Great Commission Air provides emergency medical air transport and air transport for Christian missions and humanitarian relief projects in north-central Guatemala (the Ixcan and surrounding regions). This MedEvac was from the town of Sayaxche in the Peten. Our friends, the Stoltzfus family, called on behalf of the clinic there. The patient was a young man, critically injured by stab wounds during an armed robbery. Though not the typical villager that we more commonly serve, this man's life was in the balance and saving it meant getting him to Guatemala City fast.
Thank you for helping to make flights like this possible. Please continue to support this ministry with your prayers and donations.
http://www.GreatCommissionAir.org/donate.php
Monday, January 28, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Airstrip Fly-By with Music
OK, so the music may be a bit much, but it comes on automatically in my head when I drop below 300' AGL (above ground level) and it does spice up the video. Without it you would only hear the droning of two IO-360 engines. When I have any flight, it is common for me to make close fly-bys of other airstrips along the way in order to examine the condition of them. This video shows two airstrips GCA has served in the past. The first is a very difficult mountain strip called Saraguate. We won't be using it anymore. At one time, it was serviceable with a Cessna 206, but just barely. Now there is a fence across the middle of it, almost visible in this video. The second airstrip is at Las Flores Tzeja. You can see the shadow of our Cessna 336 Skymaster (N538JP) speeding across the ground, which is in pretty good shape but a little too short for a Skymaster. There is another, longer, better airstrip only one hour away (on foot).
Monday, January 21, 2008
Grapes in a Mayan Village!
While we love tortillas and beans as much as our neighbors, it isn't all we eat.This video shows Jennifer and Genna at the dining table in the house in Mayalan showing off a bunch of grapes she purchased recently. We buy almost everything we really need right here in the village. These grapes were brought in from outside, as is nearly all the food for sale here. We do tend to indulge sometimes.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
GCA Med-Evac 1/9 Maria Franciso age 11
Her family found her on the ground, unconscious. She began having seizures and so they carried her to the clinic in Pojom, run by Vivir en Amor and staffed by volunteers. Vera, the volunteer in Pojom, knew that the child was in very serious condition and called us, Great Commission Air, asking if we could pick them up for transport to a location where the girl could get treatment. The closest airstrip was on the other side of a high ridge in Ixquisis.
In Mayalan, Robert prepared the aircraft for departure while Jennifer called Mosca-Med in Guatemala City to obtain permission to land in Ixquisis, just on the Mexican border.
It took twenty minutes to fly from our base in Mayalan to Ixquisis. It took well over an hour for the girl´s father to carry her on the road from Pojom, over the ridge and then to find a truck in the hamlet on the other side, finally arriving at the airstrip in Ixquisis.
We loaded the child, the father, uncle and Vera, into N538JP and departed for Guatemala City, an hour's flight away. En route, we arranged to have an ambulance meet us at the airport there. Vera accompanied the child and family to the hospital. Double-click on the video to see actual footage.
Great Commission Air makes flights like this all the time. We work with organizations like Vivir en Amor, with individual villages and simple Mayan campesinos that arrive on our doorstep in need. From 2003-2005, hundreds of medical patients were served in this way. We do this work to help those in need because it is our Christian mandate and we love to serve. To continue we need you to support this project. Thank you!
In Mayalan, Robert prepared the aircraft for departure while Jennifer called Mosca-Med in Guatemala City to obtain permission to land in Ixquisis, just on the Mexican border.
It took twenty minutes to fly from our base in Mayalan to Ixquisis. It took well over an hour for the girl´s father to carry her on the road from Pojom, over the ridge and then to find a truck in the hamlet on the other side, finally arriving at the airstrip in Ixquisis.
We loaded the child, the father, uncle and Vera, into N538JP and departed for Guatemala City, an hour's flight away. En route, we arranged to have an ambulance meet us at the airport there. Vera accompanied the child and family to the hospital. Double-click on the video to see actual footage.
Great Commission Air makes flights like this all the time. We work with organizations like Vivir en Amor, with individual villages and simple Mayan campesinos that arrive on our doorstep in need. From 2003-2005, hundreds of medical patients were served in this way. We do this work to help those in need because it is our Christian mandate and we love to serve. To continue we need you to support this project. Thank you!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Three for One Day in Mayalan
Thursday, Januar 9, 2008:
Our village - Mayalan - is a fair-sized rural town. About 3000 people here overall but there is no running water, electricity (except that provided by solar panels or generators) or sewage system, except the old-fashioned variety that has served well for eons. We have no post office, no official police, no radio station, etc... You get the idea.
