Month: October 2016

Man, Botswana, had a completely different feel from Zimbabwe.

My first experience was seeing a bunch of cowboys at a fly in. All the testosterone of young boys in their early 20s with their first flying job and no one watching. I was later to see a family of 4 killed exactly for this reason. I’m not against fly-ins and fun beat-ups at all, but keep it safe. That day I didn’t see anyone keeping it safe. Any it was testimony when the C206 with a young kiwi pilot and a family of 4 on board C206 stalled in a turn low level, and all on board killed. Manslaughter. Unnecessary risk, and poor safety attitudes. But for now that was none of my concern, I was focussing on trying to get a job.

I remember three things about Maun very vividly. Each day I walked along the airport road looking at the aircraft taking off was torture. Every day I had to go door knocking to try to get a job was equally torture. I had a couple of good friends that I made, outside the aviation circles, while there, but the third thing I remember is I did not get along with the cowboys. It was horrible.

There was two companies which seemed to have a better attitude than the others, but neither was hiring. After a month I was ready to leave, when one of the non-aviation crowd I’d met offered me a job in his workshop for a bit based on my engineering background, and moreover based on my ability to drive, follow instructions, and speak English well. He had to fly out that weekend on urgent bereavement leave. I was grateful to recoup some funds and signed up.

The job at least kept me busy and gave me some sense of purpose and stopped me feeling the torture of the other three aspects of Maun.

I later flew past Maun a few times, and noticed the attitudes had sadly not changed, still terrible radio work and procedures. I also watched a documentary on Maun Pilots on reality TV, likewise no changes. We kept things tight in Namibia but we had respect for safety, and proper airmanship. There as no need to fly like cowboys, and our accident records versus theirs I think spoke for itself.

I had one job interview, which didn’t go well, and I moved on.

Apparently there was this country next to Botswana, that all those I spoke to said was a terrible place: full of racist, sexist, Germans, and not someone anyone wants to go. But I had sort of slightly higher spirits than I should leaving Maun, feeling that I was starting on a new adventure.

 

I’ve always wanted to tell this story, since, as the title says, it’s Africa, but, to quote Star Trek, not as we know it.

I’d walked into town, and the usual hawkers follow you, but one boy seemed genuinely nice. He seemed about 15 and told me all about his crafts and his business plan to market them. I was very impressed. I promised to help him in any way I could, but I said, right now I just need to get to Maun. He promised me he would help me find a bus, no charge. Although presumably they know foreigners tip. And he did find me a bus, I did tip him with what I could afford. I also kept his details and tried to give them to a few people later on when I’d settled down. This was rather an ordinary story however, and I’m sure anyone will feel relatively safe trusting a kid hawking crafts on the street, surely if there is no other way to find a bus, as my extremely organised, and optimistic self came to Africa without much guidance, no lonely planet guide, just a few photocopied pages.

The lack of guidance led me to the part next story which was rather heart warming for me, to this day. Coming from New Zealand, we were told horror stories about trusting strangers in foreign countries, especially India, Asia, and Africa.

I was beginning to realise that there are very good people out there who want to help everywhere. One must learn to trust the heart.

My only experience prior to this was in Bangkok, on a bus, where the girl collecting the bus fares went out of her way to try to help ensure I was not lost. So caring! I was not lost, I just lived out of the tourist area in a university, around 1.5 hours away by Bangkok traffic terms, as we were on an exchange program. It was my first demonstration by a stranger, in a foreign country, where we were told to test no one, that there are good people everywhere, especially in the lower paid jobs. There are more people who genuinely want to help others amongst the poor in countries in the second and third world, than there are those who will rob you, I believe. And many of those intent on robbing are usually fuelled by drugs or alcohol, or survival, it’s not a bad lot, just survival mostly.

Back in Zimbabwe, I was on a bus, the only white tourist there, the rest of the people were very local. Still distrustful of strangers, I was a little wary when the guy in front of me kept trying to strike up a conversation. But eventually it was a long trip and he seemed pleasant enough. So I appeased him by chatting. We arrived half way in Francistown, and he sort of followed me off the bus. Now I was becoming wary – what did he want with/from me? I told him, like I always do “I’m fine…” But he hung around.

