Internally Displaced

 

     I thought I would take a break from discussing the tragedies we witness in the lives of some of the Congolese we see, and show you the great time I've had sharing the experience of flying here with my mom, dad, Dawn, Talia, and Brady (although Charlie asks me almost everyday if he can come with me, I'm not yet sure how to adequately contain a two-year-old at 10,000 feet...there are all kinds of scenarios I see him taking advantage of while I've got my hands tied in the front...so, not yet Charlie).  I was litereally in the middle of putting some pictures together, when the tragic unrest arrived at our front door.

     The rebel militia who call themselves "Bakata Katanga" (meaning "Cut Katanga"...they want succession) came into town on Saturday apparently seeking political demands.  One of their 3 routes they chose to take into the city center was by our house where the military happened to encounter them.  The clash was short-lived and we camped out in the hallway just to make sure we were out of the way.  And then had a slumber party in Mommy and Daddy's room that night.  To this idea Brady said, "this is the best day ever!" 

      

    
     All of us are doing very well, but as a precaution due to further rumors and threats, we have decided to take ourselves and our airplanes away from Lubumbashi for a little while. We leave in the morning with Nate and Terra's family for the town of Kamina where Nate will drop off the small plane.  Then we'll all continue on together to Kinshasa in the Caravan.
     It has struck us how fortunate we are.  Even in circumstances where we become "internally displaced" due to rebels, we can just fly away.  Hundreds of thousands of others here in Congo are currently living as Internally Displaced People (IDP).  But, when they get displaced from rebel and/or military activities, they run literally on foot into the bush where they have to scrap together sticks for shelter, and have to find a way to feed their families and avoid cholera and other diseases that arise from such conditions.
     We were planning on being in Kinshasa next week anyway for a family conference with the West DRC MAF team.  And, although it is very discouraging to cancel flights here, God may have just had other plans for the plane since Kinshasa's Caravan is down for maintenance right now and there is a line-up of flights that our plane can jump into now to accomplish there.  We are hoping to be back in Lubumbashi on April 8th...but we'll see.
    In all, God is good and He is sovereign despite all the effects of a sin-cursed world.  Please take a minute to pray for those who are living right now, in Congo's bush, not knowing how or when they will make it back home...or even through the next few days.
    Thanks to all of you praying and being with us in all God brings our way.



Move

The sky darkens as I fly north toward the town of Manono almost 300 miles from Lubumbashi. The mission of the day is to resupply MSF’s (Doctors Without Borders) two bases in Dubie and Shamwana, then continue north to Manono to evacuate as much as I can fit on the plane after attacks brought an abrupt end to the measles vaccination campaign based out of the nearby village of Kiambi. As I taxi downhill to the south on the airstrip in Shamwana, I notice the sky is very inviting; however, my route is to the north. Taking off uphill is generally avoided considering the battle against gravity for airspeed, but in the case of Shamwana, nestled in low-lying mountains, the center of the airstrip is the crown of a hill, making the takeoff an uphill affair either way. At the bottom, I push the power to full as I turn the nose uphill and, seeing as the airplane is completely empty to accommodate the next leg; it nimbly accelerates toward the top. The Caravan leaps off the top of the crown as the remaining airstrip slopes away down the hill on the other side; and I climb up into the foreboding darkness to the North.

 



Parked on the crown in Shamwana



Though not the same day: MSF cold-chain boxes in Manono

Apparently, the rainy season has begun. The onboard radar shows lots of color indicating quite a bit of thunderstorm activity everywhere except my direct path to Manono.  Soon I am able to see the runway and make the descent as lightning rains down a safe distance off my left and right.  I touch down on the puddled dirt and gravel runway and roll to the parking area in front of the old terminal long since deteriorated from Belgian colonial days.  The MSF team has just arrived and we quickly load 7 large cold-chain boxes for their vaccines plus other supplies, and shut the door as the storms roll in overhead.  After about a 45 minute wait under the deluge of rain, the 8 passengers load up and we take off into surprisingly smooth air without any further hassle from the weather.

Dubie

So, who is attacking who and why?  These are very good questions that are difficult to answer, but there is a mythical rebel group called the “Mai Mai” who believe if they drink a special elixir, they will become invincible.  They then typically get hyped up on drugs, often strip nude, and go to battle against the Congolese military armed with a few rifles, but mostly with bow and arrow.  Why?  Apparently to “protect” the village people from the Congolese military that move around to “protect” the villagers from the Mai Mai.  The “protected” village is then caught in the crossfire and flees into the bush to exchange the dangers of war for the dangers of disease and malnutrition in the wild.

In our province of Katanga, there is a vast triangular shaped region where the military is on a campaign to wipe out these Mai Mai rebels.  MSF’s two bases at Shamwana and Dubie lie strategically within this area.  Even though MSF is a relief organization, meaning they leave after a crisis is contained, they have remained in Shamwana for years because the crisis’ continually restart.  Recently, I helped reposition some of the Kiambi MSF staff to their base in Dubie because close to 20,000 displaced people had just moved into the bush surrounding the village.  In talking with the MSF staff after unloading and reloading the airplane, I learn that military activity is increasing and the Mai Mai has just moved in to the other side of the bordering river.  While this situation is monitored from the peripheral vision, the immediate challenge is sanitation and nutrition for this multitude that are busy at work chopping small trees to fashion into shelters.  Without at least 500 latrines, cholera will soon envelope these already traumatized people.  UNICEF has promised tarps, but that will take some time.  The traditional grass and mud is what is seen going up in the meantime.  

Within a week, we get another call from MSF.  It is happening again, this time even closer than the doorstep.  The ominous sounds of machine gun fire echo throughout the village as the Mai Mai launch arrows and bullets into the military camp that borders MSF’s camp.  The military responds with much heavier artillery. Once again frantic radio messages are flung out to the MSF Dubie field locations: “Do not return, the village is under attack!”  This time we are unable to help immediately as the military has blocked all the roads out of the village and the airstrip in Dubie was not secure.  The next day some staff were able to get out, and Nate, my MAF partner here, was able to fly strategic personnel into the village of Kilwa 50 miles to the south for a rendez-vous.  They eventually decide to remain in Dubie considering the needs there but move the base to a less controversial neighborhood.  A week later, I fly another team and supplies into Dubie as they work to reassess their mission there. 



I have a couple hours to wait at the MSF base for the return flight.  I see a group of Congolese MSF staff sitting down for a break and I take the opportunity to ask them what they experienced during this firefight.  A young man springs to his feet as his finger starts waving in the directions the bullets were going over head and hitting their trees.  Then, he takes me on a tour showing me where the bullets entered the compound.  He points them out one by one, and then looks over at a vehicle under a cover with the hood up:  “that one shielded us well” as there were people lying on the floor in the building behind it when it took two hits.  Out at the guard shack, the guard recounts his story of hiding inside as bullets ricocheted off his guard shack.  He then peeked out and made the mad dash to deeper cover in the camp.  Outside the camp, I can see the vantage point at which the Mai Mai gunmen took their shots as the guys show me the path of the bullets through the MSF gate and into the walls of the buildings inside.



Guard telling his story. Notice the bullet marks.

All this has once again brought a sudden change to the disrupted lives of the displaced.  I ask if I could go out to see the progress in the IDP (Internally Displaced People) camps.  “We are happy to show you, but there is not much to see…they’re mostly gone.”  Imagine being chased from your home, bringing your family into the woods along with thousands of others, building temporary shelters from scratch; only to be uprooted and scattered again.



MSF field clinic 20 minute drive out of Dubie

A couple MSFers are kind enough to drive me out about 20 minutes to a remote field clinic in one of the abandoned camps.  There is still a remnant hanging on there and the clinic is actively engaged mostly in malaria treatments.  As I gaze across the little city of vacant skeleton huts, I try to put myself in their shoes…but I can’t, I am there looking at it with my own eyes, but this world is still so far from mine…and many of them don’t even have shoes.  However, each exposure to this side of God’s world clues me in little by little to how some people suffer; and I pray is cluing me in on how to effectively enter their world and live there in a way that is honoring to God and a blessing to those who are born into it.





 



 

My Job

   I will take you through two recent flights to give an idea of my job and the mission we are engaged in...First of all though, take a look at our new paint job and how nicely it goes now with the quad tug!

     This is the account of the flight just recently highlighted in our newsletter.  The mission:  Dan, my checkpilot, and I were to land at Mitwaba to drop medical supplies and a motorcycle for the Congolese mission doctor based there; fly to Lwamba (also spelled Luamba if you are looking for it on a map) to drop off a new baby and mama; then to Mulongo to drop a doctor and rendez-vous with three other doctors, a seminary teacher, and mission administrator; then, depart the next morning for surgeries in Luanza.

     Here at Mitwaba, we are greeted by armed police.  My first thought was to "gun it" and retreat back to friendlier skies.  But, this is where I first realize how much more in depth my checkout is than just assuring I can safely fly the plane.  This is a ministry of relationships... oftentimes, even with those wielding fully automatic machine guns.  This guy's name is Paul, and he greeted me with a big smile and handshake.

     This picture also documents my biggest faux pas to date.  Notice the green bucket and the black duffle next to it: that is all the baby gear for the next stop!

     In Lwamba, there is much rejoicing over the return of the mama and in welcoming the new baby into the village.  But, soon there was the question: "excuse me captain, do you know where the baby bag is?"  Dawn and I feel totally exposed to all sorts of catastrophe if we even go to the store without the diaper bag; now I've just separated this new mama in a remote village, from her newborn baby's bag by more than a days journey by car...and making a quick-fix run to Walmart is not something they could even fathom.  Fortunately, a little over a week later, we passed by the same route and delivered the bag...and there was once again much rejoicing.

     So, after covering just over 300 miles in just over 2 hours of flight time, we put the plane to bed here in Mulongo.  The mission hospital vehicle picks us up to bring us to our lodging for the night. There, we also meet two visiting Irish doctors; Serge, the local doctor and medical director for this mission network of hospitals; and Murray, the mission administrator, a New Zealander who has lived in Congo much of his life.

      Dan and I take the opportunity before dark to walk through the village.  Apparently we stand out a bit, and there is no shyness when the camera comes out.
     Dr. Graham, one of the Irish doctors, found us here and took us on a tour of the hospital.  It is both impressive what they are able to do with the humble facilities they have, and sad to see the cases, especially amputations from otherwise preventable infections...But here, many of the patients live so far away by foot, they either don't come, or don't make it, until it is too late to save the limb.

After a great conversation over dinner with these guys, Dan and I bunk here for the night, along with François, the Congolese seminary teacher who was part of the mission and who would also be along for the flight in the morning.  It is pretty humid here (Lubumbashi is not at all), so it took a while to fall asleep...and then the snoring began.  While I love these guys, I prefer my usual roommate.

The pre-dawn walk back to the airplane.

    
The title picture for this blog is us on the runway here in Luanza, a 45 minute flight, or well over a day by ground from Mulongo. 
     These are the mission hospital facilites where oftentimes thousands are treated in a month.  The gray building on the left is the new operating "theater" that is probably just about finished as I write this.

Recovery beds...

     Now the real work begins...Dr. Serge (center), Dr. McAdam (left), and Dr. Graham (right) begin screening all the patients that have been lined up for them.  Most of the issues are women with shockingly enlarged thyroids, or "goiters" that engulf their neck.  Dr. Graham decides to take all 12 of these cases.  Another is a fistula, followed by this man who had a large cyst in the back of his head.  Dr. McAdam agrees to take these two...and then the problem of where to do the surgeries when there is only one functional operating room.  Dr. McAdam decides he will remove the cyst in the exam room, but another problem arises: it is severely underlit for such a procedure...suddenly, all eyes turn to me, the inquisitive pilot; I evaluate my constitution and take up the flashlight.
     It was very rewarding to watch these guys teach and mentor the local doctors, having them do the surgeries much of the time so they would have the expertise to continue these procedures after the visiting doctors left.

