Unthinkable

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

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

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...

... 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

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

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...

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

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?

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

"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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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!

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