We Felt A Bit Like Convicts Attempting To Escape
We leave for America but not before making an important stop in Port Moresby.
Backstory
My name is Josh. My wife, Janice, and I moved our family 7,000 miles to a tropical island just north of Australia, a country called Papua New Guinea. We’re living in a town named Wewak on the northern coast where I work as an airplane mechanic supporting free medivac flights to the remote villages along the Sepik River. Janice homeschools the kids, helps with financial stuff in the office, and manages the guest house. In our previous post, we were preparing to leave Papua New Guinea and go back to the US for a break. This is our story, as told from my point of view, the grumpy dad.
The Journey Starts
Several people were wondering how our flights home went. So I will elaborate, as is my custom, with too many details.
Our journey naturally started where we were and not where we wanted to go, which is why the journey was necessary and, really, why most journeys find themselves necessary in the first place. We were in Wewak, Papua New Guinea but we wanted to travel back to the States to visit family, connect with supporters, give birth to a fourth child, and maybe stop sweating for the first time in two years.
I had purchased tickets for our family from Air Niugini, the national airline of Papua New Guinea, a month or two before I needed them. Maybe I was being responsible but probably I was just willing the departure date to arrive faster. Our flight would take us from Wewak, on the northern coast, down to the capital of Port Moresby, which is on the southern point jutting out of the bottom of the island, just a hop and skip from Australia. Since AirNiugini is as reliable as political promises, I had given our family several days between the theoretical arrival date of our flight into Port Moresby and the scheduled departure date of our international flights out of Port Moresby. Only a madman would use AirNiugini’s flight schedule to plan their trip.
Delayed
So I was pleasantly surprised when AirNiugini sent me an email a day before our flight notifying me that they had canceled it. I was pleasantly surprised because they usually cancel it without notifying me. Usually I don’t realize until three hours after the missed departure time that the joke was on me.
They rescheduled the flight for a day and half later. I was happy they rescheduled it at all. Still, sometimes when you ask nicely you can get on an earlier flight.
I visited the airport five times, politely inquiring about the flight and pretending I hadn’t just been there asking the same question, ignoring the boiling cauldron of impatience that was stewing between my ears. Patience and impatience are actually the same thing. Impatience is merely patience that has been left on the burner too long and has gone bad.
Impatience is merely patience that has been left on the burner too long and has gone bad.
Finally on the morning of our delayed flight, as I walked up to the gated doors yet again with a stupid grin on my face, the security guard greeted me with a nod and then directed a raised voice to the gate agent who was hiding inside, “That man is here again!”
The gate agent mumbled something I couldn’t understand and suddenly appeared with boarding passes which he handed me, along with instructions. “Come back at 10 to check your bags.”
I was delighted! Still, I don’t trust any promises until I’m getting off the plane at my intended destination. Even then I walk quickly towards the terminal because I’m scared they’ll drag me back on the plane and return me just so they can cancel the flight. It wouldn’t surprise me much. Maybe a little, but not much. As they say here, “Always amazed, never surprised.”
I returned promptly at 10 and checked in my luggage, which wasn’t without its peril. The power shut off while the agent was printing my luggage tags. I held my breath while the agent turned the computer back on and tapped the mouse impatiently.
Hurry Up And Wait
To fly out of Wewak, you have to have several things line up.
You need the town’s electricity to be on. If it isn’t, the generator needs to work. They also need fuel to power it, and extension cords to run to the computer I previously mentioned. If the generator doesn’t work, they need someone present who knows how to make it work. Any one of those things (and the supply chain affecting those things) can delay or cancel your flight.
You also need the runway to be dry. If it rained too much, the runway will swell, causing large speed bumps which can cripple a jet. The last thing you want to be flying on is a crippled jet and so if it rains too much in the days preceding your flight, or if the person making decisions took a vacation and isn’t there to open the airport after it’s dried up, your flight can be delayed or canceled.
If any of those things happened a few days prior to your flight, then the airport is backlogged with travelers who were supposed to leave but haven’t yet, and they are priority, and so you’ll be delayed or canceled.
These things usually don’t happen quickly, but definitely can, thus embodying the phrase, “Hurry up and wait.”
This is why I went to the airport five times in the past day and half. I was hurrying up and waiting. At the moment I was waiting for the ticket machine to start working again. All of the of variables had lined up, one at time, like the pins falling into place on a combination lock on a safe door, and I was nervously biting my lip while waiting to see if the proverbial door would swing open.
I let out a sigh of relief as the printer leapt to life, screeching as it began spitting out tags for the second time. Twenty seconds later the power flipped off, again. The sudden quietness of the printer was louder than you’d think. Again I held my breath until the computer was rebooted, the luggage tags printed, and the suitcases thrown on the conveyor belt - which was more of a table than a belt at that moment, and for many months prior.
