DHD

Three Pilots

2011-12-10T00:30:00.000+03:00

The white shirt sports blotches of brown and a black line along the back of my neck. Despite washing it in the sink last night on the UN compound, it lacks the brilliance of the other pilots on the gravel ramp. I watch as four pilots open the pod doors of two caravans, and a line of seven UN and Red Cross land cruisers slowly advance to retrieve the supplies. I sit down on my main wheel tire, next to the “baby airplane” the 206. A full load sits behind my pilot seat, ready to be flown, then carried on four-wheelers to our drop zone. Sacks of grain, beans, and lentils, a box of supplies for expectant mothers, a nutritionists supply set, bottled water and boxes of soap all wait with me for the “OK” to depart.

As the caravans unload, I realize this ramp is the end of the line for them, but for me it’s the beginning.

Thirty five nautical miles away thousands shelter under trees, wanting to escape the violence their own country inflicted on them. Last week our airplanes brought the four-wheelers as close as possible to the refugees. A team from our partners, Samaritan’s Purse, a Christian international relief organization, hit the ground and rode in to meet and begin caring for the war weary people. Many were tired, drinking brackish water, and boiling leaves and grass for sustenance. They grouped together under the trees living on the little they brought. The relief effort initially consisted of survival. Our partners drank the same water and lived on crackers until additional food could be arranged.

In two days they cleared a drop zone. Meanwhile, several of our team DC3 began practicing air drops with the DC3 near our main base at Nairobi. After good results, they rushed to the drop zone. Over the next four days they dropped over 40 tons of food, shelter material, and cook ware.

I met up with them on their second to last day. Our partner organization wanted to slash out a new airstrip near the refugees. I guessed this was to deliver various supplies (water bottles don’t survive air drops well), and provide better evacuation options. Once I landed, I would jump on a four wheeler with them and explore the options.

I asked questions about the airstrip idea, and it seemed daunting, to say the least, and the reason for the airstrip was not clearly defined. They wanted me to rotate out a couple staff members, and bring one in.

I left my bags in the small metal box of a room on the UN compound that I was sharing with the SP guy there. Several staff members with the UNHCR wanted to talk to the Samaritan’s Purse guy. They had discussed amongst themselves how many refugees had arrived, and also debated how much food SP had dropped. We smiled at the thought of these guys sitting in meetings debating the work SP had down. Most of the HCR staff was eager to get in, but were waiting on travel arrangements and permissions.

One of the staffers looked at me and told me “We looked at flying with you guys, but after talking to Juba, they said we aren’t allowed to.” I shrugged. No need to tell him we serve only the mission and church community. I thought it was interesting the UN also prevented it from being an option.

“You know, there was heavy bombing in the area today.” One of them said.

“How far away from the drop zone?” I asked

“About 25 kilometers. In the world of aerial bombardment, that’s not very far.”

I had heard this earlier today, but was not sure how accurate it was. I began pressing for details. Finally, I decided to send a text message to our operations in Nairobi. It started a chain reaction, and several international calls were made back and forth to determine our next step. I went to sleep under the AC unit in our box, and wondered how the next days would unfold.

I was told early the next morning that none of our airplanes were cleared to fly and wait for further advice.

We loaded the three tons of bags into the DC3 so it was ready for its first run that day, and then readied the 206 for its flight. And we waited, talked on the phone, and waited. At one point the local army said the bombing was insignificant and was not a problem for us. It’s been going on for weeks. It looked like we would be able to go soon. Then, another phone call changed that. Another army division commander said we needed to stay on the ground RIGHT NOW. So we went back to waiting.

While sitting inside the DC3 fuselage, we talked about the Russian made bombers who had wreaked devastation on the darker citizens of this country for decades. One of our pilots said he had seen some of their pilots: all were from eastern Europe doing the bombing runs as a job. I thought of the Russian crews that fly for the UN, in Russian made hardware, and wondered if they knew these bomber pilots. Even worse, if they had done both jobs.

The next phone call told us we should unload the DC3. I needed to take the 206 up near the drop zone and rotate the staff members, so one of the guys up there could fly out on the DC3. I received a long text message spelling out the conditions that must be met before I could fly. The trickiest was communications with the other airstrip. They relied on Sat phones, and our cell phone coverage fluctuated constantly. I finally got through, got an update on their airstrip, weather, and situation on the ground, then explained the signal I needed for “It’s safe to land.”

I went with the staff member in the 206, and scanned the skies constantly for other aircraft. When we arrived over the airstrip, I established communications with the guy on the ground. My instructions included: “You cannot get stuck!” I thought of Pieri a few weeks ago, and the frustration of being able to get airborne because of the patches of mud on the runway. I landed softly, let all three wheels roll for about 50 meters. The 206 barely decelerated. I powered up and went around. After the next landing, I shut down, unloaded, swapped out passengers, and ten minutes later headed skyward and back to the waiting DC3.

After landing, I turned into the parking area. As I shut down, the DC3 right engine began to start. I let my passenger out so he could make the run over to the waiting airplane. As I secured my plane, I watched as the massive tailwheel airplane began rolling out of the parking area. I realized suddenly I was alone, doing something I barely knew any details about, in a new place, and my colleagues were strapped in together, in the mighty beast rolling down the runway.

The rest of the afternoon I stayed with the 206 at the airstrip, waiting for word to do the next flight. While waiting, I have seen a lot of different caravans come and go. Most are flown by very cautious pilots, abusing their aircraft and making good money while wearing spotless shirts. Some of the older aircraft are flown by less than sober crew, also making good money. I watch as they talk on their cell phones as dozens of people unload food, medicine, and sanitation supplies from their airplane. Their hearts don’t seem to be in it. I guess we are all here for different reasons.

Then I think of the screaming marauder a few dozen miles north of us, dropping incendiaries on unarmed and starving people. I imagine those pilots are also well paid, and have some how justified their job to the remnants of their conscience.

After explaining that we should not worry about what we wear or what food we eat, Jesus made a pretty conclusive statement: “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” I get up off the 206 tire and try to tuck in my muddy brown shirt, while stretching my legs. A brilliant shirt seems petty in light of the large group barely surviving 40 miles away. I’m not sure what treasure may be waiting in heaven, but I do hope I can meet some of the refugees there one day. That’s the best pay anyone could ever fly for.

Washboard

2011-09-27T10:00:00.001+03:00

Turning left past Lodwar, I exhale. The trip becomes easy. Smooth roads and three hours of high speed driving will take us to our home, at least our home here on Earth.

Racing into the setting sun, I silently run some numbers. It is 3:15 pm, so we should arrive in Loki before 6:30. Sunset is probably around 6:50, so we should have time to make it before dark, even if we have a short stop along the way. I settle into my seat, slip my used crocs off my dirty feet, and press harder on the gas pedal.

My clothes sport a fine coat of dust. The same dust clings to my face, collects where the skin around my eyes crease together and add to the discomfort of hot dry air around us. Air conditioning would be nice, but whenever I hit the button, the engine shudders and an overwhelming groan rises out of the pounding steel and aluminum in front of me. Still, with my sunglasses on and a fake Indiana Jones hat on my head (father's day gift), I feel great on this homeward stretch.

Home! It seems strange to drive to Loki and equate it with returning home. But it's true. The thought rings in my brain "Where is home? I guess it's a place I have never seen."

The needle rises above 100 kilometers per hour, and as it rounds near 110, the car lurches. I let off the accelerator, the engine picks back up. I must not have felt that. Did I feel that? No way. I fixed that problem already.

FIve minutes later the problem reoccurs.

Do we head back to Lodwar? We just can't turn around. I can't imagine the phone call telling everyone we will be delayed again until we sort out the issues with the car.

On the other hand, if the car dies between Lodwar and Loki, there aren't any comfortable sleeping options. Plus, roving bandits may take it upon themselves to help lighten our Land Rover's load considerably, hopefully leaving us unharmed. But they sometimes shoot first and take things later.

As we speed on, I think about the previous four days.

Before we left Nairobi, Breanna sent me a text message saying the car wouldn't start. I called her while away on a retreat. It seemed a mystery. The glow plugs that heat the engine before it can start only turned on for a split second. Also, the starter didn't even turn. However everything else electrical worked. I asked her to call an AIM AIR mechanic, Nate, who lives in the neighborhood. He couldn't figure it out either.

When I return to Nairobi, I try in vain to repeat the problem. I check all the connections on the battery and the starter. The shop washed the engine the same day Breanna had the problem. So, I decided the contacted must have had moisture in it, preventing it from powering the starter. The problem refused to reoccur, and I figured we could still travel without a starter if it was absolutely necessary. So, we scrambled to get ready the next day. We hadn't packed, planning on a day to fix the car.

We left in the afternoon, and drove into the night for our first stop. Three hours from Nairobi, as I inched over four small speedbumps, the car died and refused to start. This time the starter turned but extremely slowly. I popped the hood, and began looking for problems. I flagged down a passing car and asked for a jump. Still, the starter turned slowly.

It began to rain. The good samaritan said my jumper cables were bad because they did not create sparks when we attached them. I wasn't sure. My battery seemed completely charged, and therefore, the cables did not arc when connecting the two batteries. The eager helpers removed the battery from the other car (after untying the long pieces of timber tied on the roof and over the hood). They held their battery delicately next to our battery, connecting them with two end wrenches. Still no sparking and the starter barely turned the engine. We tried roll starting, but even as fast as we could push it, it would not turn the engine. I realized something serious had happened that prevented the engine from turning. Breanna called our host for the night and asked if he could come get us.

He arrived, but did not bring a tow rope. We unloaded everything from inside and on top of the car, then loaded it into and onto his car, in the pouring rain. We arrived at our cabin around midnight, then I went with him to tow the car in. It rained most of the time.

The next day I tried starting the car. As the starter turned, a squealing noise began. We isolated it to the alternator. I removed the serpentine belt, and tried cranking the engine again. It turned over quickly, like a champ.

A mechanic helped me remove the alternator, and we took it into the small town. We were in a rural area. In fact, we planned to stay out here and relax for a mini one day vacation before heading back home. The one day would probably not be enough. In town we went to a small shop. More like a closet, actually. The alternator repairmen shared the closet with a shoes salesman, and a leather worker. I wondered if my alternator would come back with the same parts that it had to begin with.

The repairman disappeared for hours. He eventually returned with alternator rotor removed, and the problematic bearing off and in pieces. He struggled to remove it, and in the process chipped part of the rotor. I bought the "nearly same size" replacement bearing from a nearby shop, then insisted a welder fix the chip in the rotor. Finally, the repairman "delicately" tapped the bearing into the alternator housing.

"How long will this last? Could I make it to Mombasa?" I asked.

"Sure, it will go," he replied.

"And South Africa?"

He smiled… "Oh… no that is too far!"

With my repaired alternator, under a questionable warranty, we returned to install it in the car. Everything ran fine. The alternator charged the battery, and engine turned normally. I had a brain wave: Drive to Nakura National Park, like we wanted, look at animals, and test the repair of the car at the same time!

So we packed a lunch and loaded up. The sun shone brightly, the road carried us smoothly, and I smiled widely. Half way into the hour drive to Nakuru, the car hiccuped. It became frequent, until, about 15 minutes from Nakuru, it died. Grace immediately started wailing. She has a ways to go to becoming a true Land Rover kid, apparently.

I figured this problem must be fuel related. However, fuel spurted from the pump just fine. We limped into Nakuru, and I called a mechanic I trusted. He listened to the symptoms and instructed me to replace the fuel pump. I decided to ask a local mechanic to find a fuel pump and fuel filter and save us time hunting them down. It was almost closing time, and I didn't want to risk being stuck because we went to the wrong shop.

Together, we found replacement parts. He installed them for me, and it ran again. However, as he finished, part of the manual primer for the pump fell off. He showed me, and said we have to replace the pump… again. That means coming back tomorrow.

I sighed.

Another test drive, I guess.

The vehicle ran great. The next morning we left early, drove the hour to Nakuru and then drove around the game park. We saw wonderful sights. A lot of flamingoes, a lot of zebra, cape buffalo, and rhinos. As we headed out, we saw giraffes. Everything was going well again. Then we drove back to the mechanic for the replacement pump to be put on.

The car ran well the rest of that day, and almost the rest of the trip. Early the next morning we packed up, cleaned up, and headed north for Turkwell Dam. After a night there, we drove across the roughest road of our trek and towards Lodwar.

The road from Kitale to Lodwar continues to deteriorate. It offers the choice of a ribbon of tar in the center laced with small craters, or wide sandy shoulders sculptured into a washboard that pounds and pounds at any speed over three miles per hour (5 kph). The washboard becomes bearable again at around 30 miles per hour (50 kph), but the sand shoulders have eroded through time, and worn deep ruts into the edge. You usually see the rut just after the point you can practically slow down on the washboard.

The two younger kids loved this road, and I'm still not completely sure why. It had to do with being tossed in the car on a wild ride and not having to stay in their seats like on the high speed highways of the US.

Up front it was more like a 50's era black and white comedy, with dry humor and no laugh track:

Breanna (with a vibration induced vibrato): So, what do you think if we paint the walls first, then invite people over for dinner?

Continuation of sounds of gravel hitting the side of the car and tires pounding on the sand

Bang!

Jerry: Ahh! I hate that!

I gear down and ease out of the hole we just rammed through.

Jerry (speaking slowly, while focused intently ahead): Sorry, I can't really hear you. What did you say?

And after Lodwar, the washboard ended, and as I already described, our problems resumed.

I tell Breanna my plan…

These symptoms are different than the fuel pump problem. (Although, in my mind I am angry that I may have bought a counterfeit fuel pump that already died). I think we probably picked up bad Diesel in Lodwar (actually sounds like a good rock'n'roll song title). We have an extra fuel filter in the spare parts bag. If this problem persists, I will change out the fuel filter and see if it can get us to Kakuma, at least. It's a town made famous and large because of the nearby refugee camp built for the lost boys and others from South Sudan.

I pray fervently for God to take this problem away (I forget to add 'not my will but yours be done').

Five minutes later the engine dies, and we coast to an agonizing stop. I expect one of the girls to wail about more car problems, but instead it is silent except for tires crunching over gravel.

"Why are we stopping?" Grace asks

"Something isn't working with the car, and Daddy's taking a look."

The something of course, would be our engine.

We are just outside of a small village, so at least civilization is close. I disconnect the fuel line to the fuel filter, and decide to crank the engine. Instead of the starter turning, it is completely silent.

This isn't a fuel problem.

With my back to the sun, I ask Bre to turn the key. I try to listen to the click of a contacter. Instead, I see it. A faint wisp of smoke rising behind the engine on the firewall. I look at the source up close. A wire had been added by someone in a hurry, and they secured it a cooling hose and also to an angled piece of metal on the firewall. As the cooling hose vibrated, it moved the wire against the angled metal. The insulation had worn through, and the bare wire now made contact with the electrical ground- a short circuit. The smoke and hot wire gave me evidence of that, and I guess the wire was added with the alarm system by the previous owner. It disabled the engine, even though the engine never had a computer controlling it, the alarm must turn off the fuel solenoid and turn off the glow plugs.

I rejoice quietly and thank the Maker of all. He chose instead of a smooth ride, a way forward through the bumpy challenges. I move the wire away from the offending metal, then secure it. I ask Breanna to try starting it again, and sure enough it runs immediately. And it runs for the rest of drive to Loki. I now have an alarm system to get rid of. Oh, and an extra fuel pump that I now realize worked fine the whole time.

Irony strikes me thick and heavy as I realized the washboard pounding prevented us from being stuck. That wire was probably shorting out quickly, then bouncing away before it could shut us down, and we never even noticed, not until we hit the smooth road.

Obviously, we prefer the smooth roads, smooth flights, smoothies (or Sonic's cream slushes during their happy hour from 2-4 are an acceptable substitute), and all our favorite things. However, I've seen God use the washboard ruts on a hot sandy road to lead us where he wants us to be.

So here we are, wiser with regards to our vehicle, and ever more dependent on His plan. And thankful just to be home … this side of Eternity.

Reposted without permission

2011-06-02T08:25:00.003+03:00

One of my fellow AIM AIR pilots put this on his blog. It's well written and worth pasting here:

On slight addition I have to throw in, I understand that when the LRA was started, they were told if they followed the ten commandments, they would be invincible. How they justified their barbaric actions in light of this is beyond me. But it's always amazing how any group of people trying to satisfy an old Law can justify their sinful actions and believe they deserve a reward for doing so.

Also, last year, two of our pilots attended the first graduation of seminary students from a Bible school in an Ugandan refugee camp. Because of the LRA presence, citizens have relocated to refugee camps to be protected by the Ugandan defense force. While their lives remain on hold, they decided to start a Bible school, and the first four pastors graduated last year.

(You can read more about the US troops coming here).

OK, here goes. Sit down and enjoy:

In the wake of Rush Limbaugh’s bone-headed characterization of the Lord’s Resistance Army as Christians fighting Muslims, I thought I would present some basic info on the history of this group. AIM AIR (out of our Entebbe base) does a considerable amount of flying for organizations working in areas in northern Uganda, DRC, CAR and South Sudan that are consistently terrorized by the LRA. A while back, I spent three days in Congo as we delivered tons of relief supplies to villages that had just suffered the horrors of LRA attacks.

First and foremost, the LRA is not a Christian organization. It is more correctly a militarized Satanic cult. The group began as a rebel group made up of northern Ugandans fighting oppressive regimes of the main (southern) Ugandan government. The group ended up being led by Alice Lakewenya, best described as a witch doctor, who told her followers she had cast certain spells that made them invincible, which was shortly proved false as they were utterly defeated by Ugandan forces. The group then became led by the now infamous Joseph Kony in the late 80′s. At best, Kony is insane, but I suspect he is possessed, with some of the defected LRA soldiers still being convinced he has special powers.

The LRA’s technique of gaining foot soldiers by abduction, usually of small boys who are often immediately forced to kill their parents, has been going on for over two decades now. This as well as other horrific things take place routinely to the people in these villages that are completely unprotected by their own governments, which all cannot control these far corners of their countries. The result is a huge area in the heart of Africa where death and horror has become common place. The spiritual oppression in some of the villages I was in was almost palpable.

Obama recently offered the help of military ‘advisers’ to try and capture Kony and shut down these LRA cells (which is why Limbaugh made his ignorant claim). The US has tried to help before (shutting down Kony was a personal goal of the Bush administration). However, the operation was botched by bad weather and bad timing and Kony escaped after potentially being tipped off as he monitored his short-wave radio. It is hard to image just ‘advisers’ can turn the tide against a wild man who has lived in the bush for almost 30 years. The troops of the countries involved are under-trained, under-armed and often ill-motivated to fight such a notorious, and elusive enemy. I’m not sure what prompted Obama to act now or in this way, but I guess we’ll see how effective it is.

Please keep this part of the world in your prayers. Pray that the Church would be a bright light in this overwhelming darkness. Pray that evil will be thwarted and the suffering of all of these people will end.

Resources:

Below is a tracking map that gives an idea of the scope of these attacks both in time and geographically:

Also here are some links to more info on the history of the LRA:

Great overview by Enough Project (.pdf)

BBC profile on the LRA

BBC FAQ’s about the LRA

Extensive Newsweek article on Kony

Enough Project questions effectiveness of only ‘advisers’

Breaking Free

2011-06-02T08:25:00.002+03:00

An apology, but not really, an anecdote, and a confession ... and why not? I can't sleep anyway.

Last week I returned to Nairobi. Two weeks of house projects in Loki came to an end, and I fell back into the warmth of my family, and the normalcy of life that could be anywhere, but it must be with them, together.

I also got back in the saddle: the thinly padded left seat. A first flight that allowed me to remember all I forgot. After all, the past four months I had commanded only a GMC van.

Reine put me through the paces, reassuringly, as he does best. We turned, and slowed, stalled, and climbed.

"Let's see a soft field takeoff on the grass."

The grass runway was new to me. I looked it over from inside the Cessna. The northwest end gently rose from the edge of a ravine. Distance markers every 50 meters lay slightly obscured by long grass, and in the distance a fence ran across the far end.

