We made it up the steep hill. He paused as he began heading down. We all understood he was nervous. Now we were too. He had some of us get down to reduce the weight. We’d have to walk down the mountain. I decided to be a good example and got down. About half of us did. With the others in the truck he began creeping down. Then he began rolling down. I started to wonder if I was going to see a catastrophe. Then, while people began to scream, a tire blew. Dust. Metal on rocks. Grinding. All I could do was watch and pray. The truck stopped, by God’s grace. Everyone flew out of it.
Shaken, we continued on foot. We played the game. And we hired another driver to bring us home. We lost the game, but learned valuable lessons. Me especially.
The man who hosted us to play against his team was born in Haiti, worked his career in the US, and is now retired here in Haiti working with kids and preparing them for a better Haiti tomorrow. It was great to have our kids meet his kids.