|
Written by Evan Davies
|
|
Wednesday, 21 July 2010 00:00 |
|
“It spreads the HIV through play sex.”
I received this phrase as an answer to a question on a test having nothing to do with HIV/AIDS. I knew my work was cut out for me from that point forward.
|
|
Read more...
|
|
|
Written by Amy Russell
|
|
Wednesday, 19 May 2010 07:00 |
|
The number seven is often called “the number of spiritual perfection.” Well, my friends and I added three zeros and called it “the number of miles we’re walking across Africa.” Starting in Cape Town, South Africa, and ending in Cairo, Egypt, (7,000 miles total). This may be a big task, but we hope it will make a difference. Our walk represents the fact that women and children all over the world often have to walk many miles a day in order to get water; and most of the time it is not even clean. In the end, drinking or using this water does more harm than good.
|
|
Read more...
|
|
Written by Billy Williams
|
|
Wednesday, 31 March 2010 07:34 |
|
One of the most significant humanitarian issues of our era is extreme poverty. More than 1 billion people on our planet live on less than the buying power of $1.25 per day. Imagine what it would be like to live in the United States on less than $500 per year. You probably wouldn’t be driving a car, and you might be living in a house—if you were, you probably wouldn’t be able to pay utilities.
|
|
Read more...
|
|
|
Written by Matthew E.
|
|
Wednesday, 10 February 2010 10:26 |
|
Judging from her height and stance, she looks no more than 10, yet experience tells me she’s at least 13. She sits across from me in the car as she guides us to her house down the dirt road. She motions to the right with her hand, but says left, I look at her puzzled, remind her quickly of the English words and she looks embarrassed and says left again with the motion and the word. We pull up to a small cement structure no bigger than my bedroom at home. Behind it stands a crude makeshift metal structure even smaller than the cinder block room in front. “Here,” she says and opens the door to let herself out.
|
|
Read more...
|
|
Written by Kate Cremisino
|
|
Wednesday, 03 February 2010 02:00 |
|
The bow of the ship was slippery from the spray of the sea and the rain that had just fallen. Everyone else was inside, down below, while my legs dangled over the front of the boat. I had never been sailing before—none of us had. As we serenely continued the remaining day of our sail, I watched the blurry line of white fog meet the grey-blue ocean on the horizon. It was the first calm day in a while and after endless days of seasickness, I was happy to be outside, staring into a vast nothingness. I was glad to no longer be staring down into a yellow plastic bucket.
|
|
Read more...
|
|
|
|
|
Page 1 of 2 |