Soft field technique, as you know, breaks free from the draggy surface the aircraft was slogging through. Once the wheels seperate from the earth, and slowly spin down to rest, the aircraft accelerates easier. It's not ready to fly yet, but if I keep it down near the weeds, it can build speed safely.

Reine wasn't satisfied that I kept it in "ground effect" long enough.

"Don't be afraid of that fence!"

The tall grass below housed a lot of small birds that rose up beneath us. Evidently they weren't alone in the grass. My next departure, I stayed low, slowly milking the flaps up, back into the rear of the wing. In front a gazelle, or was it an antelope, turned down the runway and bolted ahead of us. As we caught up to him, I eased back to clear the fence.

My base check came the next day. They feel more like an exam, but with opportunities to learn. Once I completed the base check, I could start operational flying again.

We went back to the same airport and the same grass runway. My short field takeoff scared up the same poor grass grazing animal. He looked beautiful running in front of us when I glanced over the cowl.

I told our chief pilot, who conducted the base check, "I hope he doesn't have a heart attack."

This past week gave me a chance to discuss public relations. Living in Loki makes it harder to listen to AIM AIR's heartbeat, and then relay that to the rest of the world.

Last week I looked at the AIM AIR calendar with a manager much much my superior.

"Next year have more smiling babies and less guns!" he advised me. I laughed, thinking of what to say.

"I'm serious. More smiling babies."

I felt a twinge of guilt and a little defiance. When I laid out the calendar, I liked the idea of certain themes for each month. May was about war torn countries. A picture of burned out tanks sat above a close up shot featuring the Caravan throttle quadrant, weather radar, and avionics. Grace took that picture last year on a flight back from Loki to Nairobi. Knowing that makes me smile whenever I see it.

On home assignment I saw the calendar a lot while visiting people. As I looked at it over their dinner table, I realized a theme of instability and war was probably not the best thing to look at for a whole month. Maybe smiling babies would be better. The previous calendar, which was really great, had a lot of kids in it. That was before I took the helm.

I will always struggle with what to share as a person, and also what to share as AIM AIR. The gritty truth involves guns, but I don't see them as often as I think about them. In the same vein, not all babies out here are smiling. I wrote an article last year during a tough week. In two sentences, it boiled down to: "Are we making a difference? Doesn't look like it, but we must be and I can't wait to see it." The funny thing is I thought the group asking for it scrapped it completely. When I showed up at their office this last furlough, they showed me their newsletter, with the article on front and back pages.

"It's basically your newsletter!" They told me. I guess it did make it in after all.

I love to think of us as swift messengers to speed the Gospel. Surely the hope from the Good News needs to be reflected back home. But I also think the Gospel contrasts better against a human reality.

So my half hearted apology is for the month of May on the calendar. I hope it wasn't a depressing month for anyone, and for my last post talking about Sudan's struggles. I find I paint the dark grey backgrounds much more than I paint the shimmer of hope in the foreground.

I sit up high quite a bit, usually just under the clouds, and well above the trees. From above, when I spot the smiling kids, the rejoicing mothers, the passionate missionaries, and the soulful pastors, I promise to point them out. If I can just get these wheels out of the mire and break free

Southern Discomfort

2011-06-02T08:25:00.001+03:00

Sudan. The name brings strong feelings to many people. For fellow Christians in North America, images and stories of persecution and hardship for fellow Christians come to mind. Sudan has ranked among the highest countries for persecution according to several lists. For those who live in Europe or the Middle East, the memories of Sudan's struggle revolve around oil, resources, and moving the southerners out of the way.

Many missionaries received a wonderful surprise this January when a historic vote did not turn into bloodshed or signal a resumption of civil war. For AIM AIR, it meant a busier schedule as we support renewed and additional thrusts into what will soon be the Republic of South Sudan.

But, the honeymoon may be soon over.

When sharing with many people over the last four months about why we do what we do, I typically mentioned Sudan's bad roads during the rainy season, and Kenya's bone jarring and robber strewn roads in the north. However, highway robbery has hit south Sudan in a big way recently. One tribe in particular reigns with terror over a section of highway from Lokichoggio to Torit. At least two mission agencies do not allow their workers to drive that route now.

A friend tells me there is increased crime in the cities, like Torit and Juba. Most of the criminals, in a bizarre twist, are educated, most likely educated abroad as refugees, and have returned to Sudan. Perhaps their taste of western culture leaves an empty taste for materials and possessions now that they are back home, and they choose crime to obtain them.

He told me about a mechanic who used to work in Loki, and now opened up a shop in Eastern Equatoria. While driving, he picked up another Sudanese man. As they drove, the passenger brags to the mechanic that he killed a woman. Not only that, he has a tongue in his back pocket as a trophy. When he pulled it out, the driver stopped the car and beat him within an inch of his life. He hauled him off to the police.Through several days of turture, the murderer told them that government officials in Khartoum had sent 120 people down to the south with instructions to kill randomly any southerners. Unfortunately, most of the victims end up being women.

Finally, corruption continues to flourish, and finances remain mismanaged, misappropriated, and mysterious. Most government workers are paid weeks late. One government worker clocks in, then rides his motorcycle taxi around all day collecting fares. He returns to the office and clocks out. Eventually he will be paid, but today he needs the fares to make ends meet.

Other people not even living in Sudan are on the government payroll. Cousins, nephews, and uncles of policemen, government officials, etc. come to visit from abroad, and ask to be paid a salary. The payroll grows to include their names, and they return home to the US, Australia, or wherever.

My friend jokes, "South Sudan doesn't have social security. You don't need it. They'll pay you for not even working."

Our fellow missionaries and pastors face unusual and tough challenges. The days of direct oppression and opposition from the north may be over, but new and strange hurdles emerge. Please keep all of us who work for the Good News in this soon to be new country. We need creativity to work around these challenges, wisdom, a sense of humor, and constant reminder that God knows and has a plan.

Also, the border areas between north and south are flaring up. Certain towns have been bombed, and tension continues to escalate. This month AIM AIR's flights, in partnership with other Christian organizations, included surveying internally displaced people along soon to be border, and delivering relief supplies. Please keep those areas in your prayers, too!

Shukran.

On the ranch with Izzy and Grace

2011-04-23T23:34:00.001+03:00

Isaiah: I bet the kids here are never bored.
Dad: really?
Isaiah: yeah, because them live on a ranch.
Grace: You wouldn't want to ask if there is something to do... You know cause you might end up mucking a stall, or something.

- Posted using BlogPress

Location:Satanta, KS

Birthday Plans

2011-04-07T15:31:00.002+03:00

Today is, of course, Grace's Birthday. She proclaimed everywhere we have stopped "I am going to be 8 on April 7!" It's a big deal, and to celebrate in America is the best part.
Breanna's sister found Grace's birthday plans on the floor of her room, and I asked Grace if I could share these on the blog:

After careful analysis, the major groups are: Cake, Place, People, Decorations, Wrapping Paper.
Cake is Tres Leches (checked), Cat Shaped (x-ed out)
Place is obvious,
People: Family (checked), Friends (x-ed out)
Decorations: Animal Plates (maybe), Floating Balloons (maybe)
Wrapping Paper: Animals (checked), Cats (maybe)

Tomorrow we hit the road again, but today we celebrate 8 years of bubbly life.
Grace told me she thought she would get in trouble for wanting so many things for her birthday. I think she handled these expectations quite well.
Birthday pictures to follow.

Why we are here

2011-01-21T15:48:00.000+03:00

Into later and later hours, our white truck bucked, shuddered and groaned. Dust coated everything inside and congealed in my hair or settled on the floor. Constantly discerning whether the punishment inflicted on the vehicle bore excessive, I pushed on into the rushing hours of the late afternoon. Hostility surrounded us, beating down from a fierce sun, watching us blow past small, dung covered houses and scarce vegitation, and creaping up inside us as fear of the unknown beyond the next hill or curve.
We had a late start because of the catastrophic and unexpected departure of the rear "propeller" shaft last Sunday. When we returned to Loki I began searching for a replacement rubber coupling.

A missionary friend in Loki had a Discovery II parked in storage. However, he was away on home assignment. I asked Oliver, who was with the same mission group, if I could borrow a part from the stored car. He seemed reluctant, mainly since the owner was away and really valued the vehicle. "It's kind of his Golden Calf car!" Oliver said with a rushed German accent and the start of a gravelly laugh.

We agreed to just look to see if the parts would interchange between the two Land Rovers, then worry about permission if needed. The parts seemed identical.

Oliver called around to find information on the owner's location. We quickly learned many Discovery owners carry an extra drive coupling (for good reason). We started arranging for someone's extra part to come up in the morning on the AIM AIR flight. Then Oliver had a great idea:

"Maybe he keeps a spare also in this vehicle?"

Sure enough, a search through a cardboard box in the back produced a used but intact part.

"Wow, this must be God's provision!" Olly remarked.

I agreed. My euphoria went with me back to the house. I couldn't believe I found this part in Loki. Oliver didn't think the owner would mind me using the spare, and I promised to replace it with a new part.

We planned to leave in the dark hours of Tuesday morning. That would get us to Nairobi by Wednesday night. We would have two days to take care of immigration issues and wrapping up paperwork to end our first term.

Monday I installed the part. After wrestling all day with the "propeller shaft" (drive shaft in American) and the rubber coupling, I realized the severity of the dry rot in the used coupling. It functions like a universal joint that cushions the jerkiness of the drive train. That means it twists as it makes up the angle between the rear differential and the propeller shaft. Several cracks appeared to grow as they went through this twisting action. I guessed the owner removed the old coupling out of concern it might break apart, but kept it as a spare to get to nearest town.

The good feeling left me. I thought about it for a long time and decided I didn't want to depend on a part of unknown quality for the long trip to Nairobi. As a second confirmation, on the way to to our own farewell party, I took a detour on to the highway. At high speed heard an ominous rumble coming from the rear of the car.

On Tuesday, I told Sammy in Nairobi what the car needed, and he arranged for it to come up on a scheduled commuter flight on Wednesday morning. We packed the car, cleaned up around the house, worked on a few minor problems, then on Wednesday morning I took the propeller shaft off again. The part arrived at 10:30 am, and I installed everything by 11:30. We loaded up the car including our German Shepherd, tied the tarp down on the roof rack, locked up the house, and said good bye to Jon and Ginny, our co-workers there. By 1pm we were driving out of town.

We hoped to make it to Lodwar on smooth roads, then try to reach a town called Marich Pass that night. It would become dark before reaching Marich, a plan I did not relish. The drive to Lodwar went well, except when driving over broken patches of pavement I heard gravel hitting the front wheel wells. This made sense at the time, since kids like to fill the potholes with gravel and ask for hand outs as you speed past.

Breanna wanted to pick up Turkana baskets in Lodwar, since they make great gifts. While in Lodwar I noticed the gravel sound continued whenever we went over a bump. While Breanna talked baskets, I rooted around under the hood and around the car, determined to find something loose. I tightened the mount for one of the front shocks, and tightened up the roof rack.

We left Lodwar later than planned and headed out into the punished desert highway. I knew half our drive would be in the dark, but did not want to arrive in Nairobi any later than tomorrow. As the road deteriorated, the same creaking and pinging sound kept repeating itself over each bump. I figured it must be a cosmetic piece of sheet metal, since everything on the frame had been tightened and checked.

An experienced missionary described the road from Lodwar to Marich Pass as "a wide enough ribbon of pavement to hold the potholes together." The technique is to drive on washboard shoulders until they become unbearable, then swerve onto the road and avoid the craters up there. You tend to alternate back and forth, attempting to decide whether top or side brings less pain. As the car pounded on, I calculated I needed to average around 60 km per hour to stay on schedule.

The washboard seemed almost unbearable at 30 km/h or less. At that speed the whole car bounced into the air, my vision blurred, and steering became difficult. Around 60 - 80, everything settled down, though I knew the suspension was taking a beating. The challenge became controlling the car at that speed, and slowing before hitting the ditches or large holes in the road. Usually I could not see them in time, and everything went bang as the springs hit bottom, the load inside shifted, and the wheels sprung back into the car.

The worst pain on this road, I decided, was knowing what was happening to the car.

The sound in the wheel well grew worse after each large bump. We stopped at the edge of a small town, and I jumped out to look around for its source. I found a large crack in the thin metal body around the bolt that holds it onto the robust steel frame. Night quickly approached, and I did not know what town would have an adequately skilled welder. So, after two hours of road pounding since Lodwar, we turned around.

The kids expressed sincere displeasure. The oldest sobbed quietly, coiled in her seat like a seasick landlubber, while the youngest howled and whined like our often hungry pet cat. I think he was copying his middle sister, who did the same performance.

Invariably, they had picked up on my dour mood and quiet apprehension watching pale headlights pierce the empty landscape. A shadow sometimes was just a shadow, but then a shadow was a cavernous hole that shook the wounded the car. We arrived at Lodwar, tired, worn thin, with a creaky vehicle. We found two rooms to stay in, and soon everyone was asleep. I laid on my bed, mentally planning the next morning. I would find the welder a missionary recommended, and also address a loose bolt in the roof rack and dust cover that fell off a front wheel. We were way behind schedule, but hopefully we could make it to Nairobi late Friday, and still accomplish a few necessary things.

Olivia, back on the road after sleeping in Lodwar

And the kids would be in good moods and enjoy the scenic drive. And they were, and the rest of the drive went without incident. Isaiah and Grace stood up facing backwards and pretended to ride a roller coaster.

We arrived in Eldoret at night. I took a bypass road that ended up being fairly deserted, instead of the main highway I thought it would be. Fortunately we had no incidents with breakdowns or break-ins. And a house that we thought would not be available became available because a lady found out we were coming. She made up fresh beds for us by candlelight since their power was out!

We rolled into Nairobi just after lunch time Friday. I set up a time with a mechanic on Saturday to look over the car, then took care of financial obligations and paperwork at the hangar.

We were going so slow in some areas, Isaiah was able to help me drive

Grace, Kili, and not so good vibrations

On Sunday, we loaded up again, this time with another family, and headed down to the coast for a week in a house we are sharing. We planned to spend a week away before coming on home assignment to put together a scrapbook and presentation to share with friends in the US. The road to the coast is beautiful and smooth, and we went almost the same distance as the previous drive in six hours instead of two days.

Breanna: Queen of the Scrapbook!

So what do I share with friends, both one on one, or in an auditorium over the next four months? One thing comes to mind, which I told Grace as she bawled and whined that night returning to Lodwar...

"Do you know why God chose for these things to happen?"

Grace paused, then said quietly, "No..."

"I don't know either, but I think part of it is to show us why we are here. The roads are so bad and getting much worse. Think of missionaries who are really sick or need to get to the city quickly, taking these roads would not be a good idea. That's one reason we are here... to help them when needed."

She remained quiet, but I know it penetrated her thoughts, and I won't be surprised if she brings it up again.

One of my greatest joys comes when the kids grasp another reason why we live where we do. I hope this trip made it a little closer to their reach.

Referendum Day

2011-01-16T22:37:00.001+03:00

We planned to drive friends from Loki to Kakuma to vote in the South Sudan Referendum. 60 minutes later we sat down on the gravel shoulder seeking shade by the car.

The rubber coupling that attaches the drive shaft to the rear differential tore in two. The drive shaft fell onto the highway as we sped along. It scared a group of Turkana women and boys walking along the highway carrying water.

I pulled over, looked under the car, saw the missing shaft, and began walking back. The group met us, one boy holding the shaft in his hand, like a walking stick or a dead animal. He resisted my efforts to take it ... I think he wanted compensation for carrying it, but all I could say was Ajokenoi ... It means hello, thank you, and goodbye.

The group followed us back to the car. They didn't offer to help out. They wanted a lift. We tried to explain the car wasn't going anywhere. I kept saying Ajok. Not much help.

They also asked for our water and water containers.

I kicked myself for leaving tools behind for this "short" trip. I decided to use rope I brought to secure the rear drive spline and limp home using the front drive shaft.

As I got the rope out to begin tying, one of the teenage boys indicated he wanted it. Our friend, Chris, remarked: "Turkana road assistance. They come when you break down and ask for things. It's better than in Taposaland (just over the border in Sudan). They come with guns and just take what they want."
I immediately felt encouraged.

My attempt to drive with the front wheels failed. Even with the centre diff locked it would not move the car. This concerns me even now. Maybe a Discovery doesn't really lock the centre diff?

We tried calling our friends. The cell network gave us an error. I kicked myself for not bringing my sat phone.

I remembered that sometimes the diff lock takes awhile to engage. So Breanna sat behind the steering wheel, and Chris, Tabitha, and I pushed the car while in gear. It doesn't work. We tried going backwards. Then forwards. I tried to peek under the car while jogging beside Breanna, to see if the spline is behaving itself and not chewing up my rope. I almost tripped.

We stopped. I shot an SMS off to our friends. Help is on the way. We received an SMS from John, another Sudanese friend who just arrived at Kakuma to vote. He reported very long lines at the polling place.

I realized at this point that Kakuma was not happening today. Bre and I wanted to see the crowds and atmosphere as thousands of united Sudanese came together at the refugee camp. They wanted to express their voice for their freedom, by leaving a fingerprint in the SEPERATION box on the slip of paper they were given. But that was not our fate today.

Few cars travelled this road. Most who did blew past us without stopping. One overloaded hatch back stopped. I told him our friends were coming. I asked him where they were headed.

"Kakuma!"

I looked inside. At least five or six passengers sat squeezed inside, all Sudanese, on their way to vote, probably their first time ever.

Tabitha, Chris' wife who is from Sudan, had said "These people are not good. In Sudan people would stop and help, not drive by or try to take things."

I told her the last car was going to Kakuma.

"See, they are Sudanese. They stopped!"

A Turkana lad came out of the thorny brush through the shimmering heat towards our car.

Breanna sat against the left front fender reading her kindle. I sat next to her, then Chris and Tabitha on the gravel next to me, by the rear tire. Their daughter, Hope, stood on a seat in the car, dressed in one of her best outfits. She was upset our portable DVD player stopped. The battery died.

Breanna has tutored Hope a few days, and often commented about how smart she is. She soon started finding other ways to pass the time.

The lad arrived at the car. He asked some questions I don't know. The problem with saying "ajok" is that people think I know what they are saying.

In Swahili he asked, "Is the car not going?"

I said "It is very bad."

Then he tapped the rear tire with his walking stick and pointed to his sandals. I guessed he wanted to make new sandals from the tire rubber. I told him no. He walked around the car to see what else he can ask for.

Soon he has left.

Then a military truck pulled over.
"What is wrong, man?" a Kenyan soldier asked.

I ran over and tell him.

"We could tow you to Kakuma if you have a tow strap."

I kicked myself for not having a tow rope.

I said thanks and goodbye, then walked back to our lonely car and my passengers sweltering in its shade.

"You know, these people here are good people!" Tabitha said.

Epilogue

Our friends arrived in a white Land Cruiser and towed us to Loki. The makeshift tow rope broke twice.
John arrived in Loki before us (his matatu passed us on the highway from Kakuma).
I focused on getting the car going, which is another post. Chris, Tabitha, and Hope took a matatu two days later.
The car problem set us back a day and a half for driving to Nairobi to get ready for home assignment. But we later realized, and thank God, that this was a blessing. The rubber coupling shredded itself before we left on our big trip, and we were at a place where friends could easily come. I now know to look at this Mickey Mouse part often to make sure another shredding doesn't leave us stranded!

- Posted using BlogPress

Location:Loki on the way to Kakuma

Urgent: Prayer Needed for Sudan

2011-01-08T10:46:00.001+03:00

We urge you to pray fervently starting now, for the week of
referendum voting for southern Sudan. Pray for peace, for
protection of the helpless and boldness for the Church in this pivotal time.

The great divide across Sudan is visible even from space, as this Nasa satellite image shows. The northern states are a blanket of desert, broken only by the fertile Nile corridor. Southern Sudan is covered by green swathes of grassland, swamps and tropical forest.

