Thankful to serve ...

"Why did you choose Wings of Hope?"... "They give me the best opportunity to help others."

A few days ago, Facebook reminded me of a photo I had posted eight years back. I remember it very clearly. The photo is of me showing my mom around the Wings of Hope hangar in St Louis, Mo. I had just started working with Wings of Hope as an aircraft mechanic and would soon be sent overseas for international field work. As typically happens during parents' good-natured visits, you end up answering a lot of questions. The one I remember vividly is, “Why did you choose Wings of Hope?” My parents knew that I was doing extensive research on all organizations that used aviation to help mankind. The simple, and slightly embarrassing, answer is that they were the only ones that offered me a position. But the answer I remember giving is, “They give me the best opportunity to help others.”

Eight years later, I still believe that statement rings true.

Wings of Hope has always given me the preparation, education and, most importantly, the opportunity to help those in need. On the Christmas Eve before I boarded the flight for my first international assignment in Congo, Africa, the last thing I was told was, “You will know that you are doing a good job if every night you can say that you truly used that day to help someone who needed it.”  I still remember that simple saying. Some days may seem more successful than others, being filled with lifesaving emergency flights. Others are not as exciting or lifesaving, but still successful – like using wood and rope to build some neighboring kids a swing set. But the overall goal never changes.

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to use my life to help as many people as I possibly could. It’s the reason I got my pilot’s license and airplane mechanic’s certificate. Aviation shrinks the world we live in. It brings aid to the people who need it. It’s the reason I got my EMT license, because sometimes there is no a doctor. It’s the reason I got my bachelor’s degree in Global Missions – because to do humanitarian work, you need to learn how to be understanding and sensitive to the people you are serving and living among. Because of Wings of Hope and its numerous partners worldwide, I have had the opportunity to work two years in their hangar, four years in Africa, and now I am going on close to two years in Central America. I can’t honestly say that over the last eight years, I have felt that I helped someone in need at the end of each day. But it still remains the goal.

As Thanksgiving Day approaches, I find myself very grateful for Wings of Hope and its incredible team of dedicated volunteers and staff. I appreciate their constant example of hard work, dedication and service – with no regard for personal reward or gain. Mostly, I am thankful for their sacrificial desire to serve others. And I am especially grateful that they have given others, like myself, opportunities to do the same. 

Changes

So here I am waiting at the international airport in Nicaragua at 5 in the morning for my flight to Belize City. The last month has been a whirlwind of meeting the replacement pilot, getting him trained, getting all my belongings packed in two 50-pound bags, and still flying emergency flights throughout the region. Before starting another assignment in another country, I really like to spend a day or two preparing myself for what is ahead. But the day before was filled with taxi rides, meetings, and hand-delivering government letters — which barely left any time for sleep, much less reflection. So the short three-hour flight from Nicaragua to Belize City will have to do.

What comes to mind are the numerous people I have met and served with throughout my time in Nicaragua. As has been true in all seven of the countries in which I have served, I am leaving an incredible group of individuals with hearts synced in one accord to helping our fellow man — especially the people from Verbo Church, kids from Casa Bernabe, and the staff at the Puerto Cabezas airport and hospital. Every person I had the privilege of working with in Nicaragua welcomed me with open arms and accepted me as part of the Puerto Cabezas community. Nicaragua will always have a place in my heart. But as the plane takes off and leaves Nicaragua behind, I start thinking about what is ahead: Belize. An entirely different kind of whirlwind transition is waiting for me the second I step on Belizean soil.

At the airport, I am greeted by fellow Wings of Hope pilot Dave Brown, who had generously postponed his departure date in order to give me a proper transition period. Immediately, Dave starts showing me around Belize City. For me, everything is different. Belize City is a more advanced, developed and busier city than any of my previous assignments. The airplane is different, as are the airstrips we fly into. Airspace can be extremely busy, especially in relation to the airspace in Nicaragua where I rarely would hear another aircraft. I start to feel a little overwhelmed with everything that will be expected of me. When, finally, some normalcy comes: the phone rings. We have a patient to pick up in one of the islands off mainland Belize.

The rush to the airport, preflight of the aircraft, meeting the flight medic, quick taxi and departure to where our patient is waiting bring back memories of the hundreds of flights I have done exactly like this. It was Congo, Tanzania, and Nicaragua all over again. After the flight, I reflect back on my first day in Belize. It started with sitting in the airport in Nicaragua with a mind full of questions and unknowns and ended with a picture that I have become more accustomed to: the sun setting behind an ambulance taking away a patient to receive proper medical care.

Countries change, aircraft change, protocols change, languages change, but the phone will always ring. It doesn’t matter where I am serving, what aircraft I am flying, or how different my living conditions are. The most important thing never changes — and that’s to always answer the call to help relieve the suffering of someone in need. 

Did you hear that?

Pop…pop…pop.  