After my 30 minute career as surgical light-bearer, I retire to the beach.  On the way down the cliff trail, I find these guys camped out on the rocks watching family members fishing down below.

Spoils of a day at sea...

The feast!  Dr. Matthew, the Congolese doctor who mans the Luanza hospital invited us all over to their house at the end of the day.  In the bottom right corner is Dan, who has since parted us for Cameroon; and just above him is Murray.  Dr. Matthew's wife is serving us up.
     A note on Dr. McAdam in the top right corner.  On this trip, he and I discovered an unlikely bond.  I never would have thought that far into Congo's interior, I would work with the doctor who manages the Chitokoloki hospital in Zambia.  The very hospital my childhood churchmate Jay just began flying for.  Sadly, within a week after this meeting, Jay and his wife Katrina both lost their lives when the plane Jay was flying crashed.

   We are routinely flying with Doctors Without Borders, or Medecins Sans Frontieres (MSF) as they are known here.
     They are a relief organization serving several communites where measles, malaria, and cholera are out of control.  By definition, "relief" is temporary and they have just closed down this location at Kikondja that we had flown into many times.

We land up hill and park at the top.  There are local MSF workers that line the runway to keep it clear, since most runways are also ideal thoroughfares for the community.

Each stop for MSF involves a lot of loading and unloading.

This is actually a shot at Shamwana, a location that MSF was in the process of closing when a few thousand displaced people arrived into the area due to militia activity. 

I didn't notice it before, but the box I'm holding says "Plumpy Nut".  I'm not quite sure what cure we're going for with this one...

This is one big reason we're all here...

There's something thought-provoking about a guy sitting on turbine engine haphazardly tossed on the side of the runway.

 

Before departing Kikondja, the MSF team must change the freeway back to a runway.  One time, just as I was pushing in the power, a dog ignorantly came running from behind, right in front of the plane, gleefully dodging rocks chucked at it from all the people lining the runway until he was out of site at the end.

And, back home again to Lubumbashi, where something's always burning.

Thanks for sticking with me throughout my day.  I am still waiting for my Congolese license, it is camped out in some black hole called "in process"...so until then, I have the luxury of flying with Nate, whose family is our MAF teammates here.

What Are We Doing Here?

     How many times have you asked yourself that question, and in how many different contexts?  Honestly, I don't think we can do much here ourselves in the Congo, the issues are so complex.  but, it is evident that God is working and "doing" many things in the lives of the people here in Katanga province, in many different ways.  And I believe HE has placed us in a very unique position to observe and learn from the middle of several diffent avenues of ministry...all of which give us the opportunity to "do" for the glory of God.  Here are some of them in no particular order:

1. My job: Flying: assisting in the ministry of those being flown; and a ministry to those being flown, as well as to everyone else involved. 
2. Internal Staff:  Learn from and encourage eachother. 
3. You:  We realize we have an opportunity to show to you what God is doing in a very different place in the world.
4. Our Children:  To help them gain the most possible from where they are. Even if we never impacted anyone else for the Lord, we have 3 people right in our house.
5. Church
6. Community:  Everyday life, including everyone we interact with (even the police).

     I also believe these areas are no different than anyone elses.  We all live in a little bit different contexts, and that gives us a great opportunity to learn from and encourage each other.  God has placed you in a very unique position, because it is you, His child, His representative, that He has offered the privilege of doing what you are currently doing for His glory and for His purpose.  Meaning "ministry" is not a job to add to your life, but rather, your life is your ministry...we then live our lives for the glory of God.

     I will try to take the next few posts to highlight what each of these areas look like, so far, for us here in Lubumbashi, DRC.  Remember, we've been here for only 2 months now, so there is infinately more to learn.