It’s still dark outside, but their eyes are wide open. Perhaps the airplane seems even smaller in the pre-dawn hours, or maybe they can’t believe all five of them will fit inside.
They hide their fear well. I pretend it’s no big deal, and close the back cargo door on the couple sitting in the rear seats, just inches above the ground. They’ve got guts, no question. But not because they trust me and this small work horse of an airplane, or because they are willing to be shoehorned into this small airplane for the next three hours. Their trust is much greater, as they’ve trusted our Saviour completely, spending the last four weeks sharing the good news to complete strangers. In front of thousands at a refugee camp, an audience drawn up from tribes north of the new Sudan border, forced south by violence inflicted on them by their government, Muslim and Christian alike. All desperate for a peaceful place to live, and whether they realize it, new life- eternal life.
With thoughts focused on the long days ahead, my heart soaks in the encouraging stories from my passengers, and the hope of thousands more embracing Truth. Unfortunately, any encouragement is welcome. The past two months have stretched Breanna and I thin. With more flights than expected, a crunch time for my PR role at AIM AIR, and pulling late nights answering e-mails and working out schedules, the family became tired, tempers shortened, and patience thinned. Then a snowball of nuisance problems with electricity at the house, plumbing, and our vehicle began adding up.
“It’s like Loki is trying to kick our buts!” Breanna told me, holding it together… on the outside.
After dropping off my intrepid Ethiopian passengers in Juba, I blasted off to Boma, the original plan for the day.
Yesterday a caravan had a part failure after its first landing in South Sudan for the day. It meant the rest of us had to pull in and get dozens of passengers to their waiting international flights. The Ethiopian evangelists were part of that desperate group.
In Boma, I picked up my friend Godfrey. He’s spent the last three years working among an unreached tribe, 12 hours hike from any form of civilization, building a school for them, while sharing the gospel. Once again, he exudes a simple trust in what God will do among the Kichipo.
Godfrey’s strong Kikuyu accent comes out when he explains why he needs to get down to Nairobi. His power saws I had flown in a little over a month ago already broke down. The builder said there is nothing else to do until the saws get fixed.
“Why should I be remaining here? The teachers have gone, and with no saws, now what can we do?”
Godfrey suddenly decided he’d rather have Christmas in Nairobi and come back with repaired saws to continue building next year.
Before we could leave Boma, he had rounded up the immigration officer, who stamped his passport in a hut on the edge of muddy, sticky parking area at the airstrip. Then he had to rush back to another shack to be “screened” by security. This was all new. Boma is pretty remote, and the fact that they screen passengers now seems to be ridiculous. I’m guessing there’s plans to pocket a little extra cash in the future.
Godfrey’s a great manager, and also an extremely flexible passenger, two things that make my work easier. I explain that I can take him to Nairobi, but because of the extra flying this morning, I can only make it to Eldoret before my duty day ends. He’s fine with an overnight along the way, and a quick turn in Lokichogio.
We refuel in Loki, Godfrey clears Kenya immigration, and I strap down a generator that needs to get to Nairobi. From Loki we pick up an single lady,Deb, at the Perro airstrip. Perro (aka Namuruputh) is a short sandy airstrip about 45 minutes south east of Loki. Fortunately, Deb and Godfrey didn’t have much luggage, and I could easily take off with the weight we had.
We reached Eldoret in good time, climbing through the falling light out of the desert floor and navigating through the high mountains along Kenya’s western edge.
I spent the night with some very gracious friends who recently moved to Eldoret when Samaritan’s Purse moved their aviation department there last month.
5:30am the next morning I wait outside their gate, waiting patiently in the shadows, not wanting to stand out to any potential thieves interested in lifting my flight bag for their personal Christmassy needs. They say thieves need to have their Christmas, too. I had to get to Nairobi, load 680 pounds of medicine and fly it plus my passenger, to Rumbek, South Sudan. This was day two of three long days, and the taxi was late.
Time to trust God, right?
To be continued…
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