The sky in the morning is dark and threatening. Big thunderheads in the east, a sure sign that rain is on the way. Once the wind starts the rain will soon follow. I am a wreck from worrying about the woman with the twins and the lack of sleep. If you think that I am over reacting, you have clearly never been involved in an obstetrical disaster. I have, the memories are still ripe; they remain long after all the warm fuzzy feelings of the normal deliveries are forgotten. I pray that it will not rain till after the plane has come and gone. I look at the sky repeatedly during morning rounds, every time I stick my head out of a tukul, I check.
And finally the roar of the plane, the sound of the children screaming and running to the airstrip. The plane is coming! The patient and her caretaker are already waiting there. I hustle myself over as well.
Little droplets of rain start while the plane is still on the ground. A group of men lift the patient into the fuselage. The pilot knows the score and quickly pulls up the ladder, closes the doors and makes a quick retreat. The condition of the airstrip will deteriorate rapidly once the heavy rain starts. No one wants to get stuck on the ground in Lankien!
The plane roars down the airstrip just as the skies are opening up.