I do love words and whilst neither a writer or a poet on paper, perhaps I am both at heart.
Poet at Jayburn inspired me to put a few words tentatively down - down tentatively.
It does seem that sometimes you can make words spin, turn dance and sing, so they create an image, painted in such a way that perhaps it is only yours to see.
Worn out...
they rest on Faya's sands,
scorched by the silent sun,
squint under azure skies.
Weary feet,
search for refreshment in the season of the rain?
Little chance! Sweat dries before it wets. The cloudless blue above an aurum carpet below, so rich in a one off colour that lay beneath the sole.
Rocky outcrops stand aloof, proud guardians of the silence.
Broken only by the abrasive whisper of sand upon sand, it swirls around rocky outcrops, like children playing chase, kiss me, catch me, ssssssss,
This blog is in answer to the question, What on earth are Plumpy Nuts? So this is a re-edited blog that only 31of you read from last year so 'tuck-in'.
However I will be back in Uganda on assignment in November
so stand by for some fresh blogs from the Equator.
Plumpy Nuts what a wonderful name for a food...
"Ok I will take 9 boxes in pod B, 8 in Pod C and the other 45 in the cabin," each weighs 14kg so sweat soon trickles off, tickling my nose as I do my 32nd twist and turn, great for the waste line but doubt I'll never be able to limbo dance again! Loading Plumpy Nuts in the Juba heat, South Sudan's capitol where we have our south Sudan base is hard graft but we soon have them on board and they are strapped down.
The refuelling truck pulls up take on board 512 litres of Juba's best Jet A-1. Once the fuel is signed for I double check the weight and balance, as whilst the aircraft looks empty with all the seats out we have a ton of 'peanut butter' on board; not a kg more can it lift.
I am about to move about 5 tonnes of these boxes and other assorted medicines and supplies up to northern Southern Sudan for SCF over the next four days as well as pick up an AID Sudan team now Every Village http://www.everyvillage.org. The plumpy nuts (what a great name) in particular will save countless lives and make a real difference to many, particularly children in extremis.
Jim Le Huray (check out Jim's film)
supervising the unloading
I spot the airstrip 15 miles out, a khaki patch standing out as clear as a bell, against the sea of waving green, as despite the lack of rain, the grasslands look surprisingly lush from the air. The first trip takes me up to Waat over 200nm north of Juba, it is a new strip for me and as it is a freight flight, I bank hard over the black cotton soil airfield, getting a good look at the land below me. Boxes seldom complain about such manoevers.
I can see the airstrip is a pleasant place for some of the locals today! However despite passing very low over the cattle, they barely raise an eyebrow today but they do take the hint and 'push off.' It also gives me a chance to look out for any standing water or any other obvious hazards that might be there to trip me up but it has not rained for a few days so there is only one area about 200m long that I had best avoid. The cattle having ambled off, noses in the air, somewhat irritated by this giant fly that zipped past their 'horn tops' at 110kts disappear into the bush. Another couple of hard banks keeping the circuit really tight and I am lined up again on the field, to the right of where I guess the runways centre line should be, best avoid the muddy areas that would definately ruin my day if I landed on them, a rattle of wheels as I apply reverse thrust and brake hard and my shoulders push against my harness. Scotty alias 5X-SCO stops in no time at all as the tyres grip terra firma bringing me rapidly to walking speed, I then taxi to the far end to where I think the runway ends!
Here are a few more notes from my knee board from my last flying assignment in Chad. It was my 9th assignment there but my first time during the rainy season and this year it seemed to be a really wet one.
Incredible, after several hundred miles of desert I spot some 8000ft below me fresh water, no plant life visible. Amazing!
I land in Faya Largeau, a desert out post, an oasis of greens and golden roads, it has an old and very large tarmac runway built by the military once upon a time, laid forever on the on desert lands. The French military occupy an amazing fort that looks like a Beau Geste film set, with the possibility of Gary Cooper about to enter screen right at any moment! The deserts sands are so so beautiful, so soft and the aureolus grains tumble through the fingers like water. The date palms know where the life giving water is and it is they that have helped establish this rocky green Island in the desert ocean where the crystal clear liquid freely breaks through to the surface providing a safe haven for all and sundry from the crippling effects of the fierce sun but the sandy tide is eager to swamp and engulf the town. Probably half the buildings are already submerged under tons of sand and many a 30ft palm has only the top 15ft showing! The old prison, guillotine block stands as a reminder of days past, I reluctantly use this old photo of myself in 2007 below (all the rest are from a few months ago) but the arch makes the point rather well ...
In another oasis we find some amazing carvings on the sandstone showing Ostriches, cattle, elephants and a Cheetah. Just below FC's hand. None of which can be found probably within over 400 miles of here. The desert has claimed much territory for it's own. As an aside there is a story about the bearded bod, so you best see slightly earlier blogg.
