Flying Doctors and the Migration of the Wildebeest

« Return to Kenya

I had placed myself on 24-hour standby in the event of a medical evacuation, in the hope that I’d be able to hop on a plane and witness the FD’s in action. Sunday morning, I got the call. There were two incidents, a car accident and a less severe evacuation. The planes wouldn’t wait for me, but if I could get to the airport in time, there might be space. I grabbed my camera, raced down the stairs of the Fairmont Norfolk hotel, hailed a cab. Nairobi’s traffic can be horrendous, and the last thing I wanted to do was get stuck in a traffic.
“Wilson Airport please. It’s a medical emergency!”
Just saying that got the blood pumping, never mind the fact that the taxi driver took the task to heart and sped around the chaotic roundabouts. Considering we’d seen about 3 or 4 accidents in Nairobi each day, I wondered if the medical emergency might end up being myself. The car pulls into Wilson, I pay the cab, rush into the control room and get the details. It turns out the car accident might be too hectic, but there is plenty of space on an air ambulance heading out to Lake Baringo, where an elderly man had collapsed. As a paying member of the FD’s insurance arm, I would get to see the third and final component of the organization in action. Just then I hear Sean Cable, our cameraman, bellowing below. The crew had been on their way to a giraffe rehabilitation centre and happened to pass the airport. On the chance I might still be around, they popped in, and since the flight to Lake Baringo was only scheduled in a couple hours, Sean could join me to film the events. It never ceases to amaze me that in our wonderful fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants (ahem) travel series, things always work out. The evacuation only required a nurse, so we loaded up with Kizito, two pilots and took off into the wind. Pilots do not get told what each case is about, although they do assist with loading patients and helping out. Dan and Marcus, the pilots, were as cool as a pair of aviator sunglasses.
“When we get into the Rift Valley, it’s going to be bumpy,” warns Marcus.
Over Kibera, East Africa’s largest slum, home to over a million people, living in an area about the size of Central Park. Then above the wealthier suburbs, and finally across the deep, rich earth of Africa. It is a beautiful flight, the views of the Rift Valley serene, otherworldly. The plane shakes with turbulence, and I regret having drained a bottle of vodka the night before with Sean and Paul, a poor excuse to drown the intensity of our hospital experience with late night cocktails. After an hour, the plane arrives on the dirt track, met by two 4×4’s. The patient, possibly having suffered a stroke, fell and cracked his head pretty badly. I assist with loading him from a stretcher into the plane, along with the pilots and the nurse. His partner graciously allows us to film the whole thing.
“I was evacuated from Ethiopia after a car accident a dozen years ago. This service is just wonderful,” she says.
The tour operator on the ground agrees. As he signs off on an appearance waiver, he says: “Anything we can do to help these guys we will. Their role is vital for Africa.”
The plane takes off, Kizito doting on the patient, wiring him up, inserting a drip. The patient’s partner is relieved and calm. Her man is in safe, gentle hands.
From the air, I can just make out the forms of hippos in Lake Baringo, before the plane returns to Nairobi, landing a tense hour later to be greeted by a waiting Flying Doctors ambulance outside the hangar. Door to door service, he will be taken to a clinic, another job well done. Kizito might be involved in one or two evacuations a day. As a nurse, he’s been with the Flying Doctors for 2 years, a mild-mannered, calming presence in the face of frantic emergency.
“You never know what is going to happen,” he explains over the roar of the slowing propeller. “Today I was at home preparing to go to church when the call came.”
The entire team is on 24/7 standby, the phone could ring anytime.
“You should hear Bettina’s stories about the suicide bombings in Nairobi and Dar Es Salaam,” says Culligan. The carnage. The hopelessness. The importance and morale boost just knowing there is someone to call.
I leave Wilson Airport feeling privileged to have witnessed the Flying Doctors in action, to have met its characters, and feel its heart. It beats hope into the entire continent. But is not the last time I will visit Wilson Airport. Early the next morning, I would return for a charter flight to take us to the other Africa, the land of fairytales and travel dreams. Less than 12 hours after participating in a dramatic medical evacuation, I was on my way to Masai Mara National Park, and the Migration of the Wildebeest.

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