The soccer ball story

It's Monday about 5pm here in DR. We spent most of the day sorting, counting, and packing medications. Bags are packed now, ready to leave in a few hours. We'll load up on a tour bus and drive through the night to get to Port-au-Prince in the am. Apparently, the school buses they usually use "wouldn't be able to survive te trip." Great! Seriously, it shouldn't be bad - the busus are pretty nice and the drive not that bad. 8 hours drive if all goes well. Pray that we will be able to sleep on the bus and be rested tomorrow. We'll arrive around 7am, set up, and go to work.

So, Jason's precious soccer ball. See photo above. The epic saga of this soccer ball's eventful, yet tragically short life is too much to type with my thumbs on an iPhone. But, the short version is this:

We finished packing bags and had about an hour before supper. So, we decide to walk around, maybe make a trip to Jumbo. In Spanish, this is pronounced "Joom-bó." When I first asked our gate keeper where it was, he said "he's in the back, beside the house." As many of you know, it's not my comprehension of Spanish that's the problem, it's my South Carolina roots affecting my pronounciation! So, after I clarified that I didn't need "Jim-Bo," out gatekeeper proceeded to show us where it was. Expecting him to point it out, instead he walked the 4 or so blocks with us. Very gracious people here in DR - I can understand why so many people fall in love with this country.

So, Jumbo is DR's version of Super WalMart, an unfortunate comparison often used here. Unfortunate, b/c while America is capitalism driven, as represented by Wally World, DR is relationally driven, as represented by Jumbo! So, for those from Norway, it's like Blake's Texaco meets Roses - really big, lots of random stuff, and overpriced like Roses, but still full-service, where who you know and what's going on in the neighborhood is still primary importance.

Anyway, we walk around a while, and Jason decides to get a soccer ball. We're all excited about some entertainment. So, we pick through the small display and find a decent ball. After a few more circles around, we find a pump. We get to the cash register, and it doesn't ring up. Jess and I didn't get anything, so we're watching from a distance. She tries several times to scan it, then yells for another cashier, who also tries. Fail again. So a manager is called. No luck. Now, keep in mind, unlike most of the soccer balls there, this one actually had a barcode and pricetag. But it wouldn't scan, so it couldn't be bought. So, the bag boy goes looking. After a good 5 minutes or so (keep in mind, size of Roses) he returns and shrugs his shoulders. Another cashier tries. Nada. So, our cashier walks off. Another 5 minutes - she returns shaking some maracas (sorry if spelled wrong - the shaky things we all want to buy in Mexico but no one else will let us.) She takes the price tag (which clearly used to be on the shelf) from the same-priced maracas, and tries to scan them. Somehow, that fails to work as well. So, we go to Jason's rescue (yeah, we were just watching the whole time.) The cashier says we can't buy it, because it won't scan. So, since the pump was already bought, Jason and I head back to find another ball. Of course, only two that actually have a price tag and aren't made of Elmers glue and plastic bottles. So, we decide on one and return to the line and an uneventful purchase of our new ball.

But wait, there's more ...

We walk home, elated to kick around the new treasure some before dinner. We sit, Jason works diligently to pump up the ball with the clearly dysfunctional new pump. After a laborious few minutes, it feels about right.  I walk upstairs to get a book. Less than a minute later, when I return, Jason is sitting, looking deflated. The "new" soccer ball got a few good kicks before it, too, became deflated, and was now flat  again.

Jason's on his way back to Jumbo to buy another ball now.

We love all you guys - thanks for praying!

Sent from my iPhon