Gateau de Semoule, Salmon riz legumes and Tajine d'agneau, the french military rations are tres bon. Cooking a Le Bistro meal under the milky way in Simon and Anju's small rough court-yard was alot of fun. These are two amazing young Swiss folk who are running a langauge centre just down the road from Le bistro! A mere 6 nights & 7 days drive from the capital or about 1700km, though only 5 hours by Caravan, when I say Caravan I mean 208 rather than Camel!
Their job description must be very varied as we brought up a simple but rather clever life saving device that passes an electric current through a snake or scorpion bite. Here Simon is treating a delightful localman who was stung by a scorpion that he had thought was a mouse! These guys are incredibly tough by our standards and so to say this sting hurts is an understatement. The treatment made a dramatic difference and it was the fourth person in the one week they had had the device that they had treated. The sting often reduces people to unconscious and in Faya will often kill their victims.
Flew some folk down to Moundu and overnighted at the TEAM Guest House. Went into a shop in that was quite well stocked, to look for supper, though if you count the number of actual different items available it is food for thought.
It reminded me of a previous trip in Chad when I had an unexpected night stop and I was able to buy a 1.5 litre bottle of water and a pack of sour cream pringles for my evening meal, a balanced diet!
David Ott
Here is one of our smaller pilots Jim Le Huray with David, his wife a medical Dr and small girls and their home school teacher and a nurse. They have work for Cooperation Service International have been in Ati 4 years. They are typical of the sort of people we fly, enthusiastic warm hearted and eager to make a difference to the people they work alongside. Rather like this quote David made“MAF has been a huge blessing to us, it’s been a life line to our work out here. Especially during the rains when they are the only way to get food and medicine and to get us in and out of our home and for work, we are thankful for the partnership. We have worked with about 6 different pilots over this period and just want to thank-you as they have been a huge blessing to our work both professionally and personally”
Whilst waiting for the weather to clear in N'djamena I had a chance to do a spot of weeding! I have pounded grain, dug ditches, shot bows and arrows, seldom can one call 'Flying for Life' with MAF dull!
It was hot, the ground was thirsty despite the rain, the people grinned. Mother seemed happy to have 5 mins break as I snapped the weeds and we laughed together. For me it was fun and a photo, for them it was a lively hood and a full stomach.
Over the next couple of weeks I thought I would blogg a few notes that I jotted on my kneeboard somewhere within 500nm of 12°6′N 15°2′E the capitol of Chad N'djamena.
It is hard to imagine that when I was here in April I was frying in the day time and simmering at night. One dreamt of cool breezes & cooling rains. Now the rainy season is upon us flash follows flash, like a mighty artillery barrage, truly spectacular, as the skies open fire followed by the thunderous explosions of battered clouds overhead, reverberating off the tin rooves and the MAF compound is awash in the deluge. Another wave of flashes illuminate the compound, trees thrash in the winds, a stack of small branches break off crackling like pistol fire as they are hurled to the ground... Parts of the country in the south are cut off as roads become impassable and MAF comes into it's own.
Decided to skip the instrument approach that I was planning, as the storm whilst seemingly far off when it seemed a good idea, was moving in very fast. If I do not switch to a visual approach I will be extremely lucky to complete a full instrument procedure before the rather solid looking lump of water hits the airfield. So wisdom says beat the rain and get on the ground fast. The storm is steaming relentlessly onward like a huge battlecruiser, N'djamena bound. The curtain of water is at first transparent, very quickly builds up fold on fold of white, grey, greyer then blackly impenetrable, a solid wall of water.
Pushing, shoving, pulling, squishing the freight is finally in, it is hot work in what is quite a humid day. I seem to be getting quite adept at fitting a quart into a pint pot, still I guess as I have flown with MAF now for 20 years that is to be expected. Only 8 passengers today but I am saving them perhaps a 10-14 day road trip if they were to go by public transport. Mother & 7 children weighing in at a somewhat feather like 250kg, which is exactly the same weight as the freight, and whilst I could have put 100kg more on board the only place left for anything is on my lap! Every cubic inch is taken up, as there seems to be rather a lot of mattresses board, as well as some essential supplies for the work up north, so we are as they say well and truly full up to the gunnels.
Heading for Bardi (kind of near Aozou on the map above) with the family of one of Mark's co-worker's. Mark had taken only 7 days 6 nights to drive the 1700km steaming across the desert to hit reach their destination, a mere 5hours for me, though a leg stretch and refuelling at Faya Largeau will mean we'll make it for a late lunch. Think he'll be happy, along with his team, to catch the flight back.
Sitting on the sand at Faya, resting in the sun, under azure skies, rainy season? Seemingly little chance here a cloudless sky, a golden carpet lay, before me rocky outcrops stand aloof, guardians of the silence, broken only by the abrasive whisper of sand upon sand, as it swirls around rocky outcrops like children playing chase, barely leaving their footprints in the sand.
