ANH: Two of my great passions are people and painting.
In this series, I get to enjoy both.
I meet extraordinary Australians, explore their stories...
I'm putting my hand up and saying I want to do something.
I want to be part of the solution.
See, I'm now crying now talking about crying.
What's happened to me?
..and paint their portraits.
It's theirs to keep,
so I hope they like it.
(GASPS) Oh! (LAUGHS)
Wow!
Oh, my God!
Holy mackerel. That looks me!
It's beautiful.
Mate, that's incredible.
You look gorgeous. That is absolutely amazing.
Welcome to Anh's Brush With Fame.
Associate Professor Munjed Al Muderis
is a pioneering surgeon and a refugee.
Forced to flee Saddam's Iraq,
Munjed abandoned his life and loved ones
and found his way onto an overcrowded boat to Australia.
His dangerous journey took him to a remote detention centre.
Once released, he continued his studies, and 15 years on,
Munjed is a leading surgeon in robotic prosthetics
and has designed devices that have improved countless lives.
He never lost sight of his dream to help amputees walk again.
And I want to know how.
MUNJED: I'm not sure if I'm nervous or I'm excited actually.
It's a bit of both.
I don't think I'm an easy person to paint.
I personally don't think that I'm good looking
or I have a face that can be painted that easy.
People have tried that before and didn't do a good job.
Munjed is a dedicated and ambitious man who is not afraid to take risks.
He's an innovator who has helped hundreds of patients
achieve a better quality of life.
My challenge is to get a sense of his dramatic life story
and to capture his resilience.
G'day, Anh. Dr Al Muderis.
Munjed. Please call me Munjed. Munjed. Welcome.
Thank you very much. Thanks for having me.
I'm so glad you can find the time to come on the show.
I'm glad to be here. Thank you very much.
When I was a kid, I watched The Terminator.
Loved it. One of my favourite movies.
But I was into the action and the car chases and all that.
You were into it for a very different reason.
When I watched The Terminator, I looked at it and I said,
"What a fascinating thing,"
because living in Iraq, growing up in a country that's war torn,
I've seen a lot of disabled people in the streets.
And I had always thought about how can I make them better.
And there was no better movie than The Terminator to give me
the inspiration of making half machine and half human.
Let's go back to your fascinating childhood.
Your parents had you quite late in their life, yes?
Yeah. My father was 65 when he had me and my mum was 42.
Everybody was advising them against it because their doctors said,
"Oh, there will be an abnormal child,"
and every time I think I said, "Look at me. Do I look normal?"
I lived in a bubble in Iraq.
I was completely insular from the rest of this society
and it was a very comfortable life
and that's to the credit of my family, who managed to protect me.
Your father was a judge in Iraq.
My father was a Supreme Court judge and my mother was a school principal
until Saddam came to power.
And then because she refused to join the Ba'ath Party
she was demoted to a teacher and then she retired basically.
In Iraq, back then, you either agree with the government policies
or Saddam's regime policy, or you're in opposition.
And when you are in opposition,
you become a target
and the punishment is very harsh.
Is it true that you went to school with some of Saddam's sons?
Saddam's both sons went to the same school or was in Baghdad Grammar
and two of Saddam's nephews were in my class basically.
We tried to avoid them as much as possible
and, funny enough, one of them -
his name is Omar -
he was the first person who asked me in my entire life
whether I'm a Sunni or a Shiite or a Muslim or a Christian.
And I went to my father and I said,
"This guy is asking me this question."
His response to me was,
"Just try to avoid him and you don't need to answer these questions.
"If he come across you again, just say we're all equal."
What were those guys like?
They were arrogant...
..pricks, basically.
They had a lot of wealth, a lot of power.
To say the least, they were not nice.
After Saddam came to power in '79,
Iraq entered a long period of turmoil.
An eight-year war with Iran
was followed by the first Gulf War in 1990.
From the age of seven, Munjed was living with constant conflict.
What's it like to have war going on all around you?
I mean, bombs falling...
Baghdad was fantastic, to be honest.
It was a very cosmopolitan city and we had fireworks.
Similar like Sydney fireworks.
The only difference, the fireworks that we had
were real missiles hitting planes.
We used to go on rooftops and watching them send missiles
and tackling the F4s,
and I got shot at a couple of times accidentally by Iranian planes.
It was like a common thing when there is an air raid, you know,
you would expect that people go into bunkers.
We used to go outside.
Explosions and bombs were a day-to-day occurrence.
