Helicopter Days

"We already had our name on the schedule for Dec 5th. Let's just fly out the hardware then."

She laughs. "I need to know what you're taking."

"64 sheets of roofing iron. Gutters, PVC pipe, lots of nails."

"We'll need to know how much that weighs to know how many shuttles you need."

"I need two shuttles…"

(fade out)

"Do we have a helicopter booked yet?"

"No. You never told me your weights. I need to know your weights before I can talk to the helicopter people."

(fade out)

"Here are all my weights."

"Great. I'll contact them and you need to contact the shuttle point. Here's a phone number."

(fade out)

None of the phone numbers work. We send Jacob down to talk to the Archdiocese to get a number for the property. Neither of those numbers work either.

(fade out)

A meeting about helicopter day:

"None of the cars we have will be able to haul that much cargo to the shuttle point."

"Someone would have to drive it up the day before."

"Where would they spend the night?"

"We'd have to hire a car."

"Might be cheaper to just shuttle from the airport."

"That will never be the "cheaper" option."

"Cost isn't just about money."

(fade out)

"He can't get you in the schedule until after Christmas."

"There's already question about finishing the house by February and I can't even get them nails until after Christmas?!"

"He wants to know how desperate you are."

(fade out)

"He fit you in. December 9th."

(fade out)

"Elizabeth is point person. You have a question, you ask her. She's the point person. There can't be any confusion about that."

(fade out)

"I hope I wasn't too stern about you being the point person."

"It's just that… I don't know anything."

"You will. You'll learn. And then you'll know."

(fade out)

Dec 8, we load up the roofing iron and leave it at the hangar overnight.

(fade out)

"Hey, it's the pilot. Your helicopter time moved from 10:45 to 8:30."

"Ok, I'll get it sorted."

"Whoops. Did the math again. 7:30am."

(fade out)

"The land cruiser won't be back by then."

"We'll have to take the hilux."

"Will everything fit?"

"Too easy to steal out of overnight."

"We'll have to pack it in the morning."

"6:30 am."

"6:30 am."

(fade out)

We woke at 5:30am that morning and got home at 10:30am.

Everything went as smoothly as it could have.

And then I crashed. And took a very long nap.

My village papa called to say everything arrived well.

Another translator called to say everything arrived well and cell signal was back in the area.

The posts have been cut for our house, they just need to be brought in from the jungle.

Work will start full force on Monday, Dec 12.

And then I took another long nap.

Needs vs Wants

Well, we're hoping to officially move out to the Mum area in February, but with us is coming out the director to officially and declaratively state that we're there as a part of PBT.

But the dear Director, as most humans, has weight. And considering how tight we were last time, there's no way we can live off of just one helicopter, so we'll have to bring more. But how many more?

And that's where needs and wants gets a little funny….

We need to bring the dog and her food, 20kg, and something to put it in so rats won’t get in it. Ok sure, that's a pretty clear need.

We need something to cook over… But we don't really need a stove, right? Because we have a fire! But honestly, it's not sustainable for us to make a fire every time we need/want something hot. So if we want to stay out in the village for any length of time, we'd need a stove. Ok, ok, but do we take our propane camper stove, featuring two burners and an oven six inches deep that sat two feet, on top of a counter (making pots on the stove very hard to peer into)? Or do we get a petite stove/oven set, big enough to stand on its own? Do we need it? Or do we want it?

So what we're talking about is bumping up little luxuries to the level of need on the premise that if my comfort level is such that I don't need to retreat to town as often, I save money and increase ministry.

Ooo, what a dangerous slope!

What about a couch? We're planning on bringing some basic camping chairs on highest priority, and reclining camping chairs on lower priority, and camping chairs for the kids on lowest priority (because let's be honest, they'd be delighted but they wouldn't feel any stress by the lack of adequate seating in their life.) But what about cuddling up? Before James could get on the couch himself, in town, I bought a couple crib mattresses to make a "floor couch" in his room, because him being able to climb up and cuddle with Mama, without Mama sustaining any bruising during his ascent, was that important. What about now? Is actual seating a need or a want?

Ok ok, what about high chairs? After last time where the kids would just eat on the perpetually filthy floor and any bite of banana warranted a bath to get off the banana dirt paste they were now saturated, we thought it would be better for their health if they weren't quite so … on the floor. Is it a need, to protect my children from worms and other nasty stuff that lives in dirt? Or a want?

But what about the really iffy stuff? Décor? One lament I had in Mum last time was that that place didn't feel like home. So, what do I need décor-wise that can make things feel nice and homey on the smallest weight and spatial occupancy? What about mirrors? I found these gorgeous mirrors here. 3ft high (where most mirrors are made with shaving in mind) with a ovular frame and champagne finished. I nearly cried when I saw them. We had a "rear-facing infant car mirror" we hung up in the bush. It was amazing because I would be walking out the door and see it and it was like, dang girl, the village looks good on you. A little pep talk reminding me that 1. I'm pretty and 2. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

But need or want?

