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Emergency Flight

I'm glad we're here.

It was a quiet Friday afternoon today. I had been monitoring the e-mail throughout the morning. We've been having some problems with e-mail since last Sunday. Our internet connection between Shell and Quito is over a satellite link and we had been having problems that could be caused by sunspots. Today thinks were looking normal. I also spent some time working on a printing problem on the accountant's computer. It looks like lightning may have damaged the printer port on the computer last week. I was in the middle of completing a workaround solution when Dan came in and asked if anyone wasn't busy and wanted to go for a ride to pick up a snake bite victim. Since I was the only person in the room, I was as a pretty good candidate.

He was ready to go, so I grabbed a half liter of water (comes in handy in the hot jungle), ran to the bathroom (easier here than trying to find a private spot in a village where white-skinned people stick out like sore thumbs), and sprayed up and down my legs with Off! bug spray (better than becoming the appetizer, main course, and dessert for a host of gnats and chiggers). I was wearing shorts, so an extra layer of Off! was in order.

The plane was light so we almost jumped off the runway and quickly climbed to 8,500' on the thirty minute flight to Tzapino. We flew over Waorani territory and the Rio Curaray. It was on a sand back on this river that Nate Saint and four others lost their lives in an effort to reach these indians. The air was very hazy and with that and the clouds I found I couldn't see very much of the jungle below. Dan said the haze was caused by smoke from fires in Columbia.

Before long we were circling over the small hacked out of the jungle. After coming in just above the treetops we rolled to a stop then turned around and taxied back to where a group of about ten people waited for us. A man was cradling a young boy about six years old. He walked toward the plane and a woman brought along a jar with a small snake in it. They showed us where the boy had been bit on his right calf and then Dan helped the man and the boy into the plane. They had two sacks of food and those were put in the pod under the plane. Neither of them had shoes, a toothbrush, or overnight back. Not even a way to call their family once they got to the hospital in Shell.

As Dan climbed into his seat the man asked if he could say a prayer. We bowed our heads and for a minute the man prayed in Waorani. The only thing I understood was when he said 'capit·n' throughout the pray. When he finished Dan thanked him, called "Clear!" and started the 850HP turbocharged engine. We bumped down the grassy , left the ground and began winging our way back to Shell. We headed west, and with the late afternoon sun shining in my face I had a hard time staying awake. The little boy in the back sat still, very stoic and showing very little emotion.

On the ground again in Shell I watched as the man carried his son through the hangar to the waiting ambulance. How different the town of Shell is from their village. Just a short flight, but a world away. Having recently taken my own son to the hospital, I knew just a little of what this man was going through. I was thankful we had been able to bring this sick boy to the wonderful missionary doctors at the Hospital Vozandes.

I'll try to find out what happens to this little boy and his father and let you know.