And I'm very grateful that the only loud sound that my kids hear
are the firecrackers of celebration.
Mmm. Mmm.
You don't wish it to anyone.
The first Gulf War had significant global consequences.
But it is ordinary Iraqis who suffered the most.
The stress of living with conflict was to take a tremendous toll
on Munjed's father.
He suffered at the end of his life.
Especially that entering Kuwait broke him completely.
He came to me and he said,
"Saddam is an idiot."
And I said, "Why?"
He said, "He entered Kuwait
"and this is the biggest mistake that will lead to his annihilation."
That year he became wheelchair bound.
Wheelchair bound? Yeah.
And that's when I saw another side of my family,
where my mum showed her true colours
and she devoted her life completely to look after him.
He lived another six years after that and then he died.
You grow up and you're seeing people with missing limbs.
And so you always wanted to be a doctor.
From the moment I watched The Terminator,
I decided this is what I want to do, I want to do reconstructive surgery,
and I wanted to help people and that's why I went to medical school
and I managed to go through it flying under the radar until that
moment where everything changed and I had to leave Iraq.
That moment came in 1999 when Saddam began violently punishing Iraqis
who didn't report for conscription,
the repercussions of which were about to change Munjed's life forever.
So you're a young doctor and one day Saddam has a few bus loads
of deserter soldiers brought in. Yes.
Look, Saddam had this ideology that people should be punished
if they disobey him or they go against the regime.
One of the methods of punishment was to either brand them
or take part of their ear off
or chop their fingers or hands or things like that,
humanely under anaesthetics.
So ironically it has to be done in a hospital.
The head of the department refused openly and he said
this is against the Hippocratic Oath "Do no harm."
So he wouldn't participate in this.
They dragged him outside, put him in front of everybody in the carpark
and put a bullet in his head,
and then they looked at us and they said,
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, now we attracted your attention,
"anyone who shares this man's view, come forward,
"otherwise proceed with our orders."
Unfortunately, these countries, things happen like that.
And human life has no price.
It's cheaper than the price of the bullet.
So the head surgeon has just been shot...
Yeah. What am I going to do?
Am I going to obey the commands and live with guilt for the rest
of my life by violating every single principle I was raised on?
Or should I disobey and then end up with a bullet in my head?
And then I thought, "Well, I can't do either.
"So I better run away."
So I managed to hide in the female toilet for five hours.
And then from there onward turned from a spoiled brat living
in a bubble... You were a young doctor.
You had lots to look forward to. I had everything basically.
And then all of a sudden I'm an escapee and I'm a traitor.
And the punishment will be execution.
So they were looking for me.
They went and raided my house, interrogated my mum.
My mum wasn't aware of what is going on.
And then I escaped from Iraq with the help of my family.
From there I ended up on a journey toward the unknown.
So you decide you have to leave the country.
Yeah.
The journey was very fast.
What helped me a lot is that I could speak a little bit of English
and I had a significant amount of money on me.
We didn't know where we were going
and we fall in the hands of smugglers
and unfortunately it's not something that you wish for anyone
because a lot of people were led astray
and lost all their money and lost their lives.
Munjed crossed the border into Jordan,
from where he flew to Malaysia and paid his way to get to Indonesia.
So in Jakarta we met another smuggler.
It was a very crowded hotel that we stayed in.
In the foyer there were tens and tens
of Middle Eastern-looking people.
And it was a desperate situation.
But then these two guys with me told people that I'm a doctor,
and just because of that the smuggler paid attention to me
and he came to me and he said,
"Well, I have a boat going to Australia in two days
"and I want a doctor.
"Would you be interested?"
And I said, "Of course I would be interested."
And he said "Well, OK, you'll be on the boat then
"because you'll be the doctor on the boat."
I said, "Well, how many people are going to be there?"
He said, "Around 50."
We started the journey and it was a 24 hour journey in the bus
and we were 50.
When we got to the lower shore to an abandoned village in Java...
..it turned up that there are two buses with us behind us
and we ended up 165 people crammed on a leaky boat
that's not seaworthy.
To make it worse, their skipper, the Indonesian skipper,
that was taking the boat with us,
once we reached international water,
a big ship came close to us with large numbers
and a dinghy, a black dinghy, came from that ship and joined us
and he jumped on that dinghy and left.
The skipper?
The skipper. And we were left to face the element on our own.
So who's driving the boat?
There was an Iraqi sailor who escaped from the Iraqi Navy.
Then all of a sudden he was promoted to captain of the boat.
