The MAF Blog: Worldwide Pulse

Posts Tagged ‘indonesia’

Surviving Rainy, Swampy Air Strips

Posted on: May 17th, 2012 by Brian Shepson  |  Leave a comment


Nobody likes to get stranded when they are traveling by plane. A cancelled flight or mechanical failure can be frustrating beyond belief, especially when we simply want to get home to a loved one. When you are a missionary pilot flying in the jungle, those frustrations still exist.

I once went to pick up a missionary who had been serving in Ecuador for 30 years. The rainfall was so intense the previous night that the water rolled off his tin roof in one continuous, corrigated sheet for hours. With such rainfalls, getting in and out of these areas require precision, patience and careful examination.

So how do jungle pilots determine the safety of the strip’s surface while still circling overhead?

Mission Aviation Fellowship Papua Indonesia

Sheets of rain like this in Papua create spectacular rainbows, but that same water isn’t so great for grass and dirt airstrips.

One of the techniques pilots use to accomplish this is by approaching the strip at such an angle that you can catch a reflection off the standing water. Once you’ve determined that there is water, you have to next determine how deep it is. I have radioed down to the air strip and asked people to walk through the puddles to determine their depth or watched animals cross the air strip to see if they remain on top of the ground.

A soft airstrip can grab your tires and flip your plane in a split second. It’s not something you want to happen to your plane. Ruts can be even worse, forcing you off the air strip as you’re landing and sending you careening into a ditch nearby or into trees surrounding the strip.

And none of these observations are worth much if you can’t see the air strip – which is a real problem when you’re flying in the rain. Whenever rain drops cover a windshield, the rain drops wreak havoc on your depth perception. We teach our pilots to rock their head from side to side as they approach air strips to avoid this problem, enabling them to clearly perceive their depth of vision.

Observing donkeys crossing the air strip, rocking your head back and forth, and assessing an air strip’s viability for landing from the air – it’s all in a day’s work for a jungle pilot.

Broken Things

Posted on: May 7th, 2012 by Rebecca Hopkins  |  Leave a comment


Sun and blue were stealing part of the morning in an otherwise rainy streak of days. The perfect day to wear my new sunglasses, I thought, as I pulled them from the drawer.

I’d bought them during last month’s visit to the States. Purchased in a store with wide aisles and cool air; placed in a huge cart filled with other special goodies. I picked the pair with the sparkly rhinestones that made me feel less like a 34-year-old tired mom and more like a movie star.

But sometime after I packed them in my suitcase, after they made the three-day journey to Indonesia, jostled through four countries’ x-ray machines, or after I’d unpacked them in my steamy Indonesian house in a race against my kids’ attempts at “helping” me, they broke.

Photo by Mr. Thinktank

The entire arm off one side was missing, chopped off along the way.

Typical. Figures. No movie star eyes for me. Those were my first cynical thoughts sprung from disappointment.

Hours later, I crushed the pretty new purse I’d bought in the States in the door of my car—after the rain had begun again and I was in a hurry to put my kids into their seats before another motorcycle splashed more water on me. One of the pretty beads now fractured and floating in the oil-glistened puddle.

Another new thing, broken.

Just like me, I thought.

Somewhere along the journey to Indonesia, through my husband’s and baby’s bouts with dengue fever, in the midst of the loneliness of those first years overseas, jostled through two pregnancies and two babies born overseas, rubbed against the heartbreaking lives of Indonesian friends, I’ve become more broken. Less new and shiny. More shattered by the poverty and hard stories around me. And, well, more gray.

Ideals of making a difference sanded down by the realities of serving. Bravery of adventure fractured by the fears brought by overseas motherhood. The closeness of community peeking through the cracks of my own sin.

Less movie star. More frazzled mom.

And yet…

He asked me to come here. He brought me through those hard things. He allowed the jostling to happen. And He alone makes me new.

And somehow, through my brokenness, the Gospel is made most true. My own cracks allowing His love inside me to be seen. My own humility—sometimes humiliation—giving way to His grace. And because of His brokenness, I, too, am made whole. I, too, am saved for a happy ending.

World Malaria Day: MAF Mitigating Malaria’s Impact

Posted on: April 25th, 2012 by MAF  |  Leave a comment

While malaria is easily treatable and usually does not result in death for those infected in most of the world, it remains a leading cause of death in Africa to the tune of 1.2 million people in 20101. That’s why Mission Aviation Fellowship’s presence there is so critical in the fight against this killer disease.

MAF pilots prepare an Indonesian man stricken by malaria for an emergency medical flight.

In Democratic Republic of the Congo, MAF works closely with Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières – MSF) to help deliver medical treatment in outbreak areas. MAF also helps distribute bed nets treated with insecticide to those living in the remote mountains of Mozambique. Even MAF missionaries aren’t immune to the ever-present malaria problem.

Outside of Africa, the number of malaria-related deaths is much lower2—but it cannot be ignored.

MAF’s program in Papua, Indonesia, experienced the ill-effects of malaria firsthand with a medical evacuation flight. Pilots Nathan Fagerlie and Tim Smith dropped off a delivery in Kiwi before being asked to take back a man stricken with malaria. Running a high fever, the man began acting crazy and needed to be strapped to the floor of their Kodiak airplane. They flew to Sentani to get the man some much-needed medical attention that would save his life.

On World Malaria Day, let’s not forget how many lives still hang in the balance of whether or not they can receive quick treatment for malaria—and how important MAF’s role is in enabling vaccinations  and other supplies to reach isolated areas in desperate need of aid.


