My introduction to Mongolia - LuAnne Cadd

Arrived in Mongolia almost two hours late. Ryan, the Canadian MAF pilot, picked me up from the airport. I then had an hour to shower and change before we were off to a place outside Ulaanbaatar – about a 40+ km, but the traffic and bad roads made the journey so, so long and I was having a hard time staying awake.

That night Ryan had a call for a medical evacuation (medevac) at 2 am, and left for the airport at 5 am. I was crushed I missed the two text messages he sent me at 5 and 6 am. Instead, I went to church with Amanda (Ryan’s wife) and the kids. On the walk there, Ryan called and said there might be a second medevac. By the time church was over, Ryan was coming to get me for the second one – a stroke victim. It would be an overnight stay, because it was a 2.5 hour flight there and we didn't have time to get back. I had literally 5 minutes to pack and be out the door.

The scenery was beautiful – vast, vast endless landscapes of rolling green hills, flat plains, and not so high mountains. The main sign of life throughout was simply dirt tracks crisscrossing everywhere as if people just made their own tracks and no two people followed the same ones. There were very few towns in the whole 2.5 hours. The feeling of isolation is intense.

The town was called Tosotsengal – small and remote. Ryan said it was the coldest place in Mongolia - it can get down to -60 Celsius . Some of the hotels we tried were fully booked because of a festival in town. We ended up staying with an expat family, only one of two non-Mongolian families in town. They've lived there for 20 years. Nice little home, but no toilet or running water in the house. They have electricity and the house is rigged like most, with water pipes and radiators that are heated by a wood-burning stove. During the long winter the stove must run 24/7 or else the pipes will freeze. I found the whole thing fascinating.

A couple of facts:

• There are only about 25 Christians of about 7000 in Tosotsengal .
• I tasted Yak cream, which is thick like clotted cream. So yummy!

JUNE 16th

On Sunday, we follow Michael and Judith to the local church they attend. The congregation of 50 is a mix of South-Sudanese and international NGO staff. Some of the faces are familiar, from the Bible study I attended on the first evening in Juba. The sermon was challenging; hearing it was challenging too – I had taken a seat next to the air-conditioning unit which was working overtime to cool the room. I wasn’t about to turn it down though.

The distance between the MAF compound and the church is short enough to walk, allowing us to experience Juba at street level. Were it not for the masses of discarded plastic water bottles that proliferate every empty space, the city could have a certain charm. The roads are also dominated by vehicles that are either registered as belonging to international NGOs or the United Nations. While these remain the major presence on the streets, they indirectly reflect South Sudan’s underdeveloped status.

In the afternoon, I finally get a chance to justify packing my swimming shorts and take a dip in the pool that has been set-up on the MAF compound. The contrast from the searing heat is extremely welcome. Michael and Judith join me soon after and collectively we reflect on the fact that we are relaxing in a pool in one of the poorest countries of the world. It doesn’t seem right. And yet, it doesn’t seem right that Michael is an experienced pilot whose thousands of hours’ flying time could land him a very well paid job elsewhere, yet he volunteers his services in one of the poorest countries in the world. If an occasional chance to escape the heat by relaxing in a pool means Michael and Judith are willing to stay with the MAF team longer, then countless lives in South Sudan will directly benefit.

In the evening they invite me over to watch a documentary about South Sudan’s ‘Lost Boys’ who fled the country to escape the violence that was engulfing their homes during the war for independence. Scattered around the world, the plight of this group is a powerful reminder that South Sudan is one of the countries in the world most in need of prayer.

JUNE 15th

It’s the weekend! The day begins with meeting Judith (married to Mike who flew me yesterday) for a traditional South Sudanese meal of ‘rolexes’. In a country as visibly poor as South Sudan, it seems a strange idea that we are going to be munching on luxury watches for breakfast. I’ve also conscientiously been watching the food I eat so I don’t get an upset stomach, a goal that is unlikely to be helped by downing a load of metal cogs. Fortunately, the rolexes Judith returns with from a local vendor are actually rolled up chapatis with a fried egg inside. She informs us that she buys these rolexes from a trusted vendor to avoid picking up any fakes.

As we munch away, conversation turns to the subject of food. From what we saw from the skies yesterday, South Sudan is an incredibly lush land, with the potential to be a breadbasket that feeds all of Africa. With virtually no infrastructure in place on the ground, the country remains more of a basketcase.

Today is a big day for the team on the compound; a delivery of furniture for the newly built accommodation units is arriving. It’s a case of all hands on deck, as existing furniture is first moved to make way and then the huge truck is unloaded. The new desks, tables, cupboards and more all need taking to the correct houses and then require assembly. My mind is more than willing for the task, but my body is still weak. The reward for our labour is an evening meal at one of Juba’s up and coming restaurants along the Nile river.

JUNE 14th

It’s before 6am and the sun is yet to rise. We’ve slept in a wooden shack underneath a tin roof, in one of the least developed regions of the world. Despite these conditions, Adrian is up and sporting a clean and completely creaseless pilot’s shirt, ready for our departure back to Juba. He is of course British and I ponder whether any other nationality could maintain such a formal demeanour in this tropical setting.

We’re flying another of the families serving with Cush for Christ out of the country; Natalie, already a mother of two, is heavily pregnant and will be giving birth in Kenya where the medical facilities are much better. As we take-off from Malualkon, she is also hoping for a ‘weather-less’ day.

