On His Wings

Foggy Morning

2012-01-21T10:35:00.000-08:00

It's 11:30pm, I've been asleep for a grand total of 90 minutes, but I can't ignore the cries. He's up, and he doesn't really go to sleep again until 5:30am. I hit the light on the clock and think, "Ok, another 90 minutes of sleep before Kaitlyn gets up...." But it only seems like minutes until I hear little feet running down the hall. I lift my head and a pounding hammer somewhere in there rhythmically reminds me this is the second all-nighter I've pulled.

I try to keep a normal routine for Kaitlyn, so I sit her down on the couch, wrap her up like a taco, and turn on Thomas and Friends while I stand under burning water. Honestly, I can't remember if I washed or not.

Rain falls in a heavy mist, visibility is 1/4 mile at best, then I open the blinds and to my surprise, the weather is much the same outside too. Eventually a gnawing hunger in my stomach brings me downstairs for some oatmeal and a pot of coffee...yes, a pot. I stare helplessly into my cup, oblivious to the world around me, and as I begin to regain consciousness, I realize there's something staring back at me. For some reason, a nerve fires in my brain and I think, "Hey, that would make a cool photo...if only I could remember where the SD card is."

Thankfully, this stage only lasts for a month or so. I confess this is not my strong suit. Joy copes much better than I do, after all, she's been up for 4 days straight now. I marvel at her commitment and ability to maintain a positive attitude...and some sense of coherency. Until this wears off, I suppose I'll continue finding strange things inside my morning cup of coffee.

New Arrival

2012-01-19T16:00:00.000-08:00

I'm worn out from lack of sleep, Joy even more so than me, but we press on, hand-in-hand, anticipating the hours and days to come. I try and remind myself to take a few minutes every now and again and soak it all in--the mood, the people, the atmosphere, the lighting...the experience. But somehow I'm inescapably caught up in the moment, focused on the task at hand. Joy is doing phenomenal and this progression is much faster than last time. During contractions I am driven and 100% focused on my role and supporting Joy. It's in between that my mind wanders, sometimes to a picturesque lake in the pre-dawn morning fog, two fishing poles, a bucket full of nightcrawlers, father and son. Other times I play the "what if" games. I can't help it, I'm a pilot. What if this doesn't go right? What if that 1 in a million chance of "xyz" happens? Where's my emergency checklist? There's a heavy uneasiness and an equally strong sense of peace when life depends entirely on Him.

Before I even realize it, the last nine months swiftly and methodically come to a close, and a new chapter begins. I'm frozen, unable to find the words to express the feeling of being a father, a daddy, a mentor, a friend. For a few seconds, time stands still, and as I hold my little boy for the first time, he opens his eyes and looks into mine...and I can't hold him close enough. I know he will think his daddy is a superhero and invincible. Flawless. If only he knew the truth. Then I think of my relationship with my dad, and I realize he will love me anyway, in spite of myself, for no reason at all but that I love him the same way. But isn't that the way it's supposed to be? "...We love him because He first loved us."

Now the fun part begins. We can't decide between two names, but as I think more and more about Joshua, that is the kind of man I want him to be. Immediately you think of words like, "courageous," and "fearless leader." I think of a man fiercely devoted to his God, quick to listen. And for the guy in me...able to lay the hammer down!

So, without further adieu,

We are happy to announce the arrival of Joshua Christopher,

born Wednesday the 18th of January
9:16pm

7 lbs 1 oz

19.5" long

A New Found Appreciation

2012-01-14T21:17:00.000-08:00

For the last month or so I've wiped countless snotty noses, changed a lot of diapers, dealt with teething, toddler tantrums, and, "I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm crabby, that's mine, hold me, let me go..." All that to say that I've come to a "deeper" understanding of what all the moms of the world run through on a daily basis. I've also been there to take Kaitlyn to the park, on walks, share in special moments and achievements, and watch her learn and grow every day. My hat's off to you...every one of you who have, who are, or will raise children--they're a handful!

We took Kaitlyn to the park again today and her agility and coordination baffle me every time we go. Sometimes I wonder how she can climb a wall with no problems, but she runs into them when she's walking around the house. Unfortunately, for her usually terrified parents, she's fearless when it comes to obstacles and heights. She always goes for the biggest, tallest slide she can find, and she goes down feet first, head first, you name it. 10 foot fireman's poles, ladders, nothing is off limits in her brain. Today she tried going head first, on her back down the slide. She had already gone down head first and flew off the end once, so I casually strolled over to the bottom of the slide and asked Kaitlyn as she was setting up for her next stunt, "Hey sweetie, you think that's a real good idea to go down like that?!" Her reply, "YEAH!!"

Climbing all on her own...with daddy as spotter of course

Well, I figured some things are better learned the hard way and let her do it anyway (to the horror of all grandmas worldwide, I'm sure). Needless to say, it didn't turn out too well, she flew off the end of the slide and ate a bunch of sand. But she didn't cry, she just laid there for a minute, collecting her thoughts, and then she looked at me and said, "I not do dat again." "Good idea, sweetheart." She picked herself up, climbed the stairs, and went feet first.

Showing some discretion

All by herself

Taking a break on the swing

Waiting

2012-01-13T13:32:00.001-08:00

Just about every day for the last month or so we've been going on long walks in hopes that it might help baby along. It's something Joy and I have both enjoyed doing together even before we got married, and it's good to get back into it. I can't really complain about the weather here; for the most part it's been wonderful walking weather, and we usually include a little trip to the playground so Kaitlyn can have a little fun too. She loves slides, making friends, and anything she can climb. Here's a quick video of her enjoying the park...

It's Friday the 13th, the "big day," but nothing seems to be happening yet, and we're getting a little impatient to finally meet our little boy, but I suppose he has his own timing and we will just have to wait!

Terrible Two's???

2012-01-10T16:19:00.000-08:00

Look at my seashells mommy!

I don't know, maybe Kaitlyn is just the most obedient child ever. Ok, maybe not the most obedient, but for the most part, I am really enjoying this age--she is so interactive and hilarious! I love to see her mind go a mile a minute, and it's refreshing sometimes to see the world from her point of view.

Last week we took a day and went to the beach, probably the last time for a while before baby 2 is born and I start work. We brought some buckets and plastic shovels to play in the sand, and when we arrived Kaitlyn exclaimed, "[Gasp]...I take a HUUUUGE bath!" We tried our hand at making sand castles, but that didn't last long. So we spent most of our time collecting seashells and playing in the water.

Kaitlyn telling me the sand is too wet

One of the funnest things about Kaitlyn (at least to me) is that she picks up on things super fast. You can show her how to do something once and voila, she's got it. And then she loves to turn around and show me how to do it. One of the things I told her on the beach was that she should never turn her back on the ocean, and be very careful about the waves. So every once in a while she would dutifully remind me that I wasn't paying attention..."the waves can hurt you daddy!"

Well, thanks to Kaitlyn, no one drowned, and we found all kinds of neat little shells, and even a whole sand dollar! We can't wait to go back, although I'm thinking the next time will somehow be a little different!

Here's a slideshow of East Congo....

2011-12-23T14:59:00.000-08:00

...music by Third Day and Red.

My Sweet Girl

2011-12-21T11:58:00.000-08:00

Definitely a Character!

My lack of posts is more due to no photos than nothing going on! Our good camera broke in Congo and we haven't had the money to get it fixed yet, and our "point and shoot" camera didn't have a battery charger...until yesterday. I found it out in the garage, underneath a mountain of boxes. So, it's better than nothing. I don't know a soul out there who would rather read a bunch of words than look at fun pictures!

Grandma and Joy at dinner

My date

Yesterday we went to the Mission Inn in Riverside to see the beautiful Christmas lights (a California thing since there's no snow). We had a great time, and it was wonderful weather! They had concession stands, an ice rink, and even some reindeer. Kaitlyn was fascinated with the antlers, and when I asked her if she thought it was a boy or a girl, she replied, "No silly, it's a deer!" I guess she got me there!

Then Grandma took us all out for a Christmas dinner. I sat next to Kaitlyn; we were on a date!

1 inch screw in the rear tire

This morning I tackled a few things on the car. I noticed a clicking noise on the freeway about a week ago, and me being a perfectionist, I just had to fix it. A quick inspection revealed quite a large screw in the rear tire. Me and Kaitlyn jumped right into action, jacking, removing, repairing, and re-installing the tire. She was a big help, holding lug nuts, turning on the compressor, and holding onto the tire so I could get the screw out.

After a quick road test, Kaitlyn came in, washed her hands, and jumped right into helping mommy with Christmas cookies! I couldn't be prouder of my little girl, she's such a big help with everything! And soon, I'm sure she will be all too eager to change baby brother's diapers, give him bottles, and hold him close when he's crying.

Baking cookies, yeah!

Other than Christmas things, I've been keeping busy finishing paperwork (there always seems to be an excess of it), getting our car registered in California, insurance, switching over all of our licenses, and going through our shipment, trying to organize things in a sensible fashion. After Christmas, it will be a mad dash to the baby boy finish line, starting work for me, and our anniversary on the 28th!

What are you up to?

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Congolese Francs

2011-12-15T15:31:00.001-08:00

This photo was taken in Kipaka. There are some folks from the village along with myself and a few "officials" with 9Q-CMY in the background. There's a story that goes along with the picture and it goes a little something like this....

Flight days to Kipaka are long, no matter which way you split it. Even in the caravan it would take the better part of your day, and with "Uniform India" leaving at 8am from Bunia will usually get you back right around 5pm. With "Mike Yankee" that window is even tighter. Even so, it's important to spend time on the ground with the people, especially the officials, that way there are no hassles next time.

Well, it just so happened that the last time I was in town, they wanted to snap this photo with the pilot to make it all official. I agreed--it was a nice break after I had just unloaded 1000 pounds, and put 600 more back in for the return trip. I had some issues with the officials about paperwork that I was "supposed" to have with me, like passports and visas and all that. They let me go, but said that next time, I'd have to have it with me or it would be a big fine.

So, I obliged, and made a nice photocopy of my passport's info page and the visa I was issued. When asked, I produced the documents, only to find that these were not good enough, they wanted the originals. After a long and sometimes heated discussion ranging from taxes and fees of a Christian humanitarian organization to my residency in Congo, we finally came to an agreement. See, I don't like to just hand out money and pay for bribes or illegitimate taxes, I like to get something out of it too. To make a long story short, they didn't want to let me leave without paying some kind of fine, and I didn't want to pay it, so we met somewhere in the middle. They get a fifty cent "fine" and I got a copy of a really cool picture!

The Next Step

2011-12-08T08:58:00.001-08:00

I've flown Congolese nationals, sick and injured, hundred pound sacks of money, chickens, geese, fish...but never flies. But now it looks like I'll be adding them to my ever-growing list of passengers as well. I've accepted a position with a company called Dynamic Aviation, flying the King Air in the L.A. basin. Dynamic Aviation operates a fleet of King Air 90's, using the sterilized male fly in an effort to control the fruit fly population here in southern California. These flies devastate fruits and crops, so it's important to control them. I'll be flying as well as working on the airplanes, so I can keep both skills sharp.

The King Air 90

Other than that, we were able to take a quick trip out to Ohio to visit my family and Joy's brother and his family. Our shipment finally arrived from Africa after way too many phone calls, customs forms, and emails. We've got one week left until Christmas, and then hopefully things will slow down for a week or two before baby boy arrives!

Merry Christmas! and Happy New Year!!

Changing...An Attitude

2011-12-05T12:26:00.001-08:00

I'm reminded of a story in the Old Testament where a young man with 11 brothers couldn't have imagined the outcome of his life even if he had tried. The story goes like this:

"So there's this young guy with 11 brothers, 10 of which are older than him, so for all intents and purposes he's really a "youngest child." Apparently, as the story goes, his father really liked him...even more than his other sons. One day he comes in to his father with a bad report about them. After that, his father makes a beautiful coat for his "favorite" son and Joseph's brothers had finally had enough of this favoritism. They plot to kill him, but through a series of events, end up selling him to a traveling group of slave traders on their way to Egypt.

As the story begins to unfold, Joseph is sold for 30 pieces of silver and finds himself at the mercy of the slave traders. Eventually, he's sold to Potiphar's house and works there as a servant of the captain of the guard. The story says that Potiphar noticed that the Lord blessed everything Joseph did so he made him his personal servant and put him in charge of everything he owned. After a while, Potiphar's wife noticed how handsome Joseph is and asks to sleep with him, but on several accounts, Joseph says no.

All it takes is a lie, and Joseph finds himself imprisoned, charged with "taking Potiphar's wife for himself." At this point in the story, I'm thinking man, this guy's been mistreated his whole life. First he's sold out by his family, then is accused of something he didn't do. Now he's sitting in an Egyptian prison, through absolutely no fault of his own. I know what I would be thinking...probably cursing God...and my brothers...and Potiphar...and the prison. You get the hint.

But again, Joseph comes to be responsible for everything that goes on in the jail, so that the real guy in charge didn't have to do anything at all. Then, through more twists and turns, he interprets a few dreams and ends up coming before the Pharaoh to interpret a dream of his. After a favorable interpretation, Joseph is put in charge of all of Egypt. The Bible says, "only with respect to the throne will you be greater than the Pharaoh."

Now comes the part that I really enjoy. Joseph predicts 7 years of plenty followed by 7 years of horrible famine. During the famine, Joseph's brothers come to him for food and provisions, not once, but twice. The second time they come Joseph reveals himself and says, "God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance....So then, it was not you who sent me here, but God."

By now, many of you know of our decision to part ways with MAF at this point in our lives. There are no hard feelings from either us or the folks at MAF, we just felt DRC was not the right fit for our family, and before jumping right into another assignment, we felt it was prudent to take a little time off. I love what I did in eastern Congo and I'm so thankful for that wonderful opportunity, but I also need to be sensitive to the needs of our family. Right now I feel like Joseph must have in the back of a caravan, having just been sold out by his family. I can only imagine he was thinking how this could happen to him, why God would allow such a thing, what He had in store for the future. I'm sure many other things were rolling through his mind, but the Bible doesn't give us many clues and we're left to wonder.

Maybe I will write a few blogs about how we got to this point and give a little more history behind our decision, but suffice for now to say that after a lot of prayer, counsel, and thinking, we've decided to take a little time off from MAF to get our bearings, re-adjust our focus, and see what the Lord has for the future. I don't understand why I would spend 10 years preparing for service with MAF, only to serve one. That's where I sense some parallels with Joseph's story and what he must have been feeling on the road to Egypt, and again when he found himself in prison.

We thank the Lord for giving us such wonderful experiences, some that not many people get to experience. We thank the Lord for the many, many folks that have stood with us in preparing, sending, and keeping us in Africa. I may never know the impact of our presence in Bunia; that's not my place, but I do know that we have been blessed beyond belief, we've been sharpened by our brothers and sisters in Christ, and we have come to a deeper understanding of our Savior.

So...what's next?!? I'll leave that for next time!

2011-12-05T10:31:00.001-08:00

Well, first of all, it's been quite a while. I apologize for the silence and lack of posting. Interestingly enough, I left off the last post saying we were pretty sure the new baby was a girl. Well...I think you know what's coming. We had decided to have the baby back in the States and our first visit to the doctor included an ultrasound. Things in Africa are (do I really have to say this?)...a little different than things in America. Not necessarily bad, just different. When we had our ultrasound in Africa, it was done in a small room with a single lightbulb and no windows. It was hard to see the screen, let alone what was on it. The doctor had said he was pretty confident it was a girl, so we promptly searched the baby girl names and found a few good ones. Then, we went for our ultrasound in the US, and as soon as the machine turned on and the doppler hit Joy's tummy, the nurse exclaims, "Oh...oh, it's DEFINITELY a boy!" I looked at Joy, and she looked at me, and we both had the same expression on our faces. Needless to say, we were surprised and it's back to the drawing board on the baby boy names. So now I suppose we'll have one of each!

Also, stay tuned for photos and an update on our ministry as I'm sure many of you by now have received our most recent newsletter.

New Experiences

2011-08-31T08:25:00.000-07:00

It's not every day a missionary pilot gets to physically see the difference he's making in people lives. Sure, there are the medivacs where it's obvious that if we did not come, the sick would die. I'm talking more about the back breaking box after box after box of medical supplies that I load into the airplane, fly to a mobile clinic out in the jungle, and unload in the blazing hot sun...box after box after box. Sometimes it's vaccines, other times it's pain pills, but it always seems to be heavy and arduous work.

Today I visited the clinic where Joy volunteers, and I saw some of those same familiar boxes. No, I'm not sick, and I'm definitely not having a baby, but Joy is. And today we went together to take a peek at our new little one. Actually we went yesterday, but the doctor wasn't in. So we went this morning. The doctor was in, but the ultrasound machine wasn't. So we went a third time this afternoon, in hopes that we, the machine, and the doctor could all be in the same place at the same time.

I can't help but notice some of the same people are still waiting to be seen. Joy walks right in, confirms that the doctor and the machine are present and stands on the outside of the door. We wait for maybe 15 minutes as the doctor finishes with another patient. I can't help but overhear some of the conversations outside about how we white missionaries can just skip the all day waiting and hop in the front of the line, while they all have to wait even longer. I do feel bad, but I guess it's a perk of volunteering, kinda like I can go wherever I want in the Entebbe airport and travel to different countries without having to pay for visas, or even have my passport with me.

As we wait, I'm trying to brush up on my French anatomy...fingers, toes, heart, legs, boy, girl. I don't get to use those words a whole lot around here! Before I know it, we're in the ultrasound room, and I'm trying my hardest to decipher the white and black lines; the doctor pushes a button on the machine, and suddenly I can see clear as day as he shows me the "grand tour" ...."here's all the fingers, heart, toes, legs, head." Joy is right on target. I'm amazed at the equipment they have, and even more amazed that someone is actually properly trained to use it. He checks length, sizes, heartbeat, all the major stuff.

Then we ask him to see if it's a boy or a girl. He checks for maybe another 5 minutes before coming to an "undecided" conclusion. I have my own conclusions from what I saw...or didn't see, as the case may be, but you'll just have to wait and find out!

The Bright Side

2011-08-07T01:48:00.000-07:00

An essential element to survival here is keeping a positive attitude about...well, everything. A few examples you ask? Sure, I'd be happy to oblige:

*Like when you get a flat tire in the pouring rain. Think of it not as an inconvenience and getting thoroughly soaked, but as an opportunity for the Congolese people to show their true colors. Since the car jack won't work in the mud, 30 bustling men gather around and lift the car while you make the swap. Probably not good for the car, but neither is driving on a flat.

*Different airstrip conditions (even when I land 2 or more times at the same place, on the same day) keep my skills sharp, and guard against complacency. Goats are my favorite. They come out of the tall grass right in front of the airplane, and instead of running back into the bushes, they hear the airplane and tear off down the airstrip, trying to outrun the airplane. It never fails.

*Think...for every hour the city power is on, it saves me a dollar, instead of...the electricity is rarely on, I should just disconnect it all for good.

*I don't like geckos or palm-sized spiders in my house, but they need a home too, and they eat the mosquitoes (a nice bonus, since most of the windows still don't have screens). And when they're not eating the mosquitoes, they're having turf wars, so at least it's entertaining.

*One more stomach bug reminds me that I can get antibiotics...a lot of them...for $2...without a prescription.

*A long line of thunderstorms in my flight path is a great opportunity to practice my airplane handling skills.

*A dishonest official is a reminder for me to practice honesty and integrity in everything I do, and a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate His grace.

*The blaring mosque at 4:30am every morning is a chance for me to pray for Muslims.

*An unexpected night away from home is a window into the life of missionaries who have it much, much harder than I do.

*When there's no water, it's humbling to see missionaries sacrifice even more and share what little they do have.

*Every change in the schedule is an unplanned chance to bring glory to our God and be a blessing to those around us.

*Many things are much more expensive here, but the avocados fall off the trees in the back yard every couple months.

*When something breaks around the house, I get to learn new vocabulary in French and Swahili.

I could go on, but I think you get the point. Every day is a reminder that I have a choice to make. Every situation is an opportunity. Will I choose to reflect the image that's been restored in me, or try to make it in my own strength? Will I climb out of the boat? Will I deny my Lord? What's your choice? Yes, or no, my friends.

My Girls

2011-08-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

They're so amazing. I'm so blessed to have them in my life, even if they don't speak my "language." They are fun, beautiful, intriguing, delicate, passionate. They are unique, smart, photogenic, dedicated, understanding.

Some of you may not know, but Spokane, Washington, was probably the last place on my list of cities to live (no offense). But boy am I glad I made that choice. I remember once saying, in my foolish youth, that I would never step foot in California, and I certainly would never marry a Californian. Oh how that changed in a heartbeat. I also never believed in "love at first sight." But the moment I saw her, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with her. My pick up line: "hey, if you ever need the oil changed in your Honda, I have a Chiltons Manual." That was almost seven years ago, and what an incredible journey it's been so far.

Then, it happened...I had an affair. In fact, I still am. I still remember when Joy told me she was pregnant. We were in southern California at the time and Joy insisted on taking me out after a very long day of packing our shipment for Africa. I really didn't want to go, didn't want to spend the money, take the time, etc. We went to Mimi's, and asked for a really yummy ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, brownie thing with a cherry on top. Let's just say the cherry was really the only edible part, the rest was hard as a rock. Yes, even the ice cream. But I didn't care; there's no expression for the feeling a man gets when you tell him he's going to be a father.

9 months later, the same "love at first sight" occurred with Kaitlyn Renee, my little sweet girl. We were in Sherbrooke, Quebec, and had traveled to Newport, Vermont, just over the US border for a doctor visit. Joy was having contractions and they were getting stronger, so we decided to stick around for a while, just in case. Again, we had a bad experience with food and ate at a Chinese joint in "downtown" Newport. Next time we'll know to skip that place.

Joy labored all through the night and the next morning before Kaitlyn finally arrived. I remember feeling so tired, excited, and not knowing what I was supposed to do. I remember almost passing out. I don't mind the blood and all that, but people in pain and screaming just doesn't sit well with me. I was a big fan of the epidural. Joy, at the time, was indifferent. When Kaitlyn was born, we saw her for thirty seconds before she was quickly whisked away and diagnosed with a pneumothorax. She had a partially collapsed lung with a tiny hole in it.

It's fun to see her now, and how she has different personality traits of both of us (good and bad). At 10 months, she wanted to jump in and swim down Niagara Falls. She has to do everything herself, loves to joke, and would eat a whole tub of butter if she could. She has a great compassion for people, and absolutely loves airplanes.

And just when I didn't think my heart could get any bigger, we have another one coming in January. Will it be another girl, or our first boy? Time will tell, I suppose.

What The...

2011-07-31T03:01:00.000-07:00

I was on my way once again to Kipaka with 900 pounds of medical supplies for the hospital, cruising along at 10,500 feet when all of a sudden I heard a strange humming noise. Hmmm....all the engine instruments are normal, but the sound seems to be getting louder and louder. I go so far as to even take my helmet off, and then I see it, not 50 feet above me. I'm dumbstruck with utter disbelief as the ugliest twin engine airplane I've ever seen flies directly overhead. After a moment of gaining my composure, my next thought is to get a few incriminating photos, but it's too late for that. I guess even deep in the jungle you have to watch out for other airplanes.

Pictures

2011-07-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

We always have interesting happenings here, so I've been trying to document some of the experiences we have, so you can share in our life here. I've numbered the pictures and will briefly explain what each one is belows:

#1--A photo I took in Epulu. This little cluster was right on the edge of the jungle and I thought it very interesting. It stood out like a sore thumb against all the shades of green. It's no bigger than a nickel--God's attention to detail amazes me.

#2--Also in Epulu, I just happened to be standing on a bridge when I heard a familiar "mzungu" call from down below. I turned and snapped a photo as the boy rowed by in his "canoe."

#3--belongs with #5. You may wonder what a cylinder head is doing detached from the cylinder. Well, it just so happens that when you think you give clear directions like, "I just drained the oil out of the generator, can you fill it with 1 liter of oil from this jug?" you'd think the message was received clearly. Not so, my friends. Oil did not make it's way into the oil pan, but instead was added from a small hole in the cylinder head that consequently flooded and hydraulic locked the cylinder, before spilling out the air intake. The offending party now knows exactly where the oil is supposed to go. And I have learned my lesson, after pondering how to be a better communicator for the better part of my Saturday.

#4--Yet another intriguing flower from the forests of Epulu. You may wonder what all the recent photos are from Epulu. Well, I had the privilege of taking 5 very hard working missionary ladies on a quick retreat to the Okapi Reserve for a day of well deserved R & R. Most of them have worked in DRC longer than I've been alive, and have never gotten to see the okapis. I got the lucky straw and only had to fly 2 hours. The rest of the day was spent making new friends, improving my French, and visiting the Okapis once again.

#5--Is a nice dry cylinder that is again able to compress air. Try though it did, it seems that the laws of the universe prevailed yet again, and vehemently reminded the poor generator that liquids are not compressible.

#6--Would be the cutest little girl ever, eating a mouthful of goldfish after "helping" daddy repair the generator by grabbing a push rod in each hand and using them as drum sticks on the concrete.

#7--Ah, the Okapi. What more can I say? Part horse, part giraffe, part zebra. It lives to 40 years old, is almost never seen in the wild, and is an extremely picky eater. It can reach just about every part of its body with a 12 inch tongue. Its natural habitat, now only found in a very small part of DRC, is being illegally forested, and the animal suffers from poaching.

#8--Last, but certainly not least. Epulu is a wonderful place to relax. If you look hard enough, it is full of surprises and truly exotic sights. I found this guy casually webbing 2 inches from my chest as I leaned in to take a photo of an Okapi. I'm over the "scream like a girl" stage, but I have to admit, this one caught me off guard. This is another one of those "fit-in-the-palm-of-your-hand" spiders. And when the pygmies say, "Back up, you don't want to touch that one," you listen.

The Night in Bukavu...Part II

2011-07-02T02:35:00.000-07:00

After unloading and securing the airplane in the rain, I realize that in Kipaka I had left my overnight bag, because the only room left to put it was on my lap. I had packed things all the way to the ceiling, and the cargo pod was packed full. Oh well, I have my survival kit I guess, that's better than nothing.