Jerry's flights take him into southern Sudan about 90% of the time, so you can understand why this referendum vote will potentially impact our lives, but especially ministry opportunities for the missionaries, pastors, relief & medical workers AIM AIR flies.

As for us personally, we have offered to take newlyweds Chris and Tabitha, he's an Australian and she's from southern Sudan, to Kakuma, about an hour from Loki. The refugee camp there is where Tabitha is registered, along with all the other southern Sudanese refugees in the area, to vote in the referendum beginning on Sunday. Jerry and I are interested in taking pictures, gauging the mood and seeing the Kakuma camp up close for the first time.

Below are some faqs from BBC you may find helpful to guide your prayers

Almost four million people have registered to take part in Sunday's referendum on whether Africa's biggest country - Sudan - should split in two. The vote was a condition of a 2005 deal to end almost two decades of conflict between north and south.

Why do some southerners want their own country?

Like the rest of Africa, Sudan's borders were drawn up by colonial powers with little regard to cultural realities on the ground.

Southern Sudan is full of jungles and swamps, while the north is mostly desert.

Most northerners are Arabic-speaking Muslims, while the south is made up of numerous different ethnic groups who are mostly Christian or follow traditional religions.

With the government based in the north, many southerners said they were discriminated against and north and south have fought each other for most of the country's history. Southerners were also angered at attempts to impose Islamic law on the whole country.

Sudan's arid northern regions are home mainly to Arabic-speaking Muslims. But in Southern Sudan there is no dominant culture. The Dinkas and the Nuers are the largest of more than 200 ethnic groups, each with its own traditional beliefs and languages.

Who will vote?

Only southerners are eligible to take part in the poll, which means most people think the outcome is bound to be independence.

Nearly all of those who registered already live in the south - the hundreds of thousands of people who fled to the north during the war seem to have either gone home to register - as they were urged to do by southern leaders - or not bothered.

But at least 60% of registered voters must take part for the referendum to be valid - with low literacy levels and little history of voting, this may be more difficult to achieve than the simple majority needed for a verdict either way.

What happens next?

Voting lasts for seven days.

Assuming that the verdict is to secede, Africa's newest country will come into being on 9 July 2011 - exactly six years after the peace deal took effect. Then the hard work really begins.

Is Southern Sudan ready for independence?

To be brutally honest, no.

After years of warfare and being ignored by central government, the country-to-be which is larger than France and Germany combined has hardly any roads and not nearly enough schools or health services for its population of roughly eight million.

The SPLM former rebels who have been running the region since 2005 have at least gained some experience of governance.

They have lots of money from the south's oil fields but their critics say they have so far wasted much of it on the military and not done enough to raise living standards in one of the world's poorest regions.

They have drawn up ambitious plans to develop their cities and have decided the winner of a competition to compose a new national anthem. The south's own flag is already on display across the region.

Most people assume the new country will be called South, or Southern, Sudan but this has not been officially decided. Other suggestions are New Sudan or even Cush, after a biblical kingdom in the area.

What will happen to the north?

The immediate priority for the northern government will be to keep hold of as much of the oil revenue as it can, as most oil fields lie in the south.

Sudan exports billions of dollars of oil per year. Southern states produce more than 80% of it, but receive only 50% of the revenue, exacerbating tensions with the north.

There is a dispute over one oil-rich area - Abyei - which is to hold a separate vote, possibly later this year, on which country to join. The north may also earn revenue from piping the oil over its territory to Port Sudan on the Red Sea.

In terms of ordinary people's lives, both sides have agreed to let all Sudanese - in particular the many southerners in Khartoum - choose which nationality to take.

But President Bashir's announcement that he will implement a stricter version of Sharia in the north if the south secedes may prompt even more southerners to leave the north.

10,000 Miles (on the road) in Four Months

2010-12-12T23:33:00.003+03:00

Here it is, where we'll be and when we'll be there on our four month furlough back to America to share with you what our first two years in Kenya have been! Contact us if you'd like a visit while we're in your area. If we're not visiting your area, we're very sorry, we are concentrating our travel where we have the most folks for this short visit.

January 24, 2011: Fly out of Nairobi to Dallas, TX. via London.
January 25: Arrive in Dallas
January 26-Feb.4: In DFW area
February 5-6 in Wichita, Kansas area.
Feb. 6, Sunday at Eastside Community Church
February 8-18 in Anderson/ Indianapolis, Indiana area.
Wednesday, February 9 at Chesterfield Church of God
February 19-20 in Wichita, Kansas.
February 20, Sunday West Evangelical Free Church
February 26-March 6 Sun City, Arizona at Grace Bible Church's Mission Conference
March 7-11: In California, with stops in Idyllwild, Riverside, LA & San Jose
March 12-15: In Oregon, with stops in Ashland, and Portland
March 16-20: In Washington (the state :), 17th & 18th in Sunnyside, WA.
March 24-27: In Worthington, Minnesota
March 27, Sunday at Journey
March 29-April 6: in Indiana
April 3, Sunday, at Park Place Church of God in Connersville, IN
April 7: Grace's 8th Birthday!
April 17, Sunday, at Pawnee Avenue Church of God, Wichita, KS
April 22-24: west Kansas for Pleasant Prairie Church of God's mission conference
April 26-29 Dallas area
April 30-May 1 Wichita, Kansas at Grace Presbyterian Church on Sunday, May 1
May 4-9 Indiana
May 11 Fly back to Kenya!
Phew!

2010-12-02T01:29:00.000+03:00

Same room, 22.5 months later, I stare at a tiny Touchscreen, pushing fake buttons. Last time we were in this room, Isaiah pulled open the bay window curtains and yelled out his enthusiasm for the new African world before him: "Grace, they have a playground!" I wrote e-mails, snapped pictures, then sent them half way around the world. We are here!
The camera died, and the replacement is temporarily out of service... We have to shoot blind :) The MacBook motherboard died last December, and the hard disk last week, with our newsletter hours from completion.
I didn't think I would be here, having to rely on an iPhone to update the blog and send email. But the months in between the stays at Mayfield guest house were the best of my life. We became part of the tight knit family here in Kenya, we made friends, learned the crazy rules of the road, and strange rules of the air. We struggled with new languages, hosted family here for a visit, and moved to a border town.
So, even if the iPhone goes the way of the camera or laptop, I will still say, "These have been our best days. God is still our hope and
provision, and we are honored to serve him with airplanes, school books... And with or without little 3" touchscreens."
staying in touch somehow,
Jerry and Bre

Coming to America

2010-11-06T10:13:00.000+03:00

We can hardly believe January will mark the second anniversary of our arrival in Kenya!! That means it's time to visit YOU to share what God's been doing in and through us these past two years. It will be a whirlwind 4 month trip around the U.S., January 25-May 10, 2011 but we will try to see as many folks as possible! Comment or contact us if you want to meet and we will make every effort to do so!

Year One: March, 2009, Kurungu Kenya

Year Two: August, 2010, Torit, Sudan

We will be bringing necklaces made by a local Christian Turkana women's cooperative, ANA (their name is an acronym for "Stong Women" in the Turkana language.)

If you desire specific colors or designs, you may order through us before January 1. They will run about $5-$17 each and directly benefit the women. Many come with matching bracelets and earrings.

Once Bitten

2010-11-02T11:49:00.001+03:00

Okay, I wasn't bitten, but stung (Breanna, writing...shocker, I know!). One of the occupational hazards of living here in the desert of northern Kenya is the need to beware of these guys. He was on a towel I had used to dry off Isaiah from his shower 15 minutes before, and Grace was IN the towel the scorpion was ON when he found my right hand ring finger.

this one, though not very big, managed to incapacitate me for about 6 hours one Monday afternoon, of course, a Monday Jerry had left for a week-long safari flight. These things have a way of happening as soon as my man leaves town!!! When Jerry was in Tanzania, I found myself on a busy stretch of highway in Nairobi with a dead car. His trip two weeks ago was the scorpion sting. This week he had a pilot from Nairobi bring me roses!...but the week wasn't without adventure, of course...we had a malaria scare, was sure Olivia had it, but her test was negative, just the flu.

So, I thank God for all those prayer warriors that cover me and the kids while he's away, and for his safety while he flies. I thank God for our co-workers and friends, Jon and Ginny Hildebrandt, that came to my aid when the scorpion stung, medicated me, and killed the scorpion, that I had left locked in the bathroom, in such a way I could still take its picture for this blog :) Ginny even made our supper! We are truly blessed!

Advanced timing

2010-11-01T09:22:00.000+03:00

Not regarding magnetos or ignition coils, but God's weaving of events. I was on a three night safari flight a while ago. This one left me with a lot of time on the ground, but still miles from a home. I had torn apart Olivia's bedroom wall, promising to replace it when I return. Then a scorpion stung Breanna my first day away from home.

However, day two held the unexpected for me.... Jon, the other pilot based in Loki, called and asked if I could go fly to Duk Payuel. It sounded a lot better than sitting around, and since they just needed a short flight to Bor instead of Loki, the schedule worked perfectly. The airplane was already in Sudan, and they would not have to pay for the miles to come from Loki.

As an aside: When I approached Duk, I saw an older man grazing his cows by the runway. I kept an eye on them, since nothing seperated them from the runway. While about 50 feet above the ground, one of the bulls bolted onto the runway. I came up with the power, but kept the airplane near the ground, and passed around ten feet over the wayward animal. That seemed to work, and the cows gave me lots of room. On the ground, the herdsman had words with the clinic, but I don't think it was anything new.

Tom, one of the administrators for the clinic, told me there were two mothers who needed to go the hospital, and their foundation had a fund that would pay for emergency medical flights, much like our Wings of the Dawn. I told him the timing could not have been better. Here is an e-mail they sent back to the US, and then forwarded to me....

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: *************************
Date: Tue, Oct 12, 2010 at 5:25 AM
Subject: flight took off safely
To: ****************************
Cc: ****************************

Dear ___________,
On behalf of the mothers, Elizabeth and Martha and the clinic staff, we thank you and the Eastern Hills Bible Church for your support of this new initiative.
As most of the members of your church were still sleeping or just waking up this morning, in the small village of Duk Payuel in Southern Sudan, a plane from AIM AIR was landing on the dirt airstrip there. This plane landing in Duk was made possible through their support, and as they were asleep, these mothers and caretakers got on the plane headed for the nearest surgical center, more than 100 miles away. Even during the dry season, the trip on the dirt takes 6 hours, and now, during the rainy season, the trip is only possible by plane. AIM stands for African Inland Mission, a non-profit aviation organization. With a team of volunteer pilots, they serve missionary and church-based groups throughout the region, providing air travel in places many commercial flights either won't go or for which charge a high fee.
As these things tend to just happen by Divine intervention, Jered, the pilot today, said that the plane happened to be available and sitting in Rumbek, just a hundred or so miles from Duk.
One mother had come walking through knee-deep standing water for more than 25 miles to come to the clinic. She had already six deliveries, four of whom died, miscarried. She was now pregnant again, and came to the clinic hoping for something, trusting in the clinic staff and services provided here--the best for more 100 miles around. She was having pro-longed labor and needed an emergency c-section, a function for which the clinic is still unable to provide. The other had come from just a few miles away, and unfortunately, the child had already died in the womb. Still, without surgical capabilities, the mother's life was in serious jeopardy.
They'll go to Bor Town, the state capital, where there's a hospital that can perform the simple operation (a C-section) they need to save their lives, and, hopefully, the life of the child in the womb. All made possible by the dedicate act of generousity made possible by generous people 5,000 miles away who they'll never meet.
The members of church should also know the effectiveness of the mosquito nets for which they donated--since the rainy season began in May, the clinic has only received a few cases each month of malaria, amazing considering the thousands of mosquitos which plague the area. The nets can also provide protection against kalazar, another potentially endemic disease that is affecting the areas surrounding the Duk.
We do ask the members of the church one more thing--for their prayers for these two mothers. We'll try to check in on the status of them, though communication here can take a little while for messages to get through.
Again, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you for this. No mother or child should die from childbirth, and by the will of God and the help of some generous people, we're working to ensure that.
Blessings,
-Tom

--
John Dau Foundation
Transforming Health Care in Southern Sudan

"Impossible is what you won't do" - John Dau

We are here, we are here, we are here!

2010-10-29T14:50:00.002+03:00

It took Jerry, and 4 brave volunteers three bumpty, dusty hot days by road to arrive here with vehicle, dog, birds, a water tank and other household items.

Breanna, the kids and cat, made it in about 2 1/2 hours by air!

Where is here, you ask? Lokichoggio, in the desert of northern Kenya, about 30kms from the Sudan border.

We've come to support the AIM AIR "Loki" base, which operates two small aircraft, a Cessna 206 and a Cessna Caravan, usually into southern Sudan in support of mission work there. Before our arrival, one overworked pilot and his amazing family, Jon & Ginny H, were the only AIM AIR family here.

We're happy to share a bit of the load, but Jon & Ginny are amazing generous servant leaders and take excellent care of the missionaries in Sudan: buying their supplies, delivering their mail, hosting and feeding them incredible meals when they come through Loki.

We've lived here two months now and have adapted well. We are finally getting used to the constant heat, sweat and dust. We're enjoying the slower pace of life here "in the bush" among the Turkana tribe, a nomadic herding people group that are still largely unreached.

Loki is peculiar town, it was once a tiny village with only a mission airstrip and church, but its proximity to Sudan made it a staging area for aid work and hence the town grew. Now that its relatively calm in Sudan, the town is slow again and the establishments catering to foreigners are largely deserted.

Jerry stays busy flying virtually all the 206 flights into southern Sudan, but being so close to Sudan means we, the family, get to see him more than we did in Nairobi!

Living in Loki means more opportunities for the family
to join Jerry on flights with room!
This airstrip is on a mountaintop in Nagishot, Sudan

Breanna fills her days home schooling the three kids, and trying to come up with meals with the limited grocery options in Loki, but need not complain since there are way more choices than the places Jerry flies missionaries to in Sudan!!!

There is still work to do on the house we live in, though it's comfortably livable now. :) Once most of the house work is done, we look forward to becoming more involved in our community and are praying about opportunities.

Jerry would love to reach out to the local Turkana men, who are a rare sight in church, he's toying with the idea of meeting them on their turf, under the shade of trees through out town, where they generally play a game called Ajua, all day long, while their children look after their herds of sheep, goats and camels, and their wives haul wood and water for cooking.

Breanna's recognizes her primary ministry is the education and spiritual development of our three children, but would love to minister to local Turkana children through their schools or church outreach!

To see more photos of our life in Loki, check out Breanna's facebook album

Loki in pictures

2010-08-29T22:33:00.000+03:00

can be seen on Breanna's facebook page...

Scattered glimpses of the week.

2010-08-29T22:28:00.000+03:00

Thursday

9am: Flying over the jade sea in the early morning, I listened to a podcast on forgiveness. The immense lake below set the mood for a message on canceling the debt of others who may have wronged us. The concept seems so easy alone in a cockpit.

11am: I am a passenger, shooting out over an abrupt cliff. As the Earth disappears out my window, Jeff explains the safe way to depart. This airstrip checkout at Gatab was more exhilarating than I imagined! An hour earlier we were digging up thorn bushes at the lower airstrip, but now we weave a perfect line around the mountain ready to land.

6pm: I rush around the hangar in Nairobi trying to catch people I need to see and prepare a different airplane for the flight tomorrow. It is my first overnight in Nairobi. Kind of strange, since landing in Nairobi used to mean returning home. Now I am again 500 miles away from the family. Everyone at the hangar is extremely helpful, understanding this is my rare chance to be able to take care of issues in Nairobi... Passports, work projects, flight paperwork, labelling items to ship up to Loki...

Friday

4:50 am: I rush around different aisles at Nakumatt (open 24 hours- definitely Nairobi) checking off things for me, things for the family, and things for missionaries in Sudan.

7:30 am: The Cessna 206 groans down the runway. The cargo pod and cabin are completely full with boxes of medicine - almost half a ton. The seats are out to make more space. My seat, unfortunately places me too far forward in the cabin. That's gonna make for a long day...

9 am: The Tachometer shows 0 RPM. The engine sounds fine, so I know it is a display issue. I call Base on the HF radio and ask for their opinion. They give the OK to continue to Loki. I am hoping the problem is just the flexible shaft came off the tach drive of the engine. But I know it was tight this morning when I checked it, and the inspection putty showed it wasn't slipping. I run my numbers for the day and realize I can only afford 15 minutes in Loki to stay on schedule.

10:30 am: I arrive back home in Loki, but just for a quick turn. As Starline begins fueling, I take off the cowl, and unfortunately the cable is securely fastened on the tach drive. I check the cable attachment to the tachometer and it is also firmly attached. Must be a bigger issue. Well, not going any further today. Jon and I call Nairobi and arrange for parts, then I secure the plane and go home to surprise the family.

7pm: I read an e-mail saying a church in Arizona is very interested in helping us put new solar equipment on this house. This is a huge blessing, since the equipment on the house now is old and barely functional, especially during a period of cloudy days.

Saturday

9 am: I retrieve vegetables and fruit that were kept cool overnight at Jon and Ginny's, and meet Starline to go back to the plane. The new parts arrive, and after a little head scratching, find the problem with the old flexible shaft.

12:30 pm: I run the engine to test, then depart to Sudan on a two and a half hour leg.

3 pm: Land in Akot, Sudan. The meds fill up a Land Cruiser, and part of a pickup. I smile thinking that all of those boxes fit inside the small airplane. The apples and oranges I bought at Nakumatt made it fine. After refuelling and talking with the missionary couple there, I blast off. I need to be home before sunset.

4:30 pm: Climbing up past 11,000 feet with rain clouds all around, I finally stretch out my legs. Behind me are two bicycles, imprisoned by my cargo net, and a lot of space around them. And a lot of space behind me so my seat can slide back...

No idea what to call this

2010-08-07T00:57:00.000+03:00

Went to embassy to start renewal of kids passports, bought pet food for trip, looked at options for framing AIM AIR group photo, bought 12v fans for Loki, came home to a major leak in upstairs bathroom, took furniture to hangar to go on next available ride, figured weight available for Bre's Monday flight, went to finance, unloaded trailer, adjusted valve clearance on car's engine, took Bre to a movie, bought replacement flex line for toilet, installed line, still leaks, wrapped a ton of thread tape on connection... leaked stopped, wiped up water on floor, came into bedroom, dog on bed, must get him zzzzz

The Days Ahead

2010-08-04T01:58:00.000+03:00

Will today mark the end of a calm? Or instead quieten months of
debate and politics. Tomorrow Kenyans take a simple vote ... yes or no
on whether they agree to the proposed new constitution. A diverse
country where members of parliament, I am told, make more than US
senators, yet the minimum wage starts around $60 / month; that diverse
country will decide on the direction it needs to go and the document
to guide it.

Most of the debate exceeds my depth, but the bigger issues are the
trajectory of word changes regarding abortion, exemptions to civil
rights to allow Islamic courts to function, and ownership of land. To opponents the words have become too ambiguous and open ended.

Most people I talk to don't feel there will be significant fallout
as a result of the election. Regardless, orders from management direct us to
stock up for the long haul and have everything ready for departure.

That's good and bad for us. We leave Nairobi for good this weekend, so
we're ready for departure. What's tougher is keeping our go bags ready
as we scatter stuff throughout the house in the course of hauling and
packing.

There is uncertainty. Will the vote go peacefully? If not, the road I
drive to Loki follows a string of refugee camps for displaced people
from the election two years ago. Potential hot spots.
Breanna, the kiddos, and our stuff will follow on an airplane flight
Monday, however our flight schedule is in constant flux as we wait for
the Kenya Civil Aviation Authority to decide whether our US registered
aircraft can fly in Kenya.

The days ahead? I wish I could tell you how they will go, but I have
no idea. But I know who holds tomorrow ...

When you have a spare minute- pray for Kenya, pray for our move to
Loki, and pray the work ahead telling everyone of a second chance,
grace from failure, and freedom forever... that the work will still go
ahead.

