Record breaking turn-around time
By temporary South Sudan Ops Manager
September 2016
For two days I’ve been hearing disturbing stories about violence in a nearby town just three hours’ drive from Juba. People talk of brutal attacks during the night, although specifics are not often given. The phone network in the town is down, and any information coming out is very patchy.
As I pull into the MAF compound it’s getting late and the day’s heat is finally easing. I prepare to go and clean up after a day’s work and as I do I’m approached by Cathy, the director of a local orphanage; Confident Children out of Conflict (CCC). In the years that I’ve known them, CCC has gone from being a small care centre to a substantial orphanage, now with over 50 young girls and a few vulnerable boys. They have become UNICEF’s first stop in Juba for caring for at-risk minors. MAF has a long history with the orphanage, offering free flights to children needing specialist medical treatment in Kenya or Uganda, and providing guidance and the free use of MAF tools for the construction of the orphanage residential compound. In recent years MAF families have been spending time at the orphanage, playing games with the girls and encouraging them in their education.
Cathy works tirelessly on behalf of the street children of Juba, and has been witness to horrific situations, but she always maintains a real level of hope. This evening, though, she’s different. She looks very worried. We sit down, I brew us some tea, and she tells me the story.
“I’m really concerned about the girls we sent to the town,” she tells me. “That place is really falling apart. They’re really not safe.”
It turns out that, in order to help some street girls break with their destructive habits, CCC had sent approximately twenty girls out of Juba to live in this nearby town. A partner organisation, Iris Ministries, has been housing the girls and ensuring that they get access to a good education. For months this arrangement has been working well, but with the current violence at night the risk to the girls has increased drastically.
With the increased insecurity the roads out of town have also been affected. The town is effectively cut off from the outside world, with multiple attacks on the roads. Right now the only safe way in or out of the town is by air.
“We need to get those girls back here to Juba,” Cathy continues. “We don’t really have room for them, but it’s much better than leaving them there at risk of attack.”
I think about the following day’s flights. With the recent outbreak of conflict that occurred in July, most of MAF’s aircraft and pilots have been relocated temporarily to Kenya. Operating with only a skeleton staff, MAF South Sudan is flying with only one aircraft, supported on occasion by flights from MAF Uganda. I know that we have a long route for Medair, a regular partner, the next day. The aircraft is already loaded, and the flight will travel north to almost the tip of South Sudan, a six hour round trip. Trying to evacuate the girls the same day will be a challenge, but I know we need to try. I explain to Cathy that we’ll do what we can, and go and talk to the pilot.
“It’s going to be tight,” he tells me, after we discuss the options, “but I think we can do two flights to get them out…if it’s an emergency, then we’ll do whatever we have to do.”
It’s clear that a prompt start is essential, so the next morning we leave the MAF compound just as the first light enters the sky. Throughout the day we keep a close eye on the time as the pilot files radio reports giving his updated position and arrival timings. The biggest concern with the evacuation is the security risk: with no phone network in the town it’s very hard to get a clear idea of the current level of danger at the airstrip itself.
We gather all the information we can, and decide that it’s safe for the pilot to proceed. He’s made good time flying back south and it seems that two evacuation flights may just be possible. But just as we drive the vehicles out to the plane to refuel his plane and configure the seating for the evacuation, we hit a snag. A VIP flight has just landed – the president of Kenya making a state visit – and all incoming flights are on hold. We sit in a line of airfield vehicles, waiting to pass the VIP area to reach the long parking apron from where humanitarian flights are dispatched. Above us somewhere the pilot will be circling, one plane amongst several waiting to land at South Sudan’s now bustling international point of entry.
As we sit watching the clock, growing increasingly concerned about the effect of the delays, we run through ‘Plan B’ scenarios. I had checked with earlier with Cathy, asking which girls should be the priority if only one flight is possible. The oldest ones, she had told me, since they are the most at risk of rape if the situation turns bad.
Finally there is movement up ahead, and the first vehicle in the backlog is cleared to move ahead. Soon we are all moving again, making the long drive out along an old taxiway, past a ramp area heaving with United Nations (UN) aircraft, past the small fleet of helicopters chartered by the Red Cross, until we finally reach MAF’s allocated parking area.
Finally allowed to land, the plane taxis quickly to the parking area where our vehicles are lined up. The pilot shuts down the engine and opens his door. As the refueller starts his work and the dispatch team swarm around the plane to prepare it for the flight, I pass the pilot a cold soda and we go through the latest known security information. Thankfully, the pilot is highly experienced and is willing to attempt the flight even with limited information. As soon as the fuel truck has finished, a young South Sudanese lady, Mary, from CCC climbs on board – the orphaned girls are minors so they need someone to accompany them throughout the journey. Mary will accompany both flights so that MAF and CCC don’t break any regulations concerning the movements of minors.