Adrian informs me that we need to stop off on the journey back to Juba in order to take on some more fuel. If we start running low, he tells me, we’ll have to fly slower. I ask him if running out completely means we’ll be up here all day. We land at the town of Wau, an airstrip that has recently been upgraded and tarmacked and the staff on the ground proudly inform us that the runway is now 300 metres longer than the one at Juba. MAF flights rarely stop at Wau, so we take the opportunity to tell the authorities we meet about the organisation’s work. This friendly approach pays dividends when I am given permission to take pictures of the plane refuelling. My colleagues in MAF Norway run an extensive appeal to raise funds for the fuel that keeps MAF flying and I know they will appreciate some fresh pictures to enhance this.

Taking off from Wau, Adrian and I start playing a little game. It’s not “I-spy”, but counting the number of wrecked aircraft that litter the sides of Wau’s airstrip. We finally agree on three. I discover later in the day that many of these abandoned wrecks carried weapons during the war for independence from north Sudan. The cargo was considered more precious than the aging carriers that flew it in, hence those that hadn’t crashed on landing had been abandoned and left to rust.

In Juba I say farewell to the Faris family and Adrian, and simply lower myself down from one MAF plane and climb on board another. Once again I’m allowed to sit up front as pilot Michael Dupuis prepares to take-off for the settlement of Keew (my third flight of the day and it’s not even noon). We’re taking a group of staff from Christian Mission Aid, an NGO which MAF flies regularly, to this remote location. Space has also been made on board to stash an 80kg freezer unit that will allow medicine to be stored at a temperature necessary to keep it effective.

Plans for this delivery are complicated by the fact that there has been rain in Keew and the runway may be too wet for a landing. There is however another strip close by in Jaibor where we are informed that conditions are dry enough. Two hours’ later, we fly over Keew and the muddy wheel marks of an aircraft that managed to take-off yesterday provide a clear warning that the ground is still wet. Jaibor it is then, a further five minutes’ flight.

The clinics that CMA run in both Jaibor and nearby Keew have been extensively resourced by MAF flights. Building materials, syringes, medical gloves, medicine and more have all been flown in. Simeon, who oversees the clinics, explains that bringing such supplies in overland would require a nine-day boat journey. I furiously scribble down all that he is telling me.

We are invited for a bite to eat and the extra time spent in Jaibor over midday is all valuable minutes for the airstrip at Keew to dry out. The heat is stifling and initially I assume the local villagers are all sheltering inside the ‘tukuls’ (mud huts with cone-thatched roofs) that dominate the view. I am corrected by one of the CMA staff who informs me that the earlier rain has sent people scampering to the fields for harvest preparations.

Potentially the shortest MAF flight in the world, we spend five minutes travelling from Jaibor to Keew (it is however a four-hour walk between the two settlements). The freezer is unloaded and we have to make a swift departure. Juba airport has been known to close abruptly at six o’clock, leaving us minutes to take-off if we are to get there in time. We arrive at six on the dot, the last flight to land at Juba that day.

Back with the MAF team, we share a meal together. This would be an ideal time for me to interview some of the group about the work that God has called them to. The schedule of the last week and today’s five flights has left me shattered though and I head for an early night.

JUNE 13th

The housing facilities at the MAF compound in Juba have recently been upgraded and I’m grateful that there is a little time in the morning to take a tour. Things are so new, that I’m actually being shown round a building site that has signs of work-in-progress everywhere. I’m also introduced to many of the local staff who fill vital support roles in MAF’s operations. With a chance in the next 48 hours to visit two destinations where MAF is supporting missionary activities, Judith reminds me that I have an opportunity to directly experience a side of the work that most of this team will never witness. A sense of humility and ‘standing-upon-the shoulders-of-giants’ descends upon me.

Less than 24 hours after arriving at Juba’s airport, I’m soon back there for a flight with MAF to Malualkon, a remote destination in the country’s north. We’re bringing in the Ward family who serve with Cush for Christ and pilot Adrian Rose prays for a safe journey.

Before departing, Adrian also invites me to sit with him up at the front of the plane. In MAF terms, a seat in the cockpit is considered on par with an upgrade to first class. Strapping myself in, I can’t help but notice the dazzling array of buttons and dials just in front of me. The temptation to start pushing random ones is overwhelming, but I discipline myself. The noise factor of flying with MAF remains though and Adrian passes me a chunky headphone set. Putting it in place, once again I find myself staring at the control panel, wondering if one of them will tune me into Classic FM.

Having not been able to hear anyone else during the earlier MAF flight, suddenly I can hear Adrian, Juba control tower and anyone else who cares to use the local aviation airwaves. The amount of chatter going back and forward between the planes that are coming and going is overwhelming. Fortunately things get quieter as we get airborne.

A short while later, Adrian informs me that we are likely to encounter some “weather” during the two-hour journey. It’s a somewhat strange statement, since his comment also leaves open the possibility that we may not experience any weather. What does a weather-less day involve I wonder? As the plane starts vibrating and shuddering, I soon come to understand that ‘weather’ is pilot-speak for rain and storm clouds. ‘Weather’ at 10,000 feet also has a particularly unpleasant smell about it, until Adrian explains that this has been caused by one of the Ward children vomiting into the black bag that is provided.

The arrival in Malualkon is a welcome one, both for those on board and the community that has come out en masse to greet us. We unload the Wards’ packages and depart the airstrip for Cush for Christ’s base. The half-dozen international staff are involved in a radio ministry there as well as offering discipleship courses for church leaders. They are also living a traditional missionary lifestyle, in shelters they have built themselves using local material (and a few resources flown in by MAF). Night descends as we eat together, and I talk with the team about how God is using their ministry. The tales are inspiring in many ways, but we have to return to Juba at first light, so we call it a night and I fall asleep staring at the incredible amount of stars that God has created.