The forgotten sons of Dodoma

2010-07-29T10:12:00.000+03:00

Two weekends ago I flew to Dodoma, the town of the beggar tribe, the Gogos. At least that's what the people in Dar Es Salaam might say. This was my first time to Dodoma, the third largest city in Tanzania, and 35 years ago a would be capital for the country. Dodoma lies in the center of Tanzania on a high plain with several rocky hills thrust upwards around the city.

AIM AIR rarely flies this route. Missionary Aviation Fellowship (MAF) has their Tanzanian base in Dodoma, and between them and the commercial options, our aircraft are not usually needed in that region.

As the captain, it is imperative I know the when and where, but typically on a flight I have very little idea of the why. I planned on a weekend of catching up, but instead, for two days, I raced after Andrea and Dr. James, my passengers, as Andrea gave us a tour at the heart of the city. We saw the children without fathers or mothers in the picture, for whatever reason. Abandoned by the ones who should be caring for them, I could tell not only where these kids living in the heart of Dodoma, but also that our Father's heart was living with them.

Click on the picture to see other photos from the trip

This is Loki Living

2010-05-08T15:08:00.003+03:00

Day Zero:
Touch down in a hot afternoon, just before heavy rains. The single engine Cessna shuts down with my family and all our stuff crammed inside. Breanna fights nauseau and illness under the veranda of an abandoned terminal lounge. Olivia waits with her as Grace and Isaiah chase cats around the ramp. During a lull in the rain we load into a Samaritan's Purse Land Cruiser. In under fifteen minutes we are in our new house for the next two weeks.

I nervously look around the house, as Breanna says she needs to lie down. I have visited Lokichogio a lot of times. I told AIM AIR we are willing to move up here. Probably. I hope the family agrees with me. As I make grilled cheese sandwiches, keeping an eye on whining kids, and get ready for a flight the next day, I can't fight the feeling that this was a mistake.

It's usually better in the morning. And it was. AIM AIR's man on the ground: Starline, left a pick up for us to use. After breakfast and coffee, I take it to the airport. I fly to the first major town across the border in Sudan... twice. Once to carry a missionary family in so the can return to their village home. The radio remains quiet on both flights. Sudan, the country I fly over, votes for the first time in several decades. Most missionaries left for this period, but my passengers want to go in. I decide to stay at a higher altitude as long as possible and avoid getting close to the ground until the last five minutes. You never know. Thankfully, both trips in and out proved to be routine.

I return to the house, anxiously. I have heard the good and bad about "Loki." Mostly bad. A lot of families don't want to live here.
As I shut down the car, I see two kids swimming in a kiddie pool we had set up last night. Through the giggles, they look up and yell "Daddy's home." I smile and jump out of the truck. This could work after all.

Day three:
Crammed inside a white taxi, sending up a cloud of dust in Sudan. A motorcycle swerves in front of the car, bouncing over deep ruts. The bike falls over as the rider hops off. Our driver locks up the brakes. The motorcyclist and driver yell at each other. Our driver throws up his hands and turns the car around. A Kenyan pastor in the cab explains that we went through a checkpoint without stopping.

We drive back to a bend in the road under two large shade trees. Our sedan stops in a mud puddle, and we spill out of the car. Several soldiers in worn camouflage are moving tables around under one of the trees. The obvious Man in charge sits and waits for us to approach his tribunal under the trees.

Twenty minutes later and the verbal onslaught continues, mainly against the driver. Listening proves to be our punishment for going past an invisible checkpoint. My watch keeps lifting into view. I planned to be on the ground for an hour, and the hour slips by. Finally, the Man wraps it up with a firm don't ever do it again.

"Thank you, sir!" A missionary lady says as we walk off.

"Sir! Sir! You know what the bible says. No one should have titles. I am not a Sir!" He launches into another diatribe, but it only lasts three minutes.

Our shaken driver starts the car, and with the remaining minutes we have, we visit a new church just outside of town. We gather in a circle with the pastor and the leaders. They share the struggles of the work they are in. As we pray together, I sneak a peak at the men and women who work here in Sudan so a new church grows... even in these uncertain times.

Ten minutes later we roll up to the airplane. "I've never seen something so beautiful in my life!" a missionary points out, excitedly. We fly for an hour over valleys and mountains and the Didinga Hills. We arrive in Loki where our ways part. They board another airplane back to Nairobi, still talking about their adventure in Sudan.

Day Five:
Steve Irwin's trademark vernacular comes out of the TV in the corner. We share a good Kenyan meal with Starline and his family. We sit at a long table in a large open room. Next to Starline, John watches the DVD episode on catching deadly snakes with horrified fascination. With excited gesturing, John describes snakes back in his home that can stand as tall as a man. When I ask if he wants to look for them like Steve Irwin, he recoils in his seat, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

John's home is near Mewoun... a rugged, "overgrown" section of Sudan. We met him the first day in Loki. Not really sure who he was, I gave him some distance. He told me he was going to high school, sponsored by an AIM AIR pilot. I asked him what grade he was in. He told me he would be in 12th, but Jon, the pilot, told him he needed to repeat 11th since his grades needed improving.

The more I talk to John from Sudan, the more I admire him. Breanna asked him once where his family was. He deliberately; cautiously; painfully described that during the civil war in Sudan many children were scattered from their families. He heard from relatives that both his mom and dad died. He spent a few nights in a house next to "ours," but told me he moved to Starline's house because of loneliness.

As I sit at Starline's table, eating rice and greens, I hear Isaiah and Griffens (Starline's lad) running around the table, Steve Irwin exclaiming about a beautiful snake, and I see John staring at the TV in rapt attention. He doesn't enjoy watching snakes, but I can tell he loves the company. I realize that maybe John has a family after all.

Day nine:
Children herd chickens through the house to the back yard. A lot of chickens live in the compound. Many of them sneak into the house when they can. We hope they will go into the backyard to devour ticks.

Two dogs reside here at the house. Two dogs and a lot of ticks. Breanna's list of favorites puts dogs and ticks near the bottom, but she spends a lot of time pulling ticks off the restless pups. First we smashed the ticks with a hammer: too messy. So now she drowns them in mouthwash. One dog had at least 300 that Bre pulled off of him. She also pulls them off of the kids. Now its time to bring the fight to the ticks in the yard.

The chickens refuse to go where the bread crumbs and popcorn trail lead. Olivia's new friend, Lucy, grabs one by the legs, carrying the hen through the house to the backyard. Eventually three hens and two roosters feast in the backyard.

I continue working on the maintenance projects for AIM AIR which kept me busy all week. I decide to drink a cold coke while I work, but the first taste is repulsive. It tastes like bleach, not coke. Breanna had complained about the same thing on another bottle. I look at the bottles closely and realize they are a couple of years old. I suddenly remember taking a crate of bottles from a storage container where we worked on the truck. I guess they don't last forever, especially in a hot container. The old cokes would kill ticks, though.

At night it rains and rains. I wait for the rain and lightning to die down before returning the hens and roosters to their roost. I find them huddled on the corner of the patio by the fence. Breanna and the kids hold towels up as a wall to keep them from running. I grab a hen by the legs and throw it over the fence. It grabs the top of the wire mesh and beats it wings. I push on it, hoping to move it off the fence. It bobs forward, squawking, and swings right back up on top. It takes a couple pushes. The next hen tries to peck while I grab the legs. It stops as soon as I hold it upside down. This time I throw well above the top of the fence.

The kids love this. Grace wants a turn holding the chickens, but loses her nerve when they flap their wings and squawk.

Day Ten:
The sounds of singing, strange and beautiful, arrive with the whisps of breeze through the screened window. Even though Loki is a town, right now it sounds like a village. The voices repeat a chorus following a leader. Other voices trill while the beat pulses out of hand claps and stomps. I can picture the youth in their Sunday evening celebration jumping and swaying in a circle. This morning we went to the Turkana / Swahili church service. We didn't understand much, but the music came across in an unbridled way straight from their heart. I remember thinking "This is the Africa I thought we would live in..."

As always, I loved working with Starline this week. We discussed a lot of our different perspectives on living up in Loki while polishing brake cylinders. When the conversations ended, he couldn't resist singing.

Isaiah tries starting an AIM AIR generator ...
but the noise is a concern for him.

I asked a missionary pilot who lived in Loki several years ago if he missed the convenience of Nairobi when he was there. He told me that he actually misses the convenience of Loki. I understood today when I stopped at one of the small auto parts stores on a Sunday afternoon. Almost everything stays open all day Saturday and Sunday, and I can drive to the shops in less than five minutes.

At the auto parts place, I popped the hood on the vehicle we have been driving. It makes a terrible knocking sound when accelerating, a problem I couldn't figure out. I took it to the shade tree experts at the auto parts store. I watched them work, chasing the source of the problem. I love troubleshooting, and these guys did an impressive job of "fencing" instead of "hacking" at the problem. They narrowed the problem to the sensor system on the throttle. One of mechanics ran into the back and returned, armed with a light bulb, a piece of coat wire wrapped around it, and electrical wire terminated in an alligator clip. Following the wire back to a relay, they found the problem... a corroded connection to the relay. After they cleaned it, we went for a test drive. The car ran great: problem solved!

The music continues to drift in through the hot, still night. In Loki we give up blankets and sweat free sleep, but we also traded the sound of Nairobi traffic and matatu stereos for an unintended lullaby.

Day Thirteen:
We pack up the suitcases we lived out of and drain the pool, while listening to the sounds of quiet one last time. Lucy, Olivia's new friend, brings her a monkey as a gift. Lucy and another girl tell us they got the monkey as a baby. A rope lies tied around the monkey's waist. In a couple hours the rope is tangled around the trees. Breanna frees "Rafiki," the name given by the kids, and he follows her around. He loves to hang from her neck, or sit on her shoulder. I can almost see Breanna rapidly softening towards him.

When I get close he snarls and runs away. I don't soften towards him at all.

Olivia, Grace, and even Isaiah want to keep him. I tell them he needs to stay in Loki, and when we move up here we can take care of him then. I hope Lucy won't be offended. She had asked for help with school fees, and these past two weeks I thought she had ulterior motives for spending time with the family. I think I misjudged her.

I watch the monkey following the kids around the house, then jump into Olivia's arms. I'm still not happy about him. I turn to Breanna and ask if she could live here. "Definitely," she says. "I would really love to be a part of the ladies co-op that makes crafts."

This evening seems worth savoring. John, an AIM AIR Pilot, Starline and his family, and all of us eat at the "Hotel California," a camp and buffet catering mainly for relief workers coming through Loki. Isaiah and Griffens chase each other around, while Starline tells us story after story about the unexpected in Sudan and stories about AIM AIR.

He had asked me earlier if there was a way we could keep living up in Loki.

As I walk outside the front door of the house, looking up at the stars, I hope so.

Day Fourteen:
Running from the airport bathroom, the girls head for the Cessna Caravan. They had waited until the pilot, Dan, was ready to close the airplane's doors before they realized they needed to "go."
"Grace, do you want to sit up front?" I ask. I think she will enjoy it, but I also know it will make Dan's flight interesting.

As we climb out next to southern hills in the valley, Grace says: "I love flying in airplanes. You know, how in the beginning it is really exciting and interesting, then you get tired and fall asleep. I think that is really neat."

Grace's picture of our pilot, Captain Dan

I think about our two weeks: my initial thought that this was a mistake, the fun I had working with Starline, watching the shade tree mechanics figure out a sensor problem, the adventure in Torit, meeting John, and watching my kids open up to new friends. The first thought that this was a mistake fades quickly in my mind. I realize we won't survive living in Loki. No, we will actually love it. Love the open space, the people, the challenges, the slow pace, and especially the work God has for us there. The future of Sudan may be uncertain, even tense, but as long as people come wanting to care for the orphans, wanting to start bible schools, wanting to spread the news of freedom from law and sin, we will thoroughly enjoy taking them where they need to go!

What's Next for Us? There are three main areas that require prayer and support for us to be able to serve in Loki.

1. Adequate housing for our family. AIM AIR is deciding how best to pursue this. Their are several options, but we are waiting for a decision. AIM international, our mission organization, had a recent change in leadership over AIM AIR and this probably impacts the timeframe for a decision.

2. I need to complete my New Pilot Status. This is time for me to expand my pilot experience in eastern Africa under close guidance of the training captains here at AIM AIR. Moving to Loki would require I be moved off of New Pilot Status. This means a lot of flying for me in the next months if we are to move soon.

3. A rugged vehicle. The road from Nairobi to Loki is extremely rough. One missionary told me there is just a big enough ribbon of tarmac to hold the potholes together. He says he will never drive it again. However, for me to feel comfortable living in a border town, I think it is necessary to have a second option to evacuate besides air, and a four wheel drive vehicle would fit the requirement (also AIM's requirement as well). Our vehicle project is at 22% of the funds needed towards this goal.

Please pray during this time that all three things will come together in God's time. For now we are learning to be content in either home.

Please pray for Sudan, Loki, and us

2010-04-11T23:24:00.000+03:00

On the ground in Doro. Shade provided free of charge by the DC-3. Outside temp was 42 C (108 F).

Today marks history in a sense. The first elections happen today in South Sudan in almost 25 years. Elections signal a time of possible unrest in Africa. This is especially true with the full powder keg of charged politics, persecution, and recent civil war in Sudan that ended in 2005 with comprehensive peace agreement. Next year the south votes in a referendum, spelled out in the peace agreement, which decides whether the south will become a separate country.

Theories abound regarding tactics of the northern government to destabilize the south by supporting an armed cult driven north out of Uganda, as well as fueling the existing animosity between tribes of the south. Whether these are true or not, most people agree the south is not very unified right now, and peace is tenderly held.

The best thing to do RIGHT NOW: pray for the elections that have started. We hope peace will continue, violence will be thwarted, and the work of the gospel will be allowed to continue.

AIM AIR 206 and DC-3 on the ramp in Loki

AIM AIR asked us to move to Lokichoggio to serve there. Lokichoggio, a ghost town near the Sudan border in Kenya, stages a lot of our flight ops into Sudan. It is fairly remote, hot, dry, and dusty, but does have its down sides as well. I have visited there several times to fly into Sudan, but never more than several nights. Breanna and the kids have never seen or experienced "Loki." So this week we plan on changing that.

We will fly up together later this week and stay in one of our co-workers houses for two weeks (they are finishing up a furlough, so the house should be available :). This is a trial run for us ... we want to make sure we aren't biting off more than we can chew. I imagine the kids will love the endless sandbox of the desert there, but it does mean giving up the convenience of the city.

Please pray it goes well and we are able to make a good decision on how to best prepare for our new assignment.

Obviously the elections in Sudan, and the reforendum next year, could have a significant impact on the operations in Loki. There has also been a change in our organization that could affect how our part in Loki operation is set up. We are learning once again the need to be flexible.

Finally, in unrelated news, we found out after church today that a fellow missionary was shot in the knee. An airplane was flown up to their area in northern Kenya to evacuate her to Nairobi for medical care. Please pray for this family. They were part of the AIM AIR team several years ago, then left to help run a bible school up in the rural part of this country.

Unthinkable

2010-02-17T21:47:00.000+03:00

Put this down as "You'll do it once, but never again."

Yesterday I hitched a ride from Nairobi to Loki on the DC-3. I decided to stay with them as they went over a lot of Sudan, and come back to Loki in the evening. It was going to be an opportunity to see a lot of ground I need to learn in Sudan ... and they were giving me a lot of "stick time" during cruise which is always fun... think heavy on the ailerons and light on the pedals.

Well, our best laid plans ran out of time. Delays in Juba, plus a long unload and reload in Loki (including offloading four motorcycles and loading a six wheeler golf cart on steroids), put us in Kurmuk with no option to get back to Loki before sunset. So I got to see a little taste of non-South Sudan. Really interesting.

We got into Loki this morning at 10. The freight was already loaded in the 206, so I did my preflight, loaded fuel, got my passenger ready, tied down the cargo, and taxied out. I was dropping of my passenger in Werkok, a small community near the Nile River. I would pick up four passengers with not much cargo, so it was an easy trip.

In Werkok I pulled out my freight, uncovering the stowed seats I needed for the return... and slowly realized there were only two and I needed three. That meant one passenger couldn't come. I got out the satellite phone and called base to let them know and start thinking options, then broke the news to the passengers. Three needed to catch an international flight from Nairobi that night, and one was just going to Nairobi for a visit. Unfortunately, she was the one that had to stay. I wish I could describe the look on her face when she found out she had to stay one more night there... but I have blocked it out of my mind.

I spend tonight in Loki, missing the kids (even IF Grace didn't want to talk on the phone tonight... "Dad, I just don't like talking on the phone. I just want to say good night...") and especially Breanna, then tomorrow I will slip over to Werkok at the end of my day and pick up the marooned soul. The DC-3 agreed to wait in Loki for us, and we will come down to Nairobi on it. So, hopefully, not too many feelings hurt. It was a madhouse this morning as they were getting the DC-3 ready to leave, and that was part of the reason the seat got missed, among a few other things. Hopefully a cold Coke or a milkshake will help her overcome another night spent in Werkok. I'm praying so.

Goodnight from Loki.

Chapter 47: Development

2010-02-14T22:58:00.002+03:00

This sounds post-modern. Maybe it is, or maybe it is just over-revealing, too much of an open page in a public diary.

I acknowledge I am extremely privileged to do what I do here. I will see first hand what amazing things are happening in Africa. As a pilot, I will meet and talk to people who have lived through extraordinary events. But the flip side are the times I am a small part in a big story that I can't always wrap my intellect around. Like my part was written into a middle chapter of an epic novel, between the introduction and denoument. A part of the plot development.

That was last Thursday. I looked over my right shoulder, straining against my shoulder harness to look down, towards the floor of the Cessna 206, in which I had spent around five hours that day. Mary was there, eye lids barely open, and completely unresponsive to the world. At least, I was told her name is Mary. An IV hung from a cargo ring, tied with a bandana. And I can still hear her labored, raspy breathing. It sounded like her diaphragm was moving fluid more than air. The nurse kept pushing on her left side, I am guessing to help clear the fluid. Mary's whole body seemed unnaturally swollen and yellow.

"We need to get her into a hospital now so they can remove the fluid," the nurse told me, no longer with a level tone in her voice.

Mary was intubated through a nostril, and I asked the nurse if she had a syringe that could be used to pull the fluid out through the tube. She just shook her head. Because of someone's miscommunication, we were waiting on the ramp in Nairobi for an ambulance to arrive and take her to a hospital. We didn't know where because that decision was still being made. The thought grew stronger in my mind that she may die on the floor of this airplane. On the ground. In Nairobi.

I was supposed to be on a flight to Sudan. The "seventh crew member on the DC-3" one of the pilots later joked with a half smile. The DC-3 would have been my ride to Lokichoggio along with several other pilots who were flying for a couple days in Sudan. I was looking forward to it since it would be an opportunity to get checked out in a few new areas. Then the flight request came. A sick person wanted to go home and another sick person needed a ride to Nairobi. Our chief pilot could take the flight, but he thought this would be a good experience for me. So I decided to see those parts of Sudan another time.

The details sauntered in. One passenger would pay at the destination, but I needed to get cash from the other passenger for their portion of the flight. The sick lady couldn't sit up, so we needed a way for her to lie down in the 206. More importantly, I was briefed on the route of the flight. The first stop is inside military airspace, and required special instruction. All three stops were new airstrips to me, so I studied our airstrip directory and listened to the briefings about each of them.

Thursday morning I found myself taxiing into Nanyuki airstrip. I had been there before on a weekend trip with friends to the base of Mount Kenya. It is a different airstrip than most we fly to- with a nice cafe and interesting selection of general aviation aircraft in the hangars. It feels a lot like the States. It is also at a fairly high elevation, as the ground rises towards the tallest mountain in the country. As I rolled to parking, AIM AIR base told me on the radio that my passengers called and said they were still 10 minutes away.

