STILL TRYING TO GET HOME

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

Africa, Zurich, Paris: February, 2004: It was snowing hard when our plane touched down Wednesday morning at about 6:30 a.m. My next segment of flight needed to take me from Zurich to Paris was at 10 a.m. The snow delayed the earlier flight, but I was early enough to go stand in line for the 7:45 a.m. flight to Paris. The girl took care of my ticket and issued me a boarding card. If I could actually get to Paris on that 7:45 a.m. flight I would have caught up with my original schedule for making my connection with United’s 1 p.m. flight to Washington, D.C. I smiled. I was on my way home and not in Cameroon waiting all night, all day, and half of the next night for my Air France flight to take off from Douala to Paris.

I asked the lady at the desk, when she gave me the boarding pass, if my luggage would make the transfer just fine and she assured me, “No problem.”

Thanks to the snow delay, I was on the early flight that would get me into Paris. There I would go through passport control lines, collect my luggage from the carousel, and check into United.

But, mid-flight between Zurich and Paris, one of the two jet engines on our European-built airplane just conked out!

The Charles DeGaule Airport in Paris would not allow us to continue and land there, so we were required to turn around and go back to Zurich in the middle of the snowstorm. I guess the Paris airport didn’t want the risk of having our “one-engine” plane try to make an emergency landing there.

I had flown so much in so many different airplanes around the world with no possible idea of whether the planes were maintained well or not. I guess the incident was sort of a “reality check” for me that sometimes airplane engines do fail. I was glad that it happened outside the remote places of Congo and Cameroon where we wouldn’t have had many options if the one and only engine on any of those little planes had failed.

In Zurich we completely off-loaded and instead of simply engaging another airplane to take us to Paris, which would have been quite simple, they dumped us back in the terminal. There was only one service desk and the frustrated planeload of people began pushing and shoving and yelling.

One by one, Swiss Air personnel reprocessed each passenger and resorted the entire load of luggage. They tried to put the passengers on any other pre-scheduled flight to Paris during the day. Any passengers who could possibly avoid Paris were encouraged to be rerouted through some other European city. But, my connections were in Paris and Charles DeGaule Airport.

I kept feverishly watching the time. As the attendant was handling my reticketing, I asked if my new flight would get me to Paris in time for my flight to Washington, D.C. I was assured that I had nothing to worry about, but I would still need to collect my luggage at the carousel in Paris before I could check in on United.

“Oh, it will be close,” I kept thinking all the way to Paris on my new flight. But, it wasn’t close at all. I had missed my flight by a long shot. The folks at United told me to go get a hotel because I was going nowhere until 1 p.m. the next day. Finally, I had run out of options.

I found a cheap Ibis Hotel room not far from the airport. As I checked in, I smirked to myself. “I guess God had mercy on me and wanted me to spend the extra night because of the canceled flight in Africa, holed up in Paris, France, instead of Douala, Cameroon. I would have clean sheets instead of dirty blankets, a wonderful warm shower instead of dipping rusty water out of a barrel for my bath, and a fresh French breakfast instead of leftover rice and fish. For what more could I ask? I was thankful!

I knew I would have problems with the logistics of getting the container loads of donated medical goods into the remote areas of Congo and Cameroon. That’s why no one else in the world was trying to do it. But I also knew God was eager for us to help the extremely needy people there and help take hope to the tired and discouraged doctors and staff people in the hospitals we had visited. How was it that I was so fortunate to be chosen to take help and hope to needy people around the world? It had been nearly 20 years since I visited my first needy clinic in Brazil. Now, God had multiplied our obedience and efforts with allowing us to be shipping the necessary medical goods into 95 different countries in the world.

What a privilege I have had to be working with all my energies in the earthly enterprises of God himself. Just imagine the unspeakable experience we will all have together forever in eternity!

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.drjameswjackson.com

     

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

I JUST NEED TO GET HOME

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

Douala, Cameroon, Africa: February, 2004: So, there I was in a big pickle. Vincent had driven for seven hours to get me to the Douala airport to catch my late flight back to Paris. I climbed out of the Toyota truck and headed for the terminal. Vincent took off into the African night. At the desk I was told that the flight had been canceled. There were no phones to get hold of Vincent and I had no Cameroon money. I pleaded with the African ticket attendant explaining to her that I had to make it to Paris in order to meet all the rest of my connections through to Washington, D.C. and on to Denver. She really couldn’t have cared less. She told me to “go away and come back tomorrow night.” I probably could go then to Paris.

