Saturday mornings - jumamosi asabuhi

It has been awhile since the last post. No, it's not that I have been busy. I have really come to hate that word. It seems like "stayin' busy" is almost an American greeting these days. It always seems like a vague excuse for not getting something done, while reassuring oneself.


The reason for the gap is that the road grader of my mind has had its blade set too deep, and a quick blog post turns into a five page essay. I forget what I wanted to convey, then I wake up and it is morning, the next day. Just like I'm about to do again here... my quick Saturday morning story turning into a philosophical introspection.


Saturday mornings for me offer a golden opportunity. From 9am to 1pm the hardware stores are still open deep in the bowels and just below the heart of the city. Because of traffic, the golden time is really 9 am to 11 am. During the week, they keep the same hours as I do at the hangar, so I rarely get a chance to get to them.


I whip out my PDA the night before and make a to do list.


Screen material for our windows
AC compressor for the car
Machine a flywheel puller for a BMW F650 motorbike
Look for a suit for a wedding in two weeks


This morning I got a late start. I have been wanting to slow down in my quiet time and spend more time with fewer Bible verses. Then I discovered a GREAT resource: www.biblestudytools.com. It has a complete Strong's reference with quick links to click on and a tenth the weight of hardcopy! Then I felt inspired on how to write an end of year letter for AIM AIR, so I typed out a rough draft. By then, it was almost 10.


I drove into the industrial area. It is kind of exciting place, especially if diesel fumes, dust and vehicles going every direction seems exciting to you. I found General Engineering, the machine shop. I had to wiggle the car over a curb between a Mercedes and a pickup. I didn't want to drop off the curb and bump the Mercedes, so I left the car kind of angle out, ready for a quick getaway.


The machine shop supervisor saw my picture and instantly knew what I wanted. "I can have it ready by Monday," he said in a strong Indian accent. He assured me it would be made with strong steel.


As I walked back to my car, a city official in a yellow trench coat intercepted me. She was selling parking permits for the day. 140 shillings. Lucky it was her and not the trench coats with the tire boots. I pay my fee, and put the ticket in the window.


Because I really like my parking job, I decide to walk to some of the other shops. I walk from one end of the street to the other trying to find a good deal on a 12 volt air compressor to put in our car. Not on the list, I know, but I could really use it. One shop has a decent one for a higher price than I like. The other has a cheaper one made in China. It looks like it might fall apart in the first attempt at operation. While I look it over, Breanna calls me back. I had tried to get ahold of her between shops.


"Hey babe, I found some air compressors for the car, and I want to buy myself a Christmas present." She asks about my previous wish for Christmas. "I could really use this today!" I plead. It's true. I am trying to get a tire fixed on a Honda XL 600, another bike I am borrowing until... forget it, it's a complicated story.


I find a store with screen material. They also have foot pumps, so I decide to ask for the air compressor there. The owner sends a Kenyan boy out as a runner to some other shop. He returns with a Craftsman unit. For 7000 shillings, almost $100. I don't need one that bad. So he sends out another runner, and the guy comes back with a cheaper one of still decent quality. I take it. It will be a big help today, and provides peace of mind when we are driving outside of the city.


Time is running out, so I move down to Dar Es Salaam road where the used car part stores are lined up. A missionary gave me a tip on finding AC compressors. Traffic is getting bad, and I finally find the area he mentioned. The street is full, but I pull into a parking area made for about 5 cars. It is so tight, I crawl out the passenger side.


I find the shop. It is upstairs in what would work in the US as a small used CD shop. Here it is a junkyard. With shelves of car parts: stereos, mufflers, engines, wheels, rims, I squeeze in trying to find an employee. I explain what I am looking for. A guy comes downstairs with me and looks at the part on the car.


We run back upstairs. On top of the car stereos I had noticed a Fender bass guitar plugged into a boom box stereo unit. Apparently one of the customers was interested in it and a worker was showing it to them. I guess neither of them knew how to play it.


"Do you play this?" they ask me. I nodded, wondering what about me would have even made them ask. With grease and oil stained hands, I strap on the bass. The strap is so tight, I almost feel choked. We get it loosened, and I start pounding away. It is terribly out of tune, and produces sounds of perhaps a different culture's scale system. I tune it briefly, slap the strings a little more, then realize I am losing focus.


