Ebert is waiting for me at 7 am as promised, crouched by his motorbike, his hoodie cinched, looking like a benevolent bandit. He hands me a helmet, I mount the bike behind him, and we're off to visit Avelino Perez, coffee farmer, way outside Pucará, Peru, as part of my borrower verification. We stop once for gas and again when the bike stalls three times and won't start.
"I told the boss this bike had problems," he grumbles, shaking his head. He has a... Continue Reading >>
"I told the boss this bike had problems," he grumbles, shaking his head. He has a... Continue Reading >>