Input: ATLANTA, Georgia (CNN) -- On a plot of soil, nestled against the backdrop of skyscrapers in downtown Atlanta, Georgia, a group of residents are turning a lack of access to fresh produce into a revival of old traditions and self-empowerment. Urban farming is a way for African-Americans to connect with the earth, says Cashawn Myers of HABESHA. HABESHA Gardens is one of many urban gardens sprouting up around the country. Fruits and vegetables are thriving in this community garden located in an economically depressed area of the city known as Mechanicsville. But the garden serves an even greater purpose. The harvest helps feed some of the neediest members of the neighborhood. "It's a reawakening going on. It's almost like it's a renaissance," says Cashawn Myers, director of HABESHA Inc. "There's a Ghanaian proverb that says Sankofa. Sankofa means return to your past so you can move forward. Even if you look at coming over here during our enslavement, we were brought here to cultivate the land because that's something we did on the continent. So really, that's what many of the people are doing now," he said. Myers believes urban farming is a way for many African-Americans to reconnect with their past. iReport.com: Show us your urban farm "They are going through a process of Sankofa and going to what they traditionally did, which is connect to the Earth so they can move forward and grow," he says. But HABESHA Gardens isn't unique. Former pro basketball player Will Allen, who is considered to be one of the nation's leading urban farmers and founder of Growing Power Inc., estimates that there are hundreds of thousands of urban gardens in inner cities across America. Urban farms help feed people, sustain neighorhoods " "It's beyond a movement at this point. Its more like a revolution," says Allen.
"Cashawn Myers, president of HABESHA, references the proverb Sankofa. What does the process of going through Sankofa mean?" is "It means to reflect"?
Output: no
Input: My father was named James Page Jackson because he was born on the old Jackson plantation in Lancaster county, Virginia. He named one of his daughters Lancaster for a middle name in memory of his old home. Clarice Lancaster Jackson was her full name. A man named Galloway bought my father and brought him to Arkansas. Some called him by the name of Galloway, but my father always had all his children keep the name Jackson. There were fourteen of us, but only ten lived to grow up. He belonged to Mr. Galloway at the time of my birth, but even at that, I did not take the name Galloway as it would seem like I should. My father was a good carpenter; he was a fine cook, too; learned that back in Virginia. I'll tell you something interesting. The first cook stove ever brought to this town was one my father had his master to bring. He was cook at the Anthony House. You know about that, don't you? It was the first real fine hotel in Little Rock. When father went there to be head cook, all they had to cook on was big fireplaces and the big old Dutch ovens. Father just kept on telling about the stoves they had in Virginia, and at last they sent and got him one; it had to come by boat and took a long time. My father was proud that he was the one who set the first table ever spread in the Anthony House.
"Even though my father was owned by a man named Galloway when I was born, what name did my father want me to keep?" is "James"?
Output: no
Input: Growing up on a farm near St. Paul, L. Mark Bailey didn't dream of becoming a judge. Even when he graduated from North Decatur High School in 1975, sitting on the bench someday seemed more like a leisurely activity than a career. Somewhere along the line, all of that changed. Bailey received his bachelor's degree from the University of Indianapolis in 1978 and a jurisprudence doctorate from Indiana University-Indianapolis in 1982. After several years of private practice from 1982-90, he became the judge of Decatur County Court for a year. The Indiana legislature renamed that judgeship and Bailey was tabbed Decatur Superior Court judge from 1992-98, winning reelection twice. From there, his career continued on the fast track and Bailey was appointed by Gov. Frank O'Bannon to sit on the Indiana Court of Appeals First District, where he works today. Despite his quick climb up the legal ladder, Bailey has always found time to help out in causes he feels strongly about. It was for his dedication to the law and the people that are affected by it that he was recently recognized. The Indiana Pro Bono Commission hosted its annual celebration event, the Randall T. Shepard Dinner, at French Lick Springs Spa in October. More than 100 judges, lawyers and dignitaries were present for the gathering. One of the highlights of the event was the presentation of the first-ever Randall T. Shepard award for excellence in pro bono work. Bailey received the award for his three years of volunteer work at Indiana Pro Bono Commission. The award was named after the chief justice of the Indiana Supreme Court to honor his statewide vision on justice. The qualifications for the award were based upon demonstrated dedication to the innovative development and delivery of legal services to the poor in one of the 14 pro bono districts of Indiana. "This award came as a real surprise to me. It is truly an honor. Just being the first chair of the commission which began the implementation of the pro bono process was somewhat humbling.
"What award did Bailey receive for his three years of volunteer work at Indiana Pro Bono Commission?" is "Randall T. Bailey Award"?
Output:
yes