At the crux of the matter is that needs are minimal. We just survived 5 weeks on 390kilos of cargo, including us! But... I wouldn't say we thrived... 

There's a precarious balance between getting what you need to stay, getting what you need to be comfortable enough to stay in long enough stints to do your job effectively, and being ridiculous and spending money inappropriately.

So that's what we're up to now. Packing everything we currently have that's destined to go to the bush and seeing what can wait and looking at the "needs" and "high priority wants" and evaluating what we need to do to succeed. 

Coffee with Elizabeth - Mincemeat

I collapse into one of the comfy chairs, clutching my Triple Grande Peppermint White Mocha like a life line.

I take a long sip, through my head back with my eyes closed and stop. For just a moment. I loll my head over to look at you and I give you a sleepy grin.

"I've had a long day. A long week! A long life…"

You snort at my 26 years.

I shrug.

"Feels that way." I take another sip.

"How long do you think you can run on caffeine and pain killers?" I ask my cup.

"I take a lot more caffeine than pain killers… But the headaches, man…"

"10 to 8 hours a night I'm in bed."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Listen, it's not as easy for me to sleep! Jacob hits a pillow and he's like a dead man! Me? I start thinking about what I have to do." I take a sip of coffee.

Then swallow abruptly and burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Oh man, today! So, we got our dehydrator from the airport, right? (The roads were so rough back there, I ended up off-roading, a hit a huge rock so hard, I thought both of my driver's side tires blew out! Then hit ANOTHER rock. Then bottomed out. My adrenaline was soaring! Caffeine, pain killers, and adrenaline! That'll get the job done!) Anyway, the dehydrator. I knew it was coming so bought like 5 kilos of mince. Uh… … hamburger? … 97% … ground beef! That's what you call it! Geez! I'm forgetting how to speak American! Anyway, I had cooked 3 last night. Oh, 3 kilos is just over 6 lbs… You're supposed to multiply your kilos by 2.2 to get pounds, but I just double it and call it close enough. Ok, so kilos are BIG. So you double it to get pounds, ok? Keep with me now. So I had Jacob cook the other 2k while I started loading the dehydrator. And we didn't have enough! THIS THING IS HUGE! Industrial. If this thing is going to be how I prepare food for more than half my year for at least two years? Totally worth the expense! And it's so efficient! So I did some number crunching, like I do, and was like, man we can get this done in 2.5 days! So I go back to the butcher (oh, somewhere in that story, I went back and picked up 5 more kilos for tomorrows dehydrating before I realized the awesomeness of my dehydrator.) So I went back to the butcher and was like, yeah, Imma need 20 kilos of meat. That's like 40lbs, right. Don't worry, I get the "crazy white lady" look a lot.

Anyway, that was all back story, so I come home"

I start chuckling.

"buckling under the weight of this 20 kilo box of raw meat as I carried it up the stairs. And I walk inside"

Giggling now.

"And Jacob comes over to take the box. And he's all, 'what is this?' And I give him that guilty smile, you know?"

I flash you an example.

"And he goes, 'Elizabeth. Is this meat?' I nod, my smile growing. 'How much meat did you buy?'"

It's hard to talk through my laughter.

"'20 kilos!'

"'20… Where are we going to put all of it!' And he is just done, like he has this grin and this chuckle and this grimace, and it's like he loves me but I'm insane and this is his life now. With 20 kilos of raw meat sitting on his counter!"

We take a minute to roar in laughter.

"And then!" I gasp for air.

"Then he says, 'You know. It's December first. December first. And I just thought, that since we weren't going to the village again until February, at the earliest, that maybe just maybe we wouldn't have to cook all 20 kilos right now.' And I'm just dying laughing, right there through his whole speech, doubled over, clutching a stich in my side, laughing. And then, after I compose myself, I say, 'I hear you, babe. I do. But when you fall asleep at night with your creepy instantaneous sleeping powers, I lie awake at night thinking about everything on my to-do list.'
"'YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE THINGS ON YOUR TO DO LIST!' he exclaims, laughing at my compulsive busyness.

"'NOT LIKE THIS!' I retort. 'I'm BACKLOGGED!'

"So my husband. My valiant husband, sighs, puts on some gaming headphones, turns a movie on the kindle and has been browning beef ALL DAY."

We laugh some more.

"Agh! I haven't even told you about the helicopter! No. no. That's another conversation. I promised my husband I would take over the meat and cook the last 5 kilos. (5 kilos will be left for tomorrow's to-do list)."

I down the last of my coffee, but the dregs.

I leave the dregs.

I hate the dregs.

"But thank you for this. I've been running around like crazy today and it was really nice to sit down and (get my fix and) story- oh… chat! with you. Same time tomorrow?

"I'll tell you about the helicopter! Oh what a story!"