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By Aaron Smith, Contributing Reporter

BELIZE - “White skin brother from a different mother,” resident poet Cecil, crafting verse for his supper on Caye Caulker, would greet me. This idyllic, Caribbean island paradise was our stopping off point to dive the world-famous Blue Hole. After a couple of days it was all high fives with the local Rastafarians, like we’d been there for ever.

Cecil was different; he wasn’t peddling contraband or shell bracelets. He was just a fellow scribe trying to get by, so after each donation, he’d give us a line of verse when we . . .

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