But the journey was horrific.
It was raining all the time, it was high seas.
By the end of it...
..there were less than 10 of us that stayed conscious.
So no deaths?
No. No-one died on our boat but people were very close to,
and to be honest I don't know, because even if some people...
..fell off the boat, who would know?
Who would count?
Munjed is a testament to humankind's ability to adapt
and to bounce back.
I need to capture his energy, his practicality and his confidence.
Back in '99,
Christmas Island was still part of the Australian migration zone
and asylum seekers who made it there could still have their asylum
claims processed in Australia.
This was Munjed's hope when their boat was intercepted
after 36 hours at sea.
We were received by the federal police and I must admit
the reception was superb.
We were treated like human beings.
There were mattresses, we were given Salvation Army clothes and we had
warm showers and that was the best shower I've ever had in my life.
On the fourth day, I was taken by the federal police
to intercept another boat.
I was with another official and this guy looked at me and he said,
"When was the last time you spoke to your family?"
And I said, "Well, just before I left Jakarta," and he said,
"So your parents do not know if you are alive or dead."
I said, "No, they don't."
And he said "What I'm going to do, I'm going to be breaking the law.
"And don't you dare tell anyone."
Mind you, I tell everybody now. OK.
So he pulled out a satellite phone from his pocket and he gave it to me
and he said "Dial the number, tell your family that you're alive."
Wow.
And this guy, I mean, every time I say that, my eyes go to tears.
And thanks to him I managed to speak to my mum
and gave her the comfort of my... well-being.
And I wish that one day I'll see him and meet him
to thank him myself.
But that taught me a big lesson in my life,
that if you ever get a chance to help another human being, do it,
because you may never get that chance again.
And then from there you were taken where?
I spent five days on Christmas Island.
There were charter planes coming in, taking people,
and I was a bit pissed off that I was the last person to leave
because I was interpreting for people,
and the captain on the island...
..tried to comfort me.
He said, "Munjed, the story will be completely different
"in the mainland.
"So enjoy it while you can here."
And he was right.
The minute we were handed over to the Australian
correctional management that runs our detention centres,
the treatment changed dramatically.
You were taken to Curtin, is that right? In WA?
I was taken to Curtin detention centre
and the best way to describe Curtin was hell on earth.
The minute we got there I was stripped of my identity
as a human being.
I was marked with a number, permanent mark on my shoulder.
And I was given the number 982, and that was my name
for the rest of the time I spent in the detention centre.
It was completely inhumane.
We were shoved, we were pushed.
We were treated like animals.
And it was such an unnecessary treatment.
I was always and I will always be a fighter for human rights.
So I couldn't shut up and I was very vocal.
So as a result of that I was singled out as a troublemaker and I managed
to make some friends who smuggled a camera to the detention centre
and sat with me while...
..I told the story of our experience
and managed to smuggle it out to the media.
And as a result of that spent significant time in prisons.
You were taken out of the detention centre and put into prisons?
I loved it.
It was fantastic.
The prison system in Western Australia
is very highly recommended.
Compared to the detention centre, it's like heaven and hell.
I was fed very well and I had a change of clothes...
I mean, I'm not trying to be petty about these simple things
but they do make a big deal when you are living in such circumstances.
What's more important than all of that,
I had access to a telephone.
So I caused significant more damage.
And so when the guys in the detention centre realised that
I'm contacting everybody from the prison,
they put me back in the detention centre
and this time they put me in isolation, basically.
How long were you there for?
Several days.
And it was being rehabilitated, basically.
But the way I was brought up is that make use of everything.
So think always the glass half full.
And... I spent the time there reading and I had a book on me,
which is the last anatomy book that I brought with me from Iraq,
and I read it from cover to cover.
So thanks very much to the Department of Immigration.
I studied anatomy very well that as soon as I was released
I managed to pass my exam in anatomy immediately.
How did you get out?
What happened, miraculously my number slipped out of the system.
So everybody was processed in the detention centre except me.
So other people are sort of getting visas or whatever...
And they were... they had legal representation.
I did not.
And that's when I hit rock bottom.
And I thought, "Well..."
I've always been a very optimistic person
and I always looked at the glass half full.
But I'm starting to doubt that fact.
It took another human kindness.
One of the detainees who was processed had access,
because after you get processed you have access to a phone.
And again, as I said to you, I strategise everything.
So I gave my number to this person way before.
Yeah. OK?
Just in case.
And that person was kind enough to contact my mum in Baghdad.
