The MAF Blog: Worldwide Pulse

Posts Tagged ‘story’

God in Action: Horn of Africa Famine

Posted on: August 3rd, 2011 by MAF |

Reflections from John Woodberry
MAF Disaster Response/Security Manager

At 8:30 this morning the MAF PC-12 arrived at Dadaab for a medevac flight. A teacher in one of the refugee camps had an extreme reaction to a tetanus shot. He was in quite a bit of pain and had a severe rash as the medical staff laid him down in the aircraft. Soon after landing, the aircraft was off to Nairobi and a hospital that could help stabilize him.

John Woodberry making friends

A half an hour later, MAF’s Caravan was landing with a delegation from Lutheran World Federation (LWF) to oversee some of the work in which they are involved. LWF is in charge of managing and coordinating much of the activity at the three refugee camps that dwarf the area view around Dadaab when you fly in. They are also involved in schools. Over 13,000 kids attend small schools in the camps.

As we drove home from a trip to the camps, my mind is still etched with images of people waiting in long lines to register so that they can have a small tent in the camp and food. Once processed, a ration card allows them to get food for their family twice a month. People arrive with mostly nothing, but they still have dignity; the dignity that God has given all of us made in His image. God is calling us to love our neighbors. There are still 1,300 arriving each day, but the camps only have capacity to register about 800 per day. Some 70,000 refugees have arrived since June 6th. They come hoping for food and security from the drought, famine, and evil facing so many in Somalia. Many people make small huts out of sticks, bushes, and pieces of tarp and live outside of the camp until they can be processed in.

God what are you asking me, one so blessed, to do? Miles and miles of huts and tents. The original camps started in 1991 and are rapidly increasing. A new camp extension has just been opened with new, shining white tents that look so different from the older camps. Saving life, physically and spiritually, is truly God’s work. By doing this work we are showing the love of God in action.

Blessings,
John

Photos

Refugee Camp

Long, hot wait space and tent in the camp

Constructing a Beautiful Tent

MAF Employee Thomas with Refugees

White-Knuckle Flying with MAF

Posted on: June 28th, 2011 by Jason Chatraw | 2 Comments

Last Monday, I was enjoying a beautiful flight over the Owyhee Mountains in an MAF Cessna 206 with Aaron Hoffmann, a new MAF pilot undergoing field flight training, and Scott Channon, an instructor and seasoned veteran. To write a story on MAF’s rigorous flight training program, I figured it was best to see it in action.

Then it happened.

Scott: “OK, Aaron, we’re going to simulate engine failure. [Throttle back to idle, engine noise dies down, plane begins descending.] So, where would you put down?”

Through my Lightspeed noise-canceling headset, I heard Aaron begin going over the best possible places to land as he gestured to open areas below.

However, I was in the back with a racing heart, trying to come to terms with what a quieter engine and the phrase “engine failure” meant at that moment. I’m a writer by trade, so I already know about the importance of misplaced or missing modifiers. In this case, the modifier “simulate” is an all-important one that I didn’t recall hearing. It’s also helpful to be in the front where you can actually see flat space below as opposed to the craggy rock faces that loomed large out both sides of the plane.

About twenty seconds later – after what felt like a harrowing five minutes to me – the engine roared back to life and we zipped through the scenic canyon. Aaron’s pet flamingo, Pinkie, and I both sighed in relief.

On the ground, I expressed to Scott how it would’ve been nice to know that an engine failure simulation was coming.

“But that would’ve ruined the whole ‘surprise’ factor for Aaron,” Scott said.

I also suggested that maybe it didn’t need to happen in that particular canyon.

Scott’s response?

“We train for the worst-case scenarios,” he said. “If the pilot can figure out how to safely put the plane down when they’re in this situation, they can figure out anything.”

Aaron passed his test beautifully. Had there been actual engine failure, he explained exactly where and how he would’ve landed the plane safely. And that was the point. Never mind me in the back with my pale face and even whiter knuckles.

MAF’s works tirelessly to ensure all its pilots are equipped to handle whatever curve might be thrown their way while out on the unpredictable field of missionary bush flying – and it shows. Just keep that in mind if you ever have the opportunity to go on a training flight with an MAF instructor and pilot. Motion sickness might cause you to lose your appetite, but you can rest assured that you’re in good hands.

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Flying the Koop : Former U.S. Surgeon General recalls adventure with MAF in Africa 50 years ago

Posted on: June 23rd, 2011 by Jason Chatraw | 1 Comment

While researching for our special coverage this summer celebrating MAF’s 50 years in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), the words from Dietrich G. Buss and Arthur F. Glass in their book Giving Wings to the Gospel jumped off the page at me.

Dr. C. Everett Koop … was one of the young American doctors who gave his time and talents in service.” (p. 255)

Dr. Koop flew with MAF? I suddenly had a crazy idea about interviewing him for this story. After all, Dr. Koop was one of my scientific heroes while growing up.

When I was in high school, my friends Andy and Shane and I all had this unusual hero worship for Dr. Koop. We thought his bow tie was cool, along with the fact that he was adamantly against smoking – and people still respected him. There was hope for us yet.

So when this idea came up a few weeks ago, I contacted his office and sought out an interview with the spry 94-year-old man. Dr. Koop admitted his body might be falling apart but his mind is intact. I also found his mind to be incredibly lucid and oozing with wit. It was fascinating.