A few minutes later the plane is airborne again – the dispatch team claim this is a new team record for speed of turn-around – and we run through the timings again.
While we wait we call Cathy, so that she is ready to receive the first group of girls. A few minutes later she turns up, in a large, white, top-of-the-range four-wheel drive. In the driver’s seat is a young lady who has started volunteering with CCC. She is the daughter of a government minister, and it’s clear that her presence is also smoothing the way with the various security personnel. She and Cathy join us as we drive back to the aircraft parking area.
We look at our calculations and our watches. Since the crisis caused MAF to reduce its staff members, the skeleton staff has been relying more on a web-based tracking programme than on the more traditional ‘fox-fox’ flight following by HF radio. But the internet at the airport office is patchy, and we can’t be sure of regular updates. Since the crisis that hit South Sudan in July many staff have fled to safer areas. Before leaving, a lot of operating equipment was stored well away, and has not yet been reinstalled. It’s another example of MAF staff being willing to do what they can to help.
Monitoring the sky and the runway from our parking position, we frequently plug our ears against the high-pitched, ear-splitting whine of the various planes and helicopters that taxi past. Suddenly, as we stare into the pale blue sky high above a local military base, a dark spec appears. Moments later it’s taking shape, and before we know it the first evacuation flight has landed.
This time the ‘pit-stop’ is different. We’re still all-business – making sure the refuelling truck is on hand to quickly top up the fuel tanks, unloading bags from the cargo bays under the aircraft, getting security feedback and reviewing the remaining flight hours available – but this time there’s a difference. It’s in the form of 12 young girls and boys who spill off the plane, bubbling with excitement from the thrill of the flight, running up and burying Cathy in a huddle of hugs. The sight seems to energise our dispatch team on the ground, and we work with renewed effort to get the final arrangements for the next round trip.
As Cathy and the girls squeeze into the four wheel drive and the MAF passenger van, ready for the trip back to the CCC compound, I pass on an extra bit of good news to Cathy: a prayer supporter who’s been following my regular prayer request email snippets which have been sent out through the day has offered to cover the cost of the two flights.
As the plane sets off for the second trip, MAF’s ground staff continues to work the scene. Before we know it an hour has passed, and we find ourselves thinking about the return time. “He’s there,” someone calls, and we all look as a small dark dot against the white-blue of the hazy sky quickly becomes the distinctive flat ‘T’ shape of an approaching high-wing aircraft.
The first reception of the girls was fun to watch; this time it’s even better because we know what to expect. Even though Cathy remained at the orphanage, it’s still great to watch the mix of enthusiasm and relief on the girls’ faces as the spill off the plane. One of the dispatch team guide them over to take a seat in the MAF minibus, while the rest of us work quickly to shut the plane down for the night. Despite the long day the pilot’s just put in, he has another full day tomorrow. So, fighting the temptation to collapse out of the fierce heat and into the cool, conditioned air of the minibus, we go through the routine that will allow for another early start the next day.
If the reception of the first plane was something to watch, the arrival of the girls at CCC’s compound is even more special. We turn onto the road leading to CCC and as the recognise the familiar sights the girls break out into a loud, chanting song, boisterous and overwhelming. As soon as the minibus pulls through the compound entrance the girls scramble out, and the driveway becomes a throng of hugs, shouts, and tears. The girls all came here because they had no family that could care for them, so the other girls became their sisters. Some of them have been separated for months, living in the town from which they’ve just evacuated. The day has been draining, but in the instant of observing the girls’ reunions, it all becomes worth it. The pilot steps back and discretely snaps a few photos. I stand off to the side by the minibus. It’s their moment; we watch, and appreciate, and give all the glory to God.
Post-script: Two mornings after
The phone rings as I’m getting ready to join the early morning dispatch team. It’s Cathy, but it’s early to be calling. The sky outside is still dark and I wonder what’s happened.
“We had a break in last night. Armed men, with machetes, were in the yard. They were trying to rob the compound, but the girls managed to scare them off!”
It’s barely believable – in this place of supposedly improved security, they are again at risk. That evening after work myself and a member of the dispatch team go to the compound to investigate. We find the hole in the long fence that runs alongside a small creek at the end of the orphanage. Again, MAF’s generosity prevails, with the programme’s director authorising the use of a roll of razor wire that was left over from MAF’s own compound reinforcement. We patch the hole successfully with the razor wire, and on the weekend a combination of dispatch staff and a recently-arrived MAF pilot return to further strengthen the fence and fix security lighting.
There’s absolutely no question that CCC does any amazing job in providing hope and light into the lives of some of South Sudan’s most vulnerable girls and boys. As MAF it is a privilege play a part in bringing safety to the lives of these children.