The race is on! I am cleared for start up by the Tower but a couple of French Military Mirages have already gained the upper hand by dashing onto the runway ahead of me and before you know it, they crisp the air into submission as they launch, tail pipes aglow as they roar skward. Alas that delay makes it to late for me, the clouds sliding in rapidly, the blue skies vanish, the cloud ceiling comes lower and lower and the bright morning turns to gloom, the wind picks up knot by knot, second by second. The skies have darkened as the jets crackle into the distance making their noisy and rapid escape, the race is lost and the door of escape has well and truly shut for me, as the first drops bounce on the faded apron. Control locks go into place, extra chocks under the wheels, hatches battened down, sunglasses back in their case. My wife and a Dr, passengers for the two hour flight to Am Timan in the south East along with a mound of freight are boarded and tied down respectively! The storm hits with total enthusiam... Am Timan is a small town is already pretty cut off by the rains, one of the quirks is the stack of huge 'mines' guarded in an out building just where we park!the aircraft. We wait it out for 90 minutes passengers lulled gently to sleep by the rocking slush of rain on tarmac, the rainy season in a dry and desert land!
Greasing a sled onto a steeply pitched roof top with 35kts of cross wind, at night, in driving snow would make even Biggles blanche but it is all part of one evenings work for this man commonly called Father Christmas, St Nick or Santa Claus by his friends and followers. But what about the 'day job'? I had often wondered what it was that he did during the other 364 days of the year. Some would say he spent his time repairing and making new toys, others until they saw these remarkable photo's suggested that he spent time at his local Greenlandic Health spa, not so, whilst he looks pretty trim and sprightly for a man of his years, he assured me that it was the cut of his shirt and the sky blue that always made him look thin.
Well what about the day job? Here is the answer...
It was over a year ago that I met what I consider must surely be the world's most experienced pilot ever, this bush pilot extrordinaire then it was in an undisclosed part of Africa. So it was to my amazement that I have for the 2nd time met my child hood hero, only this time in an environment even more bizarre, one of Harmittan's, dust storms, heat, rainy seasons that even Noah would have enjoyed and scorching sun that will boil an egg before you can say 'Bob's your Uncle! Well this world is all part of FC's day time employment.
'So you work for MAF,' I asked, 'Sure do, Mission Aviation Fellowship, greatest flying job in the world,' his voice roared back at me, eyes grinned with a sparkle from under bushy eyebrows, his weather beaten bronzed skin, all seemed at odds with his some what full snowy white beard! "Well we fly these small aircraft, there are about 135 of them, based in over 30 different countries, each able to bring help hope and healing to some of the remotest communities in the world, we partner with lots of organsations and it is great getting to know some remarkable people and supporting them in their work. Sometimes it feels like Christmas Eve every day." he laughed loud and long as if this comment touched a memory. So check out what he had to say...
So there you have it from the horses mouth. Good ol' FC seemed pretty enthusiastic about his work and it was a pleasure to meet a man who felt at home doing what he obviously enjoys, who would argue that when his trade mark call is Ho! Ho ! Ho!
Posing whilst taking a break, against a somewhat battered scout car
Above and below Enjoying meeting some students at the Teda
language and library centre in Bardi
FC teaching one of the locals how to read his new written language
Years ago the environment in Northern Chad was very different to what it is now.
Here some really old rock carvings that show there were once ostriches,
cattle , elephants and leopards in this area.
Standing next to his mount,
the start of the Tibesti mountains in the background.
Below Bardi At a view point
Shaking hands with South Korean Peter down in Bailli
I rather liked this short poem that John Carre Buchanan, that he did for me about a bush pilot working with MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship), so I have added some of my photo's from Chad where I am on assignment at them moment, a little known but a remarkable nation where the jungles of Africa meet the deserts of Arabia, south of Libya, west of The Sudan and north of the Cameroons and CAR with Nigeria and Niger to the west. I have to confess the silhouette is reflected over a river in the Northern Congo!
There is a real sense of privilege, working as a Bush Pilot and I thought these words catch the moment.
The Bush Pilot
They wait Keen eyes search the horizon hoping for a glint of reflected sunlight.
Sharp ears filter the sounds of the bush
listening for the distant drone -
that heralds his coming.
This lifeline,
remains open where others have failed.