We take a "taxi" from the airport into town, almost an hour away. The entire road is paved and it feels a little scary going so fast. The weather is still terrible; it's even hard to see out the windshield...I can't believe I was flying in this stuff. Our driver is Congolese, our vehicle...an old Toyota Corolla type with balled tires, a broken windshield, and very strange noises coming from the engine, tranny, and suspension. I'm pretty sure the brake pads on at least one wheel are worn to just metal on metal. It's a stick shift and there's not really a clutch to speak of; the driver just jams it in gear until it submits.

He is driving really fast, the road is wet, and we can hardly see. On more than one occasion I yell, "ATTENTION!!" in French so we don't ram into the back of another vehicle. I thought maybe it was just the car, but all along the way are people standing on the side of the road, shaking their heads, and pointing to smashed taxis.

Bukavu is pretty surprising to me. There are real hotels with bell boys, Mobil service stations, electricity, street lights, and very nice looking restaurants. It sort of reminds me a little of Chicago. I'll be staying with the missionary family I brought from Kipaka. When we reach the house, I can see a really nice yard, a kid's play house, and even a garage. We aren't here for long before heading out to dinner.

The family invited me to go with them to a friend's house, and I accepted. We are heading to Bernard's house; he's been the purchaser for the hospital for many years. They have a close relationship. His house is just a small living room with 2 couches and a bedroom/kitchen. The roof leaks a little, and candles are the only light we have. Dinner is rice, chicken, carrots and peas, and a killer sauce. Most of the talk is in Swahili, but I can tell from the tone of their voices and their expressions that they are saying goodbye, and it's not easy. They remember old times, thank each other, and talk a little business. I take a few photos of their families together and then it's back home. I help them pack and prepare their things for tomorrow before heading to bed.

It's actually cold here and I'm thankful for the extra thick blankets on the bed. At first I didn't think I'd use them, but boy did I ever. In the morning, I could see my breath outside. I got a later start than I wanted to, but oh well. The drive back to the airport is even better this time, mostly because I can see now. The drive reminds me of Hawaii. The road meanders along the edge of a crystal clear lake, beautiful tropical flowers line the road. Sunflowers, beautiful plants, strawberries growing in fields, it's a wonderful sight. Towards the end of the drive, we move more into high plateaus with different pines and open fields of wild flowers.

I get a later start than I want to, but at 9:30am I take off again for Kipaka with almost 1000 more pounds of supplies for the hospital. The weather is much, much better today. On the ground in Kipaka I unload the cargo and move straight into loading things for Bukavu. I'm hoping to go fast here, but there's no such thing as fast. The government officials want to see my original passport, and my visa...neither of which I have with me. I have photocopies, but that's not good enough, and I can't leave until I produce them.

So I go into discussions and conversations about why I don't have the originals, why I need my passport here, when all the other major cities in Congo accept my copies. Why I can travel to Uganda without a passport, but deep in the Congo jungle, I need to have everything. Finally, after everything is loaded and my passengers are in their seats, I pull the officials to the side and ask, "Are you congolese citizens?" They both reply yes, of course. "If you took a trip to a major city in Congo, would you need a passport?" No, they both say. In fact, I don't even have a passport. "Well, guess what? I'm a Congolese resident too. So if you don't need one, then I don't need one. My copies are good enough." That seems to resonate a little better with them. And with that, I hop in and shut the door. Some people like to argue and yell about things, and maybe that's just the way they do it here. But I like to help them understand just what it is they're asking of me, and why it's sometimes absurd. That takes time, but I think the final result is better. Plus, I get to know the person, not just the demanding official.

The flight back to Bukavu is uneventful. On the ground, I expect to have maybe 100 kilos of baggage and a 55 gallon drum. What I find are bags and bags for Bunia...for "free." No one mentioned all these things when I left, and I fit almost everything, again packing things to the ceiling. I have to leave the drum behind and a few small bags. By this time, I'm getting pretty tired and missing my family. The plane just can't go fast enough to get me back.

On the way, I descend to 500 feet above the ground and point out a gorgeous waterfall. When you think of a tropical paradise, you would include waterfalls, but not "badlands." But right here in Congo, you can find those too, right next to the waterfall, actually. 20 more minutes and we're landing in Bunia. I can't wait to get home!

The Last Time...Part I

2011-07-02T01:54:00.000-07:00

For some, anyway. Today's flight takes me once again to Bukavu, and on to Kipaka, where I'll be spending the night. Everything's supposed to be done already, so I can get an early departure, but when I get to the airport, I learn that the plane hasn't been fueled, the boxes of Bibles aren't prepared, and no one has a key for the MAF depot and office. I quickly spring into action, giving people tasks while I complete my preflight.

Once I'm ready to go, I hop in and call the control tower, but they won't clear me to taxi because my flight plan hasn't been submitted. "But it was there last night, how could it not be there now?" I replied. Another 10 minutes and everything is squared away. The engine checks out, oil temperature is climbing, and I check my watch against the clock in the airplane and on the GPS. I mark down the time, and smoothly add full power. Climbing out to the East, I gently bank to the right and look down to see Joy and Kaitlyn waving goodbye.

The weather seems good enough and I climb to 10,500 feet before cracking open my breakfast. I can't make out the Rwenzori mountains, so I make sure to steer straight down the middle of the valley. Then, I start to make out the unmistakable jagged peaks through the haze and clouds. I snap a few photos...what a great opportunity to share with you one of the best reasons we don't fly in the clouds here. Don't get me wrong, it can be done, and done safely and efficiently, but not in a 206, and not with 14,000' peaks looming around. This is exactly why we treat clouds as if they were mountains, because more often than not, there are mountains hiding somewhere in there. And while an airplane can fly just fine through a cloud, I don't think they've yet developed an airplane that's aerodynamic enough to fly through granite.

The weather actually improves all the way to my destination of Bukavu...I guess there's a first time for everything. In Bukavu, I unload a 55 gallon drum and 5 jerry cans of avgas, along with 200 pounds of Bibles, and trade it all for almost 1,000 pounds of medicines and supplies for the hospital in Kipaka. After an hour, I'm off, and the weather continues to improve, a little puzzling to me since I saw quite a bit of rain on the satellite picture earlier in the morning. Oh well, take it while you can get it.

1:30 minutes later, I'm circling over Kipaka, checking the airstrip and setting up for my approach. I'm just about to touch down when something on the right side catches my eye. It's a goat...no make that 20. I hesitate for a second to see which way they're gonna go, but as usual they run in terror directly down the airstrip. I waste no time in aborting the landing, and come around for a second try. On the ground, I unload the hospital freight, and load belongings for a missionary family that has been in Kipaka for more than 20 years. They are "retiring" after starting from scratch and maintaining the hospital for so long. Now it's their turn to hand over the job to a trained national.

Leaving a place...leaving home after more than 20 years would be hard on anyone. And I can tell it's hard for these folks to say goodbye to their "family," but they get in the airplane with resolve, knowing the Lord has something else for them to do. It's been my pleasure to fly many things down to them, everything from toilet paper to car parts. They are truly cut off from the rest of the world. The roads and bridges in every direction are all washed out and too dangerous to travel by car. The airplane is the only lifeline, the only link for these people.

The hour and a half back to Bukavu is heart-wrenching for them, but with 50 miles to go, my attention is diverted to the task at hand. Somehow the weather has turned horrible. Low clouds, rain, fog, smoke, and mountains aren't a pleasant mix. The mountains surrounding Bukavu is the only place in Congo that I've actually had to do real "ridge crossings." We sometimes perform this maneuver to get from one valley to the next when there's a low layer of clouds. These are to be done in a very certain way, at 100' minimum, so as to maintain the highest degree of safety...and I've been very close to that 100 feet before.

My original plan of going direct to Bukavu is quickly abandoned and I make my way over to the South pass. I'm now 500 feet above the ground, working my way through rain showers, ever vigilant of that mountain goat hanging around in the clouds. The South pass turns out to be so clogged with rain and clouds that I start to make my way even further south into my last option. I'm pushing weather and my fuel reserves, so I am very cautious.

I see a break in the clouds and cross over one ridge and into a little bowl about 1/2 mile round. My escape route is behind me, where I came from. As I enter the "bowl" I realize it's just not going to work, so I add power and make a quick 180 degree turn. But as I do, I realize my out is now gone, vanished, swallowed up by clouds. I'm now stuck in this bowl, with the wind blowing the clouds, and me, closer and closer to a very large peak. I say a quick prayer, and no sooner do I see a small hole open up in front of me. I can see well enough on the other side to know that it's more open and will provide more options than where I'm currently at.

So long bowl, nice knowing you. I'm now in a small pass south of the South pass, and I pop out of the mountains over the town of Bukavu. The familiar sights and less terra firma to hit ease my nerves a little. As I head back north towards the airport, I look back up the South pass to see if it's even possible to get back to Kipaka today. Nope, decision made, I'm staying in Bukavu, no way I'm doing that again.

Strange

2011-06-26T07:21:00.000-07:00

In my 9 months here I've had some interesting experiences flying. Interesting cargo, interesting passengers, interesting happenings. Things like smelly fish, chickens (which always go in the cargo pod no matter how crammed they are), 12' electrical conduit (interesting to actually fit it in the airplane when the cabin is the same length), and "high profile" passengers. Basically, if it fits through the door and I can somehow strap it down, it goes.

It's always interesting with national passengers who have obviously never flown before. I'd like to ask them sometime what is going through their head. I know right away who they are, they hop in, buckle their seatbelt, and relax until the engine comes to life. I especially take a little extra time with those special passengers who occupy the co-pilot's seat. I try not to seat someone there who looks stronger than me. And I always take the time to explain to them the dire consequences of touching anything. Most of the time it works fine, but every once in a while I get a surprise.

Like the guy I had sitting next to me on my way to Mambasa. Not too terribly difficult, but I do need to land in a certain spot. It was a bumpy afternoon and I could tell my passenger was uncomfortable with all the turbulence, and was very apprehensive about landing on a hill in the middle of the jungle. I motioned for him to put his hands under his legs, that way I knew where they were. Turning on final approach, I noticed he had quickly grabbed his knees and was squeezing them really hard. Just when I started a beautiful flare, I saw him stiffen like a board and he grabbed my right arm, squeezed hard, and pulled my elbow into his chest. Not a big deal except the other end of my arm was firmly attached to the throttle control with a considerable amount of power. We immediately sank towards the ground. I instinctively heaved the control into my chest to protect the nose gear, and struggled to get my arm free. Needless to say we hit "firmly" and bounced back in the air. Lucky for me, an intuitive passenger behind me grabbed his arms and held them. I shoved the throttle in, aborted the landing, and came around for another try, this time adding "make sure the copilot is secure" to my checklist.

It's also interesting what you can hear inside a very noisy cabin. I admit that I've aborted several landings because, just before I'm about to touchdown, I hear the unmistakable "click" of a seatbelt being unfastened.

Ever carried empty 55 gallon drums in the cabin before? I have, and it sure would have been nice if someone would have let me in on a little secret the first time I had them strapped behind me. I took off from an airport near sea level and was climbing to 11,500 feet to take advantage of strong easterly winds. Half way there, I heard two very loud "explosions" and immediately started looking for a place to land, as I scanned the engine instruments, checked controls, and looked outside for any obvious missile damage. Everything checked out fine and the rest of the trip was uneventful. I mentioned my experience to a seasoned missionary pilot, who seemed mildly amused at my mishap. He asked one simple question, "Did you take the bungs out of the drums?" That's when it dawned on me; I felt so stupid! The pressure difference as I climbed got to be too much for the drums to handle, so they both decided to let off a little steam!

I also like flying IFR (instrument flight rules) because it's a great challenge in a light single engine airplane with no autopilot. The Pacific Northwest is a great place gain some "actual" instrument time. It's also a great place to experience hair raising encounters with icing. That's not the stuff you put on a cake; it turns your airplane into an ice cube, and last time I checked, they don't fly very well. FAA regulations are very clear that if you're flying an airplane that's not certified to fly into known icing conditions, you just don't do it. Fair enough, except it turns out to be a very difficult thing to predict. I was flying along one fine spring morning on my way to northern Washington in solid IMC (instrument meteorological conditions). No contact with the ground, no horizon, no visual reference whatsoever. Just me and the clouds. Icing conditions were not forecast, and the temperature at my cruising altitude was almost 40 degrees. All of a sudden, I heard rain hitting the windshield, but this wasn't normal rain that rolled off the windshield. It hit, started to roll, and then turned to ice. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening, but when I did, I immediately made a 180 degree turn and asked the controller for a heading to the nearest area of good weather. I popped out of the clouds over the Sound, but the entire airplane was covered in a half inch of clear ice. I needed full power to keep from losing altitude. I reported that I was now in VFR conditions and requested a lower altitude where the air was warmer. As I descended, chunks of ice began breaking off and eventually it all melted. I was able to continue on my way, making sure to stay out of the clouds for the rest of the trip.

I also learned the hard way that it's not a good idea to fly with a head cold. The resulting ear infections are extremely painful.

Most of all, I've learned when and how to say "no." All over the world are burnt, twisted pieces of aluminum that serve as reminders of those who didn't.

TGIF

2011-06-10T10:39:00.000-07:00

The morning comes too soon; I still don't feel good, and I have another full day of flying. My first stop is in Banda for Samaritan's Purse. It takes 2 hours to get there in the "slow" plane, but I've got 30 minutes of margin in my day. As long as I keep things moving, I should arrive back in Bunia before the airport closes. After dropping off one Sam's Purse passenger and a few boxes, I'm off for Faradje with another Sam's Purse passenger.

This is the same route I did a few weeks ago when I saw elephants and water buffalo. I descend as we enter the park and keep a look out, but nothing yet. Then my passenger points to a herd of buffalo and I spot some antelope grazing on the grass. We spot several elephants along the way too. One of these days I'll remember to have my camera with me so I can take some photos for you!

Faradje goes quickly as well, and after 10 minutes I'm off for Todro. I've been here two times before, and they were both interesting experiences. The airstrip slopes up 1 degree to the south and has some side slope to the right in the landing area. It then flattens out towards the middle and slopes to the left at the other end. It's not too terribly short for landing, but there's almost always a tailwind on takeoff.

As I circle overhead, I notice they've cut the grass down that I barely missed last time on the extended centerline. The rest of my cargo will stay here, and after I get everything out of the plane, a man approaches me and asks if I can stay for some lunch and visit with them for a while. I decline. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time. He hands me a bag and asks if I can take it. At first I don't want to, but he insists and says it's for me. Inside is roasted chicken, a huge loaf of bread and a container of honey...I guess they had prepared a whole meal ahead of time, hoping I'd stay with them. I want to, but I just can't.

The man tells me to keep the food for the rest of my journey and asks the Lord's blessing on my work and my family. I thank him again, and I'm off for Dungu. Being 1:30pm, I dig into the bread, and it is the best bread I have ever eaten. They must add honey to the dough, and it is so good!

In Dungu, I refuel and load 4 passengers for Bunia. Our caravan is there at the same time, loading, unloading, and re-fueling. On the way home, I stay low, hoping for better winds in my favor, but no such luck. I sit back, relax, and crack open some more bread.

In Bunia, I give the chicken to our national staff. I figure I should be a blessing to others, like the folks in Todro were to me. In any case, I'm sure glad it's Friday, I need a break!

It's Been Nice, Buta...But Part II

2011-06-09T11:03:00.000-07:00

I'm glad to get back to the airport, something familiar at least. It's hard to get my preflight done; all the army guys want to chat. "What's this for?" "What's that do?" All good questions, but I just don't feel good, and I kinda miss my wife :)

I take off to the east, direct to Bunia as fast as this thing will take me. 15 minutes after I leave, I get a call on the radio asking me to divert to Dungu. Seems there's a sick boy in Bangadi that needs a ride to the hospital in Dungu. I need to stop in Dungu first to pick up a couple nurses to accompany him back to the hospital.

In Dungu, I learn that several young women had been raped and beaten by members of the LRA the night before just outside Bangadi. The nurse team needs to spend 30 minutes or so on the ground to treat these women. I tell them it's fine, even though I really feel terrible, and just want to get home. I figure these women feel a whole lot worse than I do at the moment.

It's incredibly hot in Bangadi--I guess it would be at 1pm. My medivac patient is a boy about 10 years old, with obvious head and face trauma. Honestly, I don't have the stomach to ask what happened. By the time I get the stretcher set up and secured, and everything loaded back up, the nurses return from treating the rape victims and we're off for Dungu again.

A flower

Sunset in the jungle

I have no passengers back to Bunia, so this turnaround goes quickly. I climb to 11,500 feet to escape the heat and humidity, and save a little fuel. I dodge growing thunderstorms, and am sure glad to see a familiar place.

Overnights, Escargots, and Medivacs...Part I

2011-06-09T10:32:00.001-07:00

I've got a long day ahead of me, and it's nice to get an early start for once. I have 7:30 minutes fuel on board as well as another 55 gallon drum to get me home. I'm off for Kisangani, two and a half hours west into the jungle. I like going here; it's a beautiful area nestled next to the mighty Congo River. I don't like going here because it takes forever to get anything done. It's an old military base and army guys are everywhere. They are all too eager to help with anything they can, even if you don't want them to. And, of course, they expect to get well-compensated for their efforts. Today is no different. I drop off the drum of avgas; I'll be returning for that later. I'm supposed to pick up 4 passengers and a bunch of cargo for a town called Buta, but it turns out there's 6 passengers. That kind of throws a wrench in the whole deal.

I make a few quick calculations and decide I'll have to pump all 55 gallons into the wings on my second trip so I can take the empty drum with me (can't carry avgas in the cabin with passengers). After an hour of paying taxes, I quickly load most of their belongings and 4 of the 6 passengers, then it's off to Buta, a little over an hour north of Kisangani. I've never been to Buta before, and along the way I'm kind of dreading another long stop arguing over taxes and fees. Plus I'm not feeling too well now.

I'm very pleasantly surprised though. After landing, I walk in to pay for the taxes, and all the paperwork is already filled out and waiting for me...and it's even correct! She hands me the bill, I hand her the money, she asks for a free ride to Kisangani, I say no, and I'm off, just like that. That's how it should be!

Back in Kisangani it's more of the same, it's takes almost an hour to complete all the paperwork and get my taxes paid, then it's off to load cargo and pump the fuel. I don't need any extra fuel right now, but I can't leave the drum here, so I have no choice. With the last two passengers, I have to be a little creative in how I load the rest of their cargo. In the end, it all fits, barely, and I have to lean into the back door a little to get it closed.

By now it's late afternoon and I really don't feel good. Thunderstorms tower over my little tin can of an airplane as I make my way back to Buta for a second time. Also for the second time in my pilot career, I discreetly reach for the little blue bag, just in case. I'll be spending the night here in Buta, although I don't know where. After unloading and securing the airplane, I make a quick call and figure out that I'm staying at the Catholic mission, and I was supposed to hitch a ride into town with my passengers, but they're long gone.

Uh oh

I find a nice guy who gives me a ride on his motorcycle. We're not supposed to take "taxis" here in Congo, but I figure it's not really a taxi, since I don't pay him anything, and it's a 125cc bike, so it doesn't go fast enough to really hurt if you fall off. And I figure it's safer to take the bike than sleep in the airplane. As we cruise down the road, I notice huge patches of bamboo, and everyone we pass yells and laughs at me. 15 minutes brings us to the Catholic mission...and it sure is Catholic in every sense of the word. Cathedral ceilings and towering archways, pictures of a rosy-cheeked Jesus, rosary beads, the works. And it's not just one building, but dozens...and they're massive. The folks are nice and inviting, and after a few phone calls, we find out where I'm staying.

It's pitch black inside my room, but I can make out an office type room, and a bed on the other side of the wall. I'm promptly greeted by a young man and a young woman, who bring me soap, a towel, and a bucket of water for taking a shower. Boy am I ever grateful. I have an hour until dinner, so I quickly hop into the dry bucket, then hop right back out again. In the dark, I jumped right into a bunch of spider webs, and that's just creepy. I grab my flashlight, brush all the webs away, and do a quick sweep for any spiders. Nothing on the right wall, nothing on the back wall...AGHHH!!!

One of those big, palm-sized spiders jumped at me! Lucky for me, he crawls right behind a loose brick, so I smash it into the wall...and smash it a few extra times just because he scared me. A quick peek reveals only parts, good enough for me. I hop back into my bucket with a smile on my face. The water feels so refreshing. I never knew the air could hold so much water. I'm glad to get out of my soaking clothes, but I realize as soon as I pick up a fresh shirt out of my bag, it's already soaked. Oh well, such is life.

Dinner is quite interesting. All the priests stand up and say their prayers to Mary while I say my prayer to Jesus. After that, it's antelope meat, rice, sombe, carrots, bananas, peanuts, and escargots. They beg me to try the escargot, so I figure I should probably oblige. Let's just say we'll leave those things for the birds. The antelope, on the other hand, was quite good, along with everything else. We talked about catholic theology...well, they did, I mostly listened. My French isn't that good anymore.

Unfortunately, my stomach viciously said "no" to something I ate, and suffice it to say I was up half the night "making things right." It's not like I could sleep anyway, the humidity made laying on anything unbearable, and the bugs were horrible. I spend the rest of the night thanking the Lord I live in Bunia, not Buta. Props to the Catholics, but next time I'll pass.

A boy with bamboo, reaching for some fruit

The building where mass is held

Just outside my door

The morning brings no relief from the heat and humidity, but at least my stomach is ok for now. Breakfast is sliced bread with butter and coffee. Then it's off to the airport for the flight home...or so I think.

Flexibility

2011-06-06T11:52:00.000-07:00

Probably a good thing to have when you're a missionary. My "flight" got canceled this morning, but since we have 2 206's now, the other pilot asked me to take his schedule for the day. Since I was already dressed and ready to go, I accepted. I took off for Dungu, 1:20 minutes northwest of Bunia. The tower controller told me about an "aviation warning" concerning low clouds, poor visibility, and rain in the area. I took off anyway; we routinely fly in weather like this, and as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather take off and see what things look like from the air instead of staring at a computer screen full of already old weather information.

Don't worry though, there are plenty of times when I turn around, or don't even take off because the weather is too bad. One nice thing about flying in the pacific northwest is that you get lots of good weather experience. And, having been here for 9 months now, I'm learning a few things (imagine that) about the weather. Unfortunately, I don't ever get to take some decent photos of this stuff because I'm too busy flying the airplane.

When I took off, Bunia actually looked nice, but as I turned north, the weather quickly closed in. One of the most valuable things I've ever learned in my training is to always have an escape route, always have a place I can turn to in case I run into trouble. Never get trapped with no way out. With the weather today, I'm updating my "out" every 15 or 20 seconds, as I fly around each cloud. At least there's no rain.

Eventually I'm able to climb above the clouds and there's actually a very strong tailwind from the southwest. That's kind of odd; normally the wind comes from the east or southeast, but today, it's blowing all that moist air from the jungle to where I want to go. After a quick stop in Dungu, it's back to Bunia. I decide to stay underneath the clouds as best I can; there are clouds from the surface all the way up to 15,000 feet, a little too high for a 206 to climb up and over.

I'm sandwiched between the ground and a very low layer of clouds 500-1000 feet above the ground. Terrain that looks flat from up high proves to be very hilly, and the tops are covered in clouds. And now there are torrential downpours thrown into the mix. Eventually I make it back in to Bunia, just after a storm passed through. Now to fuel and reload for the next 3 stops.

I have a Wycliffe missionary, an AIM missionary, and 3 nationals on board. First stop is a place called Auzi, where Wycliffe is working very hard at what they do best. If I thought the weather was bad before, it's really bad now. I fly through rain most of the way to Auzi, and the whole way I'm thanking the Lord for GPS. Every crackle on the HF radio alerts me to a lightning strike somewhere close; it takes every ounce of my concentration to dodge clouds as I fly through the rain. I can only see a mile or two at best. I put my sun visor down just in case lightning strikes close in front of us, and (believe it or not) I can actually see better with it down. It provides a nice contrast between the clouds, the hills, and the rain. We inch our way closer and closer to Auzi and finally, after what seems like forever, we make it within a mile of the airstrip, but I can't see anything.

Then all of a sudden I break out of a rain shower, look down, and wouldn't you know there it is! With rain hitting the windshield, I make my approach and land, dodging clouds all the way down. Crackles of thunder, light rain, and clouds are all around us. I drop off my Wycliffe passenger and quickly take off for my next destination of Adi, to drop off the AIM missionary. I've only been here once before, so I'm much more cautious. It's only 10 minutes from Auzi, but it feels like an eternity, as I pray for safety and better visibility (is it ok to pray for that?)

The weather is actually a lot nicer in this direction, and I'm hoping we can get in to our next stop without any problems. I land in Adi and get the airplane all muddy, but no worry, as soon as I takeoff, the rain will take care of that. 10 minutes later, I'm soaking wet and taking off for Aru, another 15 minutes south, but as soon as we're airborne, I realize it's not going to be an easy task. I even go so far as to make a plan C; plan A went out the window a long time ago, and I'm implementing plan B right now!

What if I can't get in to Aru? I don't have enough fuel to get back to Bunia. I end up flying 20 miles into Uganda to get around the heavier showers until I can get back into Congo. The GPS says I'm over Aru, but it's covered in clouds...and they're really low! I descend and take a peek and there's just enough room for an airplane in between the clouds and the trees...not ideal in this business. I zoom the GPS in as far as it goes, punch the OBS button, and tune in the runway heading. The GPS paints a nice white line for me, and if I stay centered on this line, I'm aligned with the runway, even though I can't see it. Did I mention these GPS machines are fabulous?

Now I can make a "blind approach" into Aru. I set the airplane up as usual and head straight for the airport, aligned with the runway, but I still can't see it. On final approach, 1 mile from the airport, I catch a glimpse of the numbers 04 at the end of the runway, then they're gone, back in the clouds. Just above the clouds, I catch another glimpse, but as soon as it appeared, it's gone, and I go around. With more rain moving in from the East, I've only got one more chance to get it right. I make the same approach, and pray the whole way down. There it is, there it goes, there it is again, now it's gone. Just as I'm about to go around again, a "big" hole appears and I just barely squeeze through.