I replied I understood, but was confused why they weren't already here... I took the time to check my fuel and oil, take a first stab at the cargo and passenger loading and work on my takeoff performance. I was planning on a sick man and his wife plus a small travel bag for both of them. As I was leaning through the pilot door scribbling numbers down on the pilots seat turned desk, out of the corner of my eye I caught a matatu (public mini bus) pull into the gravel parking lot. It stood out from the safari vans and Land Rovers next to it. As I stared, four Kenyans emerged. They stood out from the clientele that was lounging in the open air cafe. I started walking over to the group of dazed people in faded worn clothes. One of the men was as skinny as a rail, and I had a hunch these were my passengers.

"AIM AIR?" I asked,

No recognition. I motioned to the north... as if that would communicate more.

"Gatab." One of them said.

OK, right people. That's where they are going. Then they started pulling things out of the back of the matatu. A lot of things. A double or queen mattress, a large woven plastic sack of potatoes, four back packs, four boxes, and several shopping bags. My ground time was already hitting fifteen minutes, and I needed to think about arranging this cargo in a small airplane already arranged for a makeshift stretcher.

I hung our fish scale on the right wing tie down, and guessed at what would fit in the pod. One of the airport personnel helped as I weighed things and he put them in the pod. Then we rolled up the mattress and placed it with the oversized box in the rear of the plane. I pulled the net back against the mattress and tied it back.

"You are going to tie it down?" The sick man asked. I nodded. Everything inside gets tied down, even his mattress.

I ran my numbers again. Fortunately I had overestimated body weights, but underestimated the amount of cargo. It worked out still, and after 45 minutes on the ground, we were moving.

AIM AIR has a pilot family based in Gatab, and Jeff was there to meet me. I am not checked out on the upper Gatab strip, which is by the mission station. I haven't seen it, but it is a little tricky since it ends at the edge of a cliff. So I went to the lower airstrip. It meant Jeff had to drive down to pick up these passengers. He arrived in time to pull out some thorn bushes on the runway and gave me a good touchdown zone to shoot for. I overflew the dirt runway, then went into a pattern for landing. The terrain in the area is amazing, with deep gorges cut into the mountain that Gatab is built on. As I lined up on final, it was all I could do to work the throttle to keep the airplane stabilized on the approach. The wind whipping over the hills was turbulent at best.

On the trip to Gatab, base had informed me that the lady in Marsabit was getting worse, and they needed me to do a quick turn at Gatab. I just had to unload, so it shouldn't be a problem. Plus, with Jeff helping, it should go fast. After the rocky approach, we touched down firmly, rolled to a stop, then taxied back to Jeff's Land Rover. He was running up from the approach end of the runway, engulfed in a cloud of dust from the slipstream of the propeller. I shut down, and was ready to pop open my door when the man said something about prayer.

I didn't quite understand. I prayed with the whole group before we took off, and I thought he wanted me to pray again. I said that I could, then he pointed to his wife. He wanted her to pray. I looked at Jeff running up to the airplane. "OK," I said as I nodded my head. I was thinking maybe the landing was rougher than I thought, and they had seen their life flash before their eyes. I was also thinking, though I hate to admit this, that I hope this goes quickly because I needed to keep moving.

It didn't. She prayed slowly and deliberately thanking God for His blessings, for life, and for health. Thanking Him for the safe journey. I think about it now, and I get goosebumps, but at the time I was not focused on what she was saying.

After "Amen" I popped the door open, and helped them get out. I started unloading the pod while Jeff unloaded the rear of the plane. He gave me some pointers on taking off from the airstrip and a briefing on landing at Marsabit. Then I checked fuel and oil. Both were doing great. This whole trip would be on round trip fuel. It amazes me that I can do that in this plane, and still carry the load I did. It was also my first time to need to use the tip tanks, which carry two extra hours of fuel that I can transfer into the main tanks as their fuel is burned off. The whole process worked perfectly.

Jeff asked if I had lunch yet. "Nope, that's next." I replied. He laughed and said I had enough time between here and Marsabit to eat something.

The 40 minute flight went fast. I wolfed down sandwiches and pulled hard on the water that was still ice cold. Then I ran some numbers for my next stop. I hoped this time the cargo wouldn't be excessive.

As I arrived and taxied into the parking area in Marsabit, I saw a white Cessna Caravan parked there with a huge crowd behind it. I was trying to figure out why the crowd was there. Then I saw an ambulance in the middle of the crowd and the pilot of the Caravan looking at me arrive, and I suddenly knew.

The other pilot is a Christian man who flies for an operator also at Wilson airport. He said hi to me, then "Well, captain, I'll leave you to it." As headed off.

Akeem was my contact person for this flight. I spotted him quickly in the crowd from the clothes he was wearing, and his shape was totally different from the rest. He is a transporter, and has helped out a lot of the missionaries in the area. I still don't know his relationship to the sick lady, other than he wanted to help them.

"You are late!" Was the first thing out of his mouth. The crowd had waited since 11 am. It was now 1pm. Not sure why they thought I would make it by 11, I dismissed his comment. He also said that there would be now a total of four passengers. This was news to me.

"I was told there was only three."

"Yes, but you see you are late, and now we need to take four."

I didn't follow the logic, and decided I should make a quick call home. I explained the situation to our base, and they said it was my call. I ran the numbers, and I could take all of them out within our AIM AIR guidelines with margin to spare. Fortunately the only luggage they had were two briefcases and two plastic bags. Praise God!

I asked Hakeem why the extra person? He explained that as the day wore on, the patient's condition became worse, and they felt they needed to send a nurse along. The extra person was a nurse. That convinced me. "OK, no problem."

From the first minute I arrived in Marsabit, I was shadowed by a man who I always bumped into when I turned around. I had to part the crowd to get to my seat, to get to the cargo door, or to the wing and engine. Everytime I turned around, this guy managed to be right there.

"I have flown on these airplanes!" He told me over and over. "I know AIM AIR!"

He told me he almost died and one of our planes flew him to Gatab where he was treated in our clinic. I wish I could have heard more, but now wasn't the time.

I had one more matter to settle. I told Hakeem I had been told that he would pay for the flight here in Marsabit. I hated to have to bring it up now, but it needed to be addressed. Hakeem pointed to the lady's brother, who was eager to pay what was expected.

I loaded the three well passengers in and briefed them on the doors and seat belts, as well as first aid and survival equipment and fire extinguisher locations. Then I told them they could put the patient in the plane. I was shocked when I first saw her. She was much worse off than just anyone who had to lie down. I gingerly helped put two seat belts over her legs and waist to secure her onto the back board we had mounted in the airplane. I couldn't quite tell how hard to sinch the belts, since it seemed her body was quite bloated. Her breathing had a rattle to it, and the sliver of her eyes that was showing showed no recognition of what was going on around her.

When she was secured, a sickly odor filled the airplane. One that almost made me want to give back my hurriedly eaten lunch from a half hour ago. Before I got in I told everyone I wanted to pray first. I wasn't sure what they believed, so I prayed for protection and for the strength of the patient and for her health. I also thanked God for sending His Son so we could all have Life.

It was a two hour flight to Nairobi. It had been bumpy all day, and I wanted to get above the scattered clouds, but I didn't want to go too high and cause undue stress on the patient's laboring lungs. I found a good smooth altitude that put us up just high enough to scoot over Nanyuki in the shadow of Mount Kenya again, then down to Nairobi.

After landing at Wilson, base said to call them when I shut down. That's when I learned that the original planned hospital couldn't admit her. They had been told she would be an outpatient, but when they realized how critical she was, they knew they didn't have the room to care for her.

Those ten minutes of waiting on the ground were hard. I racked my brain trying to figure out what to do. I was just about to call AIM AIR and ask if we can have one of our missionary nurses come to help, when I saw the ambulance pull up to the gate. I ran up to the driver and started giving him directions to the plane. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Are you Saint Johns?" He shook his head, and drove across the ramp to the emergency garage for the airport.

Then I saw another ambulance pulling up. In blue it said "Saint Johns," the name of the company I was told would be coming to get her. Musioki, one of our flight line dispatchers, and a pastor and friend, was their to guide them to the airplane. They carefully moved Mary from the 206 into the rickety mini bus ambulance. I noticed they put her on oxygen, and she was still breathing.

Musioki asked me which hospital they were taking her to. I told him, and he shook his head slightly. "That is the worst! She will die there." I didn't want to believe it, but I knew he might be right.

There must have been relatives that arrived on the ambulance. One of them burst into tears when he saw her laying in the airplane. The brother had been sitting next to me on the flight down. He had come because he knows Nairobi. I think he was still out of his league because he spoke absolutely no English. I had shared a candy bar with him and let him take some pictures with my camera. Before he left with the ambulance he grabbed my hand and told me his name, slowly, while his eyes watered. I just nodded my head. I think he was saying thank you.

Musioki and I watched the ambulance drive off, now with their sirens going. I don't know if I will see Mary again, but I hope so. It would be nice to see how this story ends.

As I try to understand all that happened on that day, I do find a joy in knowing that even though I never know the opening or closing chapters, I am part of God's story, and those unknown chapters will be the very best they could be.

White tents and gold bars

2010-02-02T22:20:00.000+03:00

Another white tent is fluttering in our neighborhood. Breanna and I learned several months ago what that meant. Last year it was in the front yard of a house two doors down. We received an invitation to attend the memorial service and donate to help cover costs.

This white tent is further down the street from us. However, it has had a bigger impact. It has meant an empty desk across the hall from where I sit. Carolyn, who provides a great service in our bookings
department, lost her son two weeks ago. In an airplane accident.

The tent went up the next day.

Every night she has had friends come over from church, from work, and from family, and they spend time singing from the hymn book, and then share some updates on the arrangements for the burials. His flight training complete up to the point of being a flight instructor, Daudi (David in English) was attending a bible school in Michigan. Getting his body over here took a lot of time. The bible school paid for everything to bring his body to Kenya.

The more I hear about Daudi the more I am impressed. I actually had heard of him two years ago while I was talking to a friend at Eastside Community Church in Wichita. My friend's uncle, Barry, was one of several people wanting to help Daudi get through his training as a pilot / mechanic in the US.

He must have been very focused, dependable, and charismatic. All the old timers speak well of him. Many wanted to help, and he turned them down. While he wanted to be a professional pilot, he wanted to keep his options open. Perhaps we would return and join AIM AIR, or perhaps he had his sites elsewhere. Wherever that was, no one doubts he would be serving God.

Tomorrow we bury him here in Nairobi. Again, pilots have been asked to attend in uniform... white shirts with the gold bars. As I imagine wearing that shirt again, the bars become heavier and heavier.

I went to Carolyn's house for one of the evening services under the white tent. Her strength of character is amazing to see. I think I see where Daudi got his quality. She fled her home country when Daudi was
still small, and has lived in Nairobi as an estranged non-citizen. But you would never know it. She tackles each assignment with grace and poise that makes a person feel good about the day when you leave the office. That is how the time was under the tent. Catching up with friends, sharing memories about her son. Meeting previously unmet wives or husbands attached to coworkers.

I don't know what tomorrow will be like. It will be my first African funeral, and I am a little apprehensive. I don't think I need to be, though, knowing as much as I do about this mother and the son she raised across borders and set free to pursue a dream of flying in a distant country. And as hard as it is to see a mother bury her son, this was no ordinary son, and this is no ordinary mother. Those bars
don't feel so heavy now...

Just the other day...

2010-01-16T13:23:00.000+03:00

... actually, the same day, just a year ago, we were leaving Pearl River, NY. We had expected the time there to be a chance to "get to know" other missionaries all heading out to various parts in Africa. Instead, it was actually a day to get all affairs in order. As we drove to the airport in several vans, apprehension was mixed with fatigue and relief.

We arrived just before midnight on the 17th, and got to our room around 3 am on the 18th.

I am sorting through the towers of video tape we took during the last year, and will put a little montage together to share. I don't think it will be done by the 18th! :)

It's an hour until practice for our church's music team. I am also catching up on e-mail. A friend is organizing a trip from the US to offer help in Haiti (let me know if you would be interested, in can put you in touch). I wish I could lend a hand, but at the same time after a year, I understand what it means to live here, the place God has put us, or perhaps it is better to say: the place God made us for?

Finally, I thought I would share some surprises we found during this year:
1. My English is not very good (At least according to the Kenyans I work with).
2. Getting up to flying status would be such a lengthy process (thanks to the unexpected)
3. Talking on the radio feels a lot like starting over (related to number 1)
4. Kids adjusting to Nairobi life so fast (the families living nearby are a big help)
5. How much of an American I really am (just wishing things would work smoothly over here :)
6. Everybody flashes each other (ringing them on the cell phone just short enough so they don't answer - it saves money).
7. We sing a lot of hymns in church.
8. We're actually feeling cold with unseasonably cool 65 degree temps.

Nairobi Eclipse

2010-01-15T22:00:00.001+03:00

This morning (Jan 15) we had a solar eclipse. Kenya was one of the prime viewing areas, apparently. Second hand information said that the next event like this would occur in 1000 years... Oh and we had completely overcast skies!

Out came the cell phones to take pictures of the eclipse!

The eclipse was supposed to peak at around 8:20. This was taken at 8:44. We only caught glimpses of the sun through thinning in the clouds.

Saturday mornings - jumamosi asabuhi

2009-12-19T23:13:00.000+03:00

It has been awhile since the last post. No, it's not that I have been busy. I have really come to hate that word. It seems like "stayin' busy" is almost an American greeting these days. It always seems like a vague excuse for not getting something done, while reassuring oneself.

The reason for the gap is that the road grader of my mind has had its blade set too deep, and a quick blog post turns into a five page essay. I forget what I wanted to convey, then I wake up and it is morning, the next day. Just like I'm about to do again here... my quick Saturday morning story turning into a philosophical introspection.

Saturday mornings for me offer a golden opportunity. From 9am to 1pm the hardware stores are still open deep in the bowels and just below the heart of the city. Because of traffic, the golden time is really 9 am to 11 am. During the week, they keep the same hours as I do at the hangar, so I rarely get a chance to get to them.

I whip out my PDA the night before and make a to do list.

Screen material for our windows
AC compressor for the car
Machine a flywheel puller for a BMW F650 motorbike
Look for a suit for a wedding in two weeks

This morning I got a late start. I have been wanting to slow down in my quiet time and spend more time with fewer Bible verses. Then I discovered a GREAT resource: www.biblestudytools.com. It has a complete Strong's reference with quick links to click on and a tenth the weight of hardcopy! Then I felt inspired on how to write an end of year letter for AIM AIR, so I typed out a rough draft. By then, it was almost 10.

I drove into the industrial area. It is kind of exciting place, especially if diesel fumes, dust and vehicles going every direction seems exciting to you. I found General Engineering, the machine shop. I had to wiggle the car over a curb between a Mercedes and a pickup. I didn't want to drop off the curb and bump the Mercedes, so I left the car kind of angle out, ready for a quick getaway.

The machine shop supervisor saw my picture and instantly knew what I wanted. "I can have it ready by Monday," he said in a strong Indian accent. He assured me it would be made with strong steel.

As I walked back to my car, a city official in a yellow trench coat intercepted me. She was selling parking permits for the day. 140 shillings. Lucky it was her and not the trench coats with the tire boots. I pay my fee, and put the ticket in the window.

Because I really like my parking job, I decide to walk to some of the other shops. I walk from one end of the street to the other trying to find a good deal on a 12 volt air compressor to put in our car. Not on the list, I know, but I could really use it. One shop has a decent one for a higher price than I like. The other has a cheaper one made in China. It looks like it might fall apart in the first attempt at operation. While I look it over, Breanna calls me back. I had tried to get ahold of her between shops.

"Hey babe, I found some air compressors for the car, and I want to buy myself a Christmas present." She asks about my previous wish for Christmas. "I could really use this today!" I plead. It's true. I am trying to get a tire fixed on a Honda XL 600, another bike I am borrowing until... forget it, it's a complicated story.

I find a store with screen material. They also have foot pumps, so I decide to ask for the air compressor there. The owner sends a Kenyan boy out as a runner to some other shop. He returns with a Craftsman unit. For 7000 shillings, almost $100. I don't need one that bad. So he sends out another runner, and the guy comes back with a cheaper one of still decent quality. I take it. It will be a big help today, and provides peace of mind when we are driving outside of the city.

Time is running out, so I move down to Dar Es Salaam road where the used car part stores are lined up. A missionary gave me a tip on finding AC compressors. Traffic is getting bad, and I finally find the area he mentioned. The street is full, but I pull into a parking area made for about 5 cars. It is so tight, I crawl out the passenger side.

I find the shop. It is upstairs in what would work in the US as a small used CD shop. Here it is a junkyard. With shelves of car parts: stereos, mufflers, engines, wheels, rims, I squeeze in trying to find an employee. I explain what I am looking for. A guy comes downstairs with me and looks at the part on the car.

We run back upstairs. On top of the car stereos I had noticed a Fender bass guitar plugged into a boom box stereo unit. Apparently one of the customers was interested in it and a worker was showing it to them. I guess neither of them knew how to play it.

"Do you play this?" they ask me. I nodded, wondering what about me would have even made them ask. With grease and oil stained hands, I strap on the bass. The strap is so tight, I almost feel choked. We get it loosened, and I start pounding away. It is terribly out of tune, and produces sounds of perhaps a different culture's scale system. I tune it briefly, slap the strings a little more, then realize I am losing focus.

"It sounds very good, but the strings are raised way too high" I tell the guys.

Meanwhile, the other worker found an AC compressor of the same part number still bolted to an engine on the bottom shelf. I can't believe in this small of a shop he could find one.

"How can I be sure it will work?"

"You can install it. If it doesn't work, then bring it back."

"How long do I have to bring it back?"

"Maybe one or two days."

Hmm, not too great, but probably a decent deal for here. I ask for their number and promise to think about it.

Glancing at my watch, I realize I am let to get home and load up the kids for a small group Christmas party. With traffic the way it is, there is no time to swing by a taylor and ask about a suit.

I'll put it on the list for next Saturday...

2009-11-05T00:00:00.001+03:00

Yay! Jerry passed his last test needed in order to apply for his Kenyan Pilot's License! Please, still pray as now the paperwork goes to the Kenyan government....but hey nearly eleven months into living here and he can finally apply (that was sarcasm, but we are all smiles here, so no worries)

Heaven's value increases

2009-10-23T22:52:00.000+03:00

Today was another sobering day. I found out a mentor to many missionary pilots died in a training crash. I imagine, today, pilot rooms in every corner of the globe fell silent.

Ron put me through his paces in January 2008 to help me get to where I am now. He was a gifted pilot and extraordinary instructor. He started by giving a lot of his energy and wisdom at Moody Bible's flight program in Tennessee, then recently focused on prepping soon to be missionary aviators with what they needed before taking the tough technical evaluations of the ministries they were called to serve.

The pilot he was with was probably at the same place I was one and a half years ago... eager to get the evaluation behind him, eager to get out to the field, and appreciative of the knowledge he was soaking up from Ron in the right seat. I can even picture the flight they must have been doing when the accident happened.

I doubt we will know what happened, but I do know Ron knew that C 206 like an old friend. For my training we drilled and drilled on emergencies I had previously only wondered about. I felt confident with both what I learned and his ability. That's the shocker that guys in jungle stained pilot shirts all over the world are wrestling with. Even the best ... even the best.

A friend told me on the phone today "Jerry, you should think about doing something else. This aviation stuff is dangerous." I told him "It always has been."

In our candidate training in New York before coming out we watched a sermon on video for a missionary's funeral. The African pastor talked about the story of a man who sold everything so he could buy the field which had hidden in it a priceless treasure. To that man, the value of the field was everything. We can say that with the sacrifice of Frank, Ryan, and now Ron, the value of Heaven is so much more. They gave everything to have that treasure.

Mission aviation is not the best job for anyone's health ... but the chance to give it all for God's kingdom is something I would not trade, even for the world.

Now, what is going on?

2009-10-22T22:30:00.001+03:00

Editor's warning: This post has zero pictures. I know, I know. We are saving up for a new camera. Any suggestions?

Now, what is going on?

