""Come closer, little one," Grandma said, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Let me tell you the story of how coffee was discovered — not in a lab, not in a shop, but on a quiet hill... by a boy and his goats.""
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"Long ago, in the green highlands of Ethiopia, there lived a curious young goatherd named Kaldi. Every morning, Kaldi would lead his goats into the hills, where they could jump and play and eat fresh grass."
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"One day, Kaldi noticed something very strange. His goats were dancing."
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"Yes — dancing! They were hopping, twirling, kicking their legs, and baa-ing like never before! Even the old, sleepy goat was doing cartwheels!"
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"Kaldi scratched his head. “What’s gotten into them?” He followed the trail of bouncing hooves and found a small shrub with bright red berries. The goats had been munching on the berries like candy!"
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"Kaldi plucked a few berries and sniffed them. They smelled sweet and strong. Curious, he tasted one — and ZING! He felt more awake than ever before. His eyes widened, and his legs felt like jumping too!"
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"He ran to the nearby monastery and told the monks what had happened. The wise old monks decided to try the berries."
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"They roasted them, crushed them, and mixed them with hot water. The result? A warm, rich drink that made their eyes sparkle and their prayers longer."
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"“Ah,” the monks said, “this drink helps us stay awake to pray!” And just like that, coffee was born — from dancing goats, a curious boy, and a happy accident in the hills."
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"“So,” Grandma said with a smile, “every time you smell coffee, remember Kaldi and his goats dancing in the moonlight.”"