Sometimes it is tiring to fight constantly against the world, to remind myself that it isn't about money or fame, but about considering myself and others with fair regard, and with sober judgement. I sip my coffee, grown and nurtured in the great old continent by the poor of that land. I realise that I have so much more than they, and so little daily awareness of what I owe.
At the bottom of my cup is a slight residue of the ground. When I wash my cup, it is a libation to the memory of those people. It is literally the least I can do. And that too saddens me as it is done.
Labels: Africa, Coffee, Poverty