Much. Breanna is:
tutoring some kids from Kenya off and on,
teaching drama at a new homeschool gathering which several missionary families participate in every week,
as well as homeschooling all THREE kids now (Isaiah has to do his math, too :).

On Wednesday's there is horseback riding for Olivia around noon, then in the afternoon its monkeynastix (motor skill developing exercises) for Grace and Isaiah. Because it takes almost an hour to go to these events in traffic, Breanna is one tired lady on Wednesday's when I get home.

As for me? I am flying a desk a lot. Logged probably a couple hundred hours since my last blog post - of desk time. As one of the other pilots puts we, we hit a perfect storm when it comes to starting our flying duties here at AIM AIR. We have one Kenyan registered 206 that we can fly, but it only has single controls, so it isn't suited for training. I need to do one more thing for my Kenyan commercial license, but AIM AIR would like me to do a couple training flights so I can familiarize myself with the area first. HOWEVER, our two brand new 206's are US registered and the Kenya governing body for civil aviation has not been desirous of us operating those beautiful birds inside the country. That will hopefully change next week, maybe TOMORROW! That would be great news for me.

For myself and the other new guy, this is not what we envisioned our first year at all. But God's ways rock, and they are not our ways, which are usually lame. So I am taking this time to get into the PR job a little more, help out with desk stuff, make coffee (just kidding, not my job - well OK I could make a pot occasionally), remind people to order their AIM AIR calendar, write letters for AIM AIR, and continue to prepare myself with Nairobi airspace and AIM AIR procedures. When we do get to strap into the new birds, it will be nice. They are our strongest, lightest, quietest, and smoothest 206's in the fleet (can you say - about to be really spoiled).

There is another thing that really gets my heart pumping related to PR. I can't share much now, but it is a direction I hope AIM AIR pursues that I am really excited about. In fact, I will boldly say that I think God brought us out here and now to be a part of this.

AIM AIR, you said? Yeah, it's on its feet. A little shaken, but not destroyed. In fact it feels like business as usual most of the time. Until the International Director came by just to share his sorrow with us, and today we had a nyama choma (goat roast) together in the hangar as a way to acknowledge life does move on and it's OK. Both times I realized how close tears were to the surface. When the accident is brought up it puts a lump in everyone's throat. It will probably be like that for awhile.

We do miss the convenient life of the US, but we love the work that God is doing out here. Clinics, churches, schools are going like crazy in Sudan, exciting things are happing in northern Kenya (32 Samburu warriors and wives accepted Jesus a couple weeks ago), and the Tanzanian Africa Inland Church just celebrated its 100th anniversary. It is great to be a part. And THAT'S what is going on!

P.S. If anyone has creative input regarding www.aimair.org or our calendar and movie, please shoot me an e-mail. I would love to read it!

Socks and shoes

2009-10-01T16:35:00.000+03:00

"I asked him: 'Dude, why are you wearing two pairs of socks?'

"He told me: 'Well, someone gave me these shoes, and I really like them. They're just a little too big...'"

Dale, one AIM AIR's seasoned pilots, recounted the story in a completely wry manner. Many of the guys normally based outside of Nairobi were now here at the hangar to help out in any way possible because of the crash. Dale was talking about Jim, one of the other "old timers". Dale took it upon himself to introduce me to Jim. Only Jim wasn't around. I guess that's what made it so much fun.

I love being around the pilots here at AIM AIR. I truly feel blessed. They are a great bunch of siblings to hang out with, and sharp professionals that challenge me inside the cockpit.

Now I am watching a slideshow from another pilot, Mike. It is jaw dropping to view these images snatched from the depth of central Africa. His talent has been a very real force to help many people get to know AIM AIR from across the globe. I read his blog post before the slideshow, and I felt the goosebumps slowly rise.

Mike is taking his talents forward again, this time to be our flight operations manager, a position I am sure he will excel at. Two months ago he had me cornered on a boat off the Kenyan coast and said (not asked) "You need to be the next public relations officer for AIM AIR"

I was torn, but not too much. I am still trying to get used to being a part of AIM AIR, I am not sure how I can even think of being the voice for the organization. I still have a lot to do before I can be a fully operational pilot here. Yet, I loved the idea of being able to communicate for this ministry I love so much.

Since Mike didn't really ask a question, he didn't wait for an answer...

I think a lot about this new challenge, and what I want to do, but mainly what I don't want to mess up. As I watch the photos stream by and the words of the essays fade in my head, I realize I have some big shoes to fill.

Better wear some more socks.

Isaiah's answers a question on fighting and shares his life's ambitions.

2009-09-28T21:59:00.001+03:00

Jerry to Isaiah (who is taking a tumultuous bath with Grace): Do you fight with Grace?

Isaiah, with his head cocked slightly in his thoughtful pose: No, I fight by myself.

A month ago we had our house painted by a former AIM AIR intern, Paul, who was desperate for work. Isaiah was really taken with watching him. It must have been significant to him, since up to that point his ambition in life was to be a race car driver, a pilot, and a train engineer. Suddenly he started saying he wanted to be a painter.

"This boy makes many problems," Paul would tell me. Isaiah was his shadow and "helped" him out by pouring thinner into a bucket of water, and "painting" with a brush that was set aside.

Now his ambitions have changed again. He says he wants to do what I do. I asked him, "What's that?"

"I want to ride motorcycles and fix motorcycles."

I guess I really did spend a lot of time getting that motorbike running.

09 09 09 flight

2009-09-22T14:27:00.000+03:00

Relocated a 206 to Entebbe. Maintenance was finished in Nairobi on it, and they needed it back there. I had installed the VG's (Vortex Generators) on the 206 we took to Entebbe. It was neat to see how they performed on the flight that morning!
We also dropped of some bags at Mfangano Island for some short termers (their luggage was lost on the airlines and arrived a couple days late).

Working late in the hangar

2009-09-18T11:23:00.001+03:00

It's not as bad as it looks ... at least I hope not! I have been
working into the evening on a motorcycle project for a friend's bike.
It will be a good way for me to get around Nairobi, as well, since my
friend said I am free to use it.
So, I invited the kiddos to come hang at the hangar with me one
evening this week. Izzy was feeling tired after watching me on a
mechanic's stool for about 5 minutes. I grabbed a creeper from beside
an airplane and put him on it, with the cleanest shop towel I could
find to use as a blanket. A minute after I took this picture (using
the camera on our laptop - sorry about the poor quality!) he was
dreaming about motorcycles instead of watching me struggling to fix one!

Note: Grace wanted to be in the picture, too, and rolled over in an office chair with her "tiredest" expression she could muster...

Breanna's Other Kids

2009-09-15T16:16:00.002+03:00

Kilimanjaro, our seven month old German Shepherd pokes his head out the gate to see who’s here. Philip, the Kenyan second grader I tutor on occasion, stiffens, drops his backpack on the ground, and runs, screaming, down the street.

Truphena, our househelper, his mother, laughs heartily, calling, “Philip, come back!” Joash shrugs at his brother’s overreaction and comes inside, making a beeline for our Playstation. Eventually, after tethering Kili, I coax Philip inside.

Helping Philip with his homework is one way I get to express my gratitude for all his mother does to help us, in keeping the house clean throughout the week. Tutoring is a way for me to minister, through the talents God’s given me, to those he brings into our lives. And he’s brought several Kenyans into our lives that we are able to help by giving them work, and enabling them to better provide for their families. For about $5 a day, each, Truphena cleans our house, and once a week, Wycliffe does yard work, and Frank, one of the neighborhood guards, washes our car.

Brian, the five year old son of our yard worker, comes for tutoring Saturday.
Indeed the one hour I pour into Brian every week requires a lot of prayer to get through patiently and I constantly try to remind myself how God and Brian’s parents see this precious child, so full of potential.

Wycliffe’s son, brian, is a bundle of energy, definitely a hands-on learner, and I’ve found he needs a good fifteen minutes to explore and touch everything in reach before I can hope to hold any of his attention. He’s difficult to reign in without much patience and determination. In a country where teachers are overworked and schools are crowded, it’s easy to imagine him being passed over by teachers and labeled too difficult to manage.

Brian and Philip are both improving in their schoolwork and it warms my heart, not because “I” did that, but because, in spite of who I am, God used me to change these two little guys lives just a wee bit!
-Breanna

Hangar Tour

2009-08-30T16:23:00.025+03:00

Guests were arriving, and the chief pilot asked if I could give a tour of the hangar. Visitors love to see the variety of planes in the hangar (especially the DC-3...the BIG one).

AIC Runda is a new church in a small slum. However, this slum is in the middle of Runda Estate, a high class gated neighborhood made up of mansions. In a place where wealth and success peer down from above, Musioki and his family faithfully shepherd this church.

It’s fun to introduce visitors to the Kenyan workers in the hangar. Several of the Kenyans working here serve as pastors in addition to their 5 day work week on the hangar floor. Musioki is one of them. From Monday to Friday he works in dispatch keeping our airplanes at a glistening shine and helping us clear customs. He’s usually in dark blue coveralls and a fisherman hat; so when we visited the church he pastors on Sunday, I hardly recognized him in a suit.

Ushers led us to the front bench of honor, as the youth dance team rehearses their “special” to be performed in the service.

Musioki had invited us to see the results of a church fundraiser, mainly a new sound system. The speakers pulsed with upbeat worship songs as the youth perform synchronized hip hop moves. It’s a joy to watch -young kids and teenagers all having fun dancing, singing and praising the Lord in their way, in church.

After church, as they feed us lunch, Musioki shared his passion for the church. His quiet and reserved nature belie his focused vision; encouraging the youth (and adults) to express themselves through dance so they feel valued and an integral part of the congregation.

Meanwhile, back at the airport, and after the hangar visitors meet Musioki, we proceed on our tour. I carefully avoid the paint room with tarps carefully pulled around it to obscure any view of its contents. I’d been instructed to avoid it, “nothing they need to see in there.”

When it was my turn, Musioki translated my words into Swahili. I “borrowed” a message from Erwin McManus on Jesus’ power over death. Death is all too familiar to them. I was out of my league, but I prayed they could embrace the message of hope.

In fact, these days everyone at AIM-AIR gives it a wide berth. Usually enclosed to contain paint fumes and overspray, now it contains the evidence of the pain that’s hiding just under the surface of our controlled emotions- causing a lump in the throat, halting steps and moist eyes. Burned and broken pieces of a Cessna 206 lay scattered, orange tags cataloguing each piece. Each piece has been carefully examined, to determine the “why” we all want to know. Two friends, co-workers, fathers and husbands have gone to their heavenly home much too soon for our understanding. In my head I find myself repeating the words to the song... you give and take away. My heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be your name!

One day we will be able to ask God why pilot Frank, and mechanic Ryan, both husbands and fathers of four each, had to leave this earth and their ministries here in Africa so soon. Until then, we rejoice in knowing that they are home in God’s presence.

-Jerry

Quick prayer request - Kenya Census

2009-08-24T17:42:00.001+03:00

Tonight marks the beginning a nation wide census here in Kenya, the first in about a decade. The hot button issue is the question regarding tribe. A lot of people are very upset about it being included, especially since the post election violence a little over a year ago. Animosity across tribal lines was quite strong then, and several people here would rather that the question was not asked.

Please pray for peace during this upcoming week. Because we live close to a large slum, rioting and protests may not be too far away. Pray for everyone's protection during this time.

Asante,

-Jerry

A chance to breathe ... and some links

2009-08-06T20:44:00.004+03:00

All thanks to God, Ryan has made it safely to a burn unit in South Africa, and it seems like the whole organization was able to take it's first breath in awhile.

There is a page on AIM AIR's site that covers the accident in detail... LMB accident. Two funds have been started for the Toew's and for Ryan Williams and his family. The costs are always a burden you hate to think about in the wake of this kind of tragedy, but they are a reality.

Also, I had been thinking about an AIM AIR facebook page for a looong time, and decided this would be a good time to kick that off ... the timing seems strange, but I really wanted to offer it as an avenue for the AIM AIR family extended throughout the world to be able to receive news and respond as they like. The link is: AIM AIR facebook

I thought I would share quickly snapshots of the week:

High: Almost all the pilots came to Nairobi, and it was nice to have them around and listen to them take digs at each other (especially the old timers - you know the ones that don't know what a blog is ;)
Low: I've still got to study for this crazy test next week. Kind of hard to concentrate and find time.
Quiet: The hangar floor was eerily quiet as guys worked on some smaller projects / cleaning up.
Busy: Bookings was initially full of phones ringing off the hook as the fantastic staff tried to take care of everyone who was depending on an AIM AIR flight, now voluntarily grounded.
Frustration: It seems some bystanders took sections of the wreckage, making investigation hard. Some tv footage (from what I was told) showed locals holding the tail of the airplane and shaking it jubilantly, like a trophy. Some said seeing the zoom in on the burned AIM AIR logo was something they will never forget.
Admiration: Some of the bystanders, I understand, probably saved Ryan's life, even in the midst of fire. Thinking of that makes the frustration melt away, and my eyes moist.
Not awesome: Ryan was supposed to fly out yesterday morning in a medevac, but it was delayed by at least two hours because apparently Nairobi hospital wanted the bill paid before he could go in the ambulance (the figure I heard was enough to buy a brand new Land Cruiser in the US). As one person said: "That's why we are flying him to South Africa! So you don't have to deal with this!!"
Awesome: All the letters of support from other operators here in Nairobi, other missionaries and mission groups, all the churches in the US, and all of you! Thanks! Breanna decorated a bulleting board, and all these messages are being stapled on it as a way to encourage and comfort the immediate family of Ryan and Frank, and also the entire AIM AIR family here in Kenya.
Grisly: The wreckage is down in our paint booth. It is incredible anybody survived, much less three people.
Touching: Everyone is pulling together to help the wives, being with them as they walk through the wreckage: both physical and metaphysical.

¹The Spirit of the Lord Jehovah is on me, because Jehovah did anoint me To proclaim tidings to the humble, He sent me to bind the broken of heart, To proclaim to captives liberty, And to bound ones an opening of bands.

²To proclaim the year of the good pleasure of Jehovah, And the day of vengeance of our God, To comfort all mourners.

³To appoint to mourners in Zion, To give to them beauty instead of ashes, The oil of joy instead of mourning, A covering of praise for a spirit of weakness, And He is calling to them, `Trees of righteousness, The planting of Jehovah -- to be beautified.'

-Isaiah 61

When you try so hard to do everything right...

2009-08-03T09:43:00.005+03:00

Last Friday I stayed late in the hangar to work on a personal project: repainting a bicycle as a belated present for Isaiah. I stepped out of the bead blast room and Ryan our piston fleet supervisor, motioned for me to come out to the ramp.

“I need you to help me push this Caravan into the hangar.”

Caravans are usually moved by our little tractor tug. But another operator had a DeHavilland Dash 8 idling on the ramp waiting to get past. Hence the urgency.
Ryan grabbed the tow bar and we strained and pushed against the beast. We got it out of the way.

Behind the Dash 8, one of our newer Cessna 206s appeared. Frank was returning from a day of flying.

After shutting down out of the way, he came and asked us, with a smile on his face “Did you guys make that Dash 8 wait?”

Ryan explained how we moved the caravan by hand. He added our other caravan was fully loaded. There was no way we could get that one to budge.

I looked at Frank and said “Now if you had been here, it would have been no problem!”

He laughed. Its a great laugh, one I hear a lot in the pilots room.

Yesterday afternoon I was making pancakes for a late lunch and the power went out. I was annoyed because it seems to be happening more and more. I didn’t think anything of it.

Some AIM-AIR friends knocked on the gate a couple hours later.

“We stopped by to see how you guys are doing.” they said.

“OK” I was a little confused by the strange look on their faces.

“You haven’t heard anything?”

I shook my head.

Then I learned that same airplane that had taxied in Friday afternoon, with Frank and Ryan on board, had crashed through some power lines and into a residential estate less than a mile from our house.

Frank did not make it. Ryan has severe burns and several broken bones. Please remember Ryan and his family and Frank’s family in your prayers.

Right now we have more questions than answers. We just went through an extensive evaluation of our operation, identifying ways to make it as safe as possible. This is a very hard time for the AIM AIR family.

I am not sure if there are aircraft to move around in Heaven or not, but I can imagine whatever God is working on up there, He is probably turning to Frank, with a smile and a twinkle in His eye “Frank, now that you are here, this will be no problem!”

The real deal: my first flying in Africa

2009-07-30T22:18:00.000+03:00

So it came together pretty fast. Nate is a pilot that came just before we did, and has paved the way for getting through the Kenya licensing requirements. He needed a handful of hours before he could apply for his license. So a plan was devised. We needed to swap a Cessna 206 with one in Uganda. The 206 was rebuilt just last year, and is the "shipping container sister" to the plane I have been working on, and maintenance wanted more hours put on the plane. It has been sitting in our hangar because of regulatory issues here in Kenya (imagine!)

So this was a good chance to get some training done. The trip was longer than the hours Nate needed, so they invited me to come along. I will need 10 hours of recent flying to get my Kenya license, too.

We left on Isaiah's birthday (Tuesday) ... I know... I will make it up to him. We returned home today. We carried some mail, equipment, a nurse working in Lake Victoria and her mom from Germany coming to visit her, and also engine oil for the pilots based in Uganda. I saw Nate put some pictures up from the trip, so all apologies for borrowing those. I shot some video, which I will crunch together into something coherent hopefully!

The picture above is one of our first stops. The runway is right on the beach. Lake Victoria is more beautiful than I imagined.

The highlights were:
*Visiting the missionaries working at the lake and hearing about their work. The church is maturing there, and they are finding less focus needed for church planting. Most of the work is now medical related, with a big emphasis on HIV/AIDs. Approximately 8 out of 10 people around Lake Victoria are infected.

*Seeing friends I had met before. One was a nurse out there we went to Africa Based Orientation with, and also a family we met at homeschool week at RVA.

*Meeting the other remote AIM-AIR pilots. We had a float plane accident shortly after our family arrived here. But the pilot in charge of work on the lake (Dale) was very optomistic about the future and a replacement float plane. A lot of people have come offering support. He loves to use aircraft and boats to reach the fisherman in the many cramped fishing camps around the lake.

*Being able to spend a day landing on that strip off the lake. Great practice and a great location.

* Spending some time fishing with Dale and his son Josh.

* Visiting Entebbe airport. Very nice facility. It was the location of hostage crisis during Idi Amin's rule over Uganda, but has been redone quite well.

* Flying again.

Happy 11th Olivia!

2009-07-24T02:02:00.001+03:00

Can't believe my baby's 11...over a decade old! We love you and everyday we are blessed by you!!

DC3 in Sudan video

2009-07-20T23:11:00.001+03:00

Here's a video I put together from my chance to be the flight attendant on the DC3 into Sudan. Unfortunately all the interesting stuff was when I was busy on duty, so I could not get it on video. I will share more soon...

Quick request for rain

2009-07-13T23:49:00.000+03:00

We are out of our first rainy season of the year. For our neighborhood, we received a fair amount of rain, but the eastern section of Nairobi missed out on a lot. I have heard of a clinic across town that hasn't had water on in two months.

Up north the situation is more desperate. Sections of Kenya have missed rains for three years or longer. The lakes we flew over in the DC-3 were quite low. Our friends we stayed with in Kurungu drove down today and said it was very depressing to see dying animals along the side of the road. In Korr, which is in the heart of Rendille country up north, the churches have started a program to haul off and burn dead animals for people.

Please keep these needs in your hearts as you pray.

Pray for wisdom for us and other missionaries to wisely respond to the need. Churches in Nairobi are doing drought relief ministry mainly transporting food to areas nearby that have not had crops. Missionaries in places like Korr may have to make tough decisions about how much help they can afford to give, and there are times when good friends are lost because of hunger. I have heard that if there is not enough food to go around, the goats will be fed before the children because they are what is needed to sustain the family through the drought.

In His own words, Jesus said He came so that we "may have life, and have it to the full." He also declared Himself the living water. The Rendille picture heaven as a place where water flows over the ground, like a stream. Our hope is in line with Jesus' promise that the rains will come and life will flourish throughout East Africa, and the people will live full lives and find the One who is Living Water for their souls.

