Questões de Inglês

Texto para a pergunta.

“ SAID TO BE” [“PROVAVELMENTE É”]

BY

STEPHANIE CAREY

    Founded in Brooklyn in 1838, the park-like Green-Wood Cemetery was one of the first examples of America’s Rural Cemetery Movement. Decade after decade, clerks carefully recorded each of the dead who passed through its spired gates [portões góticos pontiagudos]. Name, age, address, and cause of death were transcribed in flowing script, year after year, through the Civil War, Gilded Age, and finally, the First World War (the so-called Great War). I’m a volunteer archivist at Green-Wood, with a career in public health. Those entries are more than a list to me. The burial log [registro de enterros] is a treasure trove [valiosa coleção] of epidemiological data that tell the stories of life and death in the metropolitan area.

    In the nineteenth century, many of the burials were of children, the entries [anotações] in the ledgers representing grief and loss from diseases unheard of today. Then, young people stopped dying. Improvements in public health – safe drinking water, pure milk, and improved sanitation – were responsible. Child deaths in New York City fell by one-third in the first decade of the twentieth century, and continued falling. By 1917, the burial log began to tell a new story. The very face of death had changed – to an old face.

    That made what happened in the fall of 1918 all the more staggering [chocante]. The deadly “second wave” of Spanish influenza struck the city in mid- September. First dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of cases per day were reported. The disease hit young adults in the prime of life, such as the soldiers gathered at nearby camps, particularly hard. Hospitals were swiftly overwhelmed [inundados]. Some 150 field hospitals [hospitais de campanha] were established by the Board of Health throughout the city, in any place that could be found to set up rows of cots [camas portáteis], but especially in the tenements [cortiços].

    At its peak in mid-October, almost a thousand people were dying each day of influenza, lobar pneumonia (which could kill a healthy person in a day), or bacterial pneumonia (which destroyed flu-damaged lungs). Whether the burial log said “influenza” or “pneumonia,” all were casualties from the same pernicious virus.

    The burial log shows dozens of burials per day – typically people in their twenties or younger. Mildred Sturmpolis, pregnant at eighteen, dies of flu with her unborn baby. Edgar Nystrom, a twenty-year-old Swedish immigrant who came to New York City to find his fortune, is instead buried in a borrowed grave. The funeral of Millie Cuming, newly wed to a prosperous businessman, is held on Armistice Day, three weeks before her thirtieth birthday.

    Then, a series of notations hints at a deeper horror. Said to be Anna Kennedy. Said to be James Seward. Those dying at the field hospitals were removed swiftly to make room for the next victims. Others were dying at home amid family members too ill to get out of bed and attend to the niceties [formalidades] of death. Said to be… there was no one, no time, to positively identify the dead. Gatherings [aglomerações] at wakes [velórios] or funerals were discouraged, to prevent further spread of this plague. Graveside services [cerimônias religiosas na sepultura] were perfunctory.

    Over 20,000 New Yorkers died of Spanish flu in two months – part of the estimated half-million Americans who died in the epidemic. By Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, officials declared the epidemic over, yet people continued to die of the disease for two more years.

    When will the next deadly flu pandemic emerge? Will it be avian flu? Swine flu? There is a worldwide network of epidemiologists racing to anticipate it. It is the stuff of nightmares for public health people like me, as we try to prepare.

Adapted from Natural History, September 2017.

Texto para a pergunta.

“ SAID TO BE” [“PROVAVELMENTE É”]

BY

STEPHANIE CAREY

    Founded in Brooklyn in 1838, the park-like Green-Wood Cemetery was one of the first examples of America’s Rural Cemetery Movement. Decade after decade, clerks carefully recorded each of the dead who passed through its spired gates [portões góