The tap tap is an amazing innovation of third world transportation. I first heard about tap taps during the World Cup coverage from South Africa. A tap tap allows persons to cheaply move around the city. It's kind of like a taxi without the personalized treatment. The ten of us on the mission team survived the chaos of the Port Au Prince airport, which deserves an article of it's own. Don't let the band in the terminal fool you. It is a competitive market for carrying our bags. Literally dozens of working age men begging to help you get your bags out of the airport. Luckily, we had Jackson. Jackson met us outside of customs and arranged our tap tap. Unlike the other tap taps, ours was larger and ready just for us.
Most of the tap taps we saw along the way were small and very colorful. Overloaded with riders, they would have been very dangerous if the roads were any better. But, the roads were so difficult and congested that I'm not sure we ever travelled faster than the speedway race cars at the Magic Kingdom. Winding, climbing, and descending, the back of even a nice tap tap twists and turns more than Space Mountain.
But, there is no magic in this kingdom. The poverty is shocking. I've been to Mexico, but nothing like this. The idleness, the despair. So many buildings are still in states of collapse from the earthquake of almost a year ago. Simply mind boggling. The guest house is like an oasis. Not by American standards, but by what we witnessed on our ascent it is luxurious. I am excited about the awareness God is growing in me and the presence of the Spirit with our team. I look forward to tomorrow and what our journey holds.
Oh, why are they called tap taps? That's because you hit the side loudly when you're ready to get off. Tap tap... Time for me to get out and walk....
After the halfway point on my walk this morning, heading back towards home, I saw something you don’t see every day. It was a mockingbird chasing a hawk. The hawk was probably five times the size of the mockingbird. But the chase was all in the attitude. The mockingbird was squawking and chirping in a language that would make a sailor blush. The hawk wanted no part of it and was trying the flee but could not get away from the mockingbird. What had the hawk done? What had agitated the mockingbird so much? Had it been a transgression? Was the hawk just too close for comfort? Or did the two have a history. I was walking a bit later than normal and had not yet seen this routine. The unusual scene distracted and entertained me as I reflected on a myriad of permutations. As I’ve felt like the one receiving the squawk most of my life as a leader, I was surprised at how proud I was of the little mockingbird. Maybe ...
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