There it is again. It isn’t incredibly loud, but very distinctive. I heard it a few minutes before, as well. 

As a pilot, any abnormal, sudden sounds while flying make the heart skip a beat. But even more so when you’re a few thousand feet above the scarce jungles of Northeastern Nicaragua. I had just departed the bush airstrip of Waspam with a pregnant lady in the midst of a premature complicated delivery. She is in my back seat with a young nurse. I take a quick glance back at my delicate passengers and give a “thumbs up.” The intermittent popping sound doesn’t seem to be bothering them, but it is definitely making me nervous. The patient seems fairly stable, so I focus all of my attention, first of all, on flying the aircraft—and, second, on finding the source of the sound.

A quick glance at my engine gauges reading normally eases my mind a little. I think, “We’re not falling out of the sky—so that’s a good thing.” My first thought is that it is an electronic problem. “Probably the avionics,” I guess. I remove my headset from my right ear, trying to isolate the source of the sound. I clearly hear it again, and not in my headset. I now focus my attention to the radios and transponder. But a quick radio check with the Puerto Cabezas control tower comes back as clear; they can also read my transponder. My next thought is an electrical failure. I can’t smell anything burning, and my amperage gauge is telling me that the alternator is charging the system fine.  But that doesn’t calm my nerves at all. Obviously, something is not right.

I begin switching on and off all of the electrical lights with my eye on the amperage gauge and circuit breaker panel. Everything that I do checks normal. I cannot seem to initiate nor stop the popping. As my frustration mounts, I begin exploring the possibility of other nonelectric causes. Maybe the stretcher is making that noise as the patient moves around? Maybe on takeoff from the bush airstrip I picked up a small branch or other object that is hitting the exterior of the airplane? A quick glance outside the aircraft and a slight jostle of stretcher doesn’t confirm those suspicions. Every pop is now an annoying reminder of the hours I will spend looking for the cause.

Clear as a bell, the tower lady clears me to land. As I turn base to final, I feel my muscles tense up as the random popping follows my landing clearance. After landing, I try to calm my frustration regarding the noise. We are on the ground. My main priority now is getting the patient safely and quickly from the aircraft to the waiting ambulance. I can investigate the problem after the patient is on her way to the hospital. The transfer goes smoothly. The nurse climbs into the back of the ambulance and tells the driver, “Vamonos.” I shake her hand and thank her for the help she provided. She looks at me, smiles, and responds, “De nada, piloto.”  Her gaze then moves forward, and she blows a few bubbles from the gum she has been chewing throughout the whole flight. Pop…pop…pop.

Still so much more to do ...

It has been over a year now since Wings of Hope assigned me to Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua. So I figure reflecting on this milestone is a good excuse to write.

I am not a very good writer, nor does it come easily for me. The hardest part of writing for me, as I am sure it is for most people, is finding the right story. It’s not that nothing happens here that warrants a story—but after you’ve been someplace a year, you become part of that place. Things that first seemed amazing, or different, become a daily part of life.

All of the 90-plus emergency medical transports that I flew last year directly transformed a life in an extraordinary way. They are all “story worthy.”

I could write about the little girl with a compound arm fracture. Not only did her arm heal completely, but she was the first patient flown from Rosita—a town of 22,000 people that now has access to air emergency services.

I  could write about the numerous pregnant women in complicated delivery or the man with a brain aneurysm. There are also the many babies with pneumonia, and the countless hours spent flying the aircraft while anxiously looking back and hoping the baby is still breathing. Then there is the pregnant girl who named her baby after me. I didn’t even fly her—just visited her after the birth, because her family from a faraway community couldn’t be there to support her.  

These images flash through my mind like a slide show from last year. But, for some reason, none seem like a fascinating story to me. I start thinking of writing about things that occur in normal life over here, apart from my work. I could write a story about learning to ride a motorcycle—while dodging cows, horses, school kids, buses and possessed taxi drivers—or the innumerable funny interactions with all of the local merchants and business owners. As before, none of my ideas are shaping up into stories. I begin to wonder why. How come everything I can think of that has occurred in the past seems just that— in the past, a distant memory? How come my mind is not recalling all of the amazing things that have happened?

I start to focus on what is on my mind and what does have my attention. It isn’t anything that has already occurred or has already been accomplished. It is what can be accomplished in the future. It is Alamikamba, a town that is an 8-10 hour car drive from Puerto Cabezas, but merely 45 minutes by air. With only a little work on the runway, and permission from the government, they, too, can have free emergency air transportation. Also consuming my mind are Kukalaia, Lapan, Raiti and Prinzalpolka—all communities that are in very similar situations to Alamikamba. All could be reached. There is still so much more to do.

Looking back on my one year here, I am filled with gratitude and joy for what has been accomplished. But the unlimited possibilities of what lie ahead are, to me, far more exciting.