And I told you my mom was a very strong person
and she saved my life so many times.
She managed to contact a solicitor in Sydney
and said to him, "My son is in this detention centre.
"This is his full name. I want you to represent him."
So that solicitor contacted the Department of Immigration
and said "I'm putting the file for this guy.
"He has no legal representation."
After nearly a year in detention,
Munjed was finally recognised as a refugee and released.
In August 2000 he arrived in Melbourne a free man
and set about looking for work.
I went to the Centrelink and I said, "Well, I'm here. I'm a doctor."
And he looked at me and he said, "What a weirdo." Anyway.
And I said "Well, I want to work."
And actually, mind you, these cities that I passed through,
I knocked on every hospital there and I got kicked out...
..from everyone.
They said, "Just go and study and recognise your qualifications."
So then I went to the Centrelink and I said,
"What shall I do? I want to work."
I worked with anything. I mean, I clean toilets at the beginning.
I loved it.
It was... it was fantastic.
It's work, you know, and work is an honour,
and if you can work and you choose not to,
you don't have an honour, and that's how I was raised up.
With the help of the Centrelink I printed out my CV,
I sent it to every single medical centre in Australia
and funny enough, within two weeks
I managed to have two job interviews and I passed both of them -
one from Mildura and one from Shepparton.
And I received my first paycheque on 1 November 2000,
so I feel very sorry that I spend taxpayer's money for two months
and I went to the Centrelink, I said,
"I want to return that money back,"
and he looked at me as if, "You're a real idiot."
Munjed began his Australian working life as a hospital intern,
would strengthen his resolve to help the disabled.
So he began four years of training to become an orthopaedic surgeon.
So you're a doctor working with people with missing limbs
and you're looking at the prosthetics
and in your mind you go, "There's got to be a better way."
Medicine is a very, very conservative field,
and if you look at the technology that's available
for rehabilitating amputees,
it's 600 years old.
Ambroise Pare in 1525 invented socket prostheses
and it's still used till today, OK?
So try to come with a revolutionary idea,
with connecting the robot to the body, to the human being -
it must be insane.
When was your first patient? 2009.
Brendan Burkett, his name is.
He's a great guy. He's a friend.
He's a dear friend
and he's a professor of mechanical engineering.
Oh, really?!
So he came to me and put his trust in me
and he said "Well, let's do it."
And we did it and he's now over six years down the track,
doing very well, and...
What did you do for him?
I did the robotic leg for him.
OK. So where he's missing...?
He's an above-knee amputee.
Above-knee amputee? Yeah.
And he's missing a leg.
And now he's back to normality basically
and you know if he wears long pants
you can't tell that he has loss of a limb.
You know when I first started doing it I thought I would do one or two.
It's a hobby and something to do.
But then all of a sudden now we became the world leaders in it
and people are coming here to be trained.
So is Australia at the top of the game with this?
Yeah, we are the leaders in this field.
I mean, I don't say that lightly.
We are the leaders in this field.
And thanks to the team that I'm working with, they made that happen.
Tell me about your patient Michael Swayne.
He served in Afghanistan with the... with the British Army.
And unfortunately he got injured in Afghanistan
and lost both limbs above the knee.
So we did his surgery and he walked.
Tell me about the first time Michael came home.
He walked in four weeks - against my advice - and...
..unaided... walked home.
And his partner and his son were in the balcony
and the partner said to the son,
"Look at Daddy. Daddy coming back home."
And the child, he was like a three- or four-year-old child,
and he innocently said to his mum,
he said, "No, this is not daddy. Daddy doesn't walk."
And that kid never seen his father standing
because he was in a wheelchair.
All what he remembered is that his father is in a wheelchair
and it was a very, very emotional moment
in all our... lives.
With Munjed's help, Michael regained confidence
and threw himself into charity work -
work which received some surprise recognition.
He received a phone call completely out of the blue
from the Palace,
telling him that he has been awarded.
And would he be available to receive his MB?
It was one of the happiest moment in my life that I helped Michael
to walk in front of Her Majesty The Queen.
It brought tears to our eyes because I don't think Her Majesty
knew if he was an amputee or not.
I heard you say he can walk pretty far every day.
One day we were in Vegas.
We were at a conference
and he was supposed to be there and we couldn't find him.
And we stayed close to the pyramid.
I don't know if you know Vegas very well.
I've heard of the pyramid. Yep.
And he walked to the tower and got back.
And that was literally more than 10 miles.
