Jeanette Petersen’s father called her for the last time in 2002. He talked about wanting to leave the US and go back to Myanmar, where he was born.
“It sounded like going back forever, not just on vacation,” she recalled over Skype recently.
Then there was silence.
Petersen, who lives in Denmark, wasn’t fazed – she had fallen out with her father, known by his nickname ‘Troy’, years earlier – but when, in 2012, she got a call from a man claiming to be her half-brother, her interest was piqued.
“A Danish man called me and said we had the same father,” she said. “I said, ‘I don’t think so, because my father’s living in the US.’ He said to me, ‘Well, my father’s from Burma,’ and I said, “Oh.”
Petersen found out Troy hadn’t contacted anyone since 2006, when he flew to Thailand and sent a postcard to an old friend saying he wouldn’t be in touch for a while.
“He thinks that [Troy] left Thailand and walked across the border to Burma,” said Petersen, a social worker in her forties.
A private investigator hired by Petersen found that Troy had sold all his property in 2006 and stopped receiving social security benefits three years later. But there was no record of a death. The trail went cold.
Now Petersen has taken the search to Yangon, where she arrived on Monday with a Danish film crew in tow to try to track down anyone who might have heard what happened to her father.
Here’s what she knows.
Troy was born Maung Aung Kyaw somewhere in Myanmar in 1939. His family left when he was aged between 11 and 15 years old and settled in Connecticut, where Troy graduated as an engineer.
He lived a glamorous lifestyle, traveling all over the world, to Jamaica, Puerto Rico and the Cayman Islands.
“The women who knew him describe him as very charming, very handsome, and he had a lot of money. Who wouldn’t fall for that?” said Petersen.
In Denmark in the late 1960s, he met Jeanette’s mother, a blond-haired, blue-eyed Danish woman. He also met one of her neighbors and, nine months later, both women gave birth.
“So you can see, my father was very active when he was in Denmark,” said Petersen, laughing.
She grew up in the same town as her half-brother but, until 2012, had no idea they were related.
“For the first five years there were 500 meters between our houses,” she said. “I never knew. He has always known.”
Her mother didn’t talk much about Troy and had never learned his history.
But Petersen and her father saw each other, every few years, when Troy flew to Denmark, or Petersen to the US.
He sent her packages in the mail.
During her teenage years, however, their relationship grew more complicated. They had arguments about her going out late when he was in Denmark.
“I came with a white shirt, no bra, and very short shorts. He wanted me to wear Ralph Lauren and longer shorts,” she said, laughing.
“He was a concerned father. I can see that now that I’m grown up. At that time, I thought he was a very irritating father.”
Over the years they were in touch now and again. But she never found out the details of his history in Myanmar, or why he left.
“I have been told stories but I don’t think they are the real truth,” she said.
She knows he had two sisters. There was Daw Tin Tin, who was born in 1904 and worked as a principal at a girl’s school in Bago and, later, at Yangon’s United Christian High School – now No. 4 B.E.H.S Ahlone – before moving to the US and teaching at Yale.
Troy’s other sister, Kitty, lived in London with her husband who worked at the Myanmar embassy. If she’s alive, she would be in her 70s or 80s.
Other than these scraps of information, Petersen’s got nothing, other than a fierce desire to solve the mystery.
She has three children and her eldest, Klara, is eager to meet her grandfather – or at least some relatives.
Since she last spoke to her father, Petersen has had two more children, a daughter and a son.
“I have a family… I wanted to tell him about it,” she said.
Anyone with any information can contact Christian Nees at Christian.nees@strongproductions.dk or call Tser: 09 798449633 / 09 421037246.
Photos courtesy of Jeanette Petersen
