Dr Le Van Quy, who is gaining experience at St Vincent's and the Royal Children's Hospital, recently graduated in medicine.
This is historic news for all those in his village, 30 kilometres from Hue in Vietnam. Indeed it is almost unbelievable. In that village, nobody gets as far as high school, and as for anyone going to university, nothing like that has happened these past 200 years.
All this has come about largely through Father Peter Hanson of Melbourne, who met Quy in a refugee camp in Hong Kong. Even now, it is hard to imagine Quy (pronounced Quee) is a doctor. He is 27, but he is small, charming and has the wonderful innocence of a boy.
Quy's father was a fisherman, desperately poor. His family, seven of them, lived in a one-roomed hut with a dirt floor - no electricity, no sewerage. By the time Quy was 11, he had left school to become a labourer.
It was so hot in the family hut, Quy used to sleep on the beach. He remembers around one o'clock one morning in 1989, he noticed a fishing boat, loaded with people, about to set out across the water. He knew they were escaping to Hong Kong.
He scrambled aboard. It was just a tiny bamboo boat, no cabin, no shelter, and with 26 people aboard it was already overloaded. Why didn't they throw him off? Quy said: "They had to be silent because of the police and they couldn't risk me making a noise."
So the little boat crept along the coast of China on a voyage that could hardly have been more perilous. Many times they nearly sank. They had to bail furiously when the boat hit a rock, and they were all convinced they would die during a typhoon in the South China Sea.
They did have a motor, a put-put affair that constantly broke down. It took four weeks to reach Hong Kong. When they arrived, the British authorities sank the boat and Quy was interned on High Island north of Kowloon along with 10,000 others. Quy said he received some cloth to make a tent, but no clothing, and virtually no food. He lived on biscuits and condensed milk.
There were five camps like this and at one time their total population was about 80,000. Quy was there for a month and the next camp was a prison ship.
Age, sex, it made no difference, all the internees were mixed in together on the ship. There was disease, typhoid, dysentery and a lot of fighting. In May 1991, Quy was sent back to High Island. Conditions had much improved.
They had proper huts, but inside the accommodation was like industrial shelving. There were three levels and each internee had a space 1.8 metres long and about a metre wide. This was the entire space for sleeping, and eating, and it had to be shared with another person. There were nearly 300 people in one room.
The showers and the lavatories were all in the one spot. The lavatory was just an open channel down the centre of the room. But there was a school, and the teachers were refugees in the camp. There were no luxuries such as textbooks, but one day Quy received his own notebook. This was one of the great days of his life, a book of his own. Now he could learn.
Peter Hanson, who is fluent in Vietnamese, started his career as a lawyer. He was ordained as a Roman Catholic priest in 1996, but in the early '90s he was at the High Island camp helping prisoners gain refugee status under the Geneva Convention.
One day Quy came up to Peter and said to him in English: "Sir, you have an excellent watch." Peter was intrigued by this little boy and took an interest in him. He said Quy never stopped studying. Despite the awful conditions, he would still be working late at night. He would find any scraps of paper with English on them and keep asking: "What's this? What word is that?" He was always top of the class at the refugee school.
Quy was in this camp for three years. He said: "I was frightened I would end up with chicken wings."
Chickens wings? He said: "You had two chances to appeal for refugee status. If you won your appeal that meant you were like an eagle and you could fly off anywhere you liked - Australia, Canada. But if you lost both appeals you were left with chicken wings and chickens can't fly."
Quy lost his appeals. He was ordered to go back to Vietnam and he was sad. He didn't know what would happen if he went back, but one thing was certain - he would return to the hunger and poverty from where he started.
Peter Hanson stepped in and said he would become Quy's foster parent. He would find money for Quy to go to school and he would find a family to look after him in Hue City. So Quy did go back to Vietnam and he did so well he won a scholarship to Quoc Hoc High School, the most famous school in Vietnam, which produced Vietnamese heroes such as Ho Chi Minh, and General Giap.
He went on to medical school, studied for six years and graduated as a doctor with the best results of 215 graduates. "I was so lucky, lucky, lucky," said Quy.
Father Peter, who is shortly to be a parish priest in Craigieburn said: "You can't imagine what an achievement this is. Now he has given every kid some hope. For the first time, they can think, 'I could do that.'"
Quy's aim is to go back to his village. Already he is supporting his family. He wants to become a pediatrician or a pediatric surgeon, but more than that he wants to help the poor. There is no secondary college in his home area and he would like to establish a hostel so that he could bring children into the city to further their education.
Father Peter is raising money to help Dr Le Van Quy achieve his ambitions. His number is 0410 186 514