Hitting the books and a Grace-ism

2009-07-12T21:50:00.002+03:00

This is an excuse post... I have a lot I want to write about, but my free time is being consumed by studying for a Kenyan commercial pilot test. I am the next guy in line to take it, and the previous pilot has assured me it is quite rediculous. Questions about Polar Fronts, flying to Scandanavia... not much about flying in Africa. I think it will take about 160 hours of studying for me to have a chance of passing this thing.

I did go on a neat flight on the DC-3 as a third crew member ... the flight attendant. It was really interesting, and I want to share more when I finish condensing it so it doesn't ramble too long. I also edited a video I took when I wasn't buckling passengers in or unloading cargo.

I did want to leave you with a Grace-ism: We went to the animal orphanage today for our family time. It is a place where abandoned or wounded animals found in the game parks are taken in. There were quite a lot of cats, and in one cage two male lions were strutting right up agains the fence to the female pen, where the lionesses were sleeping on some logs looking the other way, completely uninterested.

Grace was at the fence watching, and when I got closer I heard her singing as the lions paced: "Hut two three four ... impress the women ... hut two three four ... impress the women."

The night we forgot Ugali

2009-06-08T00:07:00.000+03:00

Learning who to trust is a big adjustment for us in our new life here. Kids who are strangers will walk up and say “Give me money!” Youths sometimes grab Grace or Isaiah’s arms and ask for me to give them just one of my kids. Sometimes people are simply asking for work or promising a quality piece of furniture, but the story they spin isn’t quite “right.” A lot of conversations I have on the street I find myself wondering how much truth there really is to this story.

There are many drops of fresh water in what sometimes seems like a sea of cons, and every chance I can spend time with them is truly refreshing.

Baba Brian, as the kids call him, or Wycliffe, is more than a reassuring realization that the world is not all bad ... he is an inspiration to me.

His dad took a second wife when he was a young guy. The family was left to fend for themselves. His mom decided to come to Nairobi for opportunity, and eventually Wycliffe told us he was living on a trash heap near a nearby market.

He went to a church school and made friends with a couple missionaries. “Thanks to God, so many people have given me work!” he kept telling me. I kept trying to tell him a lot of it was his eagerness to work and being someone they can trust.

“No, thanks to God I have been given so much work.”

Wycliffe was able to live in nearby Kibera with his wife and son. One day he was given a radio to take home, and disaster struck that night. Three guys burst into the shack and took the radio. Then they turned towards his wife, Saleen. Wycliffe realized they weren’t going to stop with the radio. He grabbed one of the thugs and threw him against the wall, on top of the second thug. The third attacker lunged at him with a knife. He got an arm up and deflected the thrust just in time as the blade plunged into the top of his right shoulder. He fought them off, but decided the next day it was time to move.

So he continues to work hard to pay for the higher rent demanded of a safer neighborhood, and despite a poor example handed to him of what fatherhood means, he is determined to provide for his small family.

Brian is his one and only son (moms and dads here are called by their firstborn’s name when addressed with respect, therefore Baba Brian). The Saturday before last was his birthday. We got together with another AIM-AIR family that are also a part of Wycliffe’s life and took them to eat at a really cool kid friendly Chinese restaurant.

Between the two missionary families, we tried to think of all possible foods that would be a new experience for them. Wycliffe and Saleen bravely faced the new cuisine while Brian and the kids immersed themselves in the abundance of toys scattered around.

Every dinner comes with complimentary ice cream scoop in a dish, and I asked the owner if they could do something special for a birthday. So Brian’s ice cream came with a lit candle and the staff sang to him.

Wycliffe told us that they will remember this as the night they forgot ugali. Ugali is their staple food, and by staple I mean it’s there for every supper.

Yesterday we went to visit Wycliffe’s house. It is in the back of someone’s property amongst rows of corrugated steel shacks. A one room home that we were warmly invited into. Fortunately today was cool enough that the temperature inside was bearable. They don’t typically spend much time inside during the day.

The electricity was on today. We could hear the televisions from next door cranked up. The train rolls by less than 30 feet away. The property under the shack is easement for the railroad.

Wycliffe shared with us a dozen photos from his life, while Saleen made chai on a kerosene burner.

Wycliffe had asked we bring a DVD player so Brian could watch a DVD someone had given him. It was a collection of sing a long songs from the US. Brian has just started school, and is overcoming a hearing problem. Wycliffe desperately wants him to learn to speak English well.

Isaiah brought a toy train to share with Brian, and when that came out, the DVD was ignored.

Brian plays with the train while Isaiah sits at Brian's desk. Like a lot of the furniture, Wycliffe found it somewhere (much to Saleen's dismay :) and brought it back to life.

After chai, and home roasted peanuts, Wycliffe showed us around outside. There is no shower, but there are three out houses for everyone. Out the back door to the compound is the train track and a trash pile. Wycliffe told us a lot of rats live there, and cause problems at night. Breanna said they need a cat, and he laughed saying some people have a hen, and the cat would cause problems there.

Before we left, Saleen prayed for us, and Wycliffe thanked us for everything. Brian ran ahead to our car. As we pulled away he was bawling.

Wycliffe and his family have left a big impression on us, and I think we all had a lot to dwell on on the ride home.

Thanks to God for allowing us to be friends with them.

A life in tension

2009-06-02T00:29:00.000+03:00

“It smelled like bad cotton candy ... I mean cottage cheese,” Grace explained. We visited the church one of the night guards attends. The church property was quite nice, but Grace was commenting on the walk from our house to Kibera.

Between 800,000 to a million people from all over Kenya live in Kibera. The houses are shacks dug into the ground with a small amount of corrugated tin making up the walls and roof. Their is a mafia that controls who lives where, collects rent, and is the ruling authority for most of what goes on ... Oh and I have heard they call themselves the taliban ... i think it is supposedly a strange joke.

Francis took us down the walkway from our neighborhood into the slum. All along the way were stalls with various items for sale. A delivery truck was trying to maneuver its way out along the same walk way we were on.

Then we followed railroad tracks for ten minutes, again with more stalls. A left turn down a narrower path, with much less traffic, and ditch running down the middle. The smell was quite strong. This opened up to a large soccer field, the only one in Kibera. It was amazing to stumble into this much space. Next to us was a two story building, the AMREF hospital, made of brick and completely different from the shacks around.

A right turn on another walk way past a satellite dish over a shack that said video arena. A boy swinging on a piece of rope looped down below a cross member stick of where a shack was or was being built. Then we came to the gate: Kibera Church of God.

It was like being in a village in the middle of a city of millions. A crowded village with electricity but no water.

Everyone was very friendly. We saw the mud walled school rooms and were told about the plans to put a second story on them: “We are going to reinforce the walls!” We were shown the orphanage. It is a home to 12 kids. We met with one of the girls. We were shown the church and Compassion's offices for caring for the youth. A lot went on there. We also met some visiting retired missionaries from ... Council Grove, Kansas. It felt weird and very nice to be here meeting them!

A youth named Boniface was talking to me about how he loves to reach out the youth and wants them to become compassionate leaders. “Africa needs leaders.” he said enthusiastically. Kids in Kibera are always trying to find something to do, so they flock to any activities they have going on. He wants to become a pilot, and I believe he meant a missionary pilot. Church started after 45 minutes and we walked in.

Grace was surrounded by kids the whole time, which was tolerable most of the time for her. We let our kids play outside with the rest of the kids during church. Church wasn't in English, and I doubted it was going to be something they would understand.

An interesting sign at the front of the church

We were welcomed in church and gave our greetings to everyone from the church in America. They sang some very enthusiastic and beautiful songs, followed by a long time of giving offerings and more talking. Then a guest evangelist from Nigeria came. He was dressed in a suit with a white tie, white shoes, a ring with a dollar sign on it, and distant stare at everyone. He was introduced as Apostle Great (not Gregg) somebody.

“Genesis 8!” he began. I turned there ready for a sermon on the flood.
“And God remembered Noah!” That was as far as he got. He wanted us to know that God remembers us. We told our neighbor God remembers us.

Interesting, and a good reminder. However, after 30 minutes, I began to see he was promising a life of wealth for everyone because God remembers them. This kind of message is very popular in a place like Kibera. People were eating it up. I sat down and started reading through the bible while people jumped up and shouted.

“Put your left leg out and yell 'Hallelujah'!”

I thought about what I would say if he looked at me and asked “Brother why aren’t you excited? Why aren’t you shouting with us?”

I read while Apostle Great jumped up and down on my bench, about a foot away.
I only could think of Jesus. Surely God remembered Him. Especially Him, yet He never had the three cars the evangelist spoke of. He was God’s Son, and He didn’t even have a home. Yet He changed the world forever, and He changed me.

What the evangelist said was true: God does remember us. But I believe he stopped short on what that means for us, and ultimately why we are here.
So, I picked up the kids drawing books, Breanna’s purse, and my Bible and walked out while Apostle Great explained how one day his car finally came.

I really loved being there, but now I felt confused. James, a friend, came out and asked if he could escort us back home. Months earlier he had trained us to use the matatus in the city, and he was so excited to see us here!

“I don’t think this speaker will be done soon!” he said with a smile.

“Yes. He promised to drop the mic in 15 minutes, but his watch must be different from mine!”

James talked with us on our way back home. I wanted to pick his brain about this evangelist, and give him my thoughts, but I knew I was his guest, and I should wait. There is a tremendous amount of respect for a message in church, and no one here feels comfortable critiquing what is spoken.

It was 2pm, and we had made a critical error. We forgot to bring a water bottle. I guess because we were in the city, we forgot this necessity. So we were tired, hungry and thirsty when we got home.

This afternoon we made chocolate banana smoothies at home as an experiment. It worked OK. Then we cleaned up the house, and went to eat some Ethiopian food.

These are the extremes we live in here. A place with no water, to a place where food is served to you. It feels like a life in tension, of not ever fitting in. Sometimes people see us as an opportunity for wealth, a boss, a mark for a scam, or a manifestation of the man trying to keep them down.

The words of Peter and John keep ringing in my brain. To put my spin on them: “We can’t give you enough money, instead we want you to know life, and have it to the full.”

A guard at the neighborhood gate asked if we prayed for him at church. I said we prayed for all of Nairobi, but I would remember to pray for the guards. These past few weeks have been hard for them because of a string of car-jackings. Beyond that, my prayer is that they would truly know God’s son more than they already do.

And we both hope the future holds a chance for us to serve a church like Kibera Church of God.

Newsletter is almost here

2009-05-02T21:53:00.000+03:00

Our family newsletter is almost ready to send out. If you aren't on the mailing list, but would like to be, fill out the entry field on the right side of this website. We will get it out in the next couple of days!

Recent Prayer Needs and Praises

2009-04-17T10:59:00.000+03:00

Praise God with us, that Jerry and his carpooling co-workers are all safe and sound when our car was struck by a bus yesterday!!! We do have a sizable dent in the right back passenger door and panel and will need bodywork done on it, however.

Please pray our shipment coming on a cargo ship from New York to Mombasa, Kenya, carrying our homeschool materials for the next two years, Jerry's tools and toolboxes, our pots and pans and other household items (and those of lots of other missionaries!) will make it here safely and not be captured or delayed by pirates wreaking havoc off the Somali coast. Seriously....read this if you think pirates arrrgh only on the big screen these days!

Thanks for the car!!

2009-04-10T17:33:00.000+03:00

Thanks to all of you who gave to our vehicle project, pledged a monthly amount toward our vehicle project and gave over and above our monthly support target!!! Here it is, a very well-maintained, great driving Subaru Legacy! (with us in Nairobi National Park today)

Our Home in Nairobi

2009-04-09T13:32:00.004+03:00

Our living room with furniture we had a fundi (craftsman)make for us.Grace at work in our "classroom", which is a servant's quarters behind the house

Our "fierce" puppy, Kilimanjaro, standing guard while the kids work in the servant's quarter classroom. Utility sink and washing machine on the right.

View out our bedroom window at sunset

Front of the house

Looking out from front door to our gate and avocado tree

Backyard, kids playing boats in the gutter :) Those black circles at the back of the yard are underground tanks that hold water we can draw from when the city water is off (which it usually is!) See the banana tree?

Isaiah playing by the front door gate

Many keys to our "fortress"

In case of emergency, or funny noise in the night, we can turn on exterior lights and alarm or just lights

Happy Sixth, Grace!!

2009-04-09T12:26:00.006+03:00

Grace just lost her two bottom front teeth, with one more loose!

I misspoke on one e-mail communique that Grace was turning 7!!! She is in fact, now 6!!
We're so grateful to have Grace in our lives. Her creativity, outgoing personality and things she says leave us ne'er a dull moment!

Eating pizza and listening on the cell phone to Birthday Greetings from Grandmaita, Grandpa & Tia in Indiana

Water park in Nairobi, where we went for her birthday day.

A new friend, Sammy, went with us to the water park

Baby Rhino at the elephant orphanage

We went to the Elephant Orphanage for her birthday party two Saturdays ago

Unwrapping gifts at birthday party

Church in Kurungu

2009-04-09T10:41:00.007+03:00

3/15/09 Church in Kurungu
Tactical error on my part: Don’t read out loud at church. I was preaching yesterday, and in my western thinking, I thought the more I draw from the Bible the better supported the message is. What I forgot was that this is an oral society, and all things important and verbally passed on, not read. In fact, as soon as I started reading, attentions began to wander.
All week the thought of Jesus telling His disciples He was the Way, the Truth, and the Life was milling in my head. Now, I picked out Jesus’ illustration of being the Good Shepherd and leading His sheep and also being the gate. I thought this was relevant to a nomadic, hunter warrior tribe that keeps animals.
I ran it by Andrea, a man of many talents from this area, but fluent in English, Samburu and Swahili as well. He was going to be the interpreter. I was concerned about my airplane analogy I wanted to use. Andrea said it was clearly understandable and he told me “God has clearly shown you good things to share.”
Then on Sunday I realized the error of my ways. Grace and I were in church with our host family. Olivia was feeling sick, and Breanna stayed home with her and Isaiah, who was still very sick.
Church starts with rousing singing. The elder in the front, Isaiah, leads some of the songs and pounds the desk / pulpit as a drum. The drums and tambourine are the only instruments, and they have a tribal, 1/8th note rhythm going the whole song, usually. Most of the songs are lead by one of the women, who sings a high, but still melodic, line, and then the entire church repeats it. As the woman sings, Isaiah sings a counter bass melody. It seems very natural for them, but complex to me. It all comes together quite beautifully.
I felt I should read two passages. Now I did keep it to 15 minutes, because I had been told their attention spans for sermons were very short. But, as I read and paused for Andrea to translate, I could see their gazes wander.
I described this to Breanna, and she reminded me that our hosts avoid reading, at least obviously, in church. So, next time I will study first, and then tell it to them as a story... hmmm much to learn.

3/23/09 Church Part II
Monday night is story night here in Kurungu. That afternoon I sat on a bench swing trying to get a good cell signal so I could send an e-mail prayer request for Isaiah’s health. As I was struggling with the e-mail, three Samburu men, including Andrea, were meeting with our host, Rick. These are the storytellers, and they were preparing for a long week ahead. In the style of the disciples being sent out by Jesus, they were praying and preparing for a journey of sharing God’s story at several places and taking nothing with them. It was something they came up with after reading the scriptures and after much prayer.
The excitement was contagious. And the dreams were lofty! Hopefully soon they would be doing this again, but paired up with a new person to in essence mentor.
After they prayed, the three began walking towards their first stop.

Rick was going to support them by praying and fasting. But today, he and I would drive to their first stop after giving them a three hour head start. The route to find the huts impressed me. We were going round and under trees, down embankments until we stopped at the bomas. It was an outer fence made of thorn branches.
From there we walked past an inner fence, then up a hill to the center of this community. It was very large for a Samburu grouping. There used to be around 100 families here, but several had already moved on to their next location.
It was completely dark at this time. I was drawn into the brilliance of the stars above until I noticed Rick talking with some familiar voices. I never recognized their faces, but I could tell he was talking to the three guys.
Slowly people gathered. Then they began to sing. I was the childrens' section. No matter where I was, there seemed to be a small ring around me. I listened in awe as the one of the three elders led a song, with everybody echoing and clapping along. Some of the older kids added a rhythmic heavy breathing part at certain points in the song. Eventually a woman would take over leading. I don’t know how they knew when to switch, but it would happen.
Eventually it was time for a story. They were covering the plagues in Egypt from Exodus. I had no idea what was being said, but everyone sat still in the night air, listening. It was a very different kind of church. I felt a part of what was going on, even though I was the visitor who had had no idea what was being said. To bad there isn't an English equivalent for us to go to!
The whole time three kids sat around me, grabbing my hair on my head or on my legs. Eventually, they slowly turned into the sleeping lumps of clothes that were scattered all around.
We drove back late at night, tired, but I was really excited to see how God can speak to the Samburu. I would never have thought of this approach, but it makes sense, and it really works.

Kurungu-our up-country stay- in pictures

2009-04-09T10:33:00.010+03:00

Isaiah pointing out common Kurungu scenery- camels!

The incredible house we were privileged to stay in, built by missionaries, Walter & Monica, who are Rick & Carrie's ministry partners and on home assignment right now. It was built as four mud huts connected by halls, with cooling thatch roof.