What we do have, as of about a year ago, is a brand-new solar powered digital cell phone tower care of ComCell! With the advent of modern cell phone system, it seems that a large segment of the local population has been able to scrape together enough Quetzales to buy one of the disposable phones that are sold so cheaply now. For a mere q200 (about $25) you can buy a phone and talk-time for 250 minutes!
This tower has revolutionized communications in this place. These days, it is common to see a small Mayan woman walking down the street with a large bowl of corn or maza on her head, a baby in a sling on her back, talking on a cell phone! Absolutely incredible. It is a good thing too, as it allows families here to stay in touch with the missing sons and husbands who have had to find work in Mexico or the US.
One of the old communication technologies here is still firmly operational, TALKING REALLY LOUD to make announcements. Actually, a megaphone hooked up to a car battery is used to make community announcements and to publicize special deals at the local tiendas.
Today was a three-fer day. Across the road from us there is a three-walled building about the size of a garage. The ground level of this building houses the tienda, “El Tigre”. The top level constitutes the living quarters of the proprietor, Don Andres, and his extended family, a group of about twenty. There is a roof over the second level but no walls. Most everyone sleeps in hammocks strung from the posts that support the roof. Potted plants strategically placed along the perimeter help prevent accidental gravity induced injuries.
This morning at about 7:00 am, El Tigre´s very, very loud loud-speaker was turned on for the purpose of publicizing today´s once-in-a-blue-moon event (three for one). The megaphone, mounted at the top of a tall pipe, was turned so as to make it more directionally effective.
For the longest time, a young lady by the name of Amelia has been tending the store and making the announcements. She was very good at what she did. Amelia was especially good at making the three-fer-one announcements that could get quite complicated, mathematically. She did have the unfortunate habit of yelling into the microphone – an unnecessary pre-amplification technique that was especially not necessary at 7:00 in the morning. Particularly when the speaker pole was rotated so that the megaphone points directly at our house, only a couple hundred yards away!
Yesterday, Amelia bolted. She up and ran off to Mexico with a mystery partner to seek her fortune as an independent agent. Due to her absence, her father and the owner of the tienda, Don Andres, decided to make the announcement himself. Mind you, Don Andres is not a completely unsophisticated Mayan campesino, but his skills lay more in the machete sharpening department than they do in public speaking or mathematics.
On Three-fer day, you can buy a phone card, used to charge-up your cell phone, and get three times the face value of the card. A Q25 (25 Quetzale) phone card will charge your phone up with Q75. A Q50 card will charge your phone with Q150 and a Q100 card that will apply Q300 - you get the picture. What a deal, right? Well, don’t underestimate the amount of math required to figure all that out AND make a public announcement at 7:00 in the morning. While Amelia had this script completely memorized and could rattle it off five or six (or more) times in a row, each in a slightly different direction, Don Andres had not.
The announcements always begin with a blazingly loud rendition of Mexican Pop Polka music, interrupted with a squeel as the cassette tape is ejected mid-stream. The announcements typically sound like (in Spanish, of course):
"Bueno! Bueno! Hrmmmphhh – Bueno. Today in the tienda El Tigre, you can buy live chicken, potatoes (special, eh), fresh cabbage, and phone cards. Buy a Q25 card and get a Q75 credit. Buy a Q50 card and receive a credit for Q150. Buy a Q100 card and you will get Q300 credit on your phone!" and so on.
This basic message is repeated perhaps five or size times, with the loud-speaker periodically pointed in different directions, having an astounding impact on the volume, depending of your location.
Because of Amelias absence, this morning, Don Andres took the mic and began the announcement in the standard fashion:
"Bueno! Bueno! Hrmmmmph. Today, ah, we are selling phone cards with a special, ah. Hmmmphhh, tap, tap tap. Ah Bueno!"
And, thus, he verbally fumbled for about three or four minutes without actually saying anything.
Presently, a new voice could be heard over the loudspeaker. A young lady, probably sister-in-law of Amelia, took the mic. She managed to say Bueno about six times, tapped the mic, got some of the phone card prices mixed up and gave up.
Next, one of the teenaged boys took over. He began with gusto and was well into the announcement when suddenly three or four of the other, less successful, family members began trying to coach him. The sound of urgent coaching was easily audible in the background over the PA. He hesitated, briefly tried to start-over, and finally gave up.
Passing the mic over to his five-year-old little cousin, Frasi.