1 Christopher JL Murray, Lisa C Rosenfeld, Stephen S Lim, Kathryn G Andrews, Kyle J Foreman, Diana Haring, Nancy Fullman, Mohsen Naghavi, Rafael Lozano, Alan D Lopez. “Global malaria mortality between 1980 and 2010: a systematic analysis”. The Lancet, Volume 379, Issue 9814, Pages 413 – 431, 4 February 2012 doi:10.1016/S0140-6736(12)60034-8

2 Ibid.

Chalk One Up To The Ants

Posted on: April 16th, 2012 by Linda Ringenberg  | 

Ants. I’ve experienced them in the hot and humid coastal areas of Indonesia, but now we’ve moved to a dryer climate at 5150 feet elevation. To my surprise, my kitchen was overrun with the little black vermin! If I so much as dropped a crumb, there they were! Usually as I adjust to overseas living, I also adjust to the ants, but this time their sheer numbers perturbed me.

I tried plugging their holes with dish soap. That worked – for about a day. I borrowed liquid poison, but to no avail. My friend Beth recommended ant chalk – and even brought me some since there wasn’t any available in town. It worked! The ants hated the stuff. Elated, I watched as they marched up to the line of chalk, hesitated, and then turned back. My counters were safe! Or so I thought.

Beth and Linda

After a few days, the chalk would wear off in certain spots, and the persistent critters would find a place to cross. Undaunted, I’d get the chalk out again, and reseal the line with a flourish. No more ants. Now my chalk lines just needed some daily maintenance and we were A-OK.

One morning as I spied the little black nuisances breaking through my chalk line, God whispered to me, “Linda, these ants are like your familiar sins.” That stung a bit as I thought about a recent “familiar” sin that God had convicted me about. “Now,” He continued, “You need daily maintenance with the help of my Holy Spirit in that area. Consciously choose to put off that sin and let me be your chalk line.”

I glanced at my lines of ant chalk with new understanding, and a new desire to be holy. “Lord, give me the tenacity with my sins that I have with the ants!” I prayed silently.

In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Jesus Christ.” Romans 6:11

In the Aftermath of an Indonesian Earthquake

Posted on: April 12th, 2012 by MAF  | 


When a natural disaster strikes a country where MAF has a base, the hours and days immediately following are critical for the survival of the people suffering from the fallout. Currently, MAF is working to assess the situation following the earthquake in Sumatra, Indonesia.

The following is an account MAF helicopter pilot John Miller recorded after an earthquake measuring 6.8 on the Richter scale in Irian Jaya (today known as West Papua) on January 19, 1981 spawned landslides that covered entire villages and left people stranded and without food, water, and shelter.

Several weeks ago we were jolted out of bed in the middle of the night as a violent earthquake ripped through the mountains. As I drifted back to sleep, I wondered if this earthquake would result in any additional flying for me. Little did I realize that at the epicenter in the Solo Valley 50 miles away hundreds of people were being buried alive as huge landslides swept away their houses.

Since there was no mission station in the devastated valley, it took a few days for word to come over the trail. Missionary Art Clark in the neighboring Seng Valley called over the radio, “John, how soon can you get down here with the helicopter? We’re getting some incredible stories about whole villages being destroyed and need to check it out.”

MAF Irian manager John Karetji, government officials, and missionary Art Clark discuss resettlement with the refugees from the earthquake in 1981.

The next morning, as we flew into the Solo Valley, we could hardly believe our eyes. The normally green, forested mountains were an ugly brown, barren of vegetation. Enormous landslides had swept down the steep slopes, carrying away trees, gardens, homes and people alike. Even as we watched, the ground shook and dust clouds billowed as boulders and rubble continued to roll down the mountain.

“Where’s Sohonat?” exclaimed Art. The whole village was gone with hardly a trace! In some places, half of a village would be gone. The remaining buildings had simply collapsed, often trapping people inside. We made a quick pass down the valley floor looking for casualties or any sign of the missing villages, but everything was buried under millions of tons of rocks and dirt.

As we hovered over one village looking for any sign of life, a feeble old woman struggled out of a hut and tried to run away. We quickly landed and Art ran after her and brought her back to the helicopter. Later we heard her story. Most of the people from the village were dead. The rest had waited until daylight, and they then climbed up the mountainside into the high forests, leaving the old woman and her daughter behind. The daughter stayed two days until the food was gone, and then she left, telling her mother, “You’re old and will die anyway, so I’m leaving.”

Across the valley a few huts remained where the village of Unuklaha once stood. We spotted smoke rising from a hut and went to investigate. Another old woman had been left behind, but she was too frightened to get into the helicopter. We left her some food. Returning each day to drop food, we wondered what to do since her hut was between two large landslide areas with the river below and a 3,000-foot sheer rock wall behind her, completely cutting her off. Finally we located some refugees from her village high up in the forest at the 8,000-foot level. We dropped some food and a message to clear the forest for a helipad, and told them about the old woman trapped below. The next day there was no smoke from her hut. She was gone. Our hearts sank. We flew up to the new clearing in the high forest and landed. Imagine our surprise to find her there grinning at us! Art gave her a big hug. Some men had come for her and somehow they had scaled that 3,000-foot cliff and brought her to the clearing. We flew her and her friends to safety.

Each day we returned to locate refugees and fly them by the dozen to safe areas where they would get food and shelter.

Over the next several weeks, Jim Harris and I evacuated hundreds of refugees and flew many tons of supplies.