Escaping to Port Moresby
I sped home (a little lightheaded, admittedly) and gathered the family so we could round the base saying goodbye to everyone. Then we piloted the van down Wewak Hill towards the airport, yet again, all the while exclaiming that we couldn’t believe we were actually leaving Papua New Guinea and placing bets on whether we actually would. We felt a bit like convicts attempting to escape.
But escape we did. We flew from Wewak to Port Moresby, which was about an hour and a half flight, but that’s only if you don’t count the time it took trying to get on the airplane. If you do, then the process of flying out of Wewak actually takes several days. It’s the longest flight of the whole trip. So we were happy to get it out of the way.
We arrived at the hotel and the kids immediately exploded in all directions, like confetti at a party.
“Stay out of the pool!” I yelled immediately before Elliot fell in the pool and Oliver fell on the cement beside the pool. I was only yelling that because they were fully clothed. Oh well, it wasn’t a big deal because we had a day or two before our next flight, plenty of time to dry off and heal up. Which was good because before we left Port Moresby, we had one extra thing to do.
A Boy From May River
Abis
Several months before our family flew out of Wewak, our ministry had picked up a five year old boy named Abis from May River and brought him to the hospital in Wewak. Abis has aggressive eye cancer. A tumor had already displaced his left eye and was growing quickly so we flew him in for further examination. His parents, Jonah and Irene, came along.
May River to Wewak
May River is at the mouth of the Sepik River, only a short hop from the Indonesian border on the western side of Papua New Guinea. Our friends Ben and Mary Grimm, who lived down river from May River for seven years, say that May River has such a reputation for spirit worship that many “medicine men” go to the area for training. It’s a dark place far from Wewak. The flight there takes an hour and a half flight in our amphibious Cessna 206 but it might as well be a different country for a family that’s never left the bush. There’s over 800 languages in Papua New Guinea. You don’t have to go far until you’re out of your ancestral lands and trespassing into someone else’s.
Wewak is a big city from a bush family’s perspective and because they have no relatives, no gardens, and no relationships, they don’t know how to survive. The closest thing I can imagine is getting stranded in a strange city without a credit card. How do you live? Papua New Guineans depend on their tribe for food, money, and even physical security and protection. Here in Wewak they had nothing and knew nobody. They were alone and scared, not to mention that their only son was stricken with a serious sickness.
We took turns visiting them and it soon became clear they were resistant to the Gospel message. They refused prayer from everyone except Samaritan Aviation staff, and that was probably because we had given them a free medivac out of the bush. Their animistic beliefs soon surfaced as some staff found Jonah trying to remove IV needles from his son’s wrist because he thought it was “sanguma”, or practices related to worshiping bad spirits.
The Tumor Worsens
It also became clear to even unlicensed medical observers such as myself (I’ve observed many medical conditions over the years) that the tumor in Abis’s eye was growing rapidly. When we first saw Abis, the growth in his eye was about two inches long. After a few weeks it had grown to five inches. It looked like an oversized, raw sausage sticking straight out from his eye socket. It’s the most tragic thing I’ve seen. It tore our hearts out every time we visited him.
The family was referred to Port Moresby for additional treatment and because of many great people organizing logistics and navigating the red tape, they had arrived there several weeks before we did.
Lonely In The Capital
If Abis and his family were scared of Wewak because it was a big city then the condition was even more exaggerated in Port Moresby. The honking busses, plumes of diesel smoke, high rise hotels, beeping hospital equipment, language barriers, and crowds of strangers operating under a different set of assumptions and values paralyzed their family. The fears weren’t unfounded. There are plenty of opportunists in the capital city who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of a wide eyed family from the bush. The contrast between Port Moresby and village life in the bush is hard to describe or overstate. The massive social, technological, and financial disparity between the populations in Papua New Guinea is one thing that amazes me and this scenario was putting it on full display. This is why staff from our organization take turns visiting our patients in the hospital, helping them continue with life when they’re separated from their normal support systems. However, Port Moresby was far from our area of operation. We needed someone who could guide them through this new world.
Ben and Mary
As our organization struggled to find a reliable way to keep tabs on our patients in Port Moresby, Janice and I immediately thought of Ben and Mary, the couple I had mentioned before. They were living in Port Moresby at that very moment as they prepared for their transition to medical service in Thailand. Since they lived in a Sepik village for seven years they knew Jonah and Irene’s language, they knew the customs of the Sepik villages, they had learned their way around Port Moresby, and they were plugged into a local church who could help care for the family. Ben and Mary were at the right place at the right time! They enthusiastically agreed to be our eyes and ears in the big city.
