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I wake up every morning to its rich scent. My parents cannot start the day with out it. I often wait in line and pay $3.85 to buy it. The senior lodge at my school is littered with empty Starbucks cups containing only the remnants of skim lattes, , and mocha frapuccinos. Coffee is a staple of American life that many take for granted, but few take the time to think about how they get it. In the rural village of Cadillo in the Dominican Republic, the people’s livelihood depends on coffee. Rows of green coffee plants line steep hills and scatter the countryside. The people there pick and sell the coffee beans but receive little profit for their hard work. During the week I spent in Cadilloplaying , I witnessed the poverty these coffee farmers endure. Their homes are small and dark, furnished with only a few wooden chairs, a table and a few beds. There is no lawyers and electricity in Cadillo and I especially remember the emptiness of the village at night, when I could only vaguely see the faces I illuminated with my flashlight. I can still see the shiny metal bowl in which they used to bathe, and Jose, a neighbor who was missing several teeth because like most people in Cadillo, he lacks a toothbrush and could not afford a . These images still burn in my mind, but it was the people of Cadillo more than anything who opened my eyes to the importance of social justice. Before I met them it was just a concept I heard about a few times a year at church when a missionary would come to speak about the poor people in Africa or South America and explain why it was our duty to help them. These people were far removed. A small fraction of my weekly allowance, once a year, and I could remove them from my mind. After living for a week with a family in Cadillo, however, I understood for the first time that it was real people leading these lives. The family I stayed with there took me in as part of their family and gave me a taste of their life. I remember my Dominican father, Barilla’s face as he played guitar and how he laughed kindly when I struggled to play the chords he had taught me. I could feel the warmth and sincerity of my Dominican mother, Marsela, when she sat and talked with me about my home and family after a long day of work. And I will always remember how much fun I had playing catch or blowing bubbles with their two children, Jendi and Andisco. I will not forget the images I saw or the people I encountered. They made me realize that my work does not end with the school I helped build, the holes I helped dig, or the roads I helped widen. They showed me that there are real, wonderful people being treated unjustly and that I cannot sit back and let that happen. I cannot be silent when I know that people are getting rich off the coffee Barilla receives so little for. It is my responsibility to be active, to teach what I have learned, to fight injustices in my community and the world. I am not sure if I will ever visit Cadillo again but I do know that I can continue what I started there. I can tell people what I saw and spread awareness about injustice in the world. I can volunteer in my own

community to help make changes at home and fundraise to aid third world countries. And tomorrow, after I wake up to the smell of fresh coffee, I can make a difference. 啄木鸟教育编译:我每天早晨在它的浓郁的香气中醒来;没有它,我父母就没办法开始新一天的工作生 活;我常常排着队,然后付上 3.85 美元买到它。我学校的高级旅馆里堆满了空的星巴克杯子,杯子里还有 拿铁、摩卡的残留物。咖啡是美国人生活的一部分,许多人理所当然的享受着,很少有人花时间想过咖啡 是怎么来的。 在多米尼加共和国有一个农村叫 Cadillo,当地居民赖以生计的只有咖啡。一排排绿色的咖啡树长在陡 峭的山坡上、围着村子分散开来。人们采摘咖啡豆,然后卖出,这样辛苦的劳作只换来微薄的收入。 我在 Cadillo 游玩过一个星期,我亲眼目睹了这些种植咖啡的农民们所忍受的贫困。他们的房子小、而 且阴暗, 里面的家具只有几张木头做的椅子、 一张桌子及几张床。 这里没有律师, 没有电。 我尤其记得 Cadillo 村里晚上的空寂,那些晚上,我只能通过我的手电筒微弱的光看到模糊的脸。我还记得他们洗漱用的磨得 发亮的金属盆。 Jose 是我在村里住的那一家的邻居, 他像 Cadillo 村许多人一样缺了几颗牙齿, 他没有牙刷, 因为买不起。 这些画面仍然在我的脑海里翻滚, 但正是 Cadillo 村里的人比其他所有更让我见识到社会公平的重要性。 在我遇到他们之前,“”社会公平”只是一个概念,每年在教堂里会听到几次,牧师会说非洲及南美的穷苦难 民以及我们为什么有义务帮助他们。这些人离我这么遥远,尽管以前我会从每个星期的费用省下一点,每 年把省下来的钱捐一次出去。然而,在我同 Cadillo 的人们生活了一个星期后,我才第一次理解到真有人是 这样生活着。 我在 Cadillo 生活的那家人待我如亲人,让我体验了一番他们的生活是什么样子。我记得我的多米尼加 爸爸 Barilla。他弹吉他时的模样,他教我学乐器以及看我费劲拉弦时怎么温和地笑我。我能感受到我多米 尼加妈妈 Marsela 的温暖和真诚,在她一天的长时间劳作之后,她坐下来和我唠家常,谈我的家乡、我的 家人。我也将永远记得我和他们的两个孩子 Jendi、Andisco 追逐打闹吹泡泡的乐趣。 我永远不会忘记这些画面, 不会忘记我遇到的人。 是他们让我意识到我的责任不仅仅是帮助建设学校、 挖洞种树和修宽道路。他们让我真实的看到这样一群善良的人受到不平等的对待,而我不能坐视不理。看 到有人从咖啡获取暴利而我的多米尼加爸爸却得到很少,我无法沉默。我要积极主动、去教给别人我所学 到的,去为我生活在的社区以及世界出现的不平等斗争,这是我的职责。 我不确定我以后是否还会去 Cadillo,我能确定的是我会将从那里得到的继续下去。我会把我看到的告 诉他人,让大家意识到这世界存在的不平等事实。我会在我生活的周边社区志愿服务,改变家乡,会为第 三世界募捐。而当我明天闻着咖啡的香气中醒来,我知道我能为世界变美好做一点贡献


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