Frasi is a spunky little five-year-old fireball of a girl and had practiced this particular script a few times under the tutelage of Amelia and done very well before. She also began with gusto, speaking at a volume level that would not be legal in most airport traffic areas, and was well into the announcement when suddenly the voices of the failed announcers could again be heard in the background. She hesitated, briefly tried to start-over, and after a few moments, seemingly ignored everyone and made a perfect rendition of what would be the official three-fer announcement. We know who is going to be making these announcements in the future, don't we?
Our village - Mayalan - is a fair-sized rural town. About 3000 people here overall but there is no running water, electricity (except that provided by solar panels or generators) or sewage system, except the old-fashioned variety that has served well for eons. We have no post office, no official police, no radio station, etc... You get the idea.
What we do have, as of about a year ago, is a brand-new solar powered digital cell phone tower care of ComCell! With the advent of modern cell phone system, it seems that a large segment of the local population has been able to scrape together enough Quetzales to buy one of the disposable phones that are sold so cheaply now. For a mere q200 (about $25) you can buy a phone and talk-time for 250 minutes!
This tower has revolutionized communications in this place. These days, it is common to see a small Mayan woman walking down the street with a large bowl of corn or maza on her head, a baby in a sling on her back, talking on a cell phone! Absolutely incredible. It is a good thing too, as it allows families here to stay in touch with the missing sons and husbands who have had to find work in Mexico or the US.
One of the old communication technologies here is still firmly operational, TALKING REALLY LOUD to make announcements. Actually, a megaphone hooked up to a car battery is used to make community announcements and to publicize special deals at the local tiendas.
Today was a three-fer day. Across the road from us there is a three-walled building about the size of a garage. The ground level of this building houses the tienda, “El Tigre”. The top level constitutes the living quarters of the proprietor, Don Andres, and his extended family, a group of about twenty. There is a roof over the second level but no walls. Most everyone sleeps in hammocks strung from the posts that support the roof. Potted plants strategically placed along the perimeter help prevent accidental gravity induced injuries.
This morning at about 7:00 am, El Tigre´s very, very loud loud-speaker was turned on for the purpose of publicizing today´s once-in-a-blue-moon event (three for one). The megaphone, mounted at the top of a tall pipe, was turned so as to make it more directionally effective.
For the longest time, a young lady by the name of Amelia has been tending the store and making the announcements. She was very good at what she did. Amelia was especially good at making the three-fer-one announcements that could get quite complicated, mathematically. She did have the unfortunate habit of yelling into the microphone – an unnecessary pre-amplification technique that was especially not necessary at 7:00 in the morning. Particularly when the speaker pole was rotated so that the megaphone points directly at our house, only a couple hundred yards away!
Yesterday, Amelia bolted. She up and ran off to Mexico with a mystery partner to seek her fortune as an independent agent. Due to her absence, her father and the owner of the tienda, Don Andres, decided to make the announcement himself. Mind you, Don Andres is not a completely unsophisticated Mayan campesino, but his skills lay more in the machete sharpening department than they do in public speaking or mathematics.
On Three-fer day, you can buy a phone card, used to charge-up your cell phone, and get three times the face value of the card. A Q25 (25 Quetzale) phone card will charge your phone up with Q75. A Q50 card will charge your phone with Q150 and a Q100 card that will apply Q300 - you get the picture. What a deal, right? Well, don’t underestimate the amount of math required to figure all that out AND make a public announcement at 7:00 in the morning. While Amelia had this script completely memorized and could rattle it off five or six (or more) times in a row, each in a slightly different direction, Don Andres had not.
The announcements always begin with a blazingly loud rendition of Mexican Pop Polka music, interrupted with a squeel as the cassette tape is ejected mid-stream. The announcements typically sound like (in Spanish, of course):
"Bueno! Bueno! Hrmmmphhh – Bueno. Today in the tienda El Tigre, you can buy live chicken, potatoes (special, eh), fresh cabbage, and phone cards. Buy a Q25 card and get a Q75 credit. Buy a Q50 card and receive a credit for Q150. Buy a Q100 card and you will get Q300 credit on your phone!" and so on.
This basic message is repeated perhaps five or size times, with the loud-speaker periodically pointed in different directions, having an astounding impact on the volume, depending of your location.
Because of Amelias absence, this morning, Don Andres took the mic and began the announcement in the standard fashion:
"Bueno! Bueno! Hrmmmmph. Today, ah, we are selling phone cards with a special, ah. Hmmmphhh, tap, tap tap. Ah Bueno!"
And, thus, he verbally fumbled for about three or four minutes without actually saying anything.
