Jack Sparrow doesn’t have any teeth—any upper teeth that is. His wrinkled black face seems to take on a life of its own as he gets just a little too close to you and smiles, eyes bright and body in constant motion. His English is colored by Guari Guari—a local Caribbean Patios that makes his sing-song voice a little difficult to understand.
Every time I inadvertently get close to him, he grabs my hand and begins to read my palm.
One day he told me I would travel soon, that I would go and see my family. Truthfully, I had been turning the idea over in my mind, wanting to visit my youngest son for a few days.
Another time, he told me I was too controlling. Not what I really wanted to here, but truthful never-the-less. He told me I worry too much and need to relax, and he was right. The need to control comes from fear that things are not going to be OK.
In fact, every time Jack Sparrow gets hold of my hand, truth pours from his wrinkled lips.
"You love Jesus very much," he said to me one day. "Come closer to Him," he instructed me. "Bless you, bless you,” he said.
Finally, I asked Jack Sparrow why he does what he does.
"It is all for Jesus,” he replied.
In my world palm reading and Jesus do not go together. They have always been at direct odds with each other.
I gave Jack a dollar so he could get something to eat. He bowed his head low and thanked me with gummed Guari Guari words and gentle humility.
Who am I to judge? Jack Sparrow may just be the closet things to Jesus on these dirty streets.