"It sounds very good, but the strings are raised way too high" I tell the guys.


Meanwhile, the other worker found an AC compressor of the same part number still bolted to an engine on the bottom shelf. I can't believe in this small of a shop he could find one.


"How can I be sure it will work?"


"You can install it. If it doesn't work, then bring it back."


"How long do I have to bring it back?"


"Maybe one or two days."


Hmm, not too great, but probably a decent deal for here. I ask for their number and promise to think about it.


Glancing at my watch, I realize I am let to get home and load up the kids for a small group Christmas party. With traffic the way it is, there is no time to swing by a taylor and ask about a suit.


I'll put it on the list for next Saturday...

Yay! Jerry passed his last test needed in order to apply for his Kenyan Pilot's License! Please, still pray as now the paperwork goes to the Kenyan government....but hey nearly eleven months into living here and he can finally apply (that was sarcasm, but we are all smiles here,  so no worries)

Heaven's value increases

Today was another sobering day. I found out a mentor to many missionary pilots died in a training crash. I imagine, today, pilot rooms in every corner of the globe fell silent.

Ron put me through his paces in January 2008 to help me get to where I am now. He was a gifted pilot and extraordinary instructor. He started by giving a lot of his energy and wisdom at Moody Bible's flight program in Tennessee, then recently focused on prepping soon to be missionary aviators with what they needed before taking the tough technical evaluations of the ministries they were called to serve.

The pilot he was with was probably at the same place I was one and a half years ago... eager to get the evaluation behind him, eager to get out to the field, and appreciative of the knowledge he was soaking up from Ron in the right seat. I can even picture the flight they must have been doing when the accident happened.

I doubt we will know what happened, but I do know Ron knew that C 206 like an old friend. For my training we drilled and drilled on emergencies I had previously only wondered about. I felt confident with both what I learned and his ability. That's the shocker that guys in jungle stained pilot shirts all over the world are wrestling with. Even the best ... even the best.

A friend told me on the phone today "Jerry, you should think about doing something else. This aviation stuff is dangerous." I told him "It always has been."

In our candidate training in New York before coming out we watched a sermon on video for a missionary's funeral. The African pastor talked about the story of a man who sold everything so he could buy the field which had hidden in it a priceless treasure. To that man, the value of the field was everything. We can say that with the sacrifice of Frank, Ryan, and now Ron, the value of Heaven is so much more. They gave everything to have that treasure.

Mission aviation is not the best job for anyone's health ... but the chance to give it all for God's kingdom is something I would not trade, even for the world.

Now, what is going on?

Editor's warning: This post has zero pictures. I know, I know. We are saving up for a new camera. Any suggestions?

Now, what is going on?

Much. Breanna is:
tutoring some kids from Kenya off and on,
teaching drama at a new homeschool gathering which several missionary families participate in every week,
as well as homeschooling all THREE kids now (Isaiah has to do his math, too :).

On Wednesday's there is horseback riding for Olivia around noon, then in the afternoon its monkeynastix (motor skill developing exercises) for Grace and Isaiah. Because it takes almost an hour to go to these events in traffic, Breanna is one tired lady on Wednesday's when I get home.

As for me? I am flying a desk a lot. Logged probably a couple hundred hours since my last blog post - of desk time. As one of the other pilots puts we, we hit a perfect storm when it comes to starting our flying duties here at AIM AIR. We have one Kenyan registered 206 that we can fly, but it only has single controls, so it isn't suited for training. I need to do one more thing for my Kenyan commercial license, but AIM AIR would like me to do a couple training flights so I can familiarize myself with the area first. HOWEVER, our two brand new 206's are US registered and the Kenya governing body for civil aviation has not been desirous of us operating those beautiful birds inside the country. That will hopefully change next week, maybe TOMORROW! That would be great news for me.

For myself and the other new guy, this is not what we envisioned our first year at all. But God's ways rock, and they are not our ways, which are usually lame. So I am taking this time to get into the PR job a little more, help out with desk stuff, make coffee (just kidding, not my job - well OK I could make a pot occasionally), remind people to order their AIM AIR calendar, write letters for AIM AIR, and continue to prepare myself with Nairobi airspace and AIM AIR procedures. When we do get to strap into the new birds, it will be nice. They are our strongest, lightest, quietest, and smoothest 206's in the fleet (can you say - about to be really spoiled).

There is another thing that really gets my heart pumping related to PR. I can't share much now, but it is a direction I hope AIM AIR pursues that I am really excited about. In fact, I will boldly say that I think God brought us out here and now to be a part of this.

AIM AIR, you said? Yeah, it's on its feet. A little shaken, but not destroyed. In fact it feels like business as usual most of the time. Until the International Director came by just to share his sorrow with us, and today we had a nyama choma (goat roast) together in the hangar as a way to acknowledge life does move on and it's OK. Both times I realized how close tears were to the surface. When the accident is brought up it puts a lump in everyone's throat. It will probably be like that for awhile.

We do miss the convenient life of the US, but we love the work that God is doing out here. Clinics, churches, schools are going like crazy in Sudan, exciting things are happing in northern Kenya (32 Samburu warriors and wives accepted Jesus a couple weeks ago), and the Tanzanian Africa Inland Church just celebrated its 100th anniversary. It is great to be a part. And THAT'S what is going on!

P.S. If anyone has creative input regarding  www.aimair.org or our calendar and movie, please shoot me an e-mail. I would love to read it!

Socks and shoes

"I asked him: 'Dude, why are you wearing two pairs of socks?'

"He told me: 'Well, someone gave me these shoes, and I really like them. They're just a little too big...'"

Dale, one AIM AIR's seasoned pilots, recounted the story in a completely wry manner. Many of the guys normally based outside of Nairobi were now here at the hangar to help out in any way possible because of the crash. Dale was talking about Jim, one of the other "old timers". Dale took it upon himself to introduce me to Jim. Only Jim wasn't around. I guess that's what made it so much fun.

I love being around the pilots here at AIM AIR. I truly feel blessed. They are a great bunch of siblings to hang out with, and sharp professionals that challenge me inside the cockpit.

Now I am watching a slideshow from another pilot, Mike. It is jaw dropping to view these images snatched from the depth of central Africa. His talent has been a very real force to help many people get to know AIM AIR from across the globe. I read his blog post before the slideshow, and I felt the goosebumps slowly rise.

Mike is taking his talents forward again, this time to be our flight operations manager, a position I am sure he will excel at. Two months ago he had me cornered on a boat off the Kenyan coast and said (not asked) "You need to be the next public relations officer for AIM AIR"

I was torn, but not too much. I am still trying to get used to being a part of AIM AIR, I am not sure how I can even think of being the voice for the organization. I still have a lot to do before I can be a fully operational pilot here. Yet, I loved the idea of being able to communicate for this ministry I love so much.

Since Mike didn't really ask a question, he didn't wait for an answer...

I think a lot about this new challenge, and what I want to do, but mainly what I don't want to mess up. As I watch the photos stream by and the words of the essays fade in my head, I realize I have some big shoes to fill.

Better wear some more socks.

Isaiah's answers a question on fighting and shares his life's ambitions.

Jerry to Isaiah (who is taking a tumultuous bath with Grace): Do you fight with Grace?

Isaiah, with his head cocked slightly in his thoughtful pose: No, I fight by myself.

A month ago we had our house painted by a former AIM AIR intern, Paul, who was desperate for work. Isaiah was really taken with watching him. It must have been significant to him, since up to that point his ambition in life was to be a race car driver, a pilot, and a train engineer. Suddenly he started saying he wanted to be a painter.

"This boy makes many problems," Paul would tell me. Isaiah was his shadow and "helped" him out by pouring thinner into a bucket of water, and "painting" with a brush that was set aside.

Now his ambitions have changed again. He says he wants to do what I do. I asked him, "What's that?"

"I want to ride motorcycles and fix motorcycles."

I guess I really did spend a lot of time getting that motorbike running.

09 09 09 flight

Relocated a 206 to Entebbe. Maintenance was finished in Nairobi on it, and they needed it back there. I had installed the VG's (Vortex Generators) on the 206 we took to Entebbe. It was neat to see how they performed on the flight that morning!
We also dropped of some bags at Mfangano Island for some short termers (their luggage was lost on the airlines and arrived a couple days late).