Presently, a new voice could be heard over the loudspeaker. A young lady, probably sister-in-law of Amelia, took the mic. She managed to say Bueno about six times, tapped the mic, got some of the phone card prices mixed up and gave up.
Next, one of the teenaged boys took over. He began with gusto and was well into the announcement when suddenly three or four of the other, less successful, family members began trying to coach him. The sound of urgent coaching was easily audible in the background over the PA. He hesitated, briefly tried to start-over, and finally gave up.
Passing the mic over to his five-year-old little cousin, Frasi.
Frasi is a spunky little five-year-old fireball of a girl and had practiced this particular script a few times under the tutelage of Amelia and done very well before. She also began with gusto, speaking at a volume level that would not be legal in most airport traffic areas, and was well into the announcement when suddenly the voices of the failed announcers could again be heard in the background. She hesitated, briefly tried to start-over, and after a few moments, seemingly ignored everyone and made a perfect rendition of what would be the official three-fer announcement. We know who is going to be making these announcements in the future, don't we?
A Drunk Mayan Cowboy
Later in the day I walked over to the El Tigre tienda and bought a few phone cards in honor of Three-Fer day. Not wanting to spend all my quetzals in one place, I also walked up to the village center and inquired with one of the other phone-card sellers regarding availability of additional cards. The man in charge explained that they were out of cards but that he could transfer funds from his cell phone to my cell phone and that the value would triple in the exchange. This little feat of technological wizardry, especially considering the overwhelming rusticity of our location, seemed almost unbelievable. Despite my doubts, I asked him to demonstrate, which he quickly and professionally did. In only moments, my phone had been charged up with hundreds of quetzals, for which I paid him only one-hundred. Impressed, and anxious to take advantage of the great deal, I asked him to do the same for Jennifer’s phone.
As I stood in the open face of the tienda, protected by the sun by overhanging corrugated roof, my elbows resting on the wooden counter, I watched in amazement as the fellow on the other side rapidly typed in the commands required to transfer funds to Jennifer’s phone. I pulled my own cell phone out of my right-hand pocket and dialed my wife to warn her that a credit was about to be transferred to her phone, so that she could confirm the transaction. Being a bit hard-of-hearing on the left-side, I held the phone up to my right ear.
While I listened to the phone ring on the other end, an old drunk campesino with a cowboy hat and bright pink eyes staggered towards me from out on the road in a zig-zag pattern. The custom in this village is to simply ignore drunks. Most people don’t even walk away when one of them gets too friendly, though I am not sure why. There seems to be a tacit acceptance of their presence, if not their condition. This old Mayan cowboy, carrying a half-crushed plastic bottle of cane rum in one hand was definitely slobberingly drunk. He bellied up next to me, actually, he bellied up to me, standing to my left, and rested his head on my shoulder as he mumbled something unintelligible in mixed Spanish and Mam. He drooled slightly and was looking down as if at my foot. He kept pointing at my left pants pocket with his free hand as if to say that he wanted some money or something. After mumbling for a few moments and being much too close, he began to use foul language. The few words I could make out I didn’t like much. I began to sweat and noticed that a small crowd of locals, who had been enjoying each other’s company under the same shady overhang, were watching me and my new best friend. I hesitated to walk away because, as I said, nobody here seems to do that. The other reason I did not was that the fellow in the tienda was not done transferring gobs of quetzals to my wife’s phone. I called Jennifer over and over again while tried to edge away, without success. For some reason, Jennifer never answered the phone. The drunk followed me around, holding out both hands as if to say he wanted what was in my pockets. The small crowd also watched with an odd look of detached amusement.
After calling Jennifer six or seven times, I began to get agitated at the fact that my wife had neglected to keep her phone with her, as we agreed she would. Or, she wasn’t answering because, perhaps, she was having another, more important, call! I began to sweat profusely as I slowly walked just out of range of the drunk, calling Jennifer again and again. I finally simply paid the man at the tienda without confirmation and headed in the direction of home so that I could express my angst to my wife for her lack of procedural integrity - not having her phone with her. I would then confirm the transaction myself – because, after all, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!
As I reached our home and stepped up on the cinder blocks that we use for steps, Jennifer called out a cheery hello and asked me if I had seen her phone anywhere. I was about ready to begin my speech about “why can’t you keep track of your cell phone” when I decided to make a quick check of my own pockets. I was somewhat amazed to discover that there was another cell phone in my left pocket, but I always keep mine in my right pocket. Upon further investigation, I was equally amazed to discover that there was one in my right-hand pocket too.