Wow. He has a lot of energy, this kid.
10 miles? More than that.
I don't think I've ever walked 10 miles.
Yeah, well, that's the thing.
I mean, I don't walk 10 miles if I don't have to.
I have patients who walk, like, 20 miles in a day and I don't know.
I mean, they're trying to break each other's records. It's crazy.
Does the robotic leg not get as tired as a normal leg?
Yeah, it does. It does?
And that's one problem that we're facing now with this technology.
These robots meant to give people you know the ability to walk
for short distances. Sure.
But the patients that we are dealing with
are getting their normality back and they want to break records.
So they are chewing through these robotic legs and destroying them.
And we are in urgent need of developing something
that's more robust.
Despite becoming the world's leading surgeon in robotic prosthetics,
Munjed still only wanted one thing - to be reunited with his mum.
How long was it until you saw your mum again?
I saw my mum in 2006, so it was seven years.
Seven years?!
Because I managed to bring her to Australia. She didn't want to come.
Iraq become too dangerous to live in.
I mean, 2006 was when Americans went in,
we thought that everything will be rosy,
but Americans are brilliant invaders but they're hopeless occupiers.
They left it to the religious lunatics to run the country.
The sad thing is that my mum grew...
..40 years in these seven years.
To be honest, I mean, my father was the kind,
the soft-hearted person and the wise person.
My mum was always the tough, the strong,
but when I saw her in 2006 she was completely broken down.
And, I mean, it was very sad and it brings tears to my eye every time
I remember that because I always had this image of my mum,
the strong person,
and I saw her like a very weary kind of elderly woman
that is desperate to see her son
and... and... and just gave up on life, basically.
Munjed's mum drew strength from seeing her only son again.
But in 2014 her health failed and she passed away.
After all that you've been through, Munjed, what is life about?
Life is about making a difference.
And I strongly believe that we all have a mission in life
and what's left behind us
is either knowledge that we leave for others to benefit from
or a charitable source that people live from,
or children that carry your legacy.
I sound biblical, but... (LAUGHS)
..I do believe in this.
Wow. (LAUGHS) What a chat it's been.
I'm nearly done.
Excellent.
Munjed, I'm nearly done. I would love to see it.
(LAUGHS) Can't wait to show you.
I'm just going to take 15-20 minutes to finish off
and I'll bring you back and I'll spin it round and show you.
OK.
It was very engaging and it was fun.
I'll be very interesting to see what it looks like
because he has done some impressive paintings.
I'm not sure how he's gonna put...
..what he learned about me into the painting.
You have to admire Munjed's self-belief and optimism
despite all life threw at him.
He never lost sight of his dream to help others.
And he's gone on to make an incredible difference
to the medical world and to the lives of his patients.
It was challenging, this one,
but I think I've got a bit of likeness.
Let's get him in.
Munjed, welcome back. Thank you.
Oh, I'll tell you what happened. Very excited.
I think it's OK. It's got a little bit of likeness.
But I would've liked another sort of hour or so, but it's OK.
OK. Let's have a look. (LAUGHS) Is that disappointing?
No, it's not. It's lovely to chat to you, anyway.
So I'll get you to close your eyes and I'll spin the painting around.
So just close your eyes and don't open them till I tell you.
Alrighty. Go for it.
Wow! (LAUGHS)
I should never have doubted you. (LAUGHS)
That looks me! Yes.
It does look me.
Yeah, I got a bit of likeness. It's a bit rough
but sometimes a rough painting has got a bit of energy.
I'm very impressed considering that you spent...
..three-quarters of the time chatting to me.
(LAUGHS)
I rarely do people smiling.
But you have such a beautiful, optimistic energy,
I decided to just go for it.
Fantastic. Well done.
Thank you very much. I'm gonna shake your hand.
Thank you very much. That's great.
It's been a pleasure. Excellent.
Thanks very much. Thank you very much.
I really appreciate you having me.
I think what Anh captured about the painting most
is the smile, the happiness, the positivity.
And that's me. I'm the glass half full all the time.
What an amazing man with such an incredible outlook on life.
I look forward to seeing what else he has in store for us.
Next time,
true blue Australian John Williamson,
the singer of songs and teller of stories,
tells us his own story...
The whole world was watching.
And it was live to air so that's pretty scary.
..and I paint the portrait of a fair dinkum Aussie bloke.
Holy mackerel! There it is.
Best portrait ever.
Captions by Red Bee Media
Copyright Australian Broadcasting Corporation