Now comes the rain. I'm taking as much fuel as I can with me back to Bunia. All the fuel tanks in the wings are full, and I have 7 full jerry cans in the cargo pod. If I wasn't soaked before, I certainly am now. My passengers are a young woman and a 5 month old baby boy named Chris. Nice name, if I do say so myself. The route back to Bunia proves to be more of the same, but it gradually gets better the closer I get. After landing, I breathe a sigh of relief and thank the Lord for the safety and the passengers I was able to carry today. Tomorrow, I will do it all again!

The Day's Stats:

19 passengers
550 nautical miles flown
6 landings
5.3 hours flight time
440 pounds of cargo

Time On The Ground

2011-05-28T06:50:00.000-07:00

That's not something I normally have the luxury of doing. But today it was planned. I'm flying for Samaritan's Purse folks; seems lightning struck their internet system way out in the bush and I am taking a team to repair it. Banda is way out there for the 206. It's in the northeast corner of Congo, up near Sudan. But before we head there, I stop in Faradje to bring the folks there some things. It's very cloudy today with a thick cloud layer only 1000 feet above the ground. Near Faradje, I find a hole and descend underneath the clouds for the rest of the trip. From Faradje, it's off to Banda, and straight through Garamba National Park to get there. Because of the clouds, I stay low, 500-1000 feet above the ground, and mention to my passenger up front that if he's lucky, he might see a few animals.

He quickly spots a herd of water buffalo on his side, then I spot some on my side. Seems they are everywhere. I circle around one of the larger herds so we can take a closer look. After a few photos, we continue on track to Banda and a few holes begin forming as the sun starts to burn off the low layer of clouds. I add full power and pitch the nose up when movement on the ground catches my eye. I look down and spot what, at first glance, I pass off as more water buffalo, but then I take a second glance and realize these are much...much larger than water buffalo. Hey, they're elephants, 20 or 30 of them! They're huge and as we circle around again, I notice the grass surrounding them covers their lower halves. That's some tall grass!

I've been to Banda once before, in the dry season, and the airstrip was not very nice to the airplane. And when I say "airstrip," I mean the main road that passes through town. The dirt was extremely hard and rough, and the edges were just wide enough for the wheels of the airplane. The parking area was so overgrown that I didn't want to taxi through it, so I shut down and pushed the airplane back by hand.

As I circle overhead today, it looks very nice. The edges look trimmed, the dirt portion is wider, and the parking area looks cut. Landing confirms my observations and I let my passengers loose. They will be gone for almost 3 hours, so I have lots of time on my hands. Two guys in particular stick around the entire time I'm waiting. I chat with them about their town, their families, the LRA, and what life is like for them. One of them tells me he rides his bike 350 kilometers to the next biggest town for supplies and food they can't get in town. If the road is dry, it takes him 3 or 4 days. If it's wet, it can take more than a week. Each family member takes turns walking 4 kilometers just to have 5 gallons of water. And because the LRA is hiding in the forest, they are unable to hunt for meat; they live off rice and any vegetables they are able to grow. If nothing grows, they don't eat.

It's a little sobering as I eat my PB&J and corn nuts from the US. I try my hardest to imagine what a day-to-day life would be like for these people, but it's just so hard. They are eager to hear about life in America. How we always have water coming out of the faucet, and we can even drink it without worrying about getting typhoid or having to boil it. How we always have food in the fridge and it never runs out, but if it does, there's restaurants and fast food to back us up. How we always have a fresh pair of clothes to wear every day. And the fact that there are no people hiding in the bushes, ready to take everything we have and then hack us to death with a machete. How the electricity is always on, and if it goes off for more than 10 minutes in a 5 year time span, we complain and want our money back because it's not fair. How everything is instant.

Fact is, I like it here. It's different living without consistent electricity, drinkable water, and everything takes forever. I like not having a TV or a cell phone. I spend time with people, talk with people, get to know them, laugh with them. I like thinking up solutions to problems. I like the freedom. And I've learned that if you stop trying to make your house it's own little slice of America, you can be quite happy. So what if the electricity is erratic and sometimes melts expensive equipment, or the water needs to go through a filter before I can drink it. So what if everything takes forever and I sometimes have to wear the same pair of socks 2 days in a row. So what if I kill rats with a spear.

The little things have now become blessings. Like a nice hot shower, a well-cooked fish and an ice cold Coke. An equatorial downpour when you couldn't take any more of the dust and heat. 5 minutes of air conditioning in the car. An 80 year old missionary lady who tells you amazing and true stories that make you laugh so hard you start crying. A nice local who wants to help you load 900 pounds of cargo without receiving any "compensation." The cool, fresh air at 10000 feet after spending hours in the jungle.

Friends in Banda

Is it a road or an airstrip?

What are your little blessings?

The Next Stage

2011-05-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

It's not easy keeping up with an almost 2 year old. It requires patience, innovation, quick thinking, and above all, a great sense of humor. We've been waiting for this day!

Watch Out!

2011-05-23T03:01:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, it's sometimes very difficult to see other airplanes when you're flying around. I saw this guy as I was cruising along at 10,500 feet. After a few evasive maneuvers, I quickly grabbed my camera and snapped a few photos so I would have some proof that this was a really close call! You have to watch out for those MAF pilots!

Ok Ok...so this whole thing was planned. It just so happened that our Caravan and 206 were going to the same place at the same time. I took several photos as Joey zoomed by. I was actually descending, so I was going as fast as I could, but I still only had seconds to make the most of this opportunity. This photo was actually taken about 8:30am in the morning; I added the "sun" and the warm colors :)

Missionary Longevity

2011-05-21T04:21:00.000-07:00

GOLDEN RULE of missionary survival as quoted from a veteran on the field when I found this in my meal:

"Brand new missionary on the field for less than 6 months: so grossed out you immediately stop eating."

"Missionary with 6 months--1 year field experience: remove bug and continue eating."

"Missionary with more than 1 year field experience: bug is a protein bonus and...naturally...comes with the meal."

Welcome Home

2011-05-17T10:30:00.000-07:00

Today starts early for me. I'm up at 5:30am, getting ready for the 30 minute drive to Kajjansi Airfield. Kajjansi is half way in between Kampala and Entebbe. I've been here all week, working on our 206's. The air is crisp, the morning is cool, and a mist hangs low over the ground (and over my head until the coffee kicks in). First I'll be flying to Entebbe to drop someone off and fill the wings with ever so precious avgas. I've got 2 55 gallon drums strapped behind me already, but we need it desperately in Bunia. After a quick prayer, we're off.

[ It comes from refineries in the US, on a boat to Africa. From there, it get's trucked to Uganda, where we pick it up and bring it in to Congo on our airplanes. By the time it reaches our depot, it costs $10 a gallon, on a good day. ]

The dividing line between Entebbe (Uganda) and Bunia (DRC) is a big lake called Lake Albert. I've flown this route many times now, but this time is a little different. As I begin to see familiar sights on the ground, I start thinking about our life in Congo, flying, living, spending time with people...and I get, of all things, excited. I breathe a sigh of relief as I cross over into Congolese airspace, much like you do after a long trip, and you finally step into the front door and collapse on your bed or your favorite couch. You just let go, relax, let your guard down.

That's what I'm feeling. I can finally "let my guard down." I have a full day of flying ahead of me, and on final approach into Bunia, I peek out the window and spot our house...I'm home. The familiar landscape, the familiar voices on the radio, the people on the ground...everyone's happy to see me, and I find myself happy to see them. I only have minutes though, as I need to be heading to my next destination.

Somewhere in between graduating from college and finally getting here, I think we lost our sense of "home."

Before I know it, I'm taking off for Isiro, 1:30 minutes into the jungle. I'm picking up 3 Dutch folks from Canada that I brought in a few weeks ago. They actually flew all the way out to Congo to visit family--what an experience! (right mom?!?) Come to find out, you can't get away from Dutch folks anywhere, even in the middle of an African rain forest. A quick discussion leads to the fact that my wife is Dutch (and I am not), and grew up in southern California. They happen to know people down in the same area that Joy's family knows, and in the Dutch world, that makes you family. All I can do is shake my head in disbelief.

I take them back to Bunia so they can catch the MAF-Uganda flight back to Entebbe, and then on to Europe and finally home to Ontario, Canada. But my day's certainly not over. I have a local Bible translation expert that needs to go 1 hour North to a place called Auzi. I always like going here, the people are friendly, the airstrip is nice, and I usually can get in and out in 10 minutes or less. After that, it's a quick hop over to Aru to drop off 4 more passengers and pick up 2 55 gallon drums of avgas and fill the wings again.

By now, there are rain showers everywhere, and it's a bit of a challenge to make it where I want to go, but hey, nobody ever said it was easy. As I land, I notice a storm approaching, so I'm rushing and rushing to get things done. In typical African gesture, everybody is standing around. I take charge and start giving people tasks to do, but there aren't enough people to help me lift the drums into the airplane. So it's just me vs. the 360 lbs drum. I make short work of the first one, but I struggle with the second one. I guess this sort of thing is what makes you old.

After those are strapped down, and they are almost finished with fueling the wings, big fat rain drops start coming down, one by one. The storm is only 10 miles away, with big booms of thunder crackling overhead. I don't mind them fueling in light rain, but lightning and avgas just don't sit well with me, even though I know the likelihood of anything remotely close to that happening are next to nil.

On the way back to Bunia, it's more of the same. Watching out for lightning and flying my way through a maze of rain showers. Back in Bunia, I leave the heavy unloading to the national workers. My arms are like jello. I smile on the way home--all the familiar sounds and sights and people. It's good to be home.

Kipaka Again!

2011-04-26T05:59:00.000-07:00

Yep, that's right, and today I want to invite you to come along and "see what I see, do what I do, and experience what I experience!"

It's a long day today, so let's get out to the airport a little early. I'll do the preflight and get things ready while you chat with the people. As I go through my checks, I enlist the help of all 3 national staff workers. One is working on fueling (we'll need all 4 tanks topped off, and 4 full jerry cans in the cargo pod), one is loading 175 pounds of Bibles and the passenger's suitcases, and the other is filing flight plans, washing the windshield and picking up our passenger from the terminal.

By 8am, it's time to go. On paper, the weather looks perfect, but we soon realize that the entire valley all the way down to Bukavu some 240 miles south is all clogged up with clouds very near the surface all the way up to 12,000 feet. My original cruising altitude of 8,500 feet just isn't working and we have to turn around several times. All I can do now is circle up up up, until I reach 12,500 feet and just barely scrape the wheels over the clouds. As we climb, I have you count the different cloud layers, 1...2...3...4. At least at 12,500 feet we have a bit of a tailwind, but we are already 25 minutes late, and this is a long day.

Nearing Goma, we have to go around several towering cumulonimbus clouds that will soon turn into thunderstorms. I have to descend a little early to get in under the clouds so we can make our approach into Bukavu. They're reporting light rain, a low ceiling of clouds and poor visibility--not what I heard on the phone earlier. I sigh; looks like I have my work cut out for me on this one. Finding the airport is no problem and landing is a piece of cake; I land half way up the runway because it's so long.

Looking southwest, I am mildly disappointed with what I see. Looks like a lot of clouds, rain and more poor visibility. I put on my rain jacket before getting out and quickly unload the Bibles and the jerry cans, and begin loading 900 pounds of cargo for a missionary family in Kipaka. I think of them as it begins to pour and we load box after box, tires, vegetables, canned goods, and toilet paper. My shoes are soaked.

The whole process takes 45 minutes...and that's 45 minutes I don't really have. I need to get back to Bunia before the airport closes. I'm praying for a good tailwind as we takeoff. It doesn't take long before we reach the bases of the clouds and I am forced to snake my way through the south pass, looking all the time for an opening into nicer weather. 20 miles south of Bukavu, I find what I'm looking for and climb up to 8,500 feet, still having to dodge growing thunder clouds...it's gonna be fun on the way back!

This leg seems to drag on forever, maybe it's because I'm the only plane flying today and the radios are silent. I eat an early lunch and snap some photos along the way, the visibility here is wonderful. I spot Kipaka about 20 miles out and we come in for a landing. I'm really starting to get to know this airplane now and put it down about 50 feet from where I wanted to.

Here, I unload the freight as quickly as I can, heaving boxes to the first guy in the assembly line every second or so. Here in the jungle, at noon, I can feel the sun scorching my skin and the sweat pours off my body. After the plane is emptied, I quickly add a seat and re-arrange the cargo net and straps for the freight going back to Bukavu. 700 pounds of plastic bins and suitcases. Once everything is tied down, I load the passengers, and we're off.

Even though it's hot and humid, I decide to level off at 5,500 feet, hoping for better winds. My hopes are granted, but now, in the early afternoon, the bigger problem is thunderstorms...they're everywhere. Torrential downpours, stomach jolting turbulence, and bright flashes of lightning seem to be surrounding me on all sides. The lightning is so bright that I pull my shaded visor down, even though it's plenty dark. I keep turning around in my seat and checking my "out" behind me, making sure I can still go back the way I came if things get ugly. So far so good.

The closer I get to Bukavu, the worse it gets, and now I have mountains thrown into the mix. I'm glad I have some experience in this area, it makes things a whole lot easier and a lot less nerve wracking. I decide to take the south pass again and get into Bukavu 10 minutes before the heavens let loose. I've got no time to lose though, 15 minutes is all I can spare. Luckily, it's just one passenger and 50 pounds of his suitcases. I shove his stuff into the cargo pod, add the 4 jerry cans of fuel, and put his seat belt on. He's a pastor, and even though we are in a rush, I ask him to take a minute and pray for our flight and our respective ministries.

Now it's off for home. The rain has moved on, and I'm pedaling as fast as my little legs can go. It's not long before we hit the rain again, and I'm peering into the mist, watching out for things that look like trees and volcanoes. I snake my way through the valley, 500 feet above old lava beds...I can't help but wonder how much that would hurt. Around the bend is Lake Edward--Congo on the left, Uganda on the right. For the moment, the weather has improved, but up ahead, things are not looking good.

Part of my training involved several classes on decision making and when to say enough is enough. I remember them telling me there are 3 main things we as MAF pilots deal with on a regular basis: time, weather, and terrain. Time...there never seems to be enough of it, weather is always a factor, and the nature of our flying puts us down in the terrain more often than not. They said pushing the boundaries of one isn't really a big deal. But, you need to be extra cautious when pushing two, and never push all three at once.

Well, time--yeah, I don't have any, and I don't need to explain anything more to you about the weather. Luckily, we aren't dealing with terrain. Nevertheless, I'm extra cautious as I approach the valley. It seems like one thunderstorm after another, and I'm really having to work my way up this valley. I turn around and ask my passenger to tighten his seat belt, and he's got a camera out, snapping photos...what is it with these people?!? I have a storm scope installed in this airplane; basically it shows little orange dots on a screen when it senses convective activity, and let me tell you, it's lit up like the 4th of July...every little pixel is bright orange.

Finally, I get a little break about 50 miles out of Bunia. And then I see the two biggest, baddest looking thunderstorms I think I've ever seen in my existence...with a tiny little hole right smack in the middle of them. The clouds are so high, I can't even see above them, and it's raining so hard on the ground that it looks like the cloud just continues straight to the ground. I weigh my options. Can't go left, can't go right, can't go up. I can go through this hole, or go back the way I came. It takes me 15 minutes to get to the point of making a decision, and all the while I'm observing these storms.

Is the hole getting bigger, smaller? Is the lightning confined to the storms? How's the visibility in this little pocket I want to go through? Which way are the storms moving? Where's my out?

After pondering these things, I decide to "thread the needle." One storm is moving off to the west, while the other is heading straight for Bunia. The hole is getting bigger, visibility is good and there are no signs of a bumpy ride. Lightning seems to be only in the clouds, and I can still go back the way I came. As I sandwich in between these two storms, I start to get really nervous. I can see Bunia clear as day, but this thing is ugly, I mean bad! I laugh when Bunia tower tells me to "watch out for a big thunderstorm around your area."

Boga airstrip and mission station, one of those "land here" and add power to the top kind of places

I was wondering how they got across Lake Kivu

10 miles out of Kipaka, see the cell tower?

My little window of opportunity

This thing is so bad I start to make a plan B, because I really don't think it's going to be possible to make the landing in Bunia. Trust me, if I had an oar, I would have shoved it out the window and paddled for all I was worth. I decide to make an approach with the option of landing, but I fully intend to divert to Nyankunde. To my surprise, the approach is completely smooth, and I land without a hitch 10 minutes before the rain starts. Now there's a day for you!

Easter 2011

2011-04-24T09:22:00.000-07:00

After the easter egg hunt, we had a kid photo. Guess what a whole bunch of pilot's kids do when a plane flies over?

Hazardous Attitudes

2011-04-24T08:56:00.001-07:00

Embry Riddle Aeronautical University has identified and described 5 different hazardous attitudes that a pilot may possess. These negative attitudes get in the way of good decision making and cloud a pilot's judgment. They are:

1. Resignation--this pilot gives up easily when problems arise and things don't go as planned.

2. Anti-Authority--this pilot tends to not heed advice and constructive criticism from other pilots.

3. Impulsivity--this pilot makes decisions and acts on them without thinking them through properly.

4. Invulnerability--this pilot is invincible, nothing bad will ever happen to him.

5. Macho--this pilot knows it all and can handle anything, and isn't afraid of showing it off to everyone else.

Or, to summarize in the words of my private pilot instructor, "Bad things don't happen, and if they do, they'll never happen to me, but if for some strange reason it does happen to me, it surely couldn't be as bad as they make it out to be, and if it is as bad as they say, then there's nothing I can do about it anyway."

I'll leave it to those who know me to figure out which ones I struggle with. Suffice it to say that I have a real "winning" combo. And I do struggle with these on a daily basis, that's why there are rules and regulations we follow to keep us safe.

Classic resignation

Prospects aren't looking too good

Mouth open, fighting back!

Today, I found Lucy torturing a poor little baby lizard. At first, the lizard was fighting back and even trying to chase Lucy off, but it soon became very apparent what hazardous attitude this little guy possessed. Yep, that's right, resignation. As soon as things didn't go as he had planned, he just rolled over and gave up. Unfortunately, it didn't end too well for him. I would have hated to be in his airplane. If only he had thought of the resignation antidote: "I'm not helpless, I can make a difference!"

Weekends

2011-04-23T02:31:00.001-07:00

One of my hidden passions is teaching/mentoring. It's one of those things, as you go through life, you stumble upon something and realize, hey, I really enjoy doing this. Maintenance, in general, is another thing. Growing up, I always knew I was going to fly airplanes. I knew that, there was never any question in my mind. But if you would have told me I'd also enjoy working on airplanes, teaching, and living in Africa, I would have stared at you in disbelief.

Thankfully, Kaitlyn is at an age where she is learning several new words a day, and is extremely quick at picking things up. She sees it done once, and then insists on doing it herself. Like eating with utensils and putting DVDs in the computer. She knows exactly where the button is, exactly how to put the disk in, and how to close it again. She brushes her own teeth, tells the dog "No!" and tries to lock the house with the keys. She knows how to honk the horn and turn the steering wheel in the direction she wants to go (not that I've ever let her drive :)

Concentrate on the line

All done, way to go!

So, I figured today I'd teach her how to measure and cut wood, because I really need some help out in the "garage" to get some of these screens up. First things first though, safety is paramount. I show her how to wear her ear protection and eye protection, and how to hold the saw so that if it kicks back, it won't injury her. She did an excellent job, cutting right on the line, and wasn't scared at all. Next weekend it will be on to sanding, prepping, and staining.

What are some of your hidden passions?

Perspective

2011-04-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

Getting an unexpected day off here doesn't mean you can sit back, relax, and drink coffee all day. It only means you get to work on the growing "to do" list. The real challenge here is that nothing is simple and things always take way longer than you think they will. Flying is one of the simpler things is get to do here. Or maybe it's because flying is familiar to me. Either way, Joy and I have finally come to terms with the fact that things will never be what we're used to. After spending 6 months trying to transform our house into the American "home" we've always wanted, we just found ourselves tired, exhausted, and missing home.

We are learning to adapt to our surroundings, use a whole new set of resources we're not used to. For example, in the US, if you want to remodel your house, you get in the car and drive to Home Depot or Lowes for hardware and supplies. Here, you go into a shop, ask around, and dig through piles of stuff. If you find something close to what you're looking for, you enlist the help of a few guys to go and find what you're really looking for and bring it back to you. Then you bring it home, modify, alter, or completely change what you bought to make it work in your particular situation.

It doesn't sound like a big deal, but just imagine working with wood here. First, you go to the market, find some decent wood, buy it, bring it home, and let it sit for 6 months so it can dry out. Then you take it to the wood planing shop or plane it yourself by hand. After that, you cut it (with a handsaw), sand it (by hand), and begin the staining/painting process. Each step takes at least a day, some up to a week. So you can see why I don't have window screens up yet :)

Throw in a bunch of other problems, like electricity, plumbing, broken car...and it takes FOREVER to get anything done. After a while, you just realize that family is more important than keeping the flies out. Spending time with my daughter is more important than digging a fire pit. Talking with my wife is more important than tinkering with the generator. So what if we have to use the wind up lantern and a few candles to see at night time. What's the big deal? There's not much else to do anyway.

Don't get me wrong, there are certain things that are pretty essential to life, like water and barricading the house from rats. But everything else is a luxury.

Saying bye bye to daddy before he leaves for Kampala!

It's a difficult thing to explain. I see people every day who live in one room huts, who own a cooking pan and a small bag of coal for fire. They're just fine without window screens, TV, doors that open the way you want them to, and electricity. How do they do it? We are very privileged to have what we have, but as they say, "With privilege comes great responsibility." I think I finally understand what that means.

Joy sewing fabric for our couch cushions!

This is not to say that things can't be improved around here, oh no! It merely means we should keep things in perspective and remember why we are here in the first place. It means we need to accept the fact that life in Africa is not life in America, no matter how hard we try to make these four walls our little slice of familiarity. Relaxing doesn't mean sitting on a beach chair with your feet up, listening to the ocean waves. It means finding your rest in Him, trusting Him in many new ways you never even thought of before. It means that "God is not so much interested in my comfort, as much as my spiritual development." It means waking up every morning and instead of knowing what lies ahead, taking a few minutes and asking the Lord to give you the grace, patience, and flexibility to overcome the challenges this day brings. Maybe that's the best way I can describe it: total dependence on Him.

Aungba

2011-04-14T07:08:00.000-07:00

That's a place, not a person, thing, or idea. I had never been there before today so I was a little excited about going to a "new" place. It's a class III airstrip, which simply means if you don't know what you're doing you could seriously hurt yourself. I brought my camera to take all kinds of photos for you, but alas, I forgot my SD card in the computer at home, so I guess I'll have to describe it for you.

It's 600 meters long (about half of most of our airstrips around here), but it still sits up around 4,200' elevation. It's made of grass and large gravel, and slopes up 1 degree to the middle, where it levels off, and then goes back down 1 degree for the second half. I circle overhead and study the airstrip a little before I make my approach. It has white markers on either side every 100 meters, so I count 1...2...3...4. If I haven't touched down and started braking by that one, I'll go around and give it another try. I'm also looking for things like obstructions on either end, any indications of surface wind, and general condition of the strip. It looks good to me, so I decide to make an approach with the option of going around so I can gather more information. If things look good, I can land.

As I get lower, I also notice that the strip is fenced, a nice touch to keep animals and children off the runway. Turning final, I automatically go into check mode. Airstrip clear, checklist done, airspeed 55 knots, 500 feet per minute descent, and glidepath looks right. I'm aiming for the first 100 meters of airstrip, so I can actually touch down around the 200 meter mark and get stopped in the remaining 400 meters.

I notice I have a 3 knot tailwind as I "ride" the bumps all the way down to my spot. Add power, reduce power, lower nose, idle, raise nose and add power again, all the way to touch down. For a short field landing, my touch down is actually quite soft and as soon as I feel the wheels hit the ground, I squeeze on the brakes...harder...harder, until I am leaning forward in my seatbelt and we have come to a crawl. I'm just coming up over the crest in the airstrip, so I figured I used about half of the total distance available. Not bad!

MAF has three different classifications for the airstrip it uses: I, II, and III. Class I airstrips are nice and long, and if you hold a commercial pilot's certificate, you should have no problem operating in and out of these strips. Class II airstrips require some additional training and are a little more technical. They may have a non-standard approach or some slope to them. Class III airstrips are the most difficult and technical airstrips we operate in and out of. They require individual checkouts, usually are really short, have a lot of slope, and may have an airborne abort point.

On the ground, I take a little time to look at the airstrip, measure slopes and distances, and talk with some of the people. I decide it's probably a good idea to do one takeoff here with no passengers, just so I can see what it looks like, and it would give me a better idea of how much weight I can take.

There's a hill right at the end of the airstrip with a bunch of grass huts on top and I want to pay particular attention to this. As I liftoff and accelerate, I pitch the nose up and clear the hill by about 50 feet, and I'm empty! There is room to make a right hand turn after liftoff and go around the hill. Back on the ground, I go a little conservative and tell them I can only take 400 kilos total. I'm light on fuel, but they have 454 kilos they want to take. They decide to leave one passenger behind, so that puts me a little under 400; I'm happy about that. This time, I add full power while holding the brakes, check all my instruments, and then start my roll.

I get my speed check right where I expected, and lift off a little before I thought I would, but there's not much in the way of climbing power, and I realize real quick that, indeed, I will have to go around the hill. I gently bank a little to the right and everything is good. 30 minutes back to Bunia and I'm home before lunch! I love days like today!

P.S. Dear mom, there's a little brown jumpy spider somewhere in the cockpit, he like to hang around the airspeed indicator.

That Was Fun

2011-04-11T11:17:00.000-07:00

I wake up to brilliant sunshine and crystal clear blue skies. The sun is already really strong; it's going to be a hot one. Today, for once, I'm not in a hurry, so I take my time and enjoy breakfast before I head out to the airport. Once there, I print out a bunch of forms I've been meaning to for a while now, and I take a little time to organize the cockpit of the "new" airplane I'm flying. Our regular 206 is in Kampala for a big maintenance check, and will be there for another month or so, getting some much needed TLC.

In order to continue with our operations here in Congo, we're borrowing an older 206 from another program. It used to be a float plane, so there are a few differences, and it also has a smaller, less powerful engine in it. But, the biggest difference by far is that its cruise speed is 15 knots less than ours. That means, in general, I can add about 10 minutes to each of my legs, and an hour to my day.