No backpackers in sight, I tried to phone a couple from the payphone, yes, this was the days before cellphones were in wide use. No pay-as-you-go cards at the airport, nor did I have an actual phone.

My friend was still shadowing me, and I was feeling uneasy, alas, but, when no one answered the phone, I was running short of options. He said to me, “Why don’t you come and stay with me?” I’ll get you to the bus stop in the morning. My mind was running wild – what am I getting myself into here??? But my next thought was, well, he seems friendly and harmless, and what choice do I have now, it’s after 5pm and I had no where to stay, nor any idea how to get anywhere.

Extremely dubiously I follow the guy to his house. Turns out, a point he failed to mention, which would have made me more at east, is his wife and daughter were there awaiting us with a lovely home cooked meal on top of it all. I spent an amazing evening getting to know these people, talking about all sorts of things, sharing office tips with his wife who was working in administration at a local office, playing card games with the teenage daughter, who I shared a room with. And to top it off when we went to the bus stop the next day, my friend offered to pay my way if I didn’t have enough money left. No reward needed – my first taste of African hospitality.

I think this experience was the point of no turning back for Africa. For some once you ‘feel the rains’ you can never leave. That was how it was for me, Africa is something else, and would become home. I’d planned to travel the world to find a place I could call home, but little did I know it was very close.  Anyhow, first there was Maun to get through. And Maun had a very different feeling to Zimbabwe for sure.

 

 

 

 

Being fully bitten by the bug, I was excited to have my commercial pilot’s license and instructor rating, I was also desperate to find my first ‘real’ job.

I also had in the back of my mind the dream of flying in Africa, and kept my ears open.

One of the guys from the flight school had succeeded in getting a job in Maun, Botswana, and there was lots of talk about it.

So here I was on a plane to Harare, to find out if I could make it in Africa.

Back in the days before 911, one could gain access to the cockpit, and I was determined to do so. I exhausted my list of air New Zealand flying friends, and finally resorted to mentioning the name of a rather extroverted and very gay cabin crew friend of mine. Fortunately everyone knew him, and this gained me a request to the Captain, who happily obliged. Of course all airline pilots were a little sad when the doors were close that we couldn’t welcome newbies and friends for a jump seat anymore. If I fast forward to days in the airline, I remember it was only a few times people asked, and the best was the young kids with dreams of flying. So an hour or so later, after the food was finished, I was in the cockpit for the fun parts, the descent and approach into Bangkok (AirNZ only took us half way).

I chatted with the crew about their career, and told them of my dreams to fly Cessna 206s in the bush in Botswana. They told me about highlights of their career, and how exciting the early days were in comparison to relative monotony of long haul, albeit the pinnacle of most people’s career, a really great job, and where the money and security is. They wished me best of luck, and sent me on my way with all the freebies they could find from business class.

Another flight later and I was in a backpackers in Harare, found at the airport. I am not sure if it was jet lag or the fact I worked damn hard, weeks and my engineering job and weekends at the flight school, to save the money for the trip, however when I got there I practically slept for 3 days.

In-between sleeping I found my way to town to determine the bus route to Maun. I was assured I’d be able to get there, with all the enthusiasm and indestructibility of a 25 year old. This was the first step anyhow, -I had 10,000 dollars in my account, a good idea how to live on a budget, and was determined to get a flying job somewhere – or if not, my backup plan was to arrive penniless back home or in Australia and apply for unemployment benefit, as a failed unemployed commercial pilot.

I’d remembered meeting a young unemployed commercial pilot once at a night club, before I started flying, I was so intrigued about the flying I asked for his number, but I guess a lot of girls are intrigued by pilots, just for me it was in a different sense. He’d joked about the fact that his commercial pilot license just made him fairly unemployable. But at the time, it was so cool to me, nothing else mattered. Now here I was, a fledgling CPL, hoping to get a job but knowing there was a lot of door knocking in front of me. Nothing like opening the paper and sending your CV into suitable applications, this was cold calling at its best. And, being rather shy and less confident than needed, and often terrified of phoning people I didn’t know,  hat was a hard road to travel. But if one wants to do something badly enough, one will summon the courage, and keep at it til you find a way.

Right now I had to get over my chronic fatigue or jet lag or what ever it was, and find a way from Harare to Maun.