectively became his “ma,” and her children his siblings when he came to live with the family in Georgia. “He enjoyed people. He loved people. All kinds of people were attracted to him.”
A few years ago, that journey led him to Butte County. Naing, 54, was the 16th victim to lose his life in the North Complex fires, weeks after he sustained burns on Sept. 8 as the fire swept through
“A lot of Burmese had immigrated to the United States, but they came in bunches. Win came by himself, and he had to sink or swim. He had to acclimate to American living. We were all there was. He loved us, and we loved him.”
— Mary Munnell, who led Win Naing’s immigration effort into the United States
Berry Creek. Though he was injured, Naing was able to drive from his home on Sandy Springs Lane and flag down a firefighter, according to the Butte County Sheriff's Office. He was first transported to Enloe Medical Center in Chico, then transferred to UC Davis Medical Center in Sacramento and put into a medically induced coma. Naing passed away on Oct. 21.
Leaving home
Naing was a student leader in his early 20s when protests and demonstrations against a socialist regime in Burma reached a critical point during the middle of 1988, resulting in a violent, deadly confrontation initiated by military forces. Thousands of civilians were killed.
Naing and many fellow young people fled the country and became refugees in Thailand. While at the Thailand Baptist Student Center, Naing befriended Liam Madden, an American who was teaching English in the country.
Madden's mom, Mary Munnell, and sister Leandra (Madden) Nessel, came to visit in December 1990. All of them were together for only two weeks, but by the end of the trip they had grown close to Naing.
“My son said to me, ‘ Mom, he hasn't seen his mother in two years. Why don't you mother him a little bit?'” Munnell said. “So, I did … with me, him, my daughter and my son, we did our touring of Thailand together, and we became very close to him during that period of time.”
Burmese refugees had initially been accepted into Thailand, but as more time passed and many entered the country, the Thai government's stance changed. Naing was at risk of being arrested or deported.
Munnell worried what would happen if Naing was sent back to his native country. Upon her return to Georgia, she sought the help of her local congressman and two senators to
begin the process of bringing him to the U.S.
In the meantime, Naing had, in fact, been arrested and was being held in a Burmese student detention center. But, because Munnell had already started the process of getting Naing out, he was approved to enter the U.S. In November 1991, the family met Naing in Atlanta upon his arrival at the airport.
“At lot of Burmese had immigrated to the United States, but they came in bunches,” Munnell said. “Win came by himself, and he had to sink or swim. He had to acclimate to American living. We were all there was. He loved us, and we loved him.”
Naing lived with the family in Elberton for some time, but the small town offered few work opportunities for him. He eventually moved to Athens, some 40 minutes away, and found a job at Kyoto, a Japanese restaurant chain. The job led him to Hilton Head Island, a South Carolina resort town situated on the Atlantic Ocean, for what was supposed to be a temporary gig helping the company during a golf tournament one spring.
According to Munnell, the company liked Naing so much that they asked him to stay, which he did for years after.
Eric Grindstaff met Naing
in 1997 when the two began working in the same restaurant. Before Grindstaff formally met Naing, he remembered hearing Naing's loud voice and thick Burmese accent.
“A friend of mine worked at a local restaurant, so I went into the restaurant and ( Naing) was actually a teppanyaki chef there,” Grindstaff said. “I started working there … and I just remember hearing him — he was loud. We were working together, and I kind of messed up an order. He came back and he's like, ‘ No, do it that way, and I'm like, ‘ Why do it that way?' We were kind of arguing back and forth.”
Grindstaff said Naing asked him if he liked going to the gym to work out, to which Grindstaff responded he did and suggested they go the next day. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, the two quickly hit it off.
“We became best friends,” Grindstaff said.
Naing's next move was in 1998 when he headed west for Las Vegas, and Grindstaff moved a year later to work as a nurse. Naing took on more jobs, like selling Marriott time- shares and working as a personal trainer, and made many more friends along the way.
“He could go in any environment and be what he had to be, but always be
himself, and strike a connection with everyone he spoke to,” Grindstaff said. “He was so genuine and happy and smiling — his energy was so much that everyone wanted some of his energy.”
In 2016, Naing became a naturalized U.S. citizen and invited family and friends to join him at a ceremony at the U.S. District courthouse in Las Vegas.
“He was so proud of being an American citizen,” Munnell said. “It meant everything to him. … He was a true American.”
It was also during Naing's time in Las Vegas that he took up growing medical marijuana after Nevada legalized it in 2001, as another way to earn money. The work was lucrative enough that Naing followed it to California with his business partners.
Friends and family believe the move occurred in 2017, though the details beyond that are scarce. What they do know is, Naing resided in Paradise when the Camp Fire destroyed much of the town in 2018, including his residence, and he was forced to live out of his truck for several months after.
ater, he found the house in Berry Creek. Though it was a departure from the more populous areas he lived in before, he seemed to enjoy the way of life, often sending videos of himself and his dogs, his property, and the geothermal greenhouse he built where he also grew vegetables.
“I was texting him a week
before … the fire happened and he was as happy as could be,” Grindstaff said. “He was showing me videos of what he'd done and how he's grown. He was the type that, when he put his mind to it he would put everything he had into it to make it right and be a perfectionist.”
“He loved what he was doing. He told me, ‘ I'm a mountain man.' He loved what he was doing,” Munnell said.
Munnell and Naing were texting before the North Complex fires jumped into the county, weeks after Bear and Claremont ignited. Munnell said she told Naing to leave, and although he had his belongings packed up, ready to go, he was waiting for law enforcement to drive through his area telling people to leave.
Then, Naing sent Munnell another message saying he was leaving with his dogs and she likely wouldn't hear from him for a while because his phone battery was low.
The next message Munnell received was from Enloe Medical Center — Naing had been taken by Life Flight to the Chico hospital.
“I said to Win one time, because we were talking during the summer, and I had seen that his area was at risk. I asked him, ‘ Why don't you move? Why are you (staying) in California?'” Munnell recalled. “He said, ‘ Well ma, when we were down in Hilton Head, we were evacuating for a hurricane.' It was true. There was something everywhere
you go.”
‘Loved’ life
The family that Naing left back home didn't get to see much of him after he moved to the U.S. According to Munnell, Naing was only able to travel to Myanmar on one occasion three years ago to visit his mother, father, brother and two sisters. Until he successfully gained U. S. citizenship, he was worried he would have trouble getting back into the country if he left.
In the U.S., people who knew him understood how much that separation hurt him, in addition to everything else he'd experienced in his life, though he rarely expressed it outwardly. Naing kept a journal, which Munnell received from a friend of his in Las Vegas after he passed away. His writing revealed some of that pain, but also a strong spirituality that was important to him.
“I have lost a lot of thing(s) in my life. So many days of crying and pain. He never left me alone. He alway(s) stand by me. Thank you Lord. That how I feel and believe.”
A month after Naing passed away, his remains were returned to Georgia and his adopted family held an internment service that was also streamed on Facebook, allowing his family in Myanmar to watch, along with other friends and family.
Leandra Nessel shared a pair of poems at the service, the first one titled “The Thing Is” by Ellen Bass. The poem is about grief, consuming and weighing a person down, but also about choosing to live through it all. In the 11th line, the poem poses a fundamental question, “How can a body withstand this?” It concludes:
“Then you hold life like a face/ between your palms, a plain face,/ no charming smile, no violet eyes,/ and you say, yes, I will take you/ I will love you, again.”
“Win loved life so abundantly … his larger-than-life spirit,” Nessel said. “He just loved life.”
“It was because he loved everybody,” Munnell said, “it was so easy to love him.”