Today I have one passenger in Epulu (where the okapis are), and one passenger in Mambasa. Both need to catch the flight to Entebbe on MAF-Uganda. And that doesn't normally arrive until 1:30pm. I take my time pre-flighting the airplane, getting my things ready, and talking with some people. I always love spending time with the people and trying to build some relationships. It's good for my French, it's good for them, and hopefully I will have opportunity to share Christ with them.

After chatting for a while, I look at my watch and it says 8:15am. What! I get here early every day, run around all morning, barking orders and working hard, and I still don't even leave until now. And today, here I am, taking my time, chatting, getting things done, and I still have the same results. Maybe I need to slow down a little and just relax more often!

I decide it's about time to take off, and by 9am, I'm off for Epulu. I'm picking up someone of importance, some chief of something or other. I can tell, because when he arrives, all the soldiers and park keepers stand at attention, and all the kids stop giggling and laughing. He has one small suitcase and a laptop bag...my kind of guy. With a few formalities, a bunch of handshakes, and greeting the kids with the only Swahili I know, it's off to Mambasa, 30 miles back towards Bunia.

It only takes 15 minutes until I'm overhead, evaluating the airstrip condition and making it amply clear I'm about to land. Turning on final approach, I make sure my checklist is complete, the airstrip is clear, and I'm on glidepath and holding the speed I want to. Everything looks good and I elect to continue. This kind of airstrip, even though I do have to land in a very certain spot, is what we call a "stop critical" airstrip. For every airstrip we land, we have a pre-chosen abort point where we can abort the landing, safely go around, and give it another try for any reason the pilot deems necessary. There are only two airstrips that I can think of around here that we call "go-critical." That means the pre-chosen abort point is not located somewhere on the airstrip, it's actually in the air. Any time before this point we can safely abort the landing, but after this point, we are "committed" to the landing, no matter what happens. If a truck drives out on the runway, it would be better to land and hit the truck slowing down than try to out climb the terrain surrounding the airstrip and hit a mountain going 90 knots.

Mambasa is flat for the first 200 meters, slopes up for 100 meters, and then levels off again for the rest of the length. I have to land on this 100 meter slope. I cannot make it down fast enough to land before it because of really big trees at the end. And, if I haven't touched down and started braking by the crest in the hill, I go around and try again. So, turning on final approach, I take a quick look to make sure my checklist is done, my airspeed is good, and the airstrip is clear. As I get closer to the sloped part, I gently pull the power back and raise the nose to meet the slope, leaving a little extra power in to help with the landing.

Just before touchdown, I barely see two little heads just above the cowling dart out 100 meters in front of me. They stop, frozen with fear right in the middle of the airstrip. Instantly, I shove the throttle all the way in, reach over and move the flap lever from 40 degrees to 20, and level off 20 feet above the ground. As soon as I hit 65 knots, I raise the nose and climb as fast as this thing will let me. Even at full power with only one passenger, the trees are whizzing by me.

After coming around and landing, I find the airstrip agent and make sure he knows what will happen to me and, more importantly, to one of these kids if they get hit by the airplane. My passenger here is the Dutch fellow I flew out there last week; we are both glad the weather is much better today. After loading his suitcases, we all head back to Bunia.

It's only 11:30am, so I have a few hours to chat some more, eat my lunch, and work on a few other projects around the office. I help load our Caravan full of sewing machines, mattresses, bicycles, and generators, for their next stop. And I also help unload AIM Air's Caravan, before the MAF-Uganda flight arrives. My last two passengers have taken this flight from Entebbe, where they came from somewhere in Europe.

One wants to go to Epulu, the other to Mambasa, so I get to fly the same route all over again, just in the afternoon! The weather is still wonderful, and my passengers both really enjoy flying, what a day! So, it's off to Epulu and Mambasa for the second time today. Luckily, things are uneventful, and I make it back to Bunia with 15 minutes to spare. What a day!

How to Take A Hit

2011-04-10T06:36:00.000-07:00

11 years of playing hockey will teach you that. Let me back up a little bit....

Sundays after church have become a hobby/work on projects/fix the house kind of days. I don't really like to, I never have. But I've learned that right now, if I want anything to get done around here, it's got to be on Sunday afternoons. So today I decided to work on fixing up the guest bedrooms for our moms coming out in a few weeks. We are really excited they are coming, but there's so much left to do, it almost feels overwhelming. After working inside for a while, I decide to continue the house screening project. Unfortunately I can't do much of anything without making it amazing and perfect (at least in my eyes). So I've spent the afternoon cutting, sanding, and staining the wood for all the screens and shelves in the house. I have a little "work shop " out back so I'm constantly going in and out and running around the house, measuring the window sills, running back, cutting, and then going back to verify. And of course, it's an absolute mess right now...but I know exactly where everything is. Guess I take after my dad!

Well, I guess one time I was "running" out the door, I misjudged and rammed my forehead smack into a metal elbow. Again, the involuntary reactions take over and immediately my hand goes up to the cut and presses hard against my forehead as I fall to the ground. I'm sure, at the same time, I'm pushing all kinds of saw dust, paint thinner, and mahogany varnish into the wound, but like I said, 11 years of playing hockey will do that to you. You realize real quick that whenever you get hit in the head, especially the forehead, there's always a lot of blood.

Now, on the ground for a minute or two, I regain my bearings, pick up the wood and my measuring tape, and continue working, all the while putting as much pressure on the cut as I can, but it hurts, bad. I'm actually a little impressed, nothing is dripping down my arm, and I don't even think anything is on my hand. I figure I should go inside and check the damage. Oh good, only a 1/4" cut with minor swelling and just a little bleeding. Can't see any bone, no stitches needed. Nothing a little windex can't heal, right Adam? Next time I'm in a hurry, I guess I should wear my flight helmet.

Rain and Other Challenges

2011-04-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

I roll over and look at my alarm clock. It's still dark and a steady rain falls on the tin roof--4:25am. I hear the Muslim call to prayer through the din of the rain and fall asleep again. My alarm goes off at 6am. It's still raining, and darker than usual. As I go through my morning routine, the rain continues on, and as I eat my breakfast I pull out the computer to check the satellite and radar overlayed on google earth. Doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon, but I head out to the airport anyway. The rain gets harder as I pull up to the office at the airport. I can't see any of the hills surrounding Bunia and guesstimate less than 2 miles visibility. Nothing to do but wait. 30 minutes later the rain is still steady, but I can start to make out the hills to the South and East. I want to go West, but I figure I will get the airplane ready and just maybe I could make it around the storm--but which way to go?

It seems to be moving straight towards my destination of Mambasa, 30 minutes away. I can't wait too long because I want to get there and get out before the weather closes in, but I want to wait long enough for the visibility to improve a little. I end up waiting for an hour, but things are improving, and if I wait any longer, I won't be able to land in Mambasa. Time to go!

My passenger is from Holland, so naturally I have to tell him all about my gorgeous wife and how she's 100% Dutch, and how she grew up on a dairy in Chino, California. We play a little dutch bingo and I ask him if he knows of the game sjoelbak, kind of a dutch version of shuffleboard. I tell him that I am planning on making my own board and playing with friends and family. He gets a big kick out of that.

It's still raining, but just like a car can drive through rain, an airplane can fly through it. I take off to the east and as I bank the airplane to the right, I look out the window and spot our house, where just a few seconds ago, Joy was probably sleeping soundly--not anymore!

The weather still looks better further south, so I steer a little south of course, picking my way around the heavier showers and keeping an eye on the clouds. The further west I go, the worse it seems to get, and I turn around several times to keep from going "IMC" (in the clouds where mountains could be hiding). It feels claustrophobic with the rain and the clouds all around me. This weather reminds me a lot of the weather I dealt with in Portland ALL the time. Sometimes I made it to my destination, sometimes I diverted to another airport or turned back for home, but I ALWAYS left myself a way out of danger.

I'm still relatively new to the area and I don't want to push the boundaries too far, but eventually I find a bit of relief from the rain and spot the bright red clay of the road that cuts through the jungle to Mambasa. I fly parallel to it, keeping it just outside my left hand window. If I can see that and follow it, it will take me right into Mambasa. I fly through a heavier shower, keeping the road in my sights and suddenly I break out of the rain into the best visibility I've ever seen. The air was crystal clear, but my mouth literally drops open at what lies before me.

I'm staring face to face with the ugliest looking gust front I've ever seen. There's no way I would ever think about trying to fly through that. I'd end up like the thousands of other unlucky pilots who's airplanes literally came out the bottom of the cloud in pieces. Not a comforting thought! It's incredibly smooth where I am at 6,500 feet, but I need to descend a few thousand feet in order to see what's on the other side. So I slow the plane down a little and circle, evaluating everything I possibly can.

There's no wind or turbulence, great visibility, I can go back the way I came if I need to, but wait. There are a few little puffy clouds just above the canopy, and boy are they hauling west bound! I turn around and motion to my passenger to put his camera down (apparently it's the most incredible thing he's ever seen too) and snug up his seatbelt; it could get a little bumpy.

Approaching the base of the front, I can see, of all things, blue sky and abundant sunshine. I can't really tell you exactly what goes on in a pilot's mind when he sees that. If you just flew through half an hour of rain, clouds, and terrible visibility, and saw the most beautiful weather 5 miles ahead of you, you'd want to go for it. I like to call them suckers. They sometimes give you a false sense of security and can severely cloud your judgment.

I decide then and there that if things don't go exactly like I want them to, I'm turning around and flying straight back to Bunia, even if that means another half an hour through really crummy weather.

I fully expect moderate turbulence at the least when I descend down into the surface winds that are still really blowing. But with one ripple and a few seconds of acceleration, I'm through the layer. I still need to circle and descend lower to clear the clouds, but now it's incredibly difficult. I glance and the GPS as I turn facing east and my groundspeed reads 40 knots! Wow, that means the wind is blowing almost 60 knots to the west. And as I bring the airplane around and start heading west again, I quickly accelerate to 160 knots. My senses are heightened and I am alert as I ever have been. There's enough room between rain showers for me to approach the front at a 45 degree angle, much like we do when we cross ridges. This allows me to turn away quickly if things get ugly or I don't like what I see on the other side.

So far so good, not even a ripple of turbulence, things still look good on the other side, and all of a sudden, my ground speed drops away and I break out in front of the storm, 15 miles from Mambasa. I breathe a sigh of relief to be done with that...for now.

The problem now is getting in and out of Mambasa before this thing hits. The prospects of another overnight aren't too appealing right now. But again, I make a decision ahead of time while I'm still thinking clearly about it. I decide that if there's any wind at all when I'm about to takeoff, I will sit on the ground and wait it out. Better to stay on the ground and wait it out, than never fly again.

Things in Mambasa look wonderful as I fly over and make my approach. On final I check my ground speed compared to my airspeed indicator--they agree. I'm aiming for a spot on the airstrip 200 meters from the end where it slopes up for 100 meters and then levels off again. If I haven't landed and started braking on this hill I will go around and give it another try.

I'm still getting used to this airplane; it feels quite a bit different at slow airspeeds. I keep a little extra speed in to help me meet the slope I'll be landing on and plunk down right where I want to. I glance at the wheel out the window and check if it's wet, but it actually looks pretty nice. I shut down and turn around, trying to read my passenger and how he's feeling. He turns to me with a big smile on his face and says, "I haven't had that much fun in years! So when do we get to do that again?!?" I love these dutch folks!

Problems and Solutions

2011-03-31T00:44:00.000-07:00

I turn on my laptop and up comes a screen that says something along the lines of, "I think you have a big problem--one of my very important internal parts is having issues and I need to run some checks to verify and solve whatever is going on." So I hit enter and the computer does it's thing and then starts up as normal. I thought the problem had gone away, but after dinner, Joy comes out to the storage shed where I'm slaving away making her beautiful kitchen shelves. She has to yell to get my attention...I'm in the "zone" with my Bose headphones.

She says, "Chris, something is wrong with the computer, it's saying I need to backup everything, get a new hard drive, and restore the computer." Great. This is my work computer, the one I write our newsletters on, manage our entire fuel inventory, write blogs, do all the paperwork from flying, keep track of duty times, store my logbook, everything.

When something goes wrong, you want to call a professional, someone who has experience and knows what they're doing. When you're out in the jungle and need to get to a hospital, you don't call Echo Flight, you call MAF. For plumbing and electrical problems, you call my dad. For car problems, you call Caleb. For family problems, I'd call my brother. And for computer problems, I call Owen.

I met Owen in Dungu, after he was there for a week installing V-SAT internet systems for NGO's in the area. He flew back to Bunia in the 206 with me. He was here as part of an orientation process, to see how our program works, to experience life in Bunia, and to meet the team. He has years of experience in the military and knows what he's doing when it comes to computers.

So he promptly responds on Skype and goes straight to work. Then all of a sudden, things start happening on my computer screen. Owen is actually controlling our computer here in Bunia, all the way from his couch in Iowa! I watch the mouse move across the screen as he checks this and that, runs anti-virus software, changes settings, and verifies the problems I'm experiencing. After an hour, the problem is found and he tells me what I need to do.

Owen, in his element

He gives me further instructions and advice before getting back to his day. He is a busy guy. His family is currently in the process of finding a team of ministry partners to stand with them through prayer and financial support as they look forward to living and working here as our IT specialist family. And I don't have to tell you that we desperately need them here. Our IT ministry has skyrocketed in the last few years and it is impossible to keep up with all the needs and requests we are constantly receiving. It's a great ministry, not only to the Congolese and local churches, but also to many of the humanitarian organizations and NGO's currently serving here as well.

So, if you see a guy named Owen with a big MAF display hanging around your church, please oblige--it would make my life a whole lot easier!

The Evening in Kama

2011-03-29T11:10:00.000-07:00

After completing my postflight checks and securing the airplane, I find some folks who know where I'm staying and have them take me over to the house. With my hands full of bags and water bottles, I follow two guys down a dirt path that is actually quite nice. It's lined with shrubs and palm trees...then a ball flies straight past my head, missing me by inches. I turn in the direction it came from and maybe 20 kids are staring wide-eyed as I set my stuff down and run to get the soccer ball. I kick it back to them, and all they do is laugh at me, so I grab my stuff again and head to my room. The sun is going down, but there's no relief from the humidity and I'm guzzling water like there's no tomorrow. I just get settled when a young man comes in and hands me a huge plate of rice, beef, and sombe, and another plate full of peanuts. We chat as I eat dinner and I learn that he has three children and has never left Kama. He helps out with the Brethren mission.

After dinner, I decide it's time to show these kids that a mzungu can play "football." As I walk over, I watch a young kid, maybe 7 or 8, playing goalie. His agility amazes me. He leaps into the air, catching balls and somehow always manages to land on his feet. I walk up and start playing, but all they want to do is kick the ball at me as hard as they can and hang all over me. Oh well, at least I got some exercise and they got a few good laughs.

As the sun begins to set, I think it's probably a good idea to throw on a little bug repellent. Can't be too stingy with that stuff though, so I practically bathe in it. By the time I'm done, I can't even see my hand in front of my face, so I grab my flashlight, head out to the living room and join in some conversation with a few other men. There is no electricity, just a flashlight of sorts to cut through the darkness. We talk about politics and religion for a few hours before everyone retires to their own houses. It's still only 8:30pm, so I step out the front door for a bit of fresh air and the view literally takes my breath away. I have seen lots of stars before, but never like this. Now I know what the Lord meant when he told Abraham his descendants would number more than the stars in the sky.

The airstrip at Kama

I feel privileged to be a part of such a spectacular view. Shooting stars streak across the sky; there are so many it overwhelms me. All I can do is stare into the sky and try to take it all in. It's as if God is saying to me, "Just be quiet and rest; think about the vastness and beauty of what is before you." So that's what I do. For a moment, I forget all about electricity and water problems, no air conditioning, the fact that I live in the middle of Africa 10,000 miles away from my family, the intolerable humidity, and that I just had a really long day. I forget everything. I enjoy the scenery, that's all.

Then it's more talking about how Congo used to be under Belgian rule, and how it is now. We make our way inside after the bugs become unbearable, and it's off to bed. I'm greeted by an old friend, but I've lived in Africa for more than 6 months now...I just grab my boot and squash him (more than 1 year and I will invite him to share the covers). My mosquito net looks like a bunch of fishing line loosely woven together--it will keep the bats out, but not much else. I briefly think about putting more bug spray on as I pull the sheet up to my chin, then it's morning.

Overnight Kama Day 1

2011-03-29T10:03:00.000-07:00

One of Goma's volcanoes seen from 12,500 feet

Today I'm taking off for Bukavu...no passengers, just me, a 55 gallon drum of avgas, 6 empty jerry cans, and my overnight bag. The weather looks wonderful, the plane is loaded, and my flight plan is filed, so I'm off. I request runway 10 just so I can make sure Joy and Kaitlyn are up as I roar over the house at 500 feet. Then it's a right turn heading south, and a 30 minute climb to 12,500 feet. I'm not allowed to go any higher without supplemental oxygen, but on long legs, climbing high has its advantages. It's smooth, clear, hopefully a stronger tailwind, higher ground speed, lower engine temps...etc. If the weather holds out, I might even be able to take a peek into the cone of a volcano!

Once I reach 12,500 feet, I level off, and accelerate, but unfortunately, no tailwind. Oh well, at least I can save a jerry can of fuel along the way. I'm also treated to another wonderful view of the Rwenzoris. I wait until the plane is settled, then I pull out my breakfast and munch on an apple 2 miles high. Not a bad way to start the day, especially when you have a view like that!

An hour and a half later and I'm nearing Goma, and the volcanoes. I spot the one I'd like to take a peek in, and it looks possible, but as I get closer, it starts belching out grayish clouds and smoke, so I decide against it...I know the plane needs a paint job, but no sense in making it any worse. Another 30 minutes and I'm landing in Bukavu, with a full load of cargo waiting for me on the tarmac.

I'm thinking ahead to my next stop already, as the MAF staff begin unloading. I go right to work siphoning fuel out of the wing tips, and managing the loading of all the cargo. Looks like this time I have many boxes of Bibles, supplies, and food for the Kama mission station. I pay my taxes, double check the loading and the fuel, and then I'm off to Kama--1 hour southwest into the jungle.

The weather is holding out...for now, and after flying 2 hours straight, this leg goes quickly. I reach the airstrip and circle overhead, impressed with what I see. Last time I was in here I got the airplane all muddy...and I mean all of it. The grass was overgrown and the gravel was just wide enough for my tires. Once on the ground, I express my appreciation for their hard work (it's not easy cutting 6 foot tall grass with a machete for 700 meters!) I take a few minutes to chat with the folks, and then it's back to loading more suitcases and rearranging the cabin to fit four passengers. One thing is for sure, it is hot, and it is oppressively humid. Yet, men are wearing jackets, long sleeves, pants. I feel like the 20 minutes on the ground here has already scorched my skin; the sun is brutal.

On the way back to Bukavu, I climb to 7,500 feet, just high enough to fly through the pass safely, but low enough to avoid the strong westerly winds. I'm still 5,000 feet above the ground, but the visibility is excellent. I study the ground--rivers, hills, trees, towns, old airstrips. I see 3-tiered waterfalls, trees blooming white flowers, rocky outcrops, and coffee colored rivers. Closer to Bukavu, the ground rises to 7,000 feet and I need to pay more attention to not hitting things. Bukavu sits adjacent to Lake Kivu, surrounded by towering mountains and steaming volcanoes. When the weather is nice, it belongs on a postcard, but when it's not, it's quite a workout.

Lucky for me, it's been gorgeous all day. I have 2 passengers and more cargo waiting for me on the ground, and after fueling and loading again, I get my passengers settled. I make sure my Congolese passenger knows how to use the doors, the sic sac, the seat belt, and the fresh air. She just smiles at me, mumbling something in a language other than French, so I greet her in Swahili, smile, and enlist one of the MAF workers to brief her. My other passenger has probably flown with MAF longer than I have, so I give her a headset and remind her of the important things.

Lenticular clouds...a warning sign of turbulence--think of rapids in a river. These clouds can be formed hundreds of miles away from the mountain range that produced them

See the grayish smoke coming out of the volcano?

Back to Kama we go! A few thunderstorms are popping up now, but nothing I can't easily fly around. I look for the cool waterfall I found last time, but to no avail. It's even hotter in Kama now, so I work quickly, unloading the supplies and one passenger, and picking up four more for Kipaka...even further into the jungle. It's only 25 minutes but unfortunately, there's no relief from the humidity. I fly overhead Kipaka, evaluating the airstrip and circle around for landing. I smile as I touch down 50 meters from the end and squeeze on the brakes all the way to the end. I'm greeted with not one, but two glasses full of freshly squeezed lemonade. Ah, the life of a missionary pilot! I have one passenger back to Kama, where I'll be spending the night, and it's starting to get dark. By the time I make it back, shadows are already covering the landing area; it's a little difficult to see, but the landing is nice--I'm glad this day's over, I'm tired!

Fun

2011-03-26T06:41:00.000-07:00

The plane was loaded the night before, I have no passengers to my first destination. Today is going to be a fun day. I get to go to airstrips out in the jungle called Nebobongo and Epulu; I'm like a little kid who can't wait to play with his brand new toys the day after Christmas. After doing my preflight and double-checking the cargo, I'm off to Isiro with 460 pounds of medicine for the hospital in Nebobongo. Although Bunia's airport is clear, as soon as I takeoff I notice most of the surrounding area, including the entire jungle ahead of me, is covered in a thick blanket of white. Somehow the weather folks never seem to mention this sort of thing when I ask them how things are looking. So usually, I have to make my own determinations and decisions and whether or not I should continue the flight. As I climb out over the hills surrounding Bunia and enter the jungle proper, I start to notice patches of green broccoli amid a sea of white. I check our operations manual to remind myself what it says about flying in conditions like this, and elect to continue. I know I can safely make it to one of these "holes" and land if I had any problems.

As I continue my climb to 10,500 feet, I realize there is more than one layer of clouds beneath me. There is the puffy white blanket a few hundred feet above the jungle canopy, and another layer a few thousand feet above that, which looks a lot like someone took a big paintbrush and stroked these wispy clouds right up in the air. I level off at 10,500 feet, but soon find myself descending with a lowering overcast above me. At 8,500 feet and much deeper into the jungle, I come across yet another layer of very thin clouds. So, I descend a few hundred feet and skim the bases.

I'm pleasantly surprised with the wonderful visibility in between layers, even with some light rain showers. I'm now flying over a scattered-overcast fog layer and a scattered layer. While at the same time flying underneath a broken layer and a solid overcast with growing thunderstorms. It kind of reminds me of my flying days in the Pacific Northwest, minus the huge mountains and deadly icing (ice cubes don't fly very well).

Making my descent into Isiro requires dodging many clouds and finding holes in between layers, kinda fun actually! In Isiro, I pick up two passengers with a Christian organization called MedAir, a few of their things, and takeoff for a 10 minute hop over to Nebobongo. I stay beneath all the clouds and snake my way along 500-1000 feet above the trees, just in case I get there and can't find any holes in the clouds. Circling overhead, I evaluate the airstrip and notice they've finally cut the grass down on the last 200 meters (that's 10 foot tall grass, mind you).

After landing, I begin to unload the 450 pounds of medicines when the Doctor shows up. "What's all this?" he asks. "I didn't want this yet, this was the last priority, I really needed the medicines, not all the bottles and solutions, oh no!" But, as I continue unloading box after box, he starts to realize and exclaims, "Oh my goodness, thank the Lord, you brought EVERYTHING!" "How is this possible?!? I just ordered all these things two days ago and now they are here! Oh my goodness, it's like Christmas!"

It's almost an hour to Epulu, my next stop, so after all the medicines are unloaded, my passengers and I hop back in, takeoff, and turn southeast. I decide to climb above the thick layer of clouds, but as soon as I do, it's just white for as far as I can see. One of my instructors from Moody, who also happens to be a MAF pilot and flew in these parts of Congo, always used to tell me, "Chris, flying is a whole lot more than just manipulating controls and watching engine gauges. You should always be evaluating your surroundings, the wind, the weather, yourself, the airplane, etc." It's so true, and I have never forgotten that. And suffice it to say that some of my observations have most certainly saved my bacon on a few occasions. It is those sorts of things...something just doesn't feel right about this takeoff...strange that the wind would be coming from this direction...I'm tired, the weather is terrible, and my passengers are being pushy...it's only 5 extra kilos....

So many times I thank the Lord (and everyone who made it possible) for the exceptional training that I received. It has undoubtedly served me well.

So, as I climb up above the layer of clouds, I automatically make a mental note of where the bases are...1000 feet above the ground, and I also make a note of where the tops are...about 1000 feet above that. So the layer is 1000 feet thick and leaves me enough room underneath as an option in case I need it. I end up flying from hole to hole, kind of like connect the dots, again evaluating the conditions underneath the clouds at every hole. About 15 miles out of Epulu, I find a nice big hole on the back side of a ridge. The visibility is good underneath, I can safely descend through the hole and have enough room to maneuver around and climb back up if I need to...Let's do it!

I set the airplane up in what we call 80/20 configuration for the third time since I've been here...80 knots, 20 degrees of flaps, and all the engine controls setup for full power if I need it. This provides me many advantages: much better visibility over the nose of the airplane, a slow airspeed that I can turn on a dime, and a climb power setting already dialed in. The checklist is complete, it's time to go for it. As I set up for a 500 foot per minute descent, I glance at my passengers...one's completely asleep, the other is deep into a good book. The "hole" I'm aiming for is a long, straight stretch on the back side of a ridge, so I make an approach, much like I would if I were landing. I make notes of wind direction, headings, and altitudes. Turning final, I notice that I'm quite high, but no problem, I just pull the power back a little bit and slow to 70 knots, check on my passengers, and remind myself that my escape route is full power, straight ahead just in case I need it.

Reaching the tops of the clouds, I can finally start to see underneath again, and it looks wonderful, no rain, no ground fog, and tons of visibility. Keeping an eye on the ridge to my right, I make a tight 360 to lose more altitude...this is fun! Oh wait, I have passengers...yep, one's still sleeping, and the other has taken to snapping a picture every 3 seconds. The last 10 minutes of the flight is humid, hot, and bumpy, but my passengers don't seem to mind. They've been very excited to get a chance at seeing some of the indigenous pygmy folks that usually show up at the airstrip.

See the puffy clouds and the wispy ones?

