MIAT’s Good Guys
By Charlie
Arvinbuyan called me yesterday. I was embarrassed to admit that I was not in the office. He clearly wanted to talk.
Arvinbuyan is MIAT’s chief Airbus captain. He is among the most gentle and kind men that I have met in Mongolia. In a country where corrupt money and power command respect, Arvinbuyan gets respect the old fashioned way: He earns it.
Even before I first met him, the younger pilots told me about Arvinbuyan. When MIAT first sent pilots to train on the Airbus 310, Arvinbuyan impressed the German instructors with his seemingly innate ability to fly the plane. He read everything he could about the aircraft and was ready to fly it even before he arrived in Germany for transition training. Arvinbuyan’s quiet prowess dispelled any doubts that the German instructors may have had about Mongolian pilots.
Arvinbuyan has a quiet command of the English language. Even so, he occasionally drops in on my English classes to participate with the other pilots. He has even come to Antonov class to work with the pilots who know almost no English at all.
MIAT and Mongolia need more people like Arvinbuyan.
When I visited Arvinbuyan today, he wanted to talk with me about the English evaluation we conducted last Friday with a grounded Airbus pilot named Chanarav. Arvinbuyan wanted to know my thoughts on whether this guy can pass a check ride in English.
“Definitely not,” I said.
“And I agree with you,” said Arvinbuyan.
As we talked, Arvinbuyan rubbed his face with his hands. He is exhausted.
As the chief pilot, Arvinbuyan should get to decide if this pilot goes for more Airbus training in Europe. But this is Mongolia, and qualified managers like Arvinbuyan are not allowed to do their jobs.
The case of Chanarav is typical of Mongolian cronyism. Arvinbuyan is far too polite to burden me with all the details of this story, but he did mention that he is under pressure from above to send Chanarav for training that he is not qualified to receive. I figured that there was more to do this story, so I asked around.
Not surprisingly, Chanarav is well connected. He apparently comes from the same province as Tsogoo, MIAT’s soon-to-be-fired president. Chanarav’s older sister is married to MIAT’s director of training, who has some involvement in all this. Not only that, Chanarav’s own brother is a Member of Parliament. The MP has apparently seen no harm in lobbying hard on his brother’s behalf.
Arvinbuyan and I had a really nice, long talk. I agreed to help in anyway I can.
Later in the day, 27-year-old Airbus pilot Batdari called me. He had an urgent request from Arvibuyan. Batdari is a young version of his boss: quiet, polite, kind and incredibly smart. These two guys had clearly talked following my early morning meeting with Arvinbuyan. Realizing that they face massive political pressure to send an unqualified pilot for a training course that he cannot pass, Arvinbuyan and Batdari decided that I might be able to help.
“Could you write your observations for us?” asked Batdari. “As a native speaker, we believe that you are best qualified to evaluate Chanarav’s ability to speak and understand English.”
Just a few days ago, I had no interest in doing this. I figured that Chanarav’s lack of facility with the English language would speak for itself. The evaluation on Friday went something like this – again, and again, and again:
Charlie: Mongolian 3-0-1, turn right heading 2-4-0.
Chanarav: Say again.
Charlie: Mongolian 3-0-1, turn right heading 2-4-0.
Chanarav: Turn right heading 1-2-0, Mongolian 1-0-3.
Charlie: Mongolian 3-0-1, heading 2-4-0.
Chanarav: Heading 2-4-0, Mongolian 3-0-1.
The MIAT pilots call that a single clearance because it involves one instruction: Heading 2-4-0. Double and triple clearances add information on altitude and other parameters. That material was really hard for Chanarav.
The most scary thing about this evaluation was that Chanarav often confused or combined heading and altitude.
Charlie: Mongolian 3-0-1, turn left heading 0-9-0, climb and maintain flight level 2-1-0.
Chanarav: Turn left heading 2-1-0, climb and maintain flight level 2-1-0, Mongolian 3-0-1.
Despite my initial reluctance to get officially involved in this fracas, I felt a strong urge today to support Arvinbuyan and his protégé, Batdari. I agreed to put my observations in writing and got it done in 30 minutes. Batdari poured over it, word by word. “This is very good,” he said. “Thank you.”
For now, the professionals at MIAT are clinging to control of this situation. But they fear and expect that their politically appointed bosses will soon have their way. This pilot will be sent to Germany for more training and he will fail again. Total cost to MIAT for two failed courses: $90,000.
As maddening as this is, I feel satisfied about having allied myself with the professionals. Even more so, I am glad that I can help the pilots stand fast against the cronyism and corruption that still grips most Mongolian institutions. My evaluation may gain me no more favor with Khorolsuren, but that’s something to feel good about.
In other news, Batdari was eager to show me some pictures in his digital camera. He took these pictures last weekend during a fishing trip. Under ordinary circumstances, this trip would have been a big success simply because Batdari caught a fish for the first time in his life. But the trip was special for another reason: Batdari and his friends saw a one- or two-day old baby camel with its mother. And not only that, this was a WHITE baby camel. Anyone who has seen "The Story of the Weeping Camel" knows that this is a huge deal in Mongolia.
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