A chance encounter on a dirt road at Telefomin opens a window into the lasting impact of MAF’s presence in Papua New Guinea — where the Gospel replaced tribal warfare with reconciliation and hope.
Story by Mandy Glass
“Before, we were enemies,” the old man said, his voice dropping low as he mentioned this dark part of his tribal history.
“We were enemies: Telefomin with Oksapmin, with Feranmin, with Tifalmin,” he said, pointing into the different direction of these places.
“There was fighting. But when God’s Word came, it stopped. Now we work together.”
Before that, we were enemies. Telefomin with Oksapmin, with Feranmin, with Tifalmin. There was fighting. But when God’s Word came, it stopped. Now we work together.
MAF’s Siobhain Cole stood beside him, struck by the honesty of it. What had begun as a quiet walk home after attending the local Baptist Women’s Fellowship, had turned into something profound.
That morning, an older man approached Siobhain with a warmth that only years of life and faith can cultivate. He greeted her gently, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
“God is with you,” he began. “I’m an old man. I often pray… and I tell you, I have sorrows, I am crying.
“But I know God will bless the family of the pilot and the pilot himself. This and all my concerns and thoughts, I place on the table of the altar of God. That’s how I pray.”
He smiled, hesitating a moment.
“Once I wanted to visit you and talk to you, but I didn’t want to disturb or trouble you… and time slipped away. But now, here on the road — this is the perfect time to chat.”
“What’s your name?” Siobhain asked.
“Miom Slinger.”
Curious, she asked if he remembered when MAF first came to Telefomin.
Miom chuckled. “Oh, I was a very little child… Actually, I wasn’t even born yet. My father’s generation would know that time. But I was born during that season. I’ve heard the stories.”
MAF began flying into Telefomin in the 1950s, supporting both government and mission efforts by the Australian Baptist Missionary Society (ABMS, now Baptist Mission Australia), which began mission work in Telefomin in the 1940s–50s, focusing on evangelism, translation, education and health.
As they talked, Siobhain asked what MAF had brought in those early days and if he has ever been on an MAF plane.
Miom’s eyes lit up. “Physical and spiritual things came to stay with us. The MAF base was in Wewak, and from there it served Oksapmin, Mianmin… all around us.
“Yes, I travelled with the MAF plane — to Eliptmamin, and other places.”
Siobhain wanted to know more. “What exactly was it that MAF brought?”
Miom nodded, pointing down the road. “See that canteen? That’s MAF. That’s a memory. They brought store goods — but also God’s Word.”
“God’s Word?” she repeated.
He nodded. “That’s it! Yes. Physical help, yes — but spiritual things most of all. God’s Word came down to Oksapmin, Feranmin, Duranmin, Mianmin – all the way around.”
“The government helps with physical things,” he said. “But MAF — they brought the mission work. They changed things.”
As the conversation drew to a close, Siobhain blessed Miom and thanked him — for his prayers, his memories, and for allowing her a glimpse into the legacy of MAF in this region.
Parting ways, she continued her walk, the familiar dirt road stretching ahead — the same road she and her husband, Telefomin’s MAF pilot, have walked countless times over the past seven and a half years.
Telefomin has truly become home for them — a remote district centre hidden among towering mountains.
Still today, the only real connection to the outside world is by air, though a rough road toward the mining town of Tabubil is slowly nearing completion.
And yet, on this ordinary stretch of road, something extraordinary had happened.
Siobhain felt the weight and wonder of what Miom had just shared — not only history, but a living testimony of transformation.
Her walk home had become a window into legacy, and a reminder that sometimes, the road brings us exactly who we’re meant to meet.
