While unloading a box of eggs (12x 1 dozen cartons), I discovered that while not heavy, its mass is quite sufficient to remove the skin from the top finger knuckle to the nail base when a digit is caught between the box and an aircraft frame. Although not deep, it has been quite sore, sufficiently so for me to sympathise with people who’ve had skin grafts, which I’ve heard are remarkably painful.
As is often the case, the week had some short notice changes. One of the First Officers in Goroka, Sebastian, couldn’t fly on Tuesday because of an ear infection, and the other, Glenys, is on leave with some friends visiting. I filled the gap by flying down to Goroka in the Cessna 172 again, though the Twin Otter programme ended up being quite disrupted by bad weather.
Fortunately, Sebastian was better the next day after starting a course of antibiotics, and was able to come back to Hagen with me for a couple of days.
There were two flights, one on Thursday and one on Friday, taking food and other relief items to the earthquake affected communities of Mougolu and Huya. I mentioned the other week that the mountainsides are less vividly coloured now, but still have every appearance of being unstable.
All around Huya there are clearings in the forest where displaced people are settling, building homes and starting gardens.
Rather than getting on with some packing up yesterday, I was distracted by organising two medevacs, which were done by one of our Caravan pilots.
We’d heard about the first one on Friday, a man with urinary problems, but had gained the impression that it wasn’t urgent and could wait until Monday. A person from the community of Junkaral told us on Saturday that the man was getting worse, and could we send an aircraft then. So we did.
While this was in progress news came in that another person in a community a long way away from the first was also in need of evacuation, due to suspected tuberculosis. Once the first one was done, the pilot took off again for the second, and fortunately the weather was sufficiently good for it too to be completed successfully.
When an aircraft is out on a mission like that I like to monitor their progress on our satellite tracking programme. It means that I can not only see where they are, but also send messages about the weather, or other operational information. We are a long way from the days of when an aircraft was out flying we had little or no idea of its actual position, and it gives much greater peace of mind.
I’ve been making a sort of mental list of things that I’ll miss and things that I’ll not miss when we leave. Doing the two together is rather important.
Our departure was announced again in church this morning by the pastor. I told everyone the last time I preached a couple of months ago, but now it is more imminent the message has been received and understood. I’ve been asked to preach on our last Sunday, February 17th, and I will look forward to that. Even if we do visit again at some point, this seems like a nice way to close from a church we’ve gone to for the best part of the 25 years we’ve been here.
I didn’t mention that the trip to Goroka gave me the chance to go to Aiyura and to say goodbye to one of the SIL workers there, Robert Kokombo, whom I’ve worked with for many years. Robert is the person who always prepares the manifests and loads for MAF aircraft, though doing a lot more for SIL. It was really special to be able to see him again before we go.
One of my most memorable occasions with Robert was when an SIL translator in the Telefomin area was sending in sacks of sel kamban for sale as tourist souvenirs. Informally known as Telefomin trousers, they are more accurately defined as penis gourds, the traditional ancient dress of men in the area.
I have two of my own but have thus far refrained from wearing them as examples of traditional PNG dress.
Anyway, I once landed at Aiyura with several sacks of the gourds in the back and Robert was curious and asked what they were. He didn’t know what sel kamban were, so we told him more specifically, upon which he, and the rest of us, nearly fell over laughing.
I’ll miss that sort of interaction. PNGians have a tremendous sense of humour and love plays on words, so there’s a good crossover which British humour as well.
Have a great week in which you don’t miss too much. For us it’s just par for the course at the moment.
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Fortunately, Sebastian was better the next day after starting a course of antibiotics, and was able to come back to Hagen with me for a couple of days.
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All around Huya there are clearings in the forest where displaced people are settling, building homes and starting gardens.
**********
We’d heard about the first one on Friday, a man with urinary problems, but had gained the impression that it wasn’t urgent and could wait until Monday. A person from the community of Junkaral told us on Saturday that the man was getting worse, and could we send an aircraft then. So we did.
While this was in progress news came in that another person in a community a long way away from the first was also in need of evacuation, due to suspected tuberculosis. Once the first one was done, the pilot took off again for the second, and fortunately the weather was sufficiently good for it too to be completed successfully.
When an aircraft is out on a mission like that I like to monitor their progress on our satellite tracking programme. It means that I can not only see where they are, but also send messages about the weather, or other operational information. We are a long way from the days of when an aircraft was out flying we had little or no idea of its actual position, and it gives much greater peace of mind.
**********
- I’ll miss the friendly greetings when I’m out for a run in the morning.
- I won’t miss the shouts of “Whitey”, either when I’m running or driving. These are usually from ill-mannered children and youths who’ve never been disciplined or taught how to behave.
- I’ll miss the beautiful scenery, the mountains especially. Driving to work has some stunning views in the morning.
- I won’t miss the potholes, especially round town, and the lack of hope of any decent maintenance in the near future.
- I’ll miss the sense of fulfilment that working here continues to give. The medevacs are an excellent example.
- I won’t miss the noise at night from the club (which has been loud again for the last few nights) and the hollering of drunks.
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One of my most memorable occasions with Robert was when an SIL translator in the Telefomin area was sending in sacks of sel kamban for sale as tourist souvenirs. Informally known as Telefomin trousers, they are more accurately defined as penis gourds, the traditional ancient dress of men in the area.
I have two of my own but have thus far refrained from wearing them as examples of traditional PNG dress.
Anyway, I once landed at Aiyura with several sacks of the gourds in the back and Robert was curious and asked what they were. He didn’t know what sel kamban were, so we told him more specifically, upon which he, and the rest of us, nearly fell over laughing.
I’ll miss that sort of interaction. PNGians have a tremendous sense of humour and love plays on words, so there’s a good crossover which British humour as well.
Have a great week in which you don’t miss too much. For us it’s just par for the course at the moment.