Arnold
Now Abis wasn’t the only patient that was transferred to Port Moresby. Another child with eye cancer, named Arnold, had been flown with Abis. His parents, Nelson and Sabet, were believers and were in the same ward as Abis and his family. They were from Angoram, which is not far from Wewak. Nelson became friends with Jonah since they were both from the Sepik area and had a familiar framework from which to hang this new experience on. Nelson began witnessing to Jonah and, since Jonah didn’t have anything better to do, he listened.
As is the custom, the hospitals here only provide a bowl or two of rice each day for their patients and families. Patients often go unsatisfied. Because of this, Ben had been bringing the families fresh bananas, mangos, and other things they (and their digestive systems) were used to eating. This was the state of affairs when we landed in Port Moresby, a day and a half after our intended arrival. Still, better late than never.
Saying Hi
We had brought with us a Tok Pisin Bible that Ben had requested.
“Nelson has been mentoring Jonah and he’d like a Bible to give to him,” Ben had said, “Can you pick one up while you’re at the mall?” The price of a Bible has never seemed so cheap.
We visited both families in the ward. Jonah and Irene recognized us since we had been visiting them in Wewak and seemed happy to see familiar faces. We were horrified to find Abis’ tumor had grown even longer. When you looked at him, it felt like your eyes were lying to your brain. Could it really be that bad? It was wrapped with several layers of toilet paper. Irene began peeling off the layers so I could see the tumor. “No. No. Thanks anyway,” I said, trying to be nonchalant and keep my face from grimacing. Fortunately Abis had started chemotherapy and it looked as if the tumor growth had stalled. The doctors were relieved to find the tumor hadn’t grown back into his brain. He had gotten here just in time.
“They’ll remove the tumor in about six months, after chemo is done,” Jonah said. At this point Jonah and Irene had already been sitting in multiple hospital wards for several months. Jonah didn’t know how if he could make it another six. He was ready to cut his losses and go back, even without medicine.
Ben shook his head. “I told him if he does that his son will definitely die, slowly and painfully.”
I couldn’t blame the parents for being ready to leave. Fortunately Ben had mobilized the local church to help with visits. We talked with the families and left after praying for them, feeling guilty that we were about to board an airplane and fly off to America, where the transportation is easy, the hospital rooms are clean, and we our biggest problem is eating too much food.
Happy Birthday in Christ!
A week after we arrived in Anchorage, Janice received a message from Mary (Ben’s wife): “I thought you guys would like to know, Jonah and Irene (Abis’ parents) gave their lives to the Lord this week. After you gave Nelson a Bible, he started reading it daily with Jonah. Last Friday, Jonah asked for a Bible as well. This Thursday, our friend Konji [from the local church] got to lead the two of them to the Lord! So Sunday we had a happy birthday in Christ bung [Tok Pisin for gathering]”
Tragedy is a strange thing. I don’t want anything to do with it and yet I must admit good things can come from it. Tragedy is what caused a small family to be plucked from the midst of Satan’s stronghold and put right into the loving arms of God’s church. They have six more months of discipleship before they go back to May River as missionaries to their own culture. Pray for Jonah and Irene and their son Abis. They definitely need it. Pray that the local church would continue with the discipleship efforts even after Ben and Mary transition to Thailand.
The story of Abis and his family finding their way to Port Moresby to get medical care is a great example of many people working in diverse ways to be the literal hands and feet of Jesus. The church has its problems. But, all its flaws acknowledged, someday Jesus will brag about his church using stories like these. The amount of people involved in this story, from the board members of mission organizations, to the accountants figuring out how to afford an airplane, to the missionaries, who get the honor of seeing these stories unfold, down to their individual supporters, some of whom sacrifice $1,000 a month to the widow who gives $100 a year, to the little child in Sunday School praying for the missionary families, God put a lot of things into motion and this story is just one little pirouette in the dance of eternity.
Thank You!
Thank you to all of you who helped us be involved in stories like this the last two years. I have not always been a very gracious or even, at times, a willing participant. Your faithfulness has been an inspiration to us. As far as I’m concerned, our supporters are our heroes.
We landed safely in Anchorage and have spent the last two weeks with my brother’s family. It’s been really good. The tragedies put our blessings into sharp contrast and I’ve never been so aware of how good my life is.
Become Part of the Story
Ben and Mary are using a lot of their personal funds to support feeding and discipling the two families in the hospital. If you’d like to send them some funds and help bear the financial burden, there are two methods by which to do so:
Through Zelle (available to use with most banks): mowen10@georgefox.edu.
Or you can Venmo them at bizzymee@sent.com.