Some barred by conflict
others closed by weather, disasters or just – too far from wealth
Looking down,
I was somewhat surprised to find the chart on my knee did not have a deep carmine image stamped on it to indicate that 'ye should beware of dragons'. I was approaching the mountains at 10,000ft and 149kts, I had often talked about them when speaking about MAF's flying in Chad but till the last couple of weeks I had not seen them except from the comfort of an airliner, so that does not count. The previous week they had looked almost friendly, perhaps somewhat like a caged lion, their 1000 hues of brown and umber truly impressive when viewed under a jay blue sky that stretched forever and back again. Today though they painted a very different picture, looking almost evil, dark, malevolent; as rain & lightening where watering and splitting rocks on this usually arid moonscape of tumbling boulders, ravines and cliff faces that stretched up to 11000ft. I gently probed the foothill boundaries looking for a suitable gap but the flash of dragon fire was sufficient for me to decide that they had decided to bar all visitors today, so I bounced into a hard left bank and left them to themselves and skirted around them till I spotted a clear passage. Getting over the Tibesti's and onto the airfield some 80 miles south of the Libyan border is usually but 5hrs total flying in a Caravan, though an upload of fuel in Faya Largeau is required and makes for a welcome leg stretch, whilst a few folk are able to hitch a lift on the occasional Government transport the alternate is 6 nights & 7 days on the 'road' across at times virtually trackless golden desert in the hands of a kamakazi desert driver's land Cruiser or up to perhaps 12/14 days perched on/in the back of a lorry or similar. This is a beautiful, stark, landscape, an unforgiving region for the ill prepared or unwary, remote and little visited area but populated by lovely desert people.
Jim Le Huray our diminutive pilot also popped in to the centre
The two trips I made up did here were for very different reasons but actually both had the same aims, which basically was to make a difference to both the local populace and those who work in the region. One involved flying technicians to service a remote antennae and solar powered aircraft communications station and the other to support a language project which in the last few years has enabled the local written language (unwritten 20 years ago) to blossom, such that a new dictionary and the first copies of a newspaper printed in Libya are now being published. Having the written word is of great importance in a keeping a culture intact and healthy. The small centre is also able to offer the local community English teaching and introductory computer courses as well as the use of a small library.
We also brought up a scorpion zapper, it probably has a far more technical name, in a nut shell it puts out a pretty healthy electric current (not unlike that from a cattle fence) which is passed through the sting and brings tremendous relief from the pain caused by the toxins, it has been used with great effect by missions in remote areas. Whilst dismissed by some medics, it works well with scorpion and snake bites and the results are well documented and they have been used to save many lives as well as bring pain relief to many, you only need to speak with those who use them regularly to see they are a great tool. In the week between flights they used it 4 times on scorpion stings, here it is in use when this chap was stung by a scorpion which at first he had thought was a mouse!
My taste of the local driving involved a 25 minute drive through some pretty wild country from the sandy airstrip to the small town built around scores of date palms, whilst fun for half an hour it made me very quick to appreciate the advantages of flight! Chad is a remarkable country and what a gift I have been given to be part of the team that stretches around the world making a difference to people in some of the remotest communities on earth.
...the licking of ones lips seems a constant occupation out here and trust me, it is not because of the cuisine! Today the visibility is down to 1200m which is marginal for us under IR (Instrument) rules, the air being laden with dust which gives it the appearance of fog with a hint of khaki. Unlike fog though it will never burn off and is here for the day. There is a cooling breeze; even though it is a bit like having your hair dryer on low heat, the moving air helps keep you ‘refreshed’ in a manner, when standing on the apron peering through the khaki mist trying to see if you can really see the radar dish, as if you can visibility, must be improving. There is the earthen taste on your tongue, your nose is dry & sniff free and your skin has lost some of it’s youthful suppleness, guess we should make that all of the suppleness it might have had. The temperature is climbing to the forecast 44; appreciate there are many places it gets higher and some where there is also high humidity - I groan at the thought.
On the ramp Kalvin is helping calibrate the fuel tank 'dipper' on our new aircraft when I say new the airframe is a ‘79 but the engine is new technology and is one of 5 we have recently acquired, it sips a far far cheaper fuel Jet A-1 aka parafin, than the piston ‘petrol’ drinker aka av-gas, it replaces. Whilst the smallest of our aircraft we think it is going to be a great addition to our fleet. Another interesting fact is that the beautifully made propellor is made of laminated wood!
The 'dipper' is used to ensure we have an accurate measure of how much fuel we have in the tanks, as the internal guages are known to be unreliable except when empty! Pilots on small aircraft always say about fuel 'if you havn't seen it, you ain't got it' ...well words to that effect anyway. NB. The aircraft is still with a British registration but is in the process of being de-registered and put onto the Chadian TT- register.
There is something magical about this desert nation, touches and sprinklings from Arabia, a soupcon of France, a batch of the Sahel and a giant helping of the Sahara.
... next is an hour of French, in an effort to extend my conversation with all and sundry including the local traffic police, who seem eager to pull you in to have a friendly chat any time your passing and I fear my Bonjour and Enchante may be insufficient for my needs thereof.
