The MAF Blog: Worldwide Pulse

Posts Tagged ‘Lesotho’

Witnessing a Happy Ending

Posted on: April 5th, 2012 by Justin Honaker |

When MAF pilots make medical evacuation flights they don’t always get to see the happy endings. But when they do, it’s a satisfying flight.

MAF pilot Justin Honaker was closing the rear cargo door before embarking on his first flight of the day to the village of Methaleneng in Lesotho, Africa, when a vaguely familiar face grinned back at him. The man rattled off something in Sesotho and pointed to his 10-year-old son next to him. Justin realized what the man was asking: “Do you remember us?” And then, Justin recognized them…

Five days earlier, I had been to Methaleneng. The father and son, Motlatsi, were on board. Motlatsi was lethargic, incoherent, and barely conscious, after being hit in the head with a stone. He and his father made the 2.5-hour trek to the clinic. I remember buckling Motlatsi’s nearly limp body into the back seat of the Cessna 206 that day, his spastic movements hampering my efforts. I remember his eyes darting aimlessly about the cabin and wondering if he wouldn’t be better off on a stretcher (that I didn’t have with me). I remember feeling that there was little hope for the boy.

On this day, however, Justin hardly recognized Motlatsi, who was now bright-eyed and grinning, happy and coherent. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!” Justin said. Now, the only remaining hurdle to getting the father and son home was the gusting wind wreaking havoc on the sky over Lesotho. Methaleneng had been unlandable the day before.

From 9,500 feet, Justin pondered the miracle in the back seat of his airplane and prayed that one day Motlatsi would know his Savior as well. As Justin circled overhead at Methaleneng, he saw a limp windsock and marveled again at God’s protective hand over Motlatsi’s life.

A Good Dose of Medicine

Posted on: February 22nd, 2012 by Justin Honaker | 2 Comments

From my low altitude I can see nearly every detail of the surface below. Ordinarily, I would be comfortably cruising thousands of feet above Lesotho’s extremely mountainous landscape. But today I’m forced to fly beneath an ominous gray cloud layer, in the middle of thick haze, twisting and turning with the contours of the jagged rocky terrain. In the haze, I’m fighting for each mile, much closer to the ground than I’m used to. My destination still lies 50 miles ahead. Trouble is I can only see five miles in front of me.

It was a hard decision departing on today’s flight. In the front of my mind I always ask the question: “Can I complete this flight safely?” Abiding by country and MAF regulations is essential. Passenger comfort and confidence is also of my top priority. My own energy level, emotional state, and skill are always in the mix too.
There is continuously a risk vs. benefit to consider on any flight. Today, with 300 lbs. of critical medical supplies for a completely depleted stock at a mountain clinic, the benefit is clear. Their resupply will come by air or not at all. However, the marginal weather risk is harder to decipher, especially in a country with almost non-existent aviation weather reporting.

In order to decipher today’s weather better, we sent out a “sniffer” – a pilot who goes out on the first flight of the day to “sniff” the weather and report back if another plane should launch or not. Earlier I received the sniffer’s report and opted to launch, despite my colleague’s hesitance to say yes.

Through the haze I finally spot the last ridge above the airstrip through a slightly dissolving haze. It feels like it’s been hours getting this far, yet only 45 minutes has lapsed. Once on the ground one of the clinicians quizzes me, “Isn’t the weather too bad for flying?”

“It’s very marginal, but flyable,” I assure her, and then proceed to unload the cargo. It only takes only a few minutes to unload, and the clinic is now at least minimally stocked.

Powering up my vacant airplane and launching back into the haze, with a renewed sense of confidence in my successful return, a smile creeps onto my face. Today’s mission is complete.

Holidays Traditions

Posted on: December 23rd, 2011 by John Boyd |

Jason Chatraw discusses the different ways MAF President and CEO, John Boyd, has celebrated Christmas with his family while serving with Mission Aviation Fellowship in different parts of the world.

Running Time – 7:00 minutes

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Fighting the Good Fight

Posted on: December 8th, 2011 by Justin Honaker | 1 Comment

Yesterday was December 7^th, Pearl Harbor Day. Having served in the military and stationed in Hawaii, it is hard for me not to remember December 7, 1941. More than 300 airplanes were used in the attack that catapulted the United States into war that day.

On December 1^st, World AIDS day Lesotho, we were reminded that we are caught up in a fight of our own. We had a packed schedule of public health workers traveling to several remote clinics for the day and returning in the afternoon. Our challenge was moving so many people out and back in the same day.

Our three Cessna 206’s are a far cry from the more than 300 used in 1941, but I know we are going to make a difference. Instead of bullets, we are delivering test equipment so people know their status. Instead of bombs, people who care. Instead of torpedo’s dropped from airplanes, we leave hope in our wake.

So, as you reflect on Pearl Harbor Day, be strong and courageous. And fight the good fight today and every day.

A Day In The Life of an MAF pilot in Lesotho, Africa

Posted on: September 30th, 2011 by MAF |

The majority of flying in Lesotho, Africa is medically related. Here, MAF pilot Justin Honaker describes a recent flight day that left an impression on him.

[Mofofise – The word for pilot in the Sesotho language, pronounced moh-foh-FEE-seh]

I’ve got a fairly full day of flying ahead of me, 4.5 hours or so and nine landings. It’s a somewhat standard mix of returning patients to their homes in the mountains, getting clinic workers to and from work at a dozen remote mountain clinics, and carrying some odds-and-ends cargo.

However, one flight stands out to me—a patient transfer from one clinic to another. I’m flying from the remote village of Methaleneng to another remote village, Lebekeng.

Ironically, Lebekeng is more than a 10-hour drive from the capital, with the road ending at a river and the clinic and airstrip on the other side. From there you have to get across a 50- to 100-foot wide river, followed by another half-hour hike or so. Hope the river is low when you come.

Circling overhead, I’m amused by the whole situation. Today I’m flying a patient, Nstoaki , who will receive an X-ray in a clinic that was two years in the making, built with blocks and cement flown in by MAF and powered by a generator airlifted into place by a military helicopter, with the help of an MAF mechanic.

Mission Aviation Fellowship Cessna 206 Lesotho Africa

The C206 taking off from one of the airstrips in Lesotho. (Photo by Roger Clark)

Mantoetsi, 24, is waiting for us at Lebekeng and leads us to the X-ray room. Topping off the diesel generator, kicking the noise-suppressing doors closed, and firing up the 60,000 kV machine to power the X-ray in a place with no electricity (and the only running water is down at that pesky river you crossed if you came by car), it is clear to me that Mantoetsi is far from your average X-ray tech.

A few minutes in the dark room and she is holding the films up to the sun, inspecting her work. This is her 190th X-ray in Lebekeng since it became operational in December 2010, and the image displays a properly healing wrist.

All and all we are on the ground a little more than an hour. Touching back down in Nstoaki’s home village of Methaleneng, less than two hours have lapsed since we first departed. Had we taken her to the capital city for X-rays, she would have been away from home at the very least 24 hours!

As I land back at home base, I still can’t get over how MAF was able to save Nstoaki so much time and hassle, and not only that, but to think about the role MAF had in making that clinic a reality. Back at the hangar, I do my post-flight check, finish a little paperwork and then head home to my wife.

And so ends another day in the life of an MAF pilot.