I noticed as I walked down the stretch of empty counters that Swiss Air had a flight going to Europe. I worked my way up through their line where I could ask the lady if Swiss Air had room for me to get out of Douala. She said maybe, but that I would have to go back to Air France and have them rework my ticket. I returned to the Air France desk and the woman said, “You are not flying tonight. Come back tomorrow night.” But I was stranded in Africa with no way to get back in touch with Vincent.

“Look,” I said. “I just went down to Swiss Air and they might have a seat left, but the lady said I needed the approval of Air France in order to switch airlines.” “She didn’t say that. That flight to Zurich, Switzerland, was sold out long ago,” said the snippy Air France woman.

I had flown regularly on international flights beginning in 1979, and I knew that airlines loved to cancel flights that were only partially sold and simply say that there had been some equipment problems. Then you would have to return the next day or the next flight when they could combine you with another partially full flight. That way they could fly the route only once with a full revenue load. But, what the airlines didn’t like to do in that strategy was to start losing their paid customers to other airlines in between the flights they were trying to consolidate. That defeated their purpose; they lost revenue rather than gained it.

“Please,” I continued, “allow me to at least talk with someone in charge of allowing me to make the switch, then we can find out for sure if Swiss Air has room.” “Well,” replied the woman, “you can go back behind that wall and talk to someone in the Air France office, but it’s not going to do you any good.”

I hurriedly left and as I rounded the corner, my heart sunk. There was a crowd of at least 20 people pushing and shoving their way to the office door. They had even placed a security person at the door. I thought, “Oooh, these are some pretty desperate people.” I didn’t have a ghost of a chance, but I staked out my territory in the line and waited to see what would happen. I knew that my only other option would be to try to locate a hotel in Douala, Cameroon, at midnight. If I could find one I would have to stay there until the next night and make my way back out to the airport.

After about 30 minutes of going nowhere, I spotted an official-looking man with a tie and a plastic badge from Air France on his lapel. I chanced stepping out of line and put my hand on his arm, “Could you please help me, sir?” I asked. “It really is necessary for me to travel to Europe tonight so that I can make a very crucial connection from Paris to Washington, D.C.” I gave him my business card and said, “Swiss Air told me they might have room for me but to check with you for your approval.”

“Quite impossible,” said the Frenchman, “every seat is gone.” I thanked him and stepped back into my place in the line and continued to wait as I watched the continual pushing and shoving. I really didn’t want to spend another night in Africa. My only chance was the Swiss Air flight.

Suddenly, the Frenchman appeared, put his hand on my arm and motioned for me to follow him as he knifed through the waiting line at the Air France office door. “I don’t know if we can make this work. Two scheduled passengers for the Swiss Air flight showed up late for the check-in. If we can hurry and get a boarding pass issued, Swiss Air will let you on in their place because they are late.” I could hardly believe my ears. Could it be that I was not going delusional from the hot night and sweaty crowd? Was I hearing correctly?

God had just dispatched another legion of guardian angels to help me. We ran very fast to the Swiss Air counter. I shoved my check-in bag to them, collected my luggage receipt, and we scurried through customs and security with the Frenchman telling them all to hurry up. I got the seat. Not one I would have chosen under normal circumstances, but the circumstances we had going were not normal.

It had all happened so fast that as I pulled my seat belt tightly around me I was feeling overwhelmed. God knew all along where I was and he did that just for me. I quietly thanked him for his goodness. When I traveled I always wore a dark blue sport jacket and a tie. But I was convinced that night in dark Africa that it had nothing to do with my tie or my dress jacket. Nothing else had made a difference in taking me out of that line and placing me in the seat of that Swiss Air flight headed for Zurich. It had everything to do with God and God alone . . . But I wasn’t done yet!

Next Week: I still Need to Get Home

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.drjameswjackson.com

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

COLORADO CONNECTION IN BANYO

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

Mbingo and Banyo, Cameroon, Africa: February, 2004: Dave, our African bush pilot, was going to fly me from the grass runway of the mountain community of Mbingo, Cameroon, to the dusty metropolis of Banyo. I never did get the brand name of the airplane, but it was an old 1950s model, and supposedly there were only six or seven vintage models like it still in existence. It had a single engine, four passenger seats, and front seats for the pilot and co-pilot. The wings were very stout and quite short, and the wing flaps were manually cranked down and back up by what resembled an automobile window crank located on the ceiling of the cockpit.