It took me a few moments to piece together what had actually happened, as my perception of the drunk followed everything I had expected from drunks. In reality, what had transpired at the phone tienda was this:
After dialing my wife and putting the phone to my good (right) ear, Jennifer’s phone began to ring, in my left pants pocket. As my own phone was occupying my only really good ear, I couldn’t hear her phone ringing softly in my left pants pocket. The drunk, being a socially responsible kind of guy, heard my pocket ringing and was on his way over to help me notice the obvious, as drunks are prone to do. When he rested his head on my shoulder, he was looking down into my pocket, wondering why the heck my pants were ringing while I was talking on another phone. As I nudged away from him and called Jennifer again and again, it made him all the more curious as to why I had a phone on my ear, but my pants were ringing. Naturally he followed me around, trying to point out this apparent incongruity. I can only guess what the group of folks in the shade of the overhang were thinking.
Honestly, I am the source of endless amusement here in Mayalan. I should charge admission.
As I stood in the open face of the tienda, protected by the sun by overhanging corrugated roof, my elbows resting on the wooden counter, I watched in amazement as the fellow on the other side rapidly typed in the commands required to transfer funds to Jennifer’s phone. I pulled my own cell phone out of my right-hand pocket and dialed my wife to warn her that a credit was about to be transferred to her phone, so that she could confirm the transaction. Being a bit hard-of-hearing on the left-side, I held the phone up to my right ear.
While I listened to the phone ring on the other end, an old drunk campesino with a cowboy hat and bright pink eyes staggered towards me from out on the road in a zig-zag pattern. The custom in this village is to simply ignore drunks. Most people don’t even walk away when one of them gets too friendly, though I am not sure why. There seems to be a tacit acceptance of their presence, if not their condition. This old Mayan cowboy, carrying a half-crushed plastic bottle of cane rum in one hand was definitely slobberingly drunk. He bellied up next to me, actually, he bellied up to me, standing to my left, and rested his head on my shoulder as he mumbled something unintelligible in mixed Spanish and Mam. He drooled slightly and was looking down as if at my foot. He kept pointing at my left pants pocket with his free hand as if to say that he wanted some money or something. After mumbling for a few moments and being much too close, he began to use foul language. The few words I could make out I didn’t like much. I began to sweat and noticed that a small crowd of locals, who had been enjoying each other’s company under the same shady overhang, were watching me and my new best friend. I hesitated to walk away because, as I said, nobody here seems to do that. The other reason I did not was that the fellow in the tienda was not done transferring gobs of quetzals to my wife’s phone. I called Jennifer over and over again while tried to edge away, without success. For some reason, Jennifer never answered the phone. The drunk followed me around, holding out both hands as if to say he wanted what was in my pockets. The small crowd also watched with an odd look of detached amusement.
After calling Jennifer six or seven times, I began to get agitated at the fact that my wife had neglected to keep her phone with her, as we agreed she would. Or, she wasn’t answering because, perhaps, she was having another, more important, call! I began to sweat profusely as I slowly walked just out of range of the drunk, calling Jennifer again and again. I finally simply paid the man at the tienda without confirmation and headed in the direction of home so that I could express my angst to my wife for her lack of procedural integrity - not having her phone with her. I would then confirm the transaction myself – because, after all, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!
As I reached our home and stepped up on the cinder blocks that we use for steps, Jennifer called out a cheery hello and asked me if I had seen her phone anywhere. I was about ready to begin my speech about “why can’t you keep track of your cell phone” when I decided to make a quick check of my own pockets. I was somewhat amazed to discover that there was another cell phone in my left pocket, but I always keep mine in my right pocket. Upon further investigation, I was equally amazed to discover that there was one in my right-hand pocket too.
It took me a few moments to piece together what had actually happened, as my perception of the drunk followed everything I had expected from drunks. In reality, what had transpired at the phone tienda was this:
After dialing my wife and putting the phone to my good (right) ear, Jennifer’s phone began to ring, in my left pants pocket. As my own phone was occupying my only really good ear, I couldn’t hear her phone ringing softly in my left pants pocket. The drunk, being a socially responsible kind of guy, heard my pocket ringing and was on his way over to help me notice the obvious, as drunks are prone to do. When he rested his head on my shoulder, he was looking down into my pocket, wondering why the heck my pants were ringing while I was talking on another phone. As I nudged away from him and called Jennifer again and again, it made him all the more curious as to why I had a phone on my ear, but my pants were ringing. Naturally he followed me around, trying to point out this apparent incongruity. I can only guess what the group of folks in the shade of the overhang were thinking.
Honestly, I am the source of endless amusement here in Mayalan. I should charge admission.
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