Epulu is quite long, but a little tricky with the landing. It has undulations in the landing area and can be quite hard on the airplane if you don't do it right. I make a soft field landing, keeping the nose wheel off the ground as we bounce down the runway. I have one passenger here with quite possibly the biggest suitcase I've ever seen. And unfortunately for me, it weighs a lot too! I heave it into the airplane, and at the same time wonder what my back is going to be like in 10 years, and then it's off for home.

By now, the sun has burned away most of the cloud layers, and I can see blue sky all around. Amazing what 30 minutes can do! Some smoke on the ground clues me in to a pretty strong easterly wind, so I stay low and take advantage of this rare opportunity. Some of those puffy white little clouds have now turned into towering thunderstorms, but it's fun picking my way around them. It seems all the trees in the forest are blooming too; white flowers are everywhere, what a beautiful site. It kind of reminds me of the fall colors back home. Better yet, I land in Bunia before lunch time! What a day!

Certified

2011-03-20T08:16:00.000-07:00

When living in a "developing" country, many extraordinary things become quite ordinary in a very short period of time. One becomes quite adept at accomplishing certain tasks that, in the U.S., are better left to the professionals. For example:

I have recently acquired my Congolese electrician's license. Only requirement...at least 100 strong, to quite electrocutions, with a minimum of one welded tool.

I am also now a certified Master Plumber--meeting the needed "25 hours with your head in a tiny hole emitting an indescribable smell."

A few weeks ago, I got my car maintenance license by passing the "find the clanking problem caused by deplorable roads and fix it with whatever is currently in your backyard" test.

I am a certified Carpenter, after cutting, planing, sanding, and constructing a table with shelves, using a handsaw and a hammer.

I am a licensed Exterminator, 5 dead rats, countless cockroaches, and one major ant invasion later...all I need is a spear and a full can of DOOM.

With one V-SAT installation, 10 hours of internet troubleshooting, and 3 rooftop jobs under my belt, I have a solid foundation in the IT world.

50 hours spent arguing over taxes, fines, and fees has earned me the "French Debate Team" merit badge.

Ordinarily, these jobs would be accomplished by professionals, who know what they're doing and are experts in their particular field. But, living in a "developing" country, these tasks fall on our shoulders, and are completed in a manner suitable to functionality and available resources. Nevermind, the house is one big electrical fire waiting to happen, all the faucets leak, and I sometimes give in to unfair and dishonest "taxes."

This is not to say that I know everything, and can tackle any job that comes my way. That is, in no means, the case. On the contrary, "...the life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me." I have merely learned that one of the keys to "survival" here is being flexible. How does that go? "Blessed are the flexible, for they shall never be bent out of shape." Something like that. Also, be patient, ask for help, and be willing to give anything a shot, are a few other good things to learn. Of course, staying "in tune" with your Maker is the reason we are here in the first place, the reason we stay, and the reason for our every breath. He is not merely at the top of my priority list or the first thing I cross off my "to do" list every morning.

When we first arrived in Bunia, part of our orientation involved talking with long term missionaries about longevity. Honestly, I don't remember much about our conversation, but I hope it has something to do with flexibility, patience, and living a life worthy of our calling.

Too Much Or Not Enough?

2011-03-17T11:12:00.000-07:00

I am sooo frustrated, the electricity hasn't worked here since we moved in 3 months ago. I have asked and asked for someone from the local electric company to come out and fix it, but to no avail. We get usable electricity once every two weeks or so, for a couple hours, and then it's gone again. Worse than that, it is somehow draining our battery system as well. After frying two batteries already, I'm much more careful with the four I just bought to replace them -- these things are EXPENSIVE! I eventually get so frustrated with the situation that I end up turning off the circuit breakers for city power all together. Unfortunately, that still doesn't seem to solve the problem with my batteries.

That means I have to run my generator twice a day to keep a good charge on the batteries, and that's getting really expensive (gas is $6/gallon here, that equates to about $15/day). And, to make things worse, the generator we just bought blows smoke everywhere, and that's about it. So now we don't have any electricity at all. I dive straight into the diesel engine, even though I know next to nothing about them. But hey, I'm willing to give anything a try once. So the tools come out and 5 minutes later I have diesel fuel, oil, and dirt all over me. I tinker, clean, and get to know the engine a little bit before putting it back together. When everything's back where it belongs, I give the chord a pull, figuring I've got nothing else to lose. And what do you know, it works. Score one for me.

Even though we have a generator again, I lay awake at night, trying to wrap my head around these really confusing electrical problems. As a perfectionist, this is just not acceptable, and it's only a matter of time before I'm back outside, staring at the power pole, debating whether I want to risk my life in exchange for a little electricity. I decide that I'd like to be around for my family a while longer, and get the idea to just disconnect all the wires at the box where they come in from the pole, that way at least my batteries won't drain faster.

Safe person that I am, I check to make sure there's no voltage between the wires first. I use my electrical meter to verify between AC neutral and all three "hot" phase wires, and as usual there's nothing. So I start to undo the wires one at a time, no sparks, no shocks, no melting wires. Great! This is turning out to be a good day. I pull out my trusty multi-tool and grab the first wire, wrap it in electrical tape, and continue on to the other wires. I get to the second phase, squeeze my pliers against the cable, and that's when my involuntary reactions take over. You know, the ones that pull your hand away from a hot object, make you blink, or keep you breathing without thinking about it.

After sitting up and realizing what happened, I quickly take inventory...phew, 10 fingers ok! I decide to take a little stroll and "walk it off." I come back after putting my hair back down and the throbbing in my ears subsides. So, I take my trusty multimeter and measure between the wire that nailed me and all the other wires. Between that one and AC neutral I read nothing, just like before. That makes no sense to me. So I check between phase 1 and phase 2...285 volts!! Ouch! So how does that work?!? Oh well.

So I hook up my neutral and hot wires to these two wires, flip all the switches one by one, making sure I don't melt anything along the way. There's power at the main box coming in from the pole, that's good. I flip the circuit breakers ON to send the power to my main switch inside, and yep, I've got power here, so far so good. I flip the main switch to city power, sending it through all the circuit breakers, stabilizer, and inverter, and everything comes to life. The stabilizer actually has to lower the voltage to a usable 230 volts and the inverter accepts it right away, taking part of it to charge up our batteries, and the rest to run everything in the house.

That was 4 days ago; we've had city power almost nonstop ever since. Sometimes it's so strong (280-300 volts) we can't even use it, which I suppose is just as bad as not having any at all. But those times are relatively rare. We haven't had to run our generator once since then; what a huge blessing just to take a hot shower! I just wish I didn't have to get nailed or weld my pliers together to figure it out, but hey, that's life!

Why Is It So Quiet?

2011-03-16T10:25:00.000-07:00

So, it's been one of those evenings with a 1 and a half year old, who thinks she needs to be a 2 year old. She wants to eat dinner with a fork and do it all by herself, but can't resist the temptation to repeatedly throw the fork on the floor. So the fork conveniently gets lost, but now she's "not hungry" and doesn't want to eat at all. She just wants water, milk, and juice.

It's a hour after dinner and she tells me that she's hungry when a big flying bug comes in through the window and starts flying around the floor. Kaitlyn is deathly afraid of this thing at first and won't stop screaming. But, soon she warms up a little and inches closer and closer, making sure it's always on her terms and not the bug's. I tell her it's called a bug, so she follows this thing around the room, saying, "Bug, bug, bug, bug." Next thing I know is it's real quiet and Kaitlyn is sitting on the ground with her back to me. Any parent knows that when things are quiet, the kids are up to something.

So I ask Kaitlyn, "What are you doing?" She doesn't say anything, just tilts her head a little; I know she can hear me, she's just choosing to ignore the question. So I shrug it off and continue working on my newsletter. A few minutes later Kaitlyn comes up to me and wants to show me something. Still working hard, I half acknowledge her until I realize it's one of this bug's four wings. I then pay a little more attention and notice there's another wing sticking out of her mouth. I tell her to open, but it's just the wing, so I ask her, "Kaitlyn, where's the bug?" Her gesture says it all, she points to her belly button and tops it off with a smile and a "yum!!!"

Spring Time

2011-03-12T01:52:00.000-08:00

Now all we need is a blanket and a good movie!

Not quite yet here in Congo. It's been one of those "Coffee/tea, popcorn and a movie type mornings." And as you can see, we've donned the sweatshirts and wool socks, even though it's 76 degrees outside. That's plenty cold when you're used to abundant sunshine and 90 degrees all day every day. March brings the rainy season, something I think we're very thankful for, as all of us are more or less dependent on rain water...to drink, cook, shower, clean...you get the idea.

Wrong, just wrong!

Speaking of water, it doesn't go down the kitchen sink very well; I've been working on it ever since we moved here. I could get it to drain well for a few weeks, then it would clog up again, and I would have to unclog it and it would be fine for another couple weeks. I hate doing this, because the end of the pipe is a foot down into the ground, so I have to stick my head down there as I shove the drain snake in, and it smells like...hmmm, I don't have words to describe it. Suffice it to say I hold my breath until I start to black out, then I run away and breathe for a few minutes before coming back. I just can't get over the smell. And to make it worse, the dog loves whatever comes out of the drain, so she's always jumping on my head and trying to rip the snake out of my hands like the world's greatest pull toy. Well, this time (after the entire kitchen faucet broke off in my hand) I couldn't believe what came out. After I took the photo, I went to set the camera down, and grab my other glove to properly dispose of this thing, but the dog had already taken care of that job. I almost lost my lunch just thinking about it. By the way, the dog is still alive today, so I guess it was edible.

Not Again!

2011-03-06T07:38:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately for the rat, yes. It all started yesterday evening after dinner. I hear a rustling in the kitchen, so I quickly grab my "torch," (the English word for a flashlight), climb up on the counter, and peer behind the china cabinet. That's the usual place they hide, and sure enough, the one I speared last time must have left an unlucky cousin behind. This one, unlike most others I've exterminated, is quite a bit smaller and a little skiddish. Usually, they are fat and easy to catch once you trap them in a corner. This time, the rat is smaller, and seems to jump at every little noise, scurrying around in response to my every movement.

After 10 minutes of unsuccessfully cornering him, I gave up. I couldn't hear him anymore, and figured he had escaped back outside. I heard him again around 9:30pm clanking around in the kitchen and decided to give it another go with Joy. Usually we make a pretty good team, but tonight things just aren't clicking, so we head to bed, but not before re-baiting the trap with some peanut butter.

At 11:30pm, I awake to very loud chewing on wood, and rip the covers off, ready to throw the dog over the wall, but as I make my way out to the living room, I realize the sound is coming from inside the house. I stop; I listen, but nothing. I climb up on the counter and check behind the cabinet again--still nothing. I'm so disgusted, I don't feel good, and I just want to get a good night's sleep. Frustrated, I trudge back to bed, praying along the way for the swift death of all rats worldwide.

I have a hard time falling back asleep, and after what seems like minutes, I wake with a start and grab my flashlight, heart pounding in my throat. Someone's breaking into my house. Sliding out of bed, I search the bedroom for some kind of weapon to defend myself. But, after the sleepy fog lifts, I notice the sound seems to be coming from the kitchen again. I switch gears, grab my spear and head to the kitchen again. But the sound isn't coming from the usual places. Where could it be?

Tip toeing into the living room, I try my best to locate where this clanking and chewing noise is coming from. Then, I hear him. He's in the office room. I've done this a few times before, and I quickly gather a few things to barricade the door so he can't escape. I shove a few books underneath the door, open it with a start, and slam it shut. It's just me and the rat now.

I look behind the bookshelves, listen, and shine my flashlight in all the dark corners, but can't find anything. So, as with fishing, I wait patiently, but I don't have to wait long. I hear scratching and scurrying coming from behind the big bookshelf, and suddenly I'm staring face to face with my arch enemy. I just stare right back and mutter, "Prepare to meet your Maker!"

With that, he literally jumps off the top of the bookshelf straight at my head. I scream like a little girl, but quickly regain my composure, hoping Joy didn't hear me. What time is it anyway?!? Tracing him across the room, I trap him in the corner and take a quick shot, but miss. The little coward runs straight into my desk. I rip the drawers out from bottom to top, and as I do, I realize where all the chewing sounds have been coming from. This little turd has eaten a hole in every single one of my drawers, pooping all over my MAF stationery, and everything stinks like rat pee. Now it's on!

Stabbing blindly into the desk, I flush him out and chase him across the room, taking shots all along the way. He hides, like the coward he is, behind the bookshelf next to the desk, so I hop up on top of the desk, plastering my head against the wall...DEATH from above! I take my time with this shot and stab hard; he squeals and runs across the middle of the floor, leaving me with a tuft of hair--missed again! I react quickly, leaping from the desk, spear in both hands, like some kind of gladiator. I hit the floor hard, but the rat proves too fast once again, running full steam into the other corner again. Only this time, I see the CAT-5 cable for our internet moving back and forth. It runs up to the ceiling, going through a small hole up to the antenna on the roof.

I stare in utter disbelief, mouth gaping, as the rat makes a break for the attic, climbing all the way up the cable to the hole. I notice he is bleeding a little bit, must have nicked him that other time. He tries his best to squeeze through, but can't quite make it. And, not wanting to chop my cable in half, I flip the spear over and use the butt end like a baseball bat, swinging hard and shooting him right off the cable and slamming into the wall with a thud and a squeak.

After chasing him around the room several more times, I can tell now that he's getting tired. But I am too. I can't quite see straight, but I trap him in the corner again, take my time, and slam the spear right in his side. It doesn't take long, and I carry him outside triumphantly, skewered on my trusty spear like a rat-kabab. I delight in launching him as far down the street as I can, clean up the mess, and trudge to bed for the second time tonight. I crawl under the covers and hit the light on my alarm clock...4:11am!! Oh man, I have 21 minutes before the Muslim call to prayer, but at least my house is rat free for the rest of the night. I wonder what my neighbors think of me?

Life of Joy

2011-03-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

Living a Life of Joy is an every day conscious choice. It's much easier to do so when things are going well, your day goes as you planned it, and everything works like it should. Try having the same joy without electricity, water, or even the internet. I invite you to follow along as Joy shares what her days are like here in Congo. Many of you get to read and see all the exciting things I am a part of, the struggles and frustrations, and the triumphs of being a missionary pilot. But that's only half the story. While I'm out "making a difference" and saving lives, Joy is here, keeping up the house, cooking, cleaning, raising Kaitlyn, going with the flow, etc. While I get to see many exciting and wildly different places all in one day, Joy is here, in hot, dusty Bunia all day, every day. While I deal with government officials, broken airplanes in the jungle, and sometimes pushy passengers, Joy puts up with unreliable/nonexistent electricity...I dare you to live one day without electricity. She deals with water problems, bug problems, house problems, generator problems, and people constantly coming to the gate asking for handouts. Yet, somehow she manages a smile when I walk in the front door after a long hard day. Even more than that, she has dinner ready, the batteries charged up, the laundry done. Unbelievable. That is where the "rubber meets the road." Again, I invite you to follow along with her side of the story, and don't forget to ask yourself, "What am I going to choose today?"

Serving

2011-03-05T03:01:00.000-08:00

There are many many people, missions, churches, hospitals, and humanitarian organizations we serve here in Congo. But, every now and then, I not only fly with MAF, I fly for them. This usually coincides with trips to Uganda for maintenance on the airplane. We just completed another inspection on our 206 and flew back to Congo Thursday afternoon. Here's the story:

It's Tuesday morning, and I'm looking forward to the next few days. It's bittersweet (at least right now) to be heading out to Uganda for maintenance again. I like it because it's a change of pace, something different from flying, and they speak English! I don't like it because I leave my family behind for several days at a time. And, invariably, something always goes wrong with the house, the electricity, the generator, the plumbing. It pains me enough to be away from my family, but when I'm not there to put my finger in the leak or hit the generator with a hammer, it makes things even worse.

Nonetheless, I'm excited to be heading out. Maintenance is something I've grown to love, there's always something new to learn, and it gives me a great chance to get more familiar with the airplane I fly around every day. I have a few stops to make before heading to Uganda, and it's early afternoon before I takeoff. Rodney (our most recent addition to the flight line/hangar floor...yes! I'm not the new guy anymore!) is coming along this time, so I have someone to talk to. Even though I'm not a flight instructor, teaching is also something I really enjoy. So I take this opportunity to familiarize Rodney with the route, the radios, some paperwork, and the airplane. It's late afternoon by the time we land and taxi up to the hangar, but we stay a little later than usual and get a jump start on the inspection, draining the engine oil and checking the compression on all six cylinders.

Wednesday is more of the same, and by the end of the day, we are finished with the inspection. All that's left is to put everything back together, do an engine run up and a flight test, and head for home. I run Rodney through the post-maintenance run up tests and the flight test and everything checks out fine. Now it's on to loading.

We'll be returning to Bunia with one 55 gallon drum of avgas, two propane gas bottles, two monstrous batteries, and a whole bunch of groceries. That's right, I said groceries. Here's how it works: the MAF wives in Bunia write an email shopping list to Pam, the maintenance specialist's wife, flight follower, hostess, and shopper extraordinaire. Pam goes shopping for the Bunia wives in Kampala, where things are much more readily available. And, by the time we are done with our maintenance, we load up the airplane with all the requests and fly it back to Bunia. Today we have a drum of avgas (for the airplane of course), the gas bottles fuel our stoves, the batteries power our houses when there is no electricity, and the groceries, well, who wouldn't smile after getting Cheerios and decent toilet paper from the "civilized" world. As we were flying back to Bunia, I was thinking of all the people we are an encouragement to, but I never stopped to think that sometimes, we are even an encouragement to each other.

Teaching & Learning

2011-02-25T10:35:00.000-08:00

We are teaching Kaitlyn how to color with crayons. She's teaching us how to eat them. Notice the hand she's using :)

Picture Perfect

2011-02-25T10:19:00.000-08:00

That's the way the day started, and that's the way the day ended. Flew in the morning, worked on the house in the afternoon, the good Lord decided to bless us with city power today, we got a package from a dear friend back home, and we are all three healthy!

Photo of the Day

2011-02-22T00:38:00.000-08:00

That's right, you can find Starbucks Coffee here in Bunia. It comes on the MAF-Uganda flight from Kampala, in a strangely familiar box, which came from Istanbul, Addis Ababa, or Amsterdam. Before that it came across the pond from somewhere like Washington D.C., New York, Atlanta. And before that...from the caring hands of folks we know and love all over the U.S.

Sometimes they are damaged from water or being dropped. Other times, they look brand new, but they all have stamps, tape, and stickers from various customs stations all over the world.

There are other things besides coffee too, of course. Our favorite candy, chocolate, spices and cooking sauces we can't find here, toys and clothes for Kaitlyn, movies, surprises, pictures, books.... You get the idea.

Fact is, it's like Christmas for us every time we receive a box. And it's not just Kaitlyn who goes crazy with delight and anticipation when we sit down to open them. It's a reminder of home, of family and friends; it's an encouragement.

Sometimes we have to open them by lantern or candlelight because there is no electricity. Sometimes we open them during a thunderstorm, and it's raining so hard on the tin roof, the sound muffles our yells of happiness. Other times, they arrive at just the right time, after a long hard day.

So, to all those who have taken the time (and continue to do so) to go shopping for us, to all those who've spent $55 for a very small box and crammed it unbelievably full of goodies, for all those of you who've thought of us in this way...THANK YOU!!!

Maybe someday we could send a box to each of you, with goodies and other fun things that you can only find in Bunia. Wouldn't that be fun!

That Went Well!

2011-02-17T09:25:00.000-08:00

For once, things worked in my favor today. I have to admit, I was a little skeptical about getting everything done on time and getting back to Bunia before 5pm. I gave it a try anyway.

I make my way to the airport at the usual time, go through all the checks, loading, and paperwork necessary before I can leave. And again, I manage to get a 5 minute head start and take off at 7:55am. My destination is Dungu; half the day will be flying for MSF (Doctors Without Borders), the other half will be other missions/NGO's and nationals. I have 2 passengers and 130 pounds of cargo for the MSF station in Dungu. I also have 7 jerry cans of fuel in the cargo pod that I will need to get back to Bunia. In order to maximize my payload from Nglima, I bring extra fuel in jerry cans and ferry people back and forth, adding a jerry can here and there throughout the day.

I land in Dungu, practicing my soft field landing technique in anticipation for the upcoming rainy season. I'm greeted by the staff as I unload the airplane. Now it's off to Nglima, the really rough, short airstrip with huge trees at the end. I am thinking ahead already to my next stop, figuring how much weight I can take from Nglima. I figure I can take 2 passengers and 100 kilos of freight, and still have enough payload left to pick up three more passengers in Niangara before heading back to Dungu to drop them all off. I land and tell them I can take two passengers and ask how much baggage they have. A man tells me only 96 kilos, so already I'm thinking, great! That's better than expected. So I load all of their belongings in the cargo pod and takeoff for a 20 minute hop over to Niangara for 3 passengers that work with Mercy Corps. The scheduler told me they said they didn't have any baggage, just a few small backpacks. In the back of my mind I'm thinking it's a good thing MSF didn't have as much baggage as I thought they would; people always have more bags than they think.

Sure enough, I land in Niangara. I find my 3 passengers who are all carrying a backpack, a laptop case, one is carrying a large duffel bag, and the other 2 are carrying small suitcases. Thankfully, again, most of the passengers are on the lighter side, so I decide to try it and see if it works. The 206 is a wonderful airplane and, for its size, can carry a lot of weight. The bigger problem is usually balancing everything just right. If there is too much weight in the back of the airplane, I could takeoff and not have enough elevator control to keep the nose from rising too high. Suffice it to say that the outcome wouldn't be pretty. Flying the 206 for over 4 years now has its advantages. After I load the airplane, I can take a few steps back and look at how far the tail is off the ground. When I notice it's really close, I use the "push the tail to the ground" method. I walk back to the tail and push it gently to the ground. If it comes back up by itself, everything is good, if not, there is too much weight too far back and I need to rearrange or leave stuff behind.

After literally shoving their baggage in the back of the airplane, I load up all the passengers, take a quick look at the tail...oh yeah...still 4 or 5 inches to go before it gets close. Time to go! Off to Dungu with 5 passengers and 220 pounds of cargo. It's mid morning now, and it's starting to get bumpy and hot, so I enjoy this last quick hop, not sweating and trying to drink lemonade out of my nalgene, instead of wearing it all over my handsome uniform.

After landing back in Dungu, adding two jerry cans of fuel, and hopping in, I'm almost ready to start the engine when I hear yelling. So I hop out again to see what's going on. "Chris, Chris, this is so urgent, can you take something to Nglima for us?" "Sure," I relpy. "The airplane is empty on this leg, what is it you need me to take?" "Oh, it's just a bicycle for one of the MSF staff members there." Not a big deal, but I do have to take two seats out and rearrange a few things to fit it in. Then it's off to Nglima for a second time today. I notice that the winds have shifted quite a bit, and actually favor landing towards the trees, but I still elect to land toward the town so I don't have to taxi all the way back to the other end of the airstrip. After landing and unloading the bike, I am approached by a doctor, asking if it's possible for me to take an extra passenger back to Dungu. I do a quick calculation and tell him it is possible, and up comes a mother with a young child. No worries though, I guestimate she and the baby together weigh less than any of my other passengers. She can't be more than 15 or so, and she doesn't speak English...strike 1. She doesn't speak French...strike 2. She doesn't speak what little Swahili I know either...strike 3. So I climb into the second row next to her, show her how the seatbelt works, how to hold her baby, and how the cargo door works. That's the best I can do.

We take off and the 10 minute flight goes quickly. It's hot now, and really bumpy. I give up drinking out of my water bottle; it's best to just wait until I'm on the ground. At Dungu, I unload, add the rest of the jerry cans I brought, and notice I'm a little ahead of schedule, so I take a little more time than usual and joke with the guys helping me fuel. One of them asks me how much a flight would be from Dungu to Bunia. Then he asks if he found people to fill the plane (as I'm usually empty going back to Bunia), we could split the profit 50/50, since the flight is already paid for by MSF. I laugh and tell him 70/30, because I do most of the work. Then he says he will accept if he can get free flights whenever he wants. So I tell him to become a pilot, that's the best way I know to get free flights.

After the fueling, I'm off to Doko, a mining town about 20 minutes southeast of Dungu. I am supposed to have 2 passengers here, but I need to be careful on my weight. Then next stop is into a short airstrip, and I will be heavy. But come to find out, there's only one passenger with a small suitcase...lucky me! After paying my $10 landing fee...and making sure my passenger doesn't pay any $10 fees, it's off for my last stop today. Todro is an interesting place. The airstrip is shorter than most around here, and it's not flat. There's a little bit of side slope in the landing area, then towards the middle it flattens out, and then towards the end it slopes the other way. It also slopes up 1degree, and is usually very windy and turbulent in the afternoon. This is only the second time I've been in here, but the folks are always nice, and I like the challenge. Can't get lazy!

I land and fully expect to be here on the ground for 30 minutes or more, loading over 400 pounds of cargo. But, another surprise awaits me. There is one passenger here, as planned, but he only has about 100 pounds...score! Looks like I'll make it back to Bunia an hour ahead of schedule. Even though it has been a busy day, I feel like I've been able to spend a little time with the passengers and the people on the ground, something I always like to do. Lately, I've felt like I have been so busy and rushed just trying to get things done, that I have been kind of lacking in the niceness department. Hopefully tomorrow will hold more of the same!

Today I:

--Carried 17 passengers
--Loaded/Transported/Unloaded 1,180 pounds of cargo
--Traveled 510 nautical miles
--Made 9 landings
--Flew 4.7 hours

How To Fix The Car

2011-02-16T08:13:00.000-08:00

Congo style!

Step 1: stop covering up the loud clanking noise with the radio and admit there is a problem.

Step 2: check and verify the problem...hmmm, this shock absorber is missing pieces that the other shock absorber seems to have. I'm quite puzzled at this, since many of the pieces missing are supposed to be bolted onto a shaft with no way off. Bolt and nut are still there, but nothing in between

Step 3: Scratch your head and laugh about it with the day guard.

Step 4: Take inventory of anything you already have that might be useful in repairing said problem.