Samburu woman in Kurungu

Riding on top of the Land Rover to Andrea's house

Wild hair in the wind when riding on top of the Land Rover

Children tending goats

Grace & Stephanie (youngest daughter ofRick & Carrie, our hosts and missionaries working in Kurungu)

Isaiah and Breanna look at the kids (baby goats) in the pen designed to keep them safe from predators

at Andrea's Manyata for chai, looking up at Jerry on top of the Land Rover

Andrea, his wife, and their youngest son,

Isaiah thoroughly enjoying his chai made over a cook fire with camel's milk inside Andrea's home (on their sleeping mat)

One of Andrea's four sons

Our new friends and us (giants!!) in front of their home

View from Andrea's

Stephanie, Grace & Isaiah play outside at dusk

Married Samburu women wear their beads, accumulated their whole lives, constantly

Taking in the scenery from the Kurungu airstrip

Playing "airplane" on the airstrip in Kurungu

Kalacha

2009-04-09T08:46:00.014+03:00

Kalacha, Kenya
10 March-
I am sitting on a borrowed oversize cot, under bright moonlight, plunking away on our macbook. It is 11pm and the temperature I am guessing is finally in the 80’s. Kalacha may not be a vacation destination for most people, but it is where the AIM missionaries from northern Kenya chose to have a prayer retreat. We are excited to be here, to hear firsthand what is happening in the far north. An added bonus: the station manager was my first roommate from LeTourneau.
Northern Kenya is not like the southern half. While Kenya is considered a Christian nation, missions is a relatively new thing here. Less than one percent of the people around are followers of Christ. In fact, the only reason there is a Christian outpost here at all was that thirty years ago a missionary was invited up to start a forestation project, on the edge of the salty Chalbi desert. Missionaries were not desired here, nor ever welcomed, but they wanted trees in hopes that rain would come to the hills again.
The people here are camel herders, nomadic, and almost by default, Muslim. The church is struggling, and made up mostly the outcast of the community around. This is to be expected, since when someone becomes a follower of Jesus instead of Muhammad, then they lose their family around them.
The missionaries who started the station here had foresight to know that they did not have the resources to chase down every nomadic group and share with them the wonder of God. They did realize that if they provided wells, it would become a place everyone would be drawn to.
So, here in the dry heat, we have oodles of water. It is incredible. There is a “swimming pool” even that holds excess water off the windmill pump. There are wells all around that were put in for the community. And people have come. The one or two houses that made up the village thirty years ago has grown to about thirty or forty.
The people are being drawn in. The church is struggling, however. Finding healthy leadership is a challenge, and takes time. This is not an assignment most pastors volunteer for.
Tomorrow we are taking the morning to pray just for Kalacha that church would do well and those from the community would be drawn in.
14 March-
Our farewell to Kalacha started the evening before when we all drove out to the desert together, stopping on the way to visit the little Catholic church and an artesian well that supplies the oasis and a group of farms just outside town.
The church had paintings done by an Ethiopian artist that were vivid scenes from the Bible. Everybody had an African look, and apparently many of the gestures were Ethiopian. They had been brought down one by one and arranged in the church in two rows wrapping around the whole interior of the church.
The artesian well had been modernized with cement around its head and then with a small canal system to carry the water off. The kids, both wazungu and Kenyan, loved playing with the water as it rippled by. A sick camel lay in the background, completely abandoned, but watching us with great interest. The shambas (gardens) that were started using the canals flowing with water would be a great way to supply fresh fruit to the northern region ... except for baboons. It is tough to keep them out.
One of the old timers in the group have been working with the Rendille people for decades. They said the Rendille don’t have any water flowing above ground like this. To them, this is how they picture heaven.
We loaded back up- I jumped on the roof with several kids, and we left a lush green farm area and were immediately in the great salty desert called Chalbi. The sun was setting, and it was remarkably cool. Andrea, our fantastic cook from Kurungu, had made a ton of pasta salad along with a fruit salad. It was like a feast. Of course the fruit went immediately. After eating, the stars came out and we could see almost all of them as well as a few satellites :)
The next morning we packed up the tents and cots we borrowed, and I took the kids walking into town to search out a duka to find some Cokes and other soft drinks. On the way back, Isaiah was fairly non-responsive. He acted tired.
A half hour later he felt hot and we noticed he had a fever of 104. So we cooled him off with wet washcloths and gave him some children’s motrin.
The car was loaded, complete with a goat and lamb on the roof rack, so we needed to leave before the animals became too angry.
In the car we kept a cold cloth on Isaiah, while I was praying silently for him as often as possible. He cooled a little bit, and was in and out of sleep.
We stopped at a salt flat to fill up some gunny sacks with the desert’s salt. It is quite a sought after commodity around the area.
After we crossed the Chalbi, we stopped at a small “hotel” and ate some lunch. Fresh goat with hot chapatis. It was better than I expected, and even more surprising, Grace finished off all the goat. She and Isaiah are in a dead heat for pickiest eater of the family, and here was she was eating grilled goat and wanting more. I was quite amazed.
20 minutes from Kurungu disaster struck. Isaiah let fly with all the water we coaxed him to drink plus crackers. It went all over Breanna’s skirt and my shirt.
“Should we stop?” our friends asked. We thought about it and realized we don’t have any options. We can’t just pull over and get water to wash with, there aren’t any bathrooms anywhere. So, our only option was to keep driving.
It was a long 20 minutes, but then I started to realize a little more what it takes to live upcountry here in Kenya. Some things you just deal with until you have opportunity to properly address the issue. We finally made it to the house and washed ourselves and Isaiah off.
He is still not able to keep anything down. We pray it is a short lived flu bug, and he will be healed soon.

My first week

2009-04-06T21:36:00.002+03:00

I spent my first week in the hangar last week. What a week to start. I worked with the turbine fleet crew, and there were all three Cessna Caravans and the DC-3 in for work. I helped with a phase inspection on the Caravan based up north near Sudan. I also helped out a bit with an interior upgrade for the venerable DC-3. Working on the cockpit door requires a small uphill hike everytime I have to retrieve another tool.

Overall, I was very excited to finally start in the hangar. The mechanics are great to work with and when we have a spare minute, great to talk to. The piston engine guru, everyone calls mzee (mzeh - a term of respect for an expert and older person), preaches at a church in his hometown several hours east from Nairobi. He leaves every weekend Saturday morning and gets back Monday early morning. He wants to eventually preach full time and hopes to train another younger engine guru.

The other exciting news was one of the aircraft was gone all week in an undisclosed location. It marks the beginning of a new ministry in a difficult area, and is exciting to think that we are supporting the reach of God's love in a difficult area.

Our Flight to Kurungu

2009-03-27T00:22:00.007+03:00

On Friday, March 6, we left for our up country visit to Kurungu, Kenya. The trip was part of our orientation to Africa and a chance for us to see what life is like living outside of Nairobi. It was a chance to see how our role with AIM-AIR fits into working in an upcountry location.
Note: This was also the second time for the kids and Breanna to cross the equator, and the first time for all of us to do it in a light airplane.

Taxiing out at Wilson Airport

One of the poorer neighborhoods in Nairobi

Just in case

Crocheting with strips of grocery bags

Flying over the Aberdare Mountains

Enroute the HF radio wasn't getting through to base for a position report, so the next option? Texting in the location with a cell phone

Sitting in the passenger seat... for now

Typical neighboorhood in the middle of nowhere.

The fences around each housing group are thorn branches tied together

Nearing Kurungu

Click to play

On the ground in Kurungu

Our Boy Is Back!!

2009-03-25T21:08:00.005+03:00

Praise God, we are ALL home from the hospital!! While trying to figure out how to pay our bill (well, when the insurance pays it), I heard the SWEETEST sounds! Isaiah was giggling, laughing, playing, talking with his sisters! I even had to shush them and remind them there were sick kids in the pediatric ward sleeping. We came home with a bag full of half a dozen medicines he will still need to take and we will likely bribe him with chocolate to take said medicines because he is so tired of all the medicines he's been taking (for ten days straight- it's been something or other for an amoeba, malaria, nausea, fever reducing, etc....!!) It's so scary to suddenly lose your child...when they are suddenly NOT themselves and you know something is very wrong. We praise and thank God it wasn't a permanent loss!! Thank you for your prayers.

In the case of an actual emergency

2009-03-25T03:23:00.002+03:00

I don't know what to do. I have a lot to post from our two week trip up country, and I don't know if I should post it in order, "back post it" according to the date of the event, or just put it up as finalize my thoughts on the trip. However, my heart isn't in any of those right now. Instead, I want to write about Isaiah's past week and a half and the reach of God from the hot and salty places to the cold and snowy ones.

On Friday, March 13, (around 9 am) we were packing up to leave the prayer retreat in Kalacha (a town in the Northern Frontier District of Kenya) when I decided to take Isaiah, Olivia, Grace, and a friend to a duka to buy some drinks. It was a longer walk than "just across the airstrip," like I had imagined. So, on the way back, the girls shared the load of drinks, while Isaiah rode on my shoulders. I can usually get him to laugh by nodding my head up and down quickly. My hair scratches his belly, and the giggles spill out. As we crossed the airstrip, something was different. He wasn't laughing, and wouldn't laugh for another nine days.

"Hey, how are you doing up there, buddy?"
"Good" he replied, but it sounded forced. I figured he got up too early, and maybe was almost falling asleep.
A few minutes later, Breanna felt his head and said he was burning up. Some friends had a thermometer, and we took his temperature: 104F. He was looking out of it. We put damp cloths on him and got some Ibuprofin / Motrin / whatever else it is called in him, and it seemed to help.
The Land Rover was loaded with a sheep and a goat amongst the luggage on the roof. We couldn't wait too long without the animals overheating, so we set off. The trip went well across the Chalbi salt desert. We backtracked once because we followed the wrong tire tracks, we stopped to bag some of the salt on the surface of the desert, then we stopped for a lunch in a little "cafe" along the way. Isaiah was stable, and was sleeping most of the way.

The chalbi desert was the first part of the drive and very hot. We kept Isaiah cooled down with wet fabrics.

My GPS had said were close to Kurungu, and the house we were temporarily staying in. Kurungu is where our awesome hosts (Rick and Carrie) live and where we lived for our upcountry stay. Suddenly, Isaiah let loose everything he had eaten that day. Rick stopped the car, and I held Isaiah outside for a bit. Breanna was completely soaked, but as we looked at each other we realised there was nothing we could do here.
Rick asked us: "Do you want to keep going? Kurungu is about 20 minutes still. Of course, that may feel a lot longer, now!"
We agreed, slowly.
The rest of the weekend Isaiah couldn't go for much more than an hour without losing food or drink one way or the other. Unfortunately, in order to pack light, we only packed enough diapers for him to wear for night time. In Kalacha, we were camping, and also in a lot of sessions, so using the bathroom was a tough option. Isaiah hasn't really mastered potty training, so we used up a lot of diapers there.
Now a lot of underwear was getting dirty, and Breanna was trying to keep ahead.
We found out from Carrie that we could ask a pilot, who was doing a scheduled run right past Kurungu, to drop off some diapers for us. It seemed like a great solution, so Rick contacted the pilot and put the order in. There wasn't time to go through the proper channels for procurement, but the pilot was very willing to go shopping in Nairobi for us and take them on the plane.
On Sunday, when Isaiah had the runs, blood began to appear. We knew he was miserable. He did not want to sit down, and preferred to lean over the edge of a chair or bed with his feet hanging off. A couple of times he said he wanted to go potty outside, and crouched over a grate in front of the front door. I think he was trying anything to fix the problem.
Carrie mentioned that the flight on Monday was probably pretty light, and they might have room to take Isaiah to Gatab. That is the town where the pilot is based and also where AIM has a clinic complete with a lab.
Was this really a big enough deal to do this? Surely this bug would work itself out of his body. However, Carrie was a pediatric nurse, and so her input was backed by experience. It seemed like something we should consider.
My entire time in Kenya so far has shown me that I am a complete newbie. This land we were in up north is not really forgiving. A simple car problem combined with bad planning could kill you. It is a rugged beautiful land, and it doesn't have an emergency exit close by. I also realized the invaluable gift of seasoned fellow workers and the value of playing it safe until I can join their "seasoned" ranks.
So we requested Isaiah and Breanna be picked up (and the diapers would go with them) and taken to Gatab.

A broken water pump for a nearby ministry was nice challenge to work on and help get my mind off the sickness.

Syphoning water into the tank for the kindergarten. Multiple hoses speed up the process. Again, a welcome distraction while Breanna and Isaiah were away at Gatab.

I started packing up the house, and trying to stay distracted with Swahili learning, organizing our computer, and helping out with a couple projects going on. Carrie would fill me in with a recent text messaage from Gatab or information over the radio.
Isaiah and Breanna arrived safely and are crashed on the pilot's couch.
They gave Isaiah a blood test.
It's confirmed he has an amoeba, but nothing else. Breanna isn't feeling well.
The next day:
Isaiah is taking maleria medicine. Breanna's malaria test is positive.
huh?
I talked to Breanna that evening on a cell phone (you have to stand in the right place in the yard, but even in the middle of nowhere, cell phones work)
Breanna said after Isaiah's first round of medicine there was no improvement. They said sometimes malaria tests aren't conclusive, therefore it's a better bet to start on treatment anyway. Because Breanna wasn't feeling well, they tested her and she came out positive. So she started a treatment plan, too.
After Isaiah's first treatment for maleria, coupled with a stronger dose for the amoeba, Isaiah got up, went to another room and brought back a lego. He was starting to improve!
I felt a lot better knowing both problems were being solved.

On Thursday, our scheduled departure day, and six days after Izzy became sick, I piled our luggage, remaining food, and many Samburu soeveneirs to be ready to go to the airplane. I had started working on adding some extra lights to Rick's Land Rover, which is another story. We heard the Cessna Caravan land, and hopped on the Land Rover to go, and it wouldn't start. Quickly I went throgh every wire I touched working on those lights. After a couple minutes we fixed the problem, and drove out to the plane.

Breanna and Izzy were sitting in their seats, not wanting to move. Isaiah hardly noticed we were there, even after I tried to get his attention. Several sic sacs were used, correctly, on the flight to Nairobi.

Friday, March 20, back at our house in Nairobi, we decided to lay low. We were all feeling a little yucky, and Isaiah was still spending most of his time leaning over our couch, or laying on his knees, face down.
"Hey, look he is praying like a Masai!" Grace said.
Breanna supressed a laugh. "Honey, I think you mean a Muslim."
Our concern was his different personality and his inability to hold anything down, including medicine, and the combined effect that this was now one week. We decided to see what the weekend would bring.
I called the Chief Pilot and explained what was going on. He said that I don't need to feel pressure to start in the hangar on Monday. He said number one priority is getting the family well.
Isaiah had lost his pot belly, his back bone was protruding quite clear, and his eyes were darkened, and looked a little sunken. He was still up for walking to the duka to get some milk, but was more annoyed by the new puppy that came on Friday, than excited by it.
On Saturday, I decided to weigh him on some borrowed bathroom scales. I knew for our flight up he had weighed in on those scales at 18 kg. Now he weighed 14 kg. I did the math. That would be like me losing almost 20 kg in a week (or 44 lbs). When I told Breanna he had lost 9 lbs, she asked if we should take him in to the ER. I didn't know what an ER in Nairobi would be like, and wanted to wait until Monday.
Fortunately, Breanna had finished her malaria treatment was feeling almost normal.
We had heard a ton of advice. Some felt this was normal, and not a big deal. He looks fine, and plus kids can recover just fine.
Others said that we need to make sure that his skin will spring back into shape when pinched, or else he is in bad shape.
We were informed that many others in Kalacha got sick, but were getting over it.
We were frustrated on Saturday because his last dose of Malaria and even the anti-nauseau medicine came back up. Isaiah wanted to be washed off, and by this time of day our water is quite cold. I put him in a cold bath, and he started wailing. My heart was breaking. As I dried him off I said: "I am so sorry. I wish I could be sick, not you."
Our friends knew an AIM nurse living nearby and asked if they could tell her about Isaiah. I didn't realize how concerned they were at the time. They told me a few days later that we didn't see how much he changed because it was a gradual change to us. They were shocked to see how different he looked when they saw him after the trip.
Sunday after church, Isaiah ate some chicken and it stayed. I was optimistic, but it was short lived. It only stayed for a couple hours. We stopped by to visit the nurse. She asked about the details, and looked at him for a little. She commented on how pale he was. She said "You might want to take him to Nairobi Hospital Emergency Room. They have a special pediatric center." That seemed reasonable. A hospital with a pediatric center sounded much nicer than the images I had had in my mind. Plus, this was again the voice of much experience.
Our friends drove us to the hospital (something they have continued to do for these past three days). We waited for about 30 minutes in the children's area. Some nurses had white "pilot type" shirts with epilets on them, but nothing on the epilets, just loops on the shirts. I thought it was interesting.
We walked into the office of on of the shirt type nurses. "Hello baby! What is wrong with you?" She asked Isaiah. Then she held up her hand to excuse herself, picked up the phone and asked a nurse to set up an IV.
When she got of the phone, we explained everything, and she took some notes. She told us because he was in a dehydrated state they wanted to start an IV right away.
They took us to the examination stations for the ER, and pulled the curtain closed. They were all very polite, professional, and knowledgable.
They asked if they could admit him. It would give them time to see how he reacted to the IV and the medicine in the IV. We agreed, then I had to decide on a room. Our insurance covered the general ward, which was a large open room shared with many. It didn't seem an attractive option for one of us to be with him through the night in a large room. For a small price, we could upgrade to a private room with one bed, four chairs, and a sink. However, there was no room in the pediatric ward, so he would be in an adult ward.
Isaiah was on a drip, and not very happy. Everytime he looked at the tubes, or his arm, he would start to tear up. Breanna strategically placed her hand over the wrap that held the needle in place, putting it out of sight.
"Are you ready to go for a ride on your bed?" She asked him with way more enthusiasm than she felt. He just looked at her.
They pushed him facing backwards and he could see both of us walking beside and behind him. He stayed calm the whole time.
Breanna decided she would stay the night with him that night. Our friend, Steve, came to pick me up, and I said goodbye to Isaiah.
Monday morning Steve took me and the girls to the hospital at 10:30. I called Breanna to tell her we were on the way. I also talked to Isaiah. When I asked him how he was and that I missed him, he started crying.

After spending the first night in the hospital. The IV worked wonders. Isaiah was already filling out, but was still not acting like himself. Breanna looked very cute, especially for having spent a night in a hospital room!

When we got to the hospital, the doctor was looking at Isaiah. She was wearing a miniskirt with vertical stripes, had an eyebrow ring, and a lot of make up. Nothing said doctor on her clothes.
The charge nurse was also in the room, and barked at us when we walked in.
"You can't be in here. What are you doing bringing kids here. This is a hospital. They could get sick. Wait outside!"
Shocked by this, we rushed back out, thinking something big was happening. After the nurse left, I walked in, and found the doctor there. She seemed much friendlier. The nurse came back and gave me another lecture about kids coming to the hospital.
"Those are his sisters. They want to see him." I explained.
"It does not matter. I am saying this to protect them!" she replied.
Steve took the girls into a courtyard that bordered the room. They said hello through the window.
Test results had come in: the amoeba was gone, but the blood test showed signs of infection. The doctor told Breanna he had sepsis.
I stayed with Isaiah that afternoon. I got him to laugh when I read our DVD titles to see which ones he wanted to watch. Some movies have two discs, because of bonus features or aspect ratio. I read the discs like they were laid out.
"Monsters, Inc. Monsters, Inc The Little Mermaid The Little Mermaid"
He thought this was funny, and laughed. That sounded sooo good!
A nurse came in, and I tried to get more answers about his condition. I also asked about a cot for Breanna or I to sleep in.
She was somewhat vague and said "because he had an infection in his stomach, we need to keep him on the IV a little longer."
This confirmed what we had been told about health care here. Very little is passed on to the patient. I remembered the girl from the worship team at Nairobi Chapel that died suddenly in the hospital from stomach problems. No other details were given.
Meanwhile, our cell phones were going crazy. As people found out Isaiah was in the hospital the activity increased. A pastor told me they prayed for Isaiah at chai (tea) time in the hangar this morning. The prayer line sent out a text message to everyone to pray for him. Our e-mail program was very problematic, but the e-mails we saw were from friends in Africa and the US saying they were praying.
Two familes (by a miscommunication between Breanna and me) brought food on Monday. Many others offered help. The frustration I felt on Saturday was completely replaced by overwhelming support everywhere we turned. The chief pilot made sure I understood there was no pressure to start at the hangar, which was such a nice reminder to hear.

Breanna came by Monday evening just to check in on us. Isaiah wouldn't let her leave. He had eaten a good breakfast, but not much at lunch, except ice cream, and hardly anything at supper. He had slept 3 hours, but still looked very tired. Whenever anyone spoke to him, he looked away.
So, Breanna was going to spend another night sharing the bed with Isaiah. They had offered to move him to the pediatric ward, which had one opening, but it was a suite, and quite pricy, so I turned it down.
After I left, another room opened up, and they moved there during the night.
The next morning I could not wake up. I felt very very tired. I tried to call Bre, but realized my cell phone was out of credit. I didn't hear from her, either. Finally I got up and wen to the duka to buy some phone credit. When I called her she said that her phone credit had run out, too.
The new room had a fold out chair, which was much better to sleep on. Unfortunately the new room had bad cell reception, so I couldn't hear very well. I told her Steve offered to take me to the hospital after he got back from lunch. Steve's wife, Angie, said she would watch the girls.
Two hours later Angie called to say that they were running late, and I needed to be ready to go right when they arrived. I found out when they got to the house they had been hit by a matatu (bus) which dinged the bumper. The matatu didn't stop. Regardless, he was still OK taking me to the hospital!
When I walked into to the new pediatric room, Breanna said "Daddy's here!" Isaiah looked up and started laughing!
He was himself again. He had a pot belly, a twinkle in his eye, and the giggles were spilling out!
So, tonight I thought about what to write from our two week trip. We learned so much, and there is so much I want to share. But, this is formost on my mind right now: I don't know how serious Isaiah's condition was, but I realize we are in very good hands. Not just the hands of pilot's willing to go out of their way for a three year old, or nurses willing to give advice on their day of rest, or the families who cooked and offered cars and transportation, or even you who prayed for him and wrote us to encourage. It was the reality that no distance beyond civilization can seperate us from God's love. His love reaches to the heavens, and His body spans the deserts, the Kenyan heights, the congested cities, and the entire globe.
So tonight, I am sleeping peaceful, and tomorrow, I was told, Isaiah's coming home.