Here is a story he shared about his time in Africa in 1961 as part of “Operation Doctor” with MAF to combat a critical shortage of doctors in the DRC. …

In January 1961 when Dr. Koop arrived in Kinshasa (known as Léopoldville at that time), the Congo rebellion to overthrow the Belgian rule had forced a transition of the government. While waiting for a new government to be established, a United Nations peace-keeping force was in charge of security. This presented some unique challenges for Dr. Koop and the Operation Doctor program.

Instead of local government officials who understood the ebb and flow of medical aid, wary U.N. officials were in charge – and not very compliant.

“I always believe in going to the top, and there was a very bemedaled general (from the U.N. peace-keeping force) with big balloon white pants who was in charge. I told him, ‘My problem is very simple – it just means unlocking the door of the hangar so we can get two cargo planes already loaded with the only medicine that is available for the people of the Congo since all the missionary doctors had been ordered home.’

“I didn’t touch his heart at all. He told me it would take a lot of red tape and so forth and to come back and see him at some other time.”

Frustrated, yet undaunted, Dr. Koop met another man while roaming the halls of the U.S. Embassy, a Mennonite conscientious objector who came to serve in Congo during the war in the 1940s but never left.

“I told this young guy what my problem was,” Dr. Koop said. “So, he told me, ‘In other words, your major problem is to get somebody to recognize that the Congo Protestant Relief Agency has property destined for people out in the bush but nobody here is available to receive it because all the missionaries have gone home – and all you need is someone to open the door to the hangar and pilots for the planes?’ I told him that Mission Aviation Fellowship pilots are ready to fly the planes and all I need is a key to the hangar.

“Then, he looked at me and said, ‘You won’t believe this – I have the key.’ That was about two o’clock in the afternoon and the next morning right after dawn, the planes were headed for pre-arranged parachute drops.”

An Unlikely Gift Exchange

Posted on: June 21st, 2011 by Natalie Holsten |

Today, in the name of ministry and relationship building, I got a massage.

Me with Lina and her daughter

My neighbor, “Lina,” has been asking me for weeks if she could give me a massage. She and her husband and their young kids live in a rambling shack beside our house. Over the years, the MAF families in our neighborhood have befriended them, given them work, and helped them with medical bills.

“Please, Ibu, let me do this for you,” she begged. “You’ve done so much for me, and we’re so poor, and this is the only way I can repay you.”

Years ago when I envisioned myself doing missions, I pictured myself in Africa somewhere with a group of half-naked children gathered around me as I told Bible stories with a flannel graph, or maybe teaching English somewhere to a group of college students. But lying on a mattress on the floor with an Indonesian woman vigorously rubbing lotion into my tired arms and legs? Never would have imagined it.

There was something about being on the receiving end that didn’t set right. I felt like I needed to be the one helping her. But I knew that by allowing her to do this for me, I was helping her feel she had something to give to me.

And it truly was a help to me. After months of recurring stomach issues, I have been feeling worn down to a nub, wasted, exhausted. During the hour and a half she spent kneading my weary body we talked––about her relationship with her husband, about the house they’re hoping to build, about her kids, about my upcoming move. Silently I prayed for her.

Lord, bless this woman. Bless her and her family––especially her frail little boy––with good health. May this woman find You as she searches for the truth.

Pray for That?

Posted on: June 16th, 2011 by Jim Manley | 3 Comments

It first happened before I joined MAF. As company pilot, the CEO and his assistant were my passengers that morning. The crisp air seemed full of promise for the big meeting–except the engine wouldn’t start. Priming, purging and throttle finesse failed. Even with appropriate pauses to let the starter motor cool, the battery weakened.

We exited the cabin. The helper stood, hands in pockets while the boss paced and glared at his watch. I pulled off the cowling, scowled at the fuel injection, but could do nothing. I had neither tools nor a mechanic’s license. I was just a pilot.

The president stopped, turned on his heel and strode toward the terminal. I watched him through the big window, sitting, poking his open calendar. Missing this meeting would ruin the deal.

“Lord,” I prayed aloud. “I really need your help. Please help me to start this engine.” I climbed back into the cockpit.

The boss, still in the terminal, walked to the pay phones and lifted the receiver.

I followed the “Flooded Start” checklist . . . again.

The boss dropped coins into the phone.

I called, “Clear!” and pushed the starter button. The engine roared to life.

Later, in flight, the assistant shook his head and said, “I didn’t know you could pray for things like that!”

Neither did I.

Airplane Radio

Twelve years later in the Amazon jungle, I’m a pilot and a radio technician. On the bench lays a radio with more computing power than Apollo astronauts carried to the moon. It lights up, but nothing works right. The plane can’t fly without it. If the plane can’t fly, the missionary can’t reach the conference. The medical team can’t move to the next village, which also ruins their vaccines. The visiting aid workers will miss their international flight. Oh, and the birth complication patient won’t get to the hospital.

But I’m just a pilot and a B-level technician, not an engineer. I’ve spent hours measuring, poking, and prodding. I’ve read every manual, every tip and exhausted every trick. Nothing. The clock ticks and the airplane sits. “Lord, what do I do?” Suddenly I remember the assistant’s incredulous epiphany.

“Jesus, I really need your help. Please help me fix this radio.” I flip the power switch . . . again. The display springs to intelligent life. The digits make sense. All functions work. All channels work. The plane takes off and God’s plan continues, propelled, as always, by trust.