Step 5: Go to local market and find David, my middle man. Explain the problem with lots of hand gestures and pointing until he gets the idea. Follow David through a maze of people and shops to a table full of spare hardware. Procure the exact pieces for the exact make, model, and year of my car. Can't help but wonder if these ARE the pieces that fell off.

Step 6: Take "new" hardware home and wait until the morning to fix the car.

Step 7: Take big hammer, wrenches, other useful persuasion tools and guard to the vehicle and begin assessments. Disassemble broken parts and install "new" hardware by any means possible.

Step 8: Use a piece of spare tire with a hole drilled in the middle (by hand...no electricity) for a rubber grommet. Re-assemble and test drive.

Step 9: Sit on porch with feet on the balcony, sipping pink lemonade for a job well done. Shake your head and laugh because it took one week to replace 2 washers and a rubber grommet, in what would/should have taken 15 minutes.

Bunia-Mulita-Bunia

2011-02-15T11:55:00.000-08:00

Sounds like a light day of flying...come to find out, Mulita is 300 nautical miles Southwest of Bunia, in the heart of the rainforest. That translates to about 5 hours of flying, and a whole lot of sitting. Nonetheless, I'm excited. I've never been to Mulita before, and it sounds like fun...a lovely old missionary lady, a beautiful flight, final approach over a river. Sign me up!

I go through the usual routine in the morning, and for once, I leave about 5 minutes early. Taking off to the East, I gently bank the airplane and turn to the West. I decide to climb high for this leg, as the winds are usually blowing from the East. My suspicions are confirmed as I level off at 10,500 feet and accelerate to a ground speed of 145 knots...not too shabby for a 206. Since it's an unusually long leg, I also take advantage of the winds and pull the throttle back a little more than I normally do. Instead of guzzling 50 liters an hour, I get it down to 40 an hour, saving a jerry can along the way. The only bad thing about a great tailwind is that it is always a headwind on the way back.

Along the way, I look out the window, pull out the navigation charts and follow along, and listen to a little BBC on the HF radio. I take a picture as I cross the Equator into the Southern hemisphere. Then I get to thinking...man, I sure could go for a Barbacoa Burrito from Chipotle right about now! So I pull out a few heart-shaped Valentines cookies that Joy made for me, and I munch on those. I think about the Chipotle close to my parent's house and how my mom takes me there on special occasions. I think about how much I miss my sister and brother-in-law and wrestling...inside...with nephews, even though they don't like me to :) I think about how much I miss playing video games with my brother until the wee hours of the morning. I miss laughing with my dad and sister-in-law. I miss spending time visiting and playing games with Joy's family.

I could take the easy route and just shrug it off. This is what God has called me to. I could remind myself of the verses in Matthew that tell me to forsake my family and follow after Christ. And honestly, that sounds a whole lot easier than navigating through all this emotional stuff. That's what girls do, not guys, right? But I just can't seem to get it off my mind. I'm missing home.

I miss the people, the English, the family. I miss the familiarity, Walmart...just fitting in. Here we are always in the spotlight. I can't go anywhere without being called mzungu 500 times, people laughing and pointing, or folks pinching my child. I miss driving on roads that don't knock all your teeth out and turn your brain to jello. I miss ice cream, gas stations that don't run out of gas, electricity I can actually use, and brushing my teeth with tap water. I miss getting pulled over on the highway because I actually did something wrong, not because someone wants a payoff.

Then for some reason, I start to think about when we leave Congo, what will I miss? I think I will miss the simplicity, the weather, my friends. I will miss the incredible beauty, the people I know, the relationships. I will miss the adventure, improvising solutions...because there is no other way. I will miss my guards and the national workers, especially the one who's sole purpose is to teach me one measly sentence in Swahili. I will miss listening to incredible stories from an unbelievably resilient people, the hospitality (if you can call it that) of the people here. It's not really hospitality when you literally give all you own to your guest...maybe sacrifice is a better word.

All of a sudden, I hear, "Uniform India, Alpha Uniform," and it snaps me back to reality. I'm almost to my destination, so I'm preoccupied with getting the airplane ready for landing. I find the airstrip, circle over head and study it for a few minutes before making my approach. As I turn on final approach, the airstrip looks very narrow and short, but as I get closer, I realize it's just because it's surrounded on all sides by 200' tall trees. After touching down, I taxi to the end where the entire village is awaiting our arrival. My passenger is returning home after having surgery in Bunia, and I am returning to Bunia with an eye doctor, who I soon learn did more than 80 consults/surgeries in less than a week. And I thought I was working a lot!

As I am unloading, a sprite, elderly missionary lady practically runs up to me and shakes my hand with an unexpected enthusiasm. I am also greeted by the local official, who asks for my passport, visa, and pilot's license. No problem...or so I think. I quickly find my license, but the passport and visa copies are nowhere to be found. Great. I try not to make a big deal about it, but immediately, he scolds me and tells me it will cost me a $200 fine for not being able to verify my identity. So we get into why I don't have it, where it could possibly be, why he shouldn't charge me a fine, etc. The sprite old missionary lady catches wind of my dilemma and tells me to continue with my pilot duties, "I will take care of this guy, I've known him since he was in diapers." So I take her advice and continue with the loading, verifying fuel, and getting things ready for the return trip as she rips into this guy. I'm a little surprised at her ability to be so...animated...at such an age as hers. I can hear bits and pieces of the conversation. "I know your mother, I know where you live, how could you treat our guest like this!" "Yes, but I'm just doing my job, it's necessary to have all the paperwork, you know this." "You're doing your job if it involves stealing from the Lord (as she shakes her finger in his face)." Then she turns to me, smiles, and says with a wink, "Don't worry Chris, I've got him right where I want him." Several minutes later, this guy calls me over to a meeting with him and his buddies. He says, "Look Chris, I know we are friends, but that doesn't mean you can take advantage of me. You don't have your papers in order and I could fine you but I won't, because you are like my brother. As a man of rank close to mine, I respect you, and I would expect that the next time you come, you will show me the same respect and bring the right papers." I promise him that I will, that it was just a mistake, and the next time I come, I will bring him a Coke and a Bible as a gift for my screwing up.

After saying goodbye, we're ready to head back to Bunia. But, not before I get someone to chase the goats off the airstrip. We're off with a right turn over the river, heading Northeast into some building clouds. For the moment, I climb up above the layer of growing cumulus clouds to 7,500 feet. I'm surprised to find that the strong tailwind I had has died down and I should make it back sooner than expected. Soon, I am dodging the building thunderstorms, and eventually, I end up descending below them while I still can. The weather can be very volatile around the Equator, and today is no exception. Looks like I have my work cut out for me the rest of the way. I dodge a few rain showers and try to do some paperwork, but it's just too bumpy for anything.

Thankfully, this leg seems to go a little faster than the last one, and I make it back to Bunia in the early afternoon. Just in time too, my butt has completely fallen asleep! Nothing ever seems to work out like I think it will here; interesting how God works even through seemingly bad circumstances to make His name known.

Urgent Request

2011-02-08T08:48:00.000-08:00

It's 1:30pm on Saturday afternoon and I'm just settling in to some home projects when I get the call from our chief pilot. "We have a flight request for Epulu, can you do the flight? You need to leave right away." He goes on to explain that he was scheduled to do the flight early that morning, but both passengers were not feeling well, so they postponed until the afternoon. But, now he's not feeling well, and wants me to cover for him. The flight is an overnight for Solo and Owen, some visiting MAF-IT personnel working in the area installing VSAT systems for local internet clients. This trip is a little much deserved and much needed R&R. Epulu is a small town on the Epulu River about 45 minutes West of Bunia. It is home to the Wildlife Okapi Reserve; it's quiet; it's a great place to relax and soak in some Congo history, culture, wildlife.

Needless to say, I accept the flight one heartbeat later. I fly to Epulu often, and the only time I've actually stayed for more than 20 minutes has been due to terrible weather. So I jump at the opportunity to spend the night, and even bring Joy and Kaitlyn along for the experience. We pack, organize, and are ready to drive out to the airport in 30 minutes. After driving through a roadblock to pick up our passengers, we get to the airport and I begin directing the loading, while I complete my preflight checks and file a flight plan. Today there are no national workers, so I do all the paperwork myself. I personally hand in my flight plan to the lady in the control tower. It's always nice to have a face to go with the voice I talk to every day. Then I make my way to the tax people...yes, here in Congo there are many. I hand in my flight plan, fill out paperwork, and argue about the prices for MAF personnel. Almost an hour later, we are finally taxiing for departure. It's windier than usual; the airplane shifts a little in the changing gusts, and as I turn around into the wind at the end of the runway, my airspeed indicator is already "off the peg." We receive our takeoff clearance and I add full power. We liftoff and climb out to the East, right over Bunia. We want to go West so I gently bank the plane to the right and 30 seconds later our ground speed has jumped from a meager 60 knots to 110 knots. Looks like we're going to reach our destination in a hurry today.

Owen is up front with me, Joy and Solo are in the second row, and Kaitlyn sits in first class all by herself. After things settle down a little and the business end of flying is taken care of, I change hats and become tour guide, pointing out rivers, airstrips, interesting things in the jungle, etc. I like Owen up front, he seems like a curious guy and is always asking what this does, or what that's for. I like that. After 30 minutes of cruising at 8,500 feet, I descend for a closer look at the forest below for the last 15 minutes. We fly over rivers, around hills, and above endless trees that, as Owen puts it, "It makes me want to pour ranch dressing over the whole jungle and eat it like broccoli."

We circle overhead Epulu a few times so the folks there know we're landing, then I make my approach. I come in from the right side and gently bank the airplane through the right set of trees, aiming for one specific tree until I can see the airstrip. Then, it's a speed check at 60 knots and altitude of 3,000 feet. Everything looks good, and we touchdown on the grass. One thing is for sure, it's humid here, and it's hot. We unload, secure the airplane, and make our way through the village to the building we will stay in. It's 4pm and we take advantage of the remaining 2 hours of daylight to do some fishing, swimming, and relaxing. We use a local mix of manioc and palm oil for fish bait, and Kaitlyn for croc bait. I get a few good nibbles, but by the time it's dark, no fish and the crocs aren't hungry. We retire to our home and are served a traditional Congolese meal of white rice, sombe*, cooked vegetables with palm oil, and green beans.

After Kaitlyn is down, we have a nice evening of coffee, tea, and conversation by kerosene lamp. After talking for several hours, we all head to bed.

In the morning we are treated with a breakfast of mandazis (the Congo version of a doughnut hole), red bananas, pineapple, bread and eggs. After that, we organize a trek into the jungle to see the "bat tree" and a pygmie camp. It's already hot and oppressively humid, but the first step into the jungle and we instantly start dripping sweat. You would think it would be peaceful and quiet, but the jungle is full of life. Monkeys howl in the trees above, birds chirp all around us, crickets hum in the bushes. 100 meters into the jungle, our pygmie guide turns around and points something out to me on the ground. I don't speak Swahili, but what he points to, I immediately recognize as a thick line of Africa army ants right across the trail. I bend down to take a quick photo, but already some are starting to crawl up my pant leg and the guide urges me to continue. I take his advice, recounting the Discovery Channel episodes of grown men dying from army ant attacks.

The jungle is thick, but the trail is well-maintained, more so than I would think. I soon find evidence why. These are the same trails that forest elephants use. As we hike along, the guide points out chimp nests in the trees, and certain flowers and plants commonly used by the local people. I am also making my own mental notes of my surroundings, what trees look good for building shelters, where to find bamboo, tinder and other fire materials. And I take the opportunity to sharpen some other survival skills as well, like keeping track of our direction, estimating distances, and observing the topography. These are all skills I like to keep up, just in case I ever find myself in a situation where I need to use them. Seeing the jungle from the ground up is invaluable for a pilot who always sees it from the air.

We finally make it to the "bat tree," which is aptly named. It is a colossal tree, maybe 100 meters tall. It's center is hollow and it "stands" on its roots, towering over the already very tall canopy. A gentle hum can be heard, until our guide grabs a long tree branch and shoves it up the hole. The hum turns into a dull roar and bats start flying out one by one. Soon the surrounding forest is littered with bats. We rest for 10 minutes, filling up on water and taking some photos before continuing on towards the pygmie camp. We joke along the way that Joy is earning her "jungle mom" merit badge. Most of us have a light backpack and a camera; she has 25 pounds on her back and she's doing exceptionally well.

I'm struck by the beauty of the little things in the forest...the vivid butterflies floating along, tiny flowers, patches of bright pink foliage. I am reminded that all these things are here for me to enjoy and wonder how much more beautiful is the God who created them. Then, I feel a sharp stinging sensation around my waist. I stop and pull my shirt up to find an army ant who's pretty angry about something. He stings me with his abdomen, which feels a lot like a bee sting, and draws blood with his jaws at the same time. I pick him off quickly and think about thousands of those things all at the same time...ouch!

We come into the pygmie camp 30 minutes later. I greet everyone in Swahili and can tell they see "mzungu" quite often here. They quickly pull out trinkets, bows and arrows, spears, and necklaces they've made for us to buy. They show us how to use them and even do a traditional dance for us. Then, one man pulls out the biggest peace pipe I've ever seen. They hollowed out an entire 6 foot palm frond, interesting considering not one of them is over 3 feet tall. They begin smoking through this huge pipe and I recognize the smell as marijuana.

After many photos, dances, and purchasing many things from the "gift shop," we continue on our way back to Epulu station. I am always struck by the vastness, beauty, and wildness of the jungle. There is always something new to learn, experience, and see. And the best way to learn, experience, and see things is with the local people. Before I know it, we are back on the original trail and pop out of the jungle onto the main road. Just in time for lunch!

We are treated again to white rice, and beef and vegetables in palm oil. If you think vegetable oil is bad for you, try palm oil! After lunch we visit the Okapis with Rosie. The Okapi is quite a strange looking animal. It has the head, tongue and neck of a giraffe, the body of a horse, and the rear end of a zebra. Again, as Owen puts it, "It's kind of like these three animals ran into each other in the middle of the jungle." This part of DRC is the only place in the world the Okapi is found in the wild; that makes it quite a unique place. Rosie tells us all about them and the restoration work that goes on here as we walk and take pictures. The Okapi is illegally hunted and sold here; there are not many left. They take to Kaitlyn right away, and are curious about this little one. Kaitlyn is just as curious and sticks her hands through the fence, trying to pet them. They come within inches of her, but she doesn't even flinch.

Just a little time left for some fishing before we head out, so Solo and I grab some poles and head for the water. Still no luck! After packing and saying goodbye, we head back through town to the airstrip, waving at kids as we go by. Owen is up front again, and I remind him that even though he's sitting in the "co-pilot" seat, the controls are mine. We take off to the West and make a 180 degree turn back for Bunia. I climb to 9,500 feet to escape the humidity and bumpy air and give Owen his first official lesson. I explain the different navigation instruments...the altimeter, compass, directional gyro, and GPS. I can tell he's struggling a little bit to keep the airplane on course, and is straining to see the instruments from his side, so I show him the horizon outside, and teach him to fly the airplane by looking outside instead of "chasing needles" inside. After that, he keeps the airplane well within private pilot standards and I am impressed at how quickly he catches on. As we make our approach to Bunia, I talk him through the landing checklists, the relationship between pitch and power and how to visualize our approach path. Over the threshold, I talk him through the landing, slowly pull the power back and raise the nose at the same rate...hold it off, hold it off...don't wake the baby! Ah, a nice smooth touchdown! We taxi in, shut down and I smile because Kaitlyn is still asleep in the back. I'd like to think it's because of the smooth touchdown on landing, but it's more likely that she's just exhausted from the wild weekend. Can't wait to do that again!

Why Are You Here?

2011-02-04T12:25:00.000-08:00

That's what I found myself asking one of my passengers today. My first flight today was 190 miles Northwest of Bunia, to a town called Niangara. This was a charter flight, which means someone pays for the whole airplane to come and pick them up, not just for a seat like you usually pay on the airlines. I've never been to Niangara before, so I'm kind of excited to see a new place. The airstrip looks wonderful, but after I land, I have a small problem. The passenger who chartered the flight is ready to go, but there is also an emergency evacuation of 2 people who want to go to Isiro. So I ask the chartered passenger how many passengers he had and how much stuff. He replied that it was just him and his 10 pound duffel bag. So I said great, I can take everyone. Except that he didn't want to hear anything of it. He told me that it was his charter and he got to say who went and who didn't, since he was paying for the flight. So I pulled him aside and tried the nice approach, explaining to him that there was ample room on MY airplane to help these people out. He still didn't budge, so I talked with him for a little bit. After 10 minutes, I finally changed over to the not so nice approach. I told him again, firmer, that it was MY airplane and I am the pilot, so I get to decide who goes, who stays, who pays, and how much they get to bring with them. I AM NOT leaving these people here to die so you can have some extra leg room and a seat all to your duffel bag's self. I was a little surprised by his attitude, since he's been working in Congo for years, supposedly helping people and working with a very reputable humanitarian organization. So I finally asked him, why are you even here? Aren't you here to help people? Just because they're not on an operating table doesn't mean you can't help them out. Seeing things from that perspective sobered him up a little bit and he changed his attitude. It even reminded me how easy it is for me to lose perspective and forget why I'm here. But I find that the Lord always has ways of reminding us why we're "here" and what we're supposed to do with the time given to us.

From the February Logbook

2011-02-04T12:02:00.000-08:00

Well, yesterday was so much fun I just have to tell you about that before I tell you about today! Yesterday was flying exclusively for MSF (Doctors Without Borders). I always like flying for them because usually things are straightforward and I feel like I'm making a tangible difference in the unbelievable physical suffering that goes on here. So I take off from Bunia and head for a town called Dungu...just me and some toilet paper for the folks in the bush (and a few other things). No passengers means I don't have to be sensitive to their needs, and instead of climbing out at 500 feet per minute, I raise the nose and climb at more than 1,000 feet per minute, so I can take better advantage of the strong morning tailwinds. I reach my cruising altitude and quickly accelerate to 145 knots, shaving 15 minutes off my normal time. I also take the opportunity to do things I don't normally do when I have a plane full of passengers. I pull out emergency checklists and run through many different scenarios from memory as if there was a real emergency...with hands flying everywhere, pushing buttons, touching knobs, running through mock communications. I try not to do that sort of thing when other people are on board, because if the passengers start seeing the pilot's hands zooming around the cockpit with a sense of urgency, they tend to get a little worried. I also take some time to update our airstrip directory and do some other paperwork along the way. I land in Dungu and wouldn't you know it, the patient I brought out last week who was attacked by the LRA is standing there, waiting for a ride home. I'm glad he's doing better, and I'm happy to bring him back to his family.

In a way, I like flying to Nglima because it's a challenge, but on the other hand, I don't like flying to Nglima because it's a challenge. Flying incorporates so many different variables that change all the time, so the same airstrip presents a new challenge every time you fly in or out. This time, I elect to land over the tall trees at the end and come to a stop towards the town. I have been flying a few hundred hours now, and I'm beginning to pick up where I left off; the flying is coming more naturally. I instantly make corrections where needed without having to think about it or see it on the instruments. I can feel the airplane being pushed from a tailwind on final approach. I notice that right at the treeline, the wind changes directions, and I make a mental note of it. So, in reality, I am landing into the wind until I descend below the trees, then it turns into a tailwind. As we touch down, I raise the flaps and squeeze the brakes, and taxi to the end. As I unload my passengers, I can tell the passengers I am picking up are a little confused about how things are going to work. There are 8 people and 250 pounds of baggage that need to get back to Dungu about 10 minutes away, so I tell them I will make two trips. I can only take 700 pounds each time, it doesn't matter to me who or what goes each time, as long as the loading is correct. I also remind them (in no uncertain terms) to be exact on their weights; the trees at the end are very tall. So I finish unloading and preparing the plane as they figure out a plan. I end up taking four light passengers and 200 pounds of freight, and then remember what I had found out about the wind on landing. Even though right now the wind favors taking off towards the trees, once I get to tree level, the wind will change and I will actually have a tailwind. So I elect to taxi down to the end with the huge trees and take off towards the town. This decision serves me well; as soon as I liftoff and begin my climbout, I can feel the wind shift with a few bumps and we abruptly stop climbing...I can't help but think that I would never have cleared those trees had I taken off the other direction. After I drop off my passengers, I head back to Nglima for the other four passenger and 100 pounds of cargo. Only this time, there's a problem. As I circle overhead, I see 2 hummers and a huge UN helicopter parked right in the middle of the airstrip. I call on the radio and ask how long they're going to be using up the whole runway, and they say for at least 1 hour. So I quickly do a few calculations and kindly ask them to remove their hummers from the runway so I can land. They sound a little hesitant, but I assure them that even though there's only 600 meters of usable runway, I can land and safely stop well before their helicopter. As I touchdown and squeeze the brakes hard, I notice that 10 or 15 UN troops are standing 200 meters in front of their helicopter, cameras blazing, video cameras recording this exciting event. As I get closer, the middle two guys bail, and the rest are having second thoughts as I am quickly approaching. Then, everyone scatters, most running back up the runway towards they helicopter. But, as I promised, I am stopped with a healthy margin of safety and shutdown. I'm greeted with handshakes and broken English, as the entire UN regiment wants to shake the American's hand. Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, people from all over. I find the helicopter pilots and ask them if it's possible to move the giant thing, so I can takeoff, but they shake their heads in disbelief and say it's not possible. I assure them that it is, and tell them I don't want to spend the night here, so they call in help from the local population in what turns out to be a rather futile attempt at moving the second largest helicopter in the world. After much more debating, I manage to get the helicopter moved so that I am only losing 100 meters. I do more calculations, make some decisions, and round up the passengers. Now comes the hard decision--I can either take all the passengers, some passengers and some stuff, or all the stuff. I leave it up to my passengers, and they all agree they want out. So we load up and I explain to my "co-pilot" not to touch anything...this takeoff is going to be close. I hop in, start up and taxi as close as I can to the helicopter. One last thumbs up for the passengers...they don't share my enthusiasm, or confidence, but this is what I trained for. We takeoff and soon after, I give another thumbs up to the passengers, but no matter. 2 of them have their eyes covered, and the other 2 are praying for their lives. I shake my head and smile. Always an interesting day at the office.

Shopping...Bunia Style

2011-01-24T09:58:00.000-08:00

Well, it's only Day 2 and I've already forgotten to take my daily photo...I'm not doing so hot, I know. Instead I'll paint a picture for you with words. Most of today was spent showing the new family around Bunia--where to buy different kinds of furniture, where the local Home Depot is, that sort of thing. It really is amazing what you can find here in Bunia, tucked away in the corner stores, as long as you're willing to look for it (all day) and pay an outrageous price for it once you find what you're looking for. It's like one big garage sale. The rest of my day was spent fixing our electrical system...yes, again. Well, at least I think I fixed it. I don't smell anything, or see smoke anywhere. Here in Africa, we wire our houses all on one phase of AC, instead of like the US, where your house would be split between all three phases. The reason is because there's usually one phase that's practically useless, one more that's unreliable, and one that is decently strong (anywhere from 80 volts to 180 volts)...sometimes. It's supposed to be 220 volts, but that's a different story. So we pick the strongest phase and wire everything off that phase. Our house is a little unique, in that, we have one phase that's stronger during the day, and one phase that's stronger during the night. So we switch between the two every day, otherwise we wouldn't have enough electricity to run two light bulbs and a radio. Anyway, we had installed a swtich to...well...switch between those two phases and it's now in switch heaven. I went looking for a switch today around town, but had no luck, so I resorted to using two circuit breakers, one for each phase...just don't turn them both on at the same time! So, my photo for today would be me cringing and ducking right before I turn the circuit breaker on for the first time after re-wiring it, crossing my finger and hoping I don't melt/electrocute/set on fire/or otherwise ruin perfectly good and expensive equipment.

On the upside, I didn't electrocute myself today. I've learned to just go ahead and turn everything off whenever I'm working on the electricity :) Tomorrow I'm off again to Kampala, Uganda, for maintenance on the 206. I should be there only for 2 or 3 days, and on the way back I will be bringing the last 400 kilos (almost 900 pounds) of the new family's shipment to Bunia. Pray that I can feel better, I have had a stomach bug now for a few weeks, and that's never fun.

Photos Anyone?

2011-01-23T09:59:00.000-08:00

I was reading about a cool little idea for people who like photography that I'd like to try. Every day for one year, take a photo that describes the day or highlights the day. So, I'd like to give it a go, even though I know I'm going to miss many days because I am too busy, or it just slips my mind. So now you should hopefully get a glimpse of every day life here...every day! Here's my photo for today...that's right, these have been my best friends for today. One of the less glamorous sides of living in a (let's use the politically correct term) "developing" country is picking up nasty little bugs like giardia. Click on the link to learn more about it if you want; I don't have the heart to tell you about it myself.

A Little of Everything

2011-01-20T11:27:00.000-08:00

That's what today was like. We've all been so busy here that last night, we realized there was a new family arriving from the States this afternoon, which meant we needed to re-wire their house, set up appliances, clean...the whole nine yards. So the program manager and I went over this morning to try and tackle the electricity while others cleaned. We were just getting into it after an hour when we got a call from MSF (Doctors Without Borders) for a medivac flight up North. They needed a patient, nurse, and friend transported to their hospital base 25 miles South. I think Ngilima is the only airstrip we fly to that is limited to the 206 (the small airplane), and even then we can't take a full load. That meant it fell to me to do the flight (which I was more than happy to take). Ngilima is 1 1/2 hours North of Bunia so I had a long time to think and wonder about what was waiting for me when I landed. Was it some kind of accident? A fight? Did someone fall out of a tree?

Well, it was clear upon landing what had happened. I was in high gear the whole time; Ngilima isn't a terribly technical airstrip, but there are very tall trees at the end, making for an approach that's not quite in line with the runway. There also seems to be a lot of animals running around as well. So I'm attentive and alert as I circle around for landing. I come in from the right at an angle to dodge a REALLY big tree right on centerline, giving up several hundred meters of airstrip in the process. But I land where I want to and squeeze the brakes as the airplane takes a beating from the hard, packed, and uneven dirt. I taxi to the end, swing around and shut down.