The plane had been flown for many years, I believe, in South America. Then recently it was completely rebuilt and sent to Africa. Its specialty was the ability to land and take off on very short and unpredictable runways. The Mbingo airstrip was short grass and was laid out in a very frightening design.

At the airstrip in Banyo we were met by Dr. Jim Smith, a retired medical doctor from Colorado Springs. Dr. Smith had been Project C.U.R.E.’s contact in getting us to travel to Cameroon. Dr. Smith and his wife were longtime acquaintances of our dear Colorado friends and Project C.U.R.E. supporters, Paul and Marjorie Lewan. Paul had brought Dr. Smith to Project C.U.R.E.’s offices and introduced us. From the get go, Dr. Smith began pushing our offices to schedule needs assessment studies in Banyo and Mbingo. 

 

Banyo was not the vacation haven of the world. Banyo was hot and dusty. The wind during the dry season would pick up dirt and sand from the northern desert and cover Banyo with a film of grit and fill the sky with a reddish brown haze. The continual haze made for some pretty spectacular sunsets but that was about the extent of Banyo’s positive selling points. Banyo bragged of a population of 18,000. That was a pretty good-sized village. But the catchment area population that used the clinic was more like 50,000 with people even coming across the Nigerian border just 25 miles away.

I loved the story of the Smiths and their involvement in Cameroon. The Smiths moved to Banyo about two and a half years earlier. They had been praying with their church missions group in Colorado Springs for the Lord to choose and send someone to Cameroon who would take the responsibility of leadership and the duties of a full-time doctor at Banyo. They all prayed earnestly every day and one day just like God said to the children of Israel parked along the shores of the Red Sea, “Quit your praying and start moving.”

God showed the Smiths and the others that their prayers had been answered – Dr. Smith and his wife should go to Banyo. So, with spirits of obedience and excitement, off they went to Africa. They arrived at the partially civilized area of Banyo and found that the clinic possessed only two pieces of equipment: one old microscope with a mirror that had to be tilted toward the outside light and an oxygen generator that someone had recently brought with them. The Smiths then bought a nifty little hand-held ultrasound machine. And that was the sum total of the pieces of medical equipment on the property when I arrived for the assessment.

Dr. Smith had quickly determined that the clinic needed to expand into a full-fledged hospital to meet the needs of the growing client base. To start, he was begging Project C.U.R.E. to send him a very simple, but complete surgical room, supplies of every kind and an x-ray machine. A few months down the line he would need beds, dental goods, and everything else for a start-up hospital.

We completed the needs assessment, and over an African lunch we discussed logistics and priorities regarding the container loads of medical goods destined for the new “dream hospital.” 

Our little specialty aircraft lifted quickly off the hot runway with brown clouds of dust rolling everywhere in our wake. It took us about two hours to fly from Banyo back to Mbingo.

Tuesday, February 10

I had been greatly looking forward to Tuesday. I would be going home. I had endured enough mosquitoes carrying malaria and enough African wash areas standing stark naked scrubbing shampoo out of my hair with one hand as I dipped my plastic pail into the barrel of rusty water with the other hand and poured its contents over my dirty head and body. There would be electricity at home, a real bed, a snuggling wife, and a cup of real English tea. I could almost smell how clean it was going to be at home. I had eaten enough plantains, rice, and mostly cooked goat meat for another African trip. I was ready, Tuesday, to be home.

Vincent was once again assigned to drive me. We would return to Douala airport where I would catch my Air France flight to Paris. After seven hours of riding the Toyota 4x4 back down to Douala, my bottom end was tired and I was ready to call it a day. Vincent swung into the parking area of the Douala airport, and I grabbed my luggage and made a quick dash into the terminal. I turned to wave goodbye to Vincent and headed for the Air France check-in counter at the end of the front terminal. As I arrived, I was met with the startling news. The Air France flight from Douala to Paris had been cancelled. We were to leave and return at the 11:15 p.m. time the next night to see if it had been rescheduled.

I went into survival mode. Vincent had already gone. I had no Cameroon money and no phone numbers for Vincent to catch him in his Toyota. I was in trouble.

Next Week: I Just Need to Get Home
 

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.drjameswjackson.com

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com