There are different reasons why MAF has a base in the small village of Rumginae with its short, grass runway instead of in the nearby town of Kiunga with its long, concrete runway. The most important one, however, is the Rumginae mission hospital and the frequent Medevac flights MAF does for them. Those flights account to 10% of all flights in the Western Province of Papua New Guinea, and so, Rumginae is a strategic place to be, especially if the Medevac falls on a week-end.
It was a public holiday when Doctor Addy announced herself with a loud “knock, knock” and stepped through our ever open front door. There is nothing special about being visited by other “White Skins” working in Rumginae. We are a tightly knit team of missionaries pursuing the same goal, so it is not unusual to drop in and check how things are going. However, I immediately sensed that this visit has a different purpose. And sure enough, after the initial pleasantries Addy said: “I’m sorry to bother you on your day off. But we have a woman in Fuma, who just gave birth and whose condition is critical. We’d like to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.”
About an hour later I found myself, accompanied by a doctor and a nurse, on the way to Fuma, a small, remote village in the middle of the vast rainforest covering all of the Western Province. It being late afternoon, clouds started to build up and isolated rain showers were everywhere to be seen. As good as possible I navigated around these cells without diverting to far from my course. However, the further East we got, the more showers there were. A few minutes out of Fuma I saw that, even though the airstrip was still without rain, a dark front was moving in form the North-East. “This rain will be here shortly.” I bellowed over the engine noise as I pointed to the dark clouds. “You only got about 20 minutes on the ground before we have to take-off again. Is this enough?” The doctor nodded a “Yes”, and I began working through my pre-landing checks. It was a bumpy approach, gusts of wind constantly pushing the aircraft of the ideal path. With ever changing engine power and control inputs I finally landed, taxied to the parking area and shut down the engine.
We worked as fast as possible. The doctor and nurse rushed immediately to the patient waiting on a stretcher at the edge of the parking area, in order to check her condition and prepare her for the flight. In the meantime I started weighting the cargo and passenger, because in PNG a patient never travels alone. Hospitals here have no catering service and patients are responsible to prepare their own food. Our patient was accompanied by her husband, and after I had weighted the man and several Bilums (knotted, all-purpose bags), I started loading everything into the pod on the belly of the airplane. However, when I took the last Bilum out of the man’s hand a general uproar arose. Everybody started talking and gesturing at once until it dawned on me, that I was about to load the newborn baby into the cargo compartment. Apologising, I handed the little bundle back to the father.
Shortly afterwards we laid the patient on a mattress on the floor of the airplane and secured her with a belt clipped into some floor hooks. Random raindrops started to fall. We had to leave now, if we didn’t want to stay for the night. While the doctor finished preparing a drip infusion, I fired up the engine and went through my checklists. It was high time. The wind gusts started to pick up and more raindrops fell. We taxied to the end of the runway and took-off without stopping. We were soon off the ground, clear of the towering jungle trees, and on course for Rumginae. During our time on the ground the rain cells had moved closer together. “Please, keep the seatbelts fastened until we’re through this weather.” I announced to my passengers. “It is going to be bumpy.” Fortunately, we left the worst behind after ten minutes only.
And just in time, because my medical crew had to attend to the patient, who just delivered the placenta. Afterwards, they were proud to say they didn’t leave a mess for me to clean.
It was a public holiday when Doctor Addy announced herself with a loud “knock, knock” and stepped through our ever open front door. There is nothing special about being visited by other “White Skins” working in Rumginae. We are a tightly knit team of missionaries pursuing the same goal, so it is not unusual to drop in and check how things are going. However, I immediately sensed that this visit has a different purpose. And sure enough, after the initial pleasantries Addy said: “I’m sorry to bother you on your day off. But we have a woman in Fuma, who just gave birth and whose condition is critical. We’d like to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.”
About an hour later I found myself, accompanied by a doctor and a nurse, on the way to Fuma, a small, remote village in the middle of the vast rainforest covering all of the Western Province. It being late afternoon, clouds started to build up and isolated rain showers were everywhere to be seen. As good as possible I navigated around these cells without diverting to far from my course. However, the further East we got, the more showers there were. A few minutes out of Fuma I saw that, even though the airstrip was still without rain, a dark front was moving in form the North-East. “This rain will be here shortly.” I bellowed over the engine noise as I pointed to the dark clouds. “You only got about 20 minutes on the ground before we have to take-off again. Is this enough?” The doctor nodded a “Yes”, and I began working through my pre-landing checks. It was a bumpy approach, gusts of wind constantly pushing the aircraft of the ideal path. With ever changing engine power and control inputs I finally landed, taxied to the parking area and shut down the engine.
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| Preparation to Land |
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| How does the runway look? |
We worked as fast as possible. The doctor and nurse rushed immediately to the patient waiting on a stretcher at the edge of the parking area, in order to check her condition and prepare her for the flight. In the meantime I started weighting the cargo and passenger, because in PNG a patient never travels alone. Hospitals here have no catering service and patients are responsible to prepare their own food. Our patient was accompanied by her husband, and after I had weighted the man and several Bilums (knotted, all-purpose bags), I started loading everything into the pod on the belly of the airplane. However, when I took the last Bilum out of the man’s hand a general uproar arose. Everybody started talking and gesturing at once until it dawned on me, that I was about to load the newborn baby into the cargo compartment. Apologising, I handed the little bundle back to the father.
Shortly afterwards we laid the patient on a mattress on the floor of the airplane and secured her with a belt clipped into some floor hooks. Random raindrops started to fall. We had to leave now, if we didn’t want to stay for the night. While the doctor finished preparing a drip infusion, I fired up the engine and went through my checklists. It was high time. The wind gusts started to pick up and more raindrops fell. We taxied to the end of the runway and took-off without stopping. We were soon off the ground, clear of the towering jungle trees, and on course for Rumginae. During our time on the ground the rain cells had moved closer together. “Please, keep the seatbelts fastened until we’re through this weather.” I announced to my passengers. “It is going to be bumpy.” Fortunately, we left the worst behind after ten minutes only.
And just in time, because my medical crew had to attend to the patient, who just delivered the placenta. Afterwards, they were proud to say they didn’t leave a mess for me to clean.