As I hop out, I hear horrible screams of pain as folks from the village carry a man out to the plane on a stretcher. I can't help but notice someone has forgotten about the IV bag, and it's just dragging on the ground behind the stretcher. I run out to the road and quickly grab the bag, hold it up above the man, and walk the rest of the way to the airplane alongside the strecher. We set him on the ground as I take some seats out to fit the man inside. Now it seems the entire village is 2 inches from my airplane. It's hard to do anything, but I keep working. Once everything is set, I hop in from the pilot's side to receive the patient as they load him in. I can hardly look. He has deep deep lacerations to his head, shoulders, arms and legs. Flesh is open and hanging. They are somewhat bandaged, but it leaves nothing to the imagination. There is also a deep gash from one side of his throat, to the other. This must be from recent LRA attacks in the area. Although he looks terrible, he seems to be doing better now that the IV bag is in the air.

Then he suddenly bursts out laughing and singing and waving his hands around. It takes me a minute to figure out what's going on, but it dawns on me that they had cranked up the IV drip to it's maximum because they thought it wasn't working (as it was hanging on the ground). But, when I hung it, he actually started to receive the medication...a lot of it. So I quickly grab the line and turn it down to adjust the flow and strap the stretcher down with cargo ties. I am also looking for something to hang the IV bag on, as it doesn't really work any other way. I quickly grab a carrabiner from the back and think of the fish scale we use to weigh baggage. I grab it, secure it to the ceiling and slip the IV bag over the hook...perfect! I instruct the nurse to watch the patient carefully and hang on to the IV bag as the takeoff is usually very rough from here.

Everything looks good so I hop in, start up, and go through the checks. I apply full power, hold the brakes and check the engine instruments at a standstill, before we start rolling, so once we do I can divert my full attention to the task at hand. Brakes are released and we are pushed back in the seats. Speed check is good, acceleration is normal and we shoot by the takeoff abort point, but still not airborne. I elect to continue the takeoff and soon after we are off. Ngilima is always a tough airstrip meantally come takeoff time because of the colossal trees at the end. Once the airplane is airborne, every fiber of your being screams at you to pull back on the stick immediately so you can clear the trees. But that would be suicide. I need to let the airplane accelerate, so I push the nose over for several seconds and wait for the proper speed. Then, and only then, I pitch up and hold that speed, clearing the trees by 50 feet.

Once the takeoff is over and all the obstacles are cleared, I turn around and check on the patient...he seems content right where I left him. The nurse on the other hand looks terrified. I reassure him with a smile and a nod and yell to him that it will only be 10 minutes until we are on the ground again. And before I know it, we are on the ground at the hospital station, unloading the patient...and two terrified individuals. I say a quick prayer for him, bid the staff farewell and I'm off for home. The flight back is empty as well, so I take this rare opportunity and climb up to 11,500 feet to get above all the smoke, haze, and bumpy air, and save a jerry can of gas. It's calm, quiet, and cool up here; what a contrast to down there where it's hot and crazy. I wonder what tomorrow will be like?

Deja Vu

2011-01-13T22:55:00.000-08:00

They told us this would happen in orientation at MAF. They said once we got to the field, I would be so excited to finally be living out my dream as a missionary pilot, while my wife would be at home pulling her hair out trying to figure out how to manage electricity from an inverter and water from a tank. She would be learning how to cook and maintain a house all over again, while I was doing what I had trained for and dreamed of for the last 10 years of my life. Then, after 6 months or so, we would flip-flop; Joy would be getting the hang of everything and start to feel more comfortable managing the house, while I would start to get frustrated with flying every day, dealing with people, loading and unloading the airplane all the time, etc.

Well, I think we're starting to arrive at that point. Joy is beginning to feel comfortable with cooking completely from scratch, doing everything in a different way, while I am starting to have feelings like, "This isn't all it's cracked up to be," and, "Why did I even come here?" "Why did I trade a 'normal' life for one like this?" "What am I doing here?" All the excitement and adventure of coming to Africa have worn off, and I find myself wanting. All the anticipation and newness are now commonplace, even a little boring.

Maybe I should back up a little, and explain how this progression of thought came about. I was flying yesterday (on what was supposed to be a day off) to an airstrip about 30 minutes North of Bunia. I was flying out to this airstrip in the afternoon to pick up the governor, so the flight out was empty. It was hot, very bumpy, and uncomfortable. But this time I started feeling a little nauseous...a feeling I've never felt before when flying. So I opened the fresh air vents, tried to focus on things outside the airplane, talked to myself...all the things I normally tell my passengers during my preflight briefing. But nothing seemed to be working, the feeling just got worse and worse, so I pulled out one of the little "blue bags," fully intending to fill it. I managed to keep my lunch where it belonged until we got back to Bunia, but it got me thinking during my flight. "Did I come all the way out here just to be the governor's personal chauffeur?" "How is that spreading the Gospel?" "This isn't at all what the pictures were like!"

Then I begin to build my case against God (as if I could ever win!). "God, if I spend one more sleepless night hugging the toilet...if I get electrocuted one more time...do you know how hard I worked on the plumbing just so we could have water at this house? And now everything leaks! Is this some kind of cruel joke?!? God, this guy shows up EVERY DAY at my gate asking for money, and EVERY DAY I argue with him and tell him to go away...If one more government official demands dishonest payment...If there's one more change in the schedule...Do you know how much I sacrificed to come here?!

That one got my attention; I remember the other thing MAF told us in orientation...You can go overseas for any number of reasons, but if it's not for the people, you're not going to last. If it's for flying airplanes, you can do that anywhere. If it's for the adventure or the experience, that will soon wear off. Sooner or later you will find yourself questioning why God "called" you here, but your answer better be for the people...learn to love the people. Build relationships, have conversations, be involved in the community. It's why you choose to daily put up with "missionary discomforts" like no electricity, leaky plumbing, corrupt officials, schedule changes. For the chance, no, for the privilege of living a life for Christ and showing those around you what that looks like. All the way home I contemplated the sacrifice of our Savior and how good I really do have it.

I am not here to "save" Congo, but if the Lord can work through me and every weakness I possess to show someone the way, then I will hug the toilet til the good Lord takes me home. I realize some of these same thoughts and questions have already been mulled over in previous posts, but I need reminding often. Some things are better learned over and over again. And as one of my professors always used to say, "It's alright to be a dumb sheep when God is your Shepherd."

From the December Logbook

2010-12-24T01:43:00.000-08:00

First of all, I must apologize for the lack of posting for such a long time. I do have a good excuse though! For the last month or so, we have been slowly fixing up a house here for the next family to arrive mid-January. There have been many things to fix up, including re-wiring the house, installing an inverter, stabilizer, and batteries (that weigh more than I do), as well as re-plumbing the entire water system, cleaning, and remodeling the kitchen. We had started the process when we had a little extra time from the flight schedule, and continued to work on it little by little, until I found out that we needed to move...almost immediately. Our landlord had decided to start construction on a second house inside our property, and that poses a huge security risk. So, not wanting to wait until after Christmas, we decided to move right away. And that meant a lot of work needed to be done in a week, not two months. Needless to say, we have been very busy preparing for Christmas, packing and unpacking, wiring, plumbing, and cleaning, all while still flying. I am now the only 206 pilot here as well, since the other pilot has gone back to the US for the birth of his first child. Now on to the logbook....

I grab all the usual flight gear, but this time I make sure not to forget my overnight bag. That's right, the flight schedule today takes me several hours to the South and West of Bunia, too far for me to make it home before sunset, so I'll be staying with some missionaries out in the jungle. I get to the airport a little earlier than normal in hopes of getting a quick start. But that's a rare thing here. I do the normal routine of making sure both myself and the airplane are fit for flying, then I turn my attention to the loading of cargo and passengers. Today is a little different too...because of the avgas situation I need to carry all my own fuel for the whole trip. All four of the airplane's fuel tanks are full, plus I have 7 jerry cans of fuel to take along with me. I have to remind the staff that fuel and passengers both can't go in the cabin at the same time, and I don't really think the passengers want to ride along in the cargo pod (no window seats down there).

I'm taxiing for takeoff only 30 minutes later than I wanted to, not too bad, I still have an hour of flexibility in the schedule. I takeoff for a city called Bukavu 250 miles to the South, along what has to be some of the most striking and beautiful terrain in all of Africa, with one passenger and almost 10 hours of fuel. December brought the dry season here, and with that comes haze, smoke, and visibility that can be down to a mile or two. We pilots trade dodging thunderstorms and unlimited visibility for smoky skies and stable weather. Even though this leg will take almost two hours, there's no time for inattention. With the low visibility it's very hard to see clouds, and there are many mountains and volcanoes along this route. If I just carelessly fly along and follow the pink line on the GPS, I could fly up the wrong valley and find myself unable to outclimb rising terrain and unable to turn around as the mountains close in around me. With that in mind, I pull the chart out and study my route carefully, making note of prominent landmarks and coordinates. I also decide to make a plan B just in case plan A goes bad. This trip also takes me over the Equator and into the Southern hemisphere, where believe it or not, it's the rainy season right now! As I get closer and closer to my destination, the weather begins to deteriorate more and more, and I am forced lower and lower to the ground. I snake my way through the valleys and around the volcanoes, peering into the haze for the landmarks I found on the chart. I dare not make assumptions either. One thing I learned in school was always to verify landmarks from the chart to the ground, not the ground to the chart. Why? Because everything on the chart will be on the ground, but not everything on the ground will be on the chart...just another opportunity for me to mistake my position and fly up already mentioned wrong valley. The visibility is so low in places as I fly over Lake Kivu, that I check and verify my instruments often, as there is no horizon for me to do so outside. I land in Bukavu right on time, making up 15 minutes because of a great tailwind. I unload my passenger as well as most of the fuel I brought. I leave just enough for 3 hours of flying time which will get me to my next destination and back with an hour and a half to spare. All the paperwork and taxes are in order, so this portion goes quickly as I help load a 55 gallon drum of fuel and other cargo for my jungle destination of Kama. Bukavu sits in a big bowl at almost 6,000 feet, and with a fully loaded non-turbocharged airplane and low visibility, I am very conservative on this takeoff. I don't have far to climb though until I reach the bases of the clouds, heading West into the jungle. The weather is not good...at all. I am tense and alert, ready in a second to turn the airplane around if a mountain peeks through the haze. I am crossing ridges at a few hundred feet, just like they taught us in training, only this time it's for real. There are real clouds, real mountains, and real danger. After 30 minutes of this, I'm starting to feel drained and tired, but the mountains are now dropping away and giving me a little breathing room as I reach the edge of the jungle. I sit back for the first time since I took off, but now I have a new problem...there is a solid layer of clouds 200 feet above the jungle canopy for as far as I can see. I decide early that if it doesn't look good in Kama and I can't see the airstrip when I fly over, I will just have to fly back to Bukavu. Better to save the stuff for delivery another day than never deliver it at all. As I reach my destination, the clouds are no better, but I do spot the airstrip, and it looks wet. I quickly give up on a normal approach and circle a few times as I gather together my plan. I have been here before, and I notice that the airstrip lies just to the left of a river. I also notice that there are several "holes" in the clouds along the river, both on the departure and approach ends. The river is relatively straight until it reaches the airstrip where it bends sharply to the right, parallels the airstrip, and then continues on past the airstrip. I decide that I can drop below the clouds and fly up the river safely, take a look at the airstrip and continue past the airstrip over the river and pop back up and over the clouds on the other side if things don't look good for landing. I make a mental note that this landing needs to be spot on, and drop below the clouds, following the river as planned. 2 miles, 1 mile, 1/2 mile, finally I see the end of the airstrip and adjust the power so I can land where I want to. 55 knots, descending at 500 feet per minute, things look good and I continue. Just before my touchdown point, I pull the power back, raise the nose and land almost exactly where I had planned. Splash!! Water goes everywhere. I am slowing down in a hurry so I check the brakes very briefly to make sure they're working, and add a considerable amount of power to help me control the airplane until I get to taxiing speed. People come walking out of the jungle as I approach the parking area and shutdown. I get out and everyone wants to shake my hand and greet me. My boots sink in an inch of mud, but the airplane, with its oversized tires holds its ground. I unload the airplane with the entire village's help. Many of the younger people come to me and say, "Goood Morning Captain," even though it's early afternoon...hey, it's the only English they know. I greet them in Swahili and they smile. Soon, the airplane is loaded again with cargo bound for Bukavu. I am soaked and already dreading the return trip. I takeoff the way I landed (the way I know is good), splashing huge amounts of water until I liftoff and head East. The weather doesn't look any better, and before I know it, I'm back to crossing mountain ridges a few hundred feet above the trees. I pass over small villages, with farmers outside tending to their crops. One even has the audacity to pick up a stone and throw it at the airplane as I pass by. No matter, I have other things to worry about right now. I make my way back to Bukavu again to pick up two passengers, freight, and more fuel for another flight out into the jungle. We load quickly as I have no time to spare...the sun doesn't wait for me like it did for Joshua over Gibeon. My destination now is a village called Kipaka, about 100 miles past Kama. Honestly, I don't have much hope for the flight, but as we takeoff, I notice that the weather had drastically improved in only 30 minutes; I am real happy about that. So I settle in for the 1.5 hour flight and give my passenger a headset. I am taking her "home" from the US where she goes to college. At the last minute she got enough money for the trip home to Congo to be with her family for Christmas. It's always nice to have someone who speaks English on a long flight over the jungle! We talk almost the whole way, and even though the Lord wouldn't be holding the sun for me, he did make a nice big hole in the clouds right over our destination! We circle overhead a few times as I study the airstrip. I have never been here before, so I am a little more cautious than normal. As I make my approach I notice the first 300 meters of the airstrip are unusable because the grass is taller than the airplane, so I adjust my touchdown point on final approach, and switch to a "short-field" landing technique. I land firmly, put the flaps up, and squeeze the brakes hard. Everyone leans forward in their seatbelts and I hear this old airplane creak, but it doesn't complain. We stop a couple hundred meters from the end and taxi to the parking area. I am glad this day is over! Now on to the stack of paperwork and a good night's sleep!

Bug Battles...Continued

2010-12-07T00:09:00.000-08:00

Although a rat is not a bug, it falls into the same category of "really nasty and does not belong in my home." What you are about to see might be a little disturbing, just a warning.

For the past few weeks we've heard "things" in the kitchen. At first it was just hearing things, then we found evidence...stinky evidence. So I bought some traps, like the one that goes "snap!" and some rat glue and poison bait. I started with the bait, and at first they were eating it up by the package, but it didn't seem to be doing much. So I went to the snap trap and only managed to nearly snap my thumb off. The cheese was always gone, but nothing was ever caught in the trap. So I moved on to the really really sticky glue spread in a circle around a little piece of cheese. Well, all that produced was a bunch of rat hair, so I started to get a little frustrated and desperate. So last night, me and Joy decided to take things into our own hands and try to lure the rat into a plastic bucket with some cheese. After two hours of chasing the rat around the kitchen and almost succeeding, we were getting pretty angry. Then we realized there were two of them, and I got a great idea from my survival training. I asked Joy to go get my survival knife, some duct tape, and an old broom handle. She feverishly taped the knife to one end and handed it to me...no questions asked. After a little more screaming, and a bunch of missed attempts (those things are fast!), I finally managed to skewer one (I will spare you the picture of this one, pretty gross). I thought I had missed on the first stab, but definitely pinned him down on the second. Finally success! After waiting til he stopped moving, we threw him out on the trash pile and I started to get ready for bed, it was already 11pm. Then, I heard the other one squealing and running around the kitchen, so I grabbed my spear again and thought I'd give it one more try. This one was a much harder shot though, he was crawling around in the cabinet, underneath all the pots and pans. So I waited and watched for a minute, and then I had the perfect opportunity right in between two glass bowls, so I took it. Suffice it to say that there are at least two less rats in this world. I slept good last night.

The Real Reason

2010-11-24T11:46:00.000-08:00

I am a pilot and a mechanic; that's what I do...not who I am. I fly in Congo, but that's not why I'm here. Tonight I re-affirmed the real reason why I am here, why I learned French, why I put up with marginal electricity, water I can't drink, and corrupt officials just looking to make some money. I often told people during our full-time support raising that my love is flying, but my passion, who I am, is serving people. Tonight, a local Congolese pastor (who by the way speaks more languages than I can count) and I teamed up to show the "Jesus Film" in Swahili near an orphanage just outside of town. I was there to help him set up the equipment and show him how to use it. I didn't fly at all today, yet I'm tired and fulfilled. It's a beautiful thing to watch the face of a young boy or girl (who has lost everything) react to the unjust crucifixion and death of Jesus, and then see them light up with joy and hope when they realize that even death could not conquer him.

Most of the night I chatted with an 11 year old, very outgoing girl. It was good for my French! She told me about how her mom and dad were murdered by rebel militias who came and attacked their village to rape, kill, and steal. She escaped with some of her friends by running into the jungle and hiding for several days. They returned home, only to find their families dead or gone, their homes burned, their few possessions stolen. She looked for her brothers and sister, uncles and aunts, cousins, but none were found. Somehow or other, she ended up here, on the outskirts of Bunia, in an orphanage. I ask her if she understands the story of Jesus and if she believes in him. Her reply was a quick and confident, "oh yes." She goes on to say, "Jesus is the only one who has never abandoned me; He is the only family I have left now, if you know what I mean." I was speechless. What would you say to that? All I could think of was to say I'm sorry for your family, but I'm glad you believe in Jesus. She smiles and says, "I'm sorry for them too, they didn't know Jesus like I do, but that's the way he wanted it." And I ended the conversation by encouraging her to tell everyone she knows about Jesus, because you never know when something bad might happen.

I am a pilot and mechanic, that's what I do...not who I am. I am a child of the King, and I am here to tell people who Jesus is and what he did for them. Who are you?

An Unexpected Week Off

2010-11-20T11:03:00.000-08:00

After Monday's flights were done, the rest of the week was canceled for me, so I figured it would be a good time to work on some projects, get some things done around the house, and explore Bunia a little bit. In Africa, it doesn't matter what it is, things always take longer. Everything. So Tuesday I went to the market to get some supplies and tools for wood projects that I want to build. That took pretty much all day, going from store to store trying to get a decent price for it all. Wednesday I worked on an arbor that goes over our entryway, so that the vines of passion fruit can climb up and over the other side. It's all finished now, complete with a sitting bench and everything. My arms were sore from cutting all the wood by hand. I slept real well. The next day I worked all day planing some wood that I bought for kitchen cabinets that I'm making for Joy. If sawing by hand made my arms sore, planing by hand turned my muscles into jello. I had to stop when the sun went down, I just didn't have anything left. I did get one board completely planed though, so now it's on to sanding and cutting to size. Friday we bought some living room furniture and I had them leave one chair unfinished so I could sand and stain it myself. I worked on sanding most of the day, but I also got some replacement parts for both our toilets that broke. I only fixed one, because I refused to pay the asking price for one of the parts I needed. But hey, one is better than none, right! While I was fixing the toilet, I noticed this little creature. I'm not really sure what to classify it as, except for "creature." A lot of things crawl up through our drain in the guest shower, why, I have no idea. But I've seen 4" millipedes, spiders, cock roaches, all sorts of things, but never something that looked...or moved like this. If you look real close, it kind of looks like a little millipede with some kind of shell or something. I was intrigued by the way it was moving, and I love any excuse to postpone plumbing work, so I just sat and watched him crawl around for a minute. And then it happened. I saw his little head disappear inside and thought he must be scared or something. Then, lo and behold, it popped out the other end and he started crawling backwards. It was crazy. So I ran to get Joy and the camera because I've never seen anything like this before. I kept him alive just long enough to take a few photos, and then hit him with the DOOM. Saturday, I worked on finishing the chair with mahogany varnish, had Kaitlyn help me with an oil change in the Land Cruiser, and played volleyball with some friends. All in all, a good week. Not what I expected, but a lot of fun and exploring.

The Backpack

2010-11-20T10:32:00.000-08:00

My backpack to be specific. See, it all started when I got back from a full day of flying. I got in the MAF truck to drive home and noticed it was almost out of gas. I figured I'd stop by the gas station on my way home and fill it up, so I pulled into the station on the Main street of Bunia, told the attendant how much diesel I wanted, and waited until he finished pumping it. Then I locked the doors and headed inside to pay at the counter. As I was counting out what I owed, I took a quick glance back out at the car and noticed a young man standing next to the car with a blue backpack that looked a whole lot like the one I take with me every time I fly. It didn't register right away, but I figured I'd take one more good look as I started walking down the side of the road. Then I knew, it was my backpack, the one that was sitting on the front passenger seat of the truck. As he disappeared around the corner, I took off in a full sprint, slowing down just enough to peek in through the windshield of the truck and make sure all my other stuff was still there. It was; back to a full sprint. As I rounded the corner, I half expected to see nothing but a crowd of people (and to see really cool stuff for sale at the market the next day that looked a whole lot like mine), but I spotted my bright blue backpack over the shoulder of another guy. I was enraged, and I started shouting at the top of my lungs. (Only now I realize as I look back on the event, it may have helped to have been shouting in French, not English). Then I had a flashback from my days in Chicago...it was a common thing to see young kids who would come up to your car and kick the door or throw something and then take off, hoping you would get mad and chase after them. Then, while you were busy chasing the kid, some other kids would come around the corner and go through everything you had in the car without you even knowing it. I quickly glanced back over my shoulder and all I saw was a bunch of wide-eyed, open-mouthed people staring in unbelief. I didn't care, I just kept on running. And as this guy saw I was not going to stop running full bore until I had my belongings back, he got scared and took off running himself. Amazingly, I was still gaining on him, until I finally got within 10 feet of him, he sheepishly dropped my backpack and kept on running. I just picked it up and walked back to the car, through the still gaping crowd of onlookers. After making sure everything was still in the car, I again locked the door and went inside to pay. Nobody said a whole lot, nor did I. I was way too out of breath for a conversation.

One Of Those Days

2010-11-15T10:36:00.000-08:00

Ever have one? One where everything seems to be going wrong? Nothing seems to be going as planned, things take way longer than they should. I did. My day went something like this….

I make my way to the airport at the normal time, but today I see something a little strange…an 8 or 10 year old little girl wearing a mini skirt and high heels, posing for passersby and asking for a “job.” In my groggy morning fog it takes a minute or two to register that this little girl is a prostitute. That sets the tone for my day. I arrive at the airport and say hi to the national staff. Despite what I saw earlier, I’m happy because today will be a short day, I should be home by lunch time. In my mind, I’m already making plans for fixing up the house the rest of the day. There are lots of little things that need repairing.

We just finish loading 450 pounds of cargo when two passengers show up, asking for a ride into the jungle. Wanting to accommodate passengers, we agree to take them to their destination, and begin unloading the cargo we had just secured. During the unloading, I get a call asking for me to make an unscheduled stop an hour North of Bunia for two more passengers. I quickly change my flight plan, add more fuel for the extra stop, and takeoff half an hour behind schedule. The first leg of the trip goes ok and I land in Doko to pick up the two unscheduled passengers. I try and pay the landing fee to the airport official, but he doesn’t accept any of my bills because they aren’t crisp, new bills. He reluctantly accepts the last bill I give him, after 10 minutes of squabbling, because that’s all I’ve got. Then the passengers show up with way more baggage than I am able to take. I’m in a hurry because I’m already behind schedule, I need to pick up a passenger and bring them back to Bunia so they can catch their flight on to Uganda, and here these guys are trying to take a truckload of stuff. I muster some kindness and calmly tell them I can only take two bags, the rest will have to stay behind for another time. They sort through their belongings, wasting more of my precious time.

Now an hour behind schedule, I takeoff for my original destination. Unfortunately the weather keeps me from climbing very high and I am unable to take advantage of the strong Easterly winds higher up. What could have taken one hour takes 20 minutes longer, and I land an hour and a half behind schedule. As soon as I land and unload the plane, I begin feverishly loading up 300 pounds of medicines and two passengers, trying to make up some lost time. It seems like all anyone wants to do is talk with me, but I am focused on the task at hand and don’t want to chat…at all. I’m almost finished loading up when I get a call that there is a sick person at our next stop that needs to go to the hospital. I very reluctantly agree to pick them up and unload everything I had just put in the airplane. Yep, you guessed it, almost two hours behind schedule now.

I takeoff for a short hop over to a medical mission station in the jungle to pick up one passenger and a medical evacuation. Come to find out, the sick person is actually an infant that needs emergency brain surgery, and his mother is coming along. I load everyone up and confirm that all four passengers want to go back to Bunia. I get two confirmations and to my great surprise, two no’s. The sick passenger and the last passenger both want to go to Nyankunde where the hospital is. Not a big problem, but now I need to get more fuel for the extra stop…which puts me even further behind schedule. I am brief and short with the folks, and as I take off and fly overhead, I mentally say sorry to the people down there who all came to see the airplane and talk with the pilot.

It’s now mid-afternoon and I’m heading straight into the strong wind that should have carried me swiftly out here. I could climb up higher, but there’s no point now. The higher I go, the slower I get and the longer it takes to reach my destination. This leg seems to take FOREVER, and I begin thinking about the day as I drum along. I wonder what that little girl’s story is that I saw this morning on the way to work. Man I was a little short with our national staff this morning. Come to think of it, I’ve been short with just about everyone today. I talk a little with God about the day and He gently tells me (with a thunderstorm directly in my path) it’s time for an attitude change, and I make up my mind to be as nice as I can be with the passengers at my next stop.

I land, even though the winds here are exceptionally strong today. I shutdown, hop out, and help the poor mother as she gets out of the airplane. She hands me her sick little boy, clearly relieved to be at the mission hospital. I cradle him up in my arms and for the first time, I realize why he so desperately needs surgery. He has the body of a 9 month old, but his head is so swollen it’s about the size of a basketball. His eyes look into mine, but nothing is registering in his little brain. No smiles, no giggles, not even crying, just a blank stare. And to think I almost said, “No, it’s just too much hassle today.”

By now, the thunderstorm has moved on, my passenger’s next flight has been delayed so there will be no conflicts, and I head for home, pondering again the day’s events. What kind of witness am I portraying? What kind of person do these people think I am now? How am I going to make this right? Can I just rewind the day and start over?

I land in Bunia, three hours later than I had originally thought. I get out, bid the passengers farewell, and make a B-line for the national staff. I need to apologize. On my way home, I once again think about the day's events. Today I carried folks with medical missions, and SIL/Wycliffe Bible Translators, enabling them to do their missions work. And I also quite possible saved the life of a little baby boy. Was it worth it? You bet.

