I didn't come to start a mission. I came to team up with something because I'd heard Haiti had more missions than any country in the world. Why need another one? Then let's just go and support some of the ones that are already doing it. And in April, I moved here full-time. I got all my stuff ready at home and I moved here full-time with a backpack and a tent and some clothes. And when I got to the mission, I was getting funny feeling about when the Haitians would come and talk to me, the directors would come, and you know, I didn't want to reinvent the wheel. As I say, you know, there's 20 missions in town, they don't need another mission. But then I realized the wheel is broken. and the wheel is not turning right and in the end I couldn't work with that specific mission. I just didn't like how they treated employees. I didn't like how the kids were treated when a team would come compared to when the team leaves. The parents of the children couldn't even come and visit their own children unless they gave a two-week notice and it was just I just, to me it wasn't missions, so I wasn't long doing that. I realized that I couldn't work with them. And then I went to another one, and I went to another one, and they all operated the same, and I was just, just not, you know. Don't get me wrong, would Haiti be worse off without missions? Absolutely, absolutely. But could we do more as a mission here? Oh, absolutely, absolutely. So anyway, in the end I had to do something and I had no place to live, but I had a tent. And so the first year, and I know this is going to sound crazy, and it was, I lived in the tent. I pitched the tent down by the ocean and we got 20 missions in town. I really didn't want nothing to do with any of them. So what am I going to do? And so the local mayor, the mayor of the town, I got to know the government guys real good because they saw me walking around the street all the time. Everybody else is behind big mission walls and in buildings. And here's this guy walking on the street, drinking. Street coffee, eating the street food, and who is this guy? And I got to know the government guys real good. And I went to the mayor's office. I saw one of these mountain people. His name was Emil, but he was crying. And I said, oh, I said, Julio, why is this man crying? What's wrong with him? He said, oh, Tony, he's from the mountains. He said, all the schools are closed and they can't pay. His school is going to close. I said, there's schools up there? Oh, yeah. He said, you know, 93% of the population, they got kids all over. And I said, I want to go see that school. And I didn't know why, but I said, I want to go see that school. And when I got up there, I was up about 3,700 feet. And I knew all the crops, because I see it at the market, the red bean, the black bean. But this was coffee season. So one of the ladies was coming down. And I asked her, what? And I saw the donkey, sacks on a donkey. And I didn't, and I, what is that? Oh, that's coffee. Coffee, is it good? Oh yeah, brother Tony, it's good, it's good. And I didn't know good coffee, like her, she didn't know good coffee from bad. I took three pounds, I bought three pounds off her. I sent it to a Christian roaster in Canada. And I said, look, I got a hunch, I don't know, but check this out. His name was Dave. And he roasted it, and two weeks later, he said, Tony, I'll take a container of that. coffee. He knew everything. He knew the species. He knew when it was introduced into Haiti. It was the best Haiti coffee that Haiti grew. I couldn't believe it. So I'm now in the coffee business and we started to buy the coffee off the families because there's no such thing as orchards. It's individual families. And now we buy coffee from 400 families and I'm into the coffee.