DHL and Surprises

2010-11-01T03:48:00.001-07:00

Usually when I pick up packages on the airplane and take them back to Bunia, they're covered in tape and the boxes look like they've been used and re-used for a very long time. So, when a nice box comes along, it grabs my attention. This one had the familiar DHL logo on the side, so I took special care not to damage the contents. Arriving back in Bunia, I noticed a man walk up and pick up the DHL package and walk away. He had a yellow shirt on and I figured it must be the Bunia DHL delivery man. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw his bright yellow delivery vehicle...a bicycle! I wish I had my camera. Next time I see him, I'm taking a picture!

Surprise #1: Meet the newest member of the family, Lucy. She's a puppy from one of our friend's neighbors. Everything happened kind of suddenly. Joy and I had been talking about getting a dog down the road eventually, after things settled down a bit and we got into a routine here. But wonderful opportunities don't always wait for the most opportune time. And after we saw this little cutie, we just couldn't pass her up! She's the most mellow puppy I've ever known, and luckily she's just Kaitlyn's size too.

Surprise #2: Did you know that on top of volcanoes, civil unrest, and the most thunderstorms out of any place on earth, they also have earthquakes. No really, it's true. We had one a few weeks ago in the middle of the night. Nothing huge, but it got my heart going pretty good. It wasn't violent, just a strong back and forth motion with a loud, shake all the china, bang at the end. Normally that sort of thing wouldn't get me going too much, but when your house is made of sand and water, it makes you stop and think for a minute.

Surprise #3: One of my co-workers says to me, "Hey, did you hear any shots last night?" "No," I replied. "Oh, well Joe the national worker who lives really close to you said he heard a lot of gunfire last night, and this morning he confirmed that there was a bunch of shooting going on not too far from your place around 11pm." "Oh, that's interesting. Nope, didn't hear a thing, I was fast asleep from a hard day's work!" It's moments like these that I thank the Lord our house is made of sand and water!

We spent the last week in Kampala, Uganda, where I began my maintenance orientation with our chief mechanic. I am a firm believer in a good strong maintenance program, especially when I'm flying over many miles of thick jungle :) We were also able to get some shopping done for things we can't get here in Bunia. We are starting to feel at home here, and once again we find ourselves beginning to take root; they say once you've lived in Africa, it will forever be in your blood. And I'd have to say, I think they're right.

From the Logbook

2010-10-17T08:03:00.000-07:00

     My alarm goes off at 6am; I hit the snooze button and roll over as the first rays of sunlight come through the window. After 10 minutes, I decide it's time to get up and get dressed. Just before I hear a honk at the gate, I double check that I have everything--flight bag, lunch, survival kit, water, multi-tool, flashlight, cell phone, watch, ID, pen, and calculator.
     The ride to the airport takes 5 minutes and we are greeted by the national staff, and I start my pre-flight, file flights plans, and oversee the loading process. We are taxiing for departure an hour later with 2 passengers (a nun and a doctor) and several hundred pounds of cargo. As we takeoff and turn right, heading North for the one hour flight to Aru, I climb through a scattered layer of puffy white clouds and can't help but smile...I have the greatest job in the world. The airplane practically flies itself in the crisp morning air. Today I am flying with Jon, the chief pilot; he's been flying longer than I have been alive, so I try and soak in everything he says. We talk about landing areas and airstrips along our route, and before I know it, we are descending for landing. As we touch down on the runway, one of the passengers in the second row begins yelling and clapping his hands...out of excitement. I immediately thought that he must be a skiddish flyer and was so relieved to be on terra firma again, but quickly realized he actually thought MAF was the coolest ministry ever, and swore over and over again that he will only fly on MAF airplanes from now on.
     We taxied to our parking spot, shut down, and were greeted as we exited the airplane. A young man hands me an ice cold Coke...one of the perks of flying into Aru. He then brings around 5 passengers all of whom are "scheduled" to get a ride back to Bunia. That presents a little bit of a problem when you have 7 people who all want to go flying in a 6 passenger airplane. We told (as kindly as possible) one gentleman he would have to stay behind, and began loading the rest of the luggage and freight as the workers fueled the airplane. After just three passengers were on board, I was already thinking to myself that something was amiss, and sure enough, as the fourth passenger climbed in, the airplane gently settled back onto its tail, with the nose up in the air. It's commonly known that you can easily check the 206's center of gravity by pushing the tail to the ground--if it comes back up, you are within the limits of the airplane, if it doesn't, you have to either put more weight in the front of the airplane, or take extra weight out of the back.
     We ended up having to take several large suitcases out of the back of the airplane and leave them so we could accommodate all the passengers. An hour and a half later (and already an hour behind schedule) we were headed back to Bunia to drop off the passengers and pick up 2 more passengers and a few hundred pounds of cargo. The stop in Bunia goes much quicker, and 30 minutes later, we are taking off and heading West into the Ituri rainforest. We're now headed for a city called Isiro with a passenger from an organization called MedAir, and lots of boxes for them and for Doctors Without Borders. It is an hour and a half flight over what looks strikingly like a huge field of broccoli. This stop also goes quickly as we unload and pick up 2 passengers for a short hop over to a mission station called Nebobongo. We circle overhead to make sure the airstrip is clear and suitable for landing before starting our approach. The airstrip is plenty long, but with 100-200 foot trees on all sides, the approach and landing require careful attention. We land and taxi uphill to the end of the airstrip where it seems like the whole village is awaiting our arrival.

     We turn around, shut down, and add one more passenger, for a total of 6 people, and add a little more cargo. It seems hot here, and unbearably humid. Water leaves my body faster than I can replenish it. But no worry, soon I'll be cruising in the cool air. We now have one mission doctor, one national, one humanitarian worker, and a photographer on board.
     I make a mental note that this takeoff will definitely require a "short field" technique. As we start up and run through our pre-takeoff checks, the whole village is waving frantically and all the kids run behind the airplane to try and defy the hurricane-force winds of the propeller at full power. All checks are complete, things look good, so I squeeze the brakes and add full power...one more check to make sure the engine is operating normally before releasing the brakes and starting the takeoff run. Everything's good, let's go. I instinctively add right rudder as the airplane's tendency is to go left. Speed check is good, and before I know it, the airplane tells me it's ready to fly and leaps off the ground. As the end of the airstrip is fast approaching, I have a moment of doubt as the 200 foot trees begin looking ominously huge through the windscreen, and every muscle in my body screams at me to pull the nose up...but then the training takes over and I wait for 65 knots, and then I pitch up to hold that airspeed. We "balloon" up and over the trees with plenty of margin. I smile again and silently thank my parents for providing the means to get the right training for this kind of environment.
     It's mid-afternoon now and the scattered layer of clouds has turned into a broken layer, so I climb up right underneath them and wait patiently for a hole to climb up through and into the cooler, smoother air. Several minutes later, I find what I'm looking for, add full power, and climb up and around the clouds. 10 minutes of climbing get us up to 9,500 feet; I sit back, relax, and let the plane do all the work. Jon and I talk about the vast jungle beneath us as I gently bank the airplane around clouds. After an hour of cruising along, I begin to see massive thunderstorms ahead, and make my descent early. Back down into the bumpy humid air we go. As we get closer to Bunia, several thunderstorms and rain showers block our path home, so we deviate to the south and try and out run the storms. As we make our way just outside the rain, a hole opens up and promises a straight path right into Bunia. We land without a problem, 15 minutes before the rain starts. I smile again, thanking God this time for yet another safe return. I wonder what Monday's flight schedule might hold?

Bug Battles Begin

2010-09-29T04:43:00.000-07:00

Episode 1:

When we first got here, I thought the bugs weren't that bad at all, there weren't even that many mosquitoes flying around. Truthfully, the bugs still aren't that bad, I just think we were exceptionally spared the first two weeks we were here. Now that we're starting to settle in, I'm beginning to notice the little things. Geckos scurry up the walls, but I can get used to them. They keep the other small bugs at bay. Ants crawl freely under the doors, some are big black ants, others are so tiny you can hardly see or notice them at all. Keep the floors relatively clean and the lid tightly on the sugar canister, and they aren't a problem. But, the other day I was outside burning our trash, and the biggest wasp I have ever seen landed on the bush right next to me. I was more intrigued than scared, but I couldn't help thinking that the sting from a bee that colossal would probably make a rugby player cry. I wasn't too concerned until I noticed yesterday that their nest is in one of our window sills. I googled them today and found that they are among the most docile wasps in the world, and that they eat black and brown widow spiders and other insects. I guess they can stay.

We also had a big surprise last night when I shut our bedroom door. There was a spider the size of my palm staring back at me. I promptly re-opened the door and ran to get the DOOM everything killer spray. I let him have it until he shriveled up into a ball and then he went down the toilet. I googled him too, and found out he eats mosquitoes, insects, other spiders, and even lizards and geckos, but I draw the line at spiders. I don't care what they eat, how small they are, or what their purpose in life is--if they are in my house, they die. Especially when they are that big, hairy, and can leap small buildings. Their bite is not deadly, but can cause severe headaches, nausea, vomiting, and heart palpitations. More than enough reason for me to justify my actions :)

Until next time!

Home Sweet Home

2010-09-16T05:40:00.000-07:00

As we fly in over the city of Bunia on an MAF Cessna Caravan, I think to myself, "Wow, this is small...and this is home!" I look out the window as we make our approach to land and the first thing I notice is deep ruts and ditches in the roads, a few cars and motorcycles inch their way along; there are no paved roads here, not one--boy am I glad to be flying! I notice a few thunderstorms off in the distance. We are met by the entire MAF-East DRC team as we get off the airplane and they begin helping us unload our luggage. After quick introductions, we meet a MAF national staff person who takes our passports to finish up Visa and entry paperwork, and we are on our way "home." After a bumpy 10 minute ride we arrive at a big green gate and honk the horn. A young man opens the gate (our day guard) to let us in and we get our first glimpse of what will be our home. It is fully furnished with everything we need (for now) and I can't help but be impressed by the cleanliness! Everything looks spick and span. A quick tour reveals 3 bedrooms (one currently being an office) and two bathrooms, living room, dining room, and kitchen.
I have to say, most of it has been a blur, but we are settling in, and are beginning to learn the ropes. Managing the electrical power and water to our house, minimizing bugs, cooking with matchlight gas stoves, and listening in on the MAF radio have kept us plenty busy so far. Much of it will become routine in the coming weeks and months, but until then, we have a sharp learning curve! We will share more as more becomes availabe, but for now, I'll leave you with a photo of Kaitlyn helping mommy hang clothes out to dry!

P.S. Please continue to pray for our health to be strong, for our adjustments to life here, and for our shipment to arrive in a timely manner (preferably in the next week or two!) Thanks!

Shipment

2010-08-29T17:40:00.000-07:00

It's finished! Quick facts:

Total shipment weight--1,919 lbs.
Total pieces--20 (17 plastic bins, 2 large boxes, 1 crated toolbox)
Shipping via--air freight

We've also pretty much completed packing our luggage. For that we have 9 checked suitcases, 3 carry-on suitcases, stroller, carseat, 2 laptops with cases, and a diaper bag!

Our itinerary:

British Airways
Departing Los Angeles International Airport September 8th @ 9:20pm
Arriving London Heathrow Airport September 9th @ 3:30pm
Flight Time is 10 hours 30 minutes
Aircraft = Boeing 747-400

British Airways
Departing London Heathrow Airport September 9th @ 9:15pm
Arriving Entebbe, Uganda September 10th @ 7:45am
Flight Time is 8 hours 30 minutes
Aircraft = Boeing 767-300

Kaitlyn's Second 1st Birthday

2010-08-10T16:55:00.000-07:00

Yep, that's right. She had a birthday party with grammy and popa in Ohio before we left, and Saturday we had a second birthday party at grandma Alvina's with Brian and Kristi's family. This was however the first time she actually had a cake. She wasn't too sure about everyone staring at her and singing, or the cake for that matter, until she found out what it tasted like! Then it was all over! There was cake everywhere. After the cake and ice cream, we opened some presents. Kaitlyn loves all her new toys...even though most of them are now packed in our shipment.

In fact, we only have two more storage bins to pack before our shipment is complete! Hopefully we will be finished by the end of this week. Then we can focus more on last minute details, paperwork, and checklists. It's hard to believe we'll be leaving in less than a month, but at the same time, we're super excited to begin this new chapter in our lives. Please pray for our health in the next several weeks, as it will be undoubtedly stressful! As always, we cherish your prayers!

Silence

2010-08-05T15:13:00.000-07:00

Chris: "Why is it so quiet in here? Hey Joy, do you know where Kaitlyn is?"

Joy: "Nope, I thought you were watching her."

Chris: "Oh, I thought you were watching her." ..."Kaitlyn, where are you?" Silence

Kaitlyn, where are you?!

Kaitlyn: "He he, blah blah blah!

Oh there you are! You found your bag of cheerios I see. Didn't you eat enough at dinner?

Apparently she didn't, because she had two big handfuls of cheerios and they were disappearing faster than I could pick them up. After I got all the cheerios out of her hair, off her back, legs, and forehead, I decided to take a picture! Now she goes in the luggage so we can keep a watchful eye on her! If you look closely, you might even be able to see her first tooth that just poked through!
Other than chasing a 10 month old around, we've been packing, shopping, and packing some more. With just one month left, we're starting to feel the pressure of getting everything done before we leave September 8. You can praise the Lord that we are all healthy and doing well!

Niagara Falls

2010-06-26T08:42:00.000-07:00

Along the drive home, we decided to stop at Niagara Falls. I haven't been there in quite a few years, Joy hasn't been there since she was three, and Kaitlyn...well, this was her first time. We all enjoyed the break! Kaitlyn LOVES water and all she wanted to do was jump in and take a dip. As soon as she saw the water, she started kicking her legs and trying to swim! Here are a bunch of pictures....

June newsletter

2010-06-23T17:34:00.002-07:00

To read our latest newsletter, click on the link below!

http://cdn.maf.org/assets/fri-j9hETgMqXNXuAkaunw/Konop-June-2010.pdf

Coaticook

2010-06-19T09:29:00.000-07:00

Land of ice cream and the world's longest suspension bridge! This was our final field trip before the semester ends on Wednesday and we receive our diplomas! From here, we will be heading back to Ohio for a few weeks before continuing on to California. We are busy packing, cleaning, and studying for our final French exams. Here are a couple pictures from the past few weeks:

The Guinness Record for the longest suspension bridge in the world, 169 meters long (554 feet) and 50 meters high (164 feet).

Kaitlyn started crawling a few weeks ago, and she's already grabbing onto things and trying to pull herself up and walk. This is her "can you put that silly camera down and come pick me up...I need some snuggle time?" pose. She ate baby food for all of maybe a month, and now all she wants is what mommy and daddy are eating. So we chop everything up in little pieces and she feeds herself. We don't get carrots and peaches spit all over us, and she gets the satisfaction of doing it herself, everybody wins! I've never seen a child down spaghetti quite like her though!

My Weekend with Daddy

2010-05-30T14:15:00.000-07:00

has been awesome! It's been just me and daddy the whole weekend long! Mommy and Grandma went somewhere (daddy says Quebec City) and we've had so much fun together! We went to the park yesterday and got home just in time, right before it started raining really really hard. I got to go on the swing, down the slide and on the teeter-totter (although daddy said it was really hard with no one on the other end). Then, when we got home, we had a tea party! Well, daddy had coffee and I had a bottle, but we had a tea pot that talks and plays music, and some crackers to munch on. He even let me stay up later than usual so we could hang out and watch the first game of the Stanley Cup finals! I think we're rooting for Chicago because daddy says all the good teams got kicked out. Then, in the morning, I shared my oatmeal with him and we went to church where I just usually play with a couple of my friends while daddy and mommy sing songs and listen to the preacher. After church, we ate some lunch and then went on another walk to the park so I could swing some more. I just love it when we go outside! When we came back from the park, I had to take a nap because I was really tired from having so much fun. In fact, I think I set a new nap time record; I slept for 3 hours! Well, it's time to have some more fun before dinner time...and still no signs of mommy and grandma. Daddy says he has some big news he wants to share, but he's waiting until next week...so tune back in a few days from now!

Grandma's Here!

2010-05-24T14:29:00.000-07:00

That's right; all the way from sunny California! She even thought to bring the sunshine and the warm weather with her! Check out the 3 generations: Grandma, momma, and baby! We've been doing the tourist thing again, seeing all the sights, having picnic lunches at the park, going on long strolls. The only difference now is that we can get around mostly in French! I guess two and a half semesters of classes are finally paying off!

Our monthly support has begun to slowly climb towards 90% now. That's a wonderful thing; it would be so nice to just focus on all the little things that need to get done and our shipment of belongings. We are still hoping to depart sometime in September. Hope you have a wonderful Memorial Day next weekend!

7 Month Pictures

2010-05-22T07:28:00.000-07:00

Actually, I'm just about 8 months old now, but mommy and daddy took all these pictures a few weeks ago. We went for a really long walk because it was so nice outside. They took me to a huge park where I got to swing and play in the grass! They showed me dandelions, and a big place where water goes called a river. It was so much fun! I can't tell you how happy I am that it's nice outside now; there's so much to do and see!

I'm working on crawling right now too. It's really hard, but I've almost got it down! Mommy and daddy have been working hard to finish up the rest of their schoolwork and have been sending lots of emails to people, asking them if they want to join our team so we can go to Africa and help the people there. They say we're really close to meeting our goal, if we only had about 25 people who could give $25 a month, we could go!

The Tourist Thing

2010-05-03T09:22:00.000-07:00

Aside from our regularly scheduled program, that's what we've been doing lately. We took a day trip to Québec, North America's oldest city. It's got more of a European feel with narrow cobblestone streets lined with shops, cafe's, and bistros. The one on the left is pretty wide, they get much more narrow than that. The building on the right is the "Chateau Frontenac," or Frontenac Castle, named after the French governor of the then "New France." In 1690, He famously mouthed these words, "I have no reply to make to your general but from the mouth of my cannons and muskets," when British forces sailed up the St. Lawrence River and demanded he surrender.

I just thought this sign was a little funny. Tourist Information, the Citadelle, Parliament Building, Frontenace Castle, and...Youville? Hmmm, wonder what that is?

We also spent this past weekend in Montréal with Grammy and Papa Konop who came all the way up from Ohio to visit. We went shopping, swimming, saw an IMAX film, saw the Body World exhibit, and got a passport for Kaitlyn too! Here me and Kaitlyn are learning about "African army ants" on the Discovery Channel. Hopefully we will get some pictures of Kaitlyn swimming soon; she LOVES the water!

The Park!

2010-04-22T15:15:00.001-07:00

Did you know they make these chairs outside that go back and forth?! They're so much fun; all you need is for someone to push you! Daddy says it's as close to flying as I'll get for a while.

They also have this bumpy plastic thing that you ride down. It's ok, I like the swing better; it's a little scary to be up so high sometimes.

Mommy and daddy both took turns taking me on all the fun toys there. I like going there when it's nice and sunny and warm outside. It's fun to go on a stroller ride and see lots of neat things.

When we do things like that, I get really tired and sometimes I have to go to bed early so I can catch up on some sleep. Other nights, I stay up and watch the Stanley Cup Playoffs with daddy.

Easter!

2010-04-10T13:05:00.004-07:00

Easter was a busy time for us this year; we got to celebrate Joy's birthday on Saturday, and we had a bunch of missionary friends over on Sunday after the church service for a good old fashioned pot luck dinner. We had a 12 pound honey/pineapple glazed ham (of which I am still reaping benefits), mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, cheesy macaroni, salad, and three desserts! We had fun talking and laughing together, playing games, and coloring easter eggs.

Joy's birthday was fun too, although many things didn't really go as planned. I took her to a little town about 25 miles from here so she could go shopping. It was a really nice day so it felt great to be outside, but after looking in several different shops, nothing really tickled her fancy. So we came back home and one of our friends offered to babysit for the evening. Joy wanted to go to a restaurant that we like to go to for special occasions; they have a great salad bar and awesome rotisserie chicken. The only problem was that we had limited time to sit down and eat because she also wanted to see a movie. So we decided to just get the salad bar, but then we had to wait for utensils because they were so busy they ran out of clean ones. Then we had to wait for a long time to get our check, and by the time we got over to the movie theater, it was starting. But we figured we could miss the first few minutes and it would be ok, so we paid for our tickets and ran up to the theater just in time for the manager to come walking out saying the show was canceled because only a few people showed up. Oh no! We did get our money back and a pair of free tickets to come back some other time, but we were still a little disappointed. Instead, we walked the streets for a little while and found a nice little coffee shop where Joy got a slice of cheesecake and we shared it on the terrace. All in all, she had a good day, and her next birthday will be a lot more interesting I'm sure, as we celebrate it in Congo!

Our French is still coming along; I'm just about finished with my second semester. After that, I will participate in a conversation course where no new grammar is introduced, and we just practice...well, conversation, and speaking/understanding too. It will be a good two months of building a solid vocabulary and practicing what we've already learned. The time is going by fast now, and before we know it, we'll be on our way back to southern California.

A certain little girl is also growing up really fast! I realized the other day that she doesn't really fit in my arms anymore. She's learning so much! We've started her on some baby food, so far just peas and squash. She hasn't really got the whole "open mouth, close mouth, swallow" thing down yet, so what she does is more like this: "open mouth slightly, push contents back out onto chin and surrounding area, collect contents with hands, mash vigorously on tray, lick contents from fingers, repeat." She hasn't figured out the crawling thing yet, but she can stand all by herself and very soon she will be completely mobile!

We hope you were able to make some great memories during this wonderful holiday too, as we celebrated His death, burial, and triumphant resurrection!

La Cabane à Sucre!

2010-03-28T15:58:00.004-07:00

--OR-- the "Sugar Shack"

This was one of our field trips this spring. Apparently, Québec produces most of the *world* supply of maple syrup and it's a big tradition here. The "sortie" (or outing) began with a traditional brunch type meal with maple-glazed ham, eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, crêpes, coffee and juice! We then took a quiz and learned about the maple process and history. After that, we visited an actual site where they produce the syrup.

What you do when you get there is take a spatula, grab some maple syrup and pour it out on top of the snow and let it start cooling. Then take the spatula and roll it across the syrup and voilà! you have a syrup covered spatula. We also took a walk through the woods to actually see the harvesting pots.

It's almost comical...Ok, maybe I should back up a little bit first....The Quebecois people are very, very, very...very proud of their heritage and their traditions. Did I mention they're super proud of them? Well, this tradition is no exception. They claim that the syrup has incredible amounts of essential vitamins and minerals, and if eaten in large enough quantities, will boost your immune system so high that you'd probably never get sick again. I had just one spatula's worth, most others had 2 or 3, and a few dared to have twice that amount. At any rate, it was a fun time and a good break from the classroom as it's starting to warm up here.

Toys

2010-03-17T13:14:00.005-07:00

Check out my new toy! Since I can kind of stand up on my own, mommy and daddy thought I might enjoy an "exersaucer." They were right, I love it! Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Hayward for thinking of me at the store when you saw an extra one! I can turn all the way around and jump up and down and throw toys everywhere. The best part is that my legs are getting stronger all the time, and yesterday I think I might have figured out that I can actually go places on my own instead of having mommy or daddy carry me...wouldn't that be great?! Just think of all the places I could explore! I don't have it down quite yet, but I'm going to work on it....

I also got some cool Easter presents from Grammy! My bunny hat is so soft and I love chewing on my new book. Daddy said I couldn't have any of the chocolate bars yet, so he ate them.

I like that it's warm now too, no baby should have to feel that kind of cold. Mommy and daddy try to go for a walk every day--there are so many new sights, sounds, and smells I haven't discovered yet. Sometimes it's just too much for me and I get really tired, and I just close my eyes for a little while. I don't know what the big deal is, but sometimes daddy gets really excited and tries to show me something far away up in the air. He calls them "airplanes," and says that I should like them because he likes them.

But really, I just like looking at all the things close to me right now and talking to other people when they walk by. When there's nobody to talk to, I just talk to myself or the stroller. I may look like my daddy, but I'm like my mommy through and through. I love people and I'm happy all the time. Well, it's about time for my afternoon nap....until next time!

Furlough

2010-03-12T13:57:00.003-08:00

So, just for fun I decided to plot a course for a possible furlough based on where most of our supporting churches and individuals are located. I was a little surprised at the results!

View Larger Map

That's 7,214 miles --OR-- 117 hours of driving time, with stops in at least 7 US states! I can just imagine...we finally return home after 290 gallons of gas, 2 flat tires, leaving a small suitcase in Lincoln, Nebraska, and endless bathroom breaks! This is the ultimate "Are We There Yet?!" On the other hand, I'm really encouraged that so many people from so many different backgrounds have come together to join our team and serve with us through the ministry of MAF. It warms my heart and eases my worries to know that folks literally all over the country are praying for us regularly! What a God we serve!

Changing

2010-03-08T10:36:00.002-08:00

Ever heard of a bee called a mud dauber? It looks like a wasp and stings like a wasp, but it builds its nest out of mud and is commonly found around the corners of the house or attached to a barn or shed. They have a saying here in Quebec that involves the mud dauber, much like Punxsutawney Phil in the US is supposed to tell us how much longer winter will last depending on if he sees his shadow or not. Well, the bees tell people in Quebec if it's going to be a brutally cold winter with lots of snow, or more of a mild winter depending on where they decide to build their nests. So everyone around here watches the bees in October/November to see what they say about the upcoming winter, and surprisingly, they're quite accurate. Most of the nests I saw were pretty close to the ground. All that to say, it's been pretty mild here; most of the snow is gone and it's been in the 40's for the past few weeks. We've also been seeing a little more sunshine, which is very welcome! We can't wait to get out and start taking walks again.

Last week we had a mid term break, and it was nice to take a little pause in the french learning and "sleep in" (as much as you can with a 5 month old). Speaking of 5 month olds, our's is doing pretty well. She's quite the animated little girl, and just like her mommy, she loves people! She's rolling around, talking nonstop, and can't stop wiggling!

This week is quite the busy one. We have tons of homework to do, newsletters to write, and I'm in the middle of getting most of my immunizations for Africa. I also have to give my testimony this Wednesday morning during chapel (all in French mind you). Our monthly support is still about the same as it has been; we still need about 20% to be released to the field. We would appreciate your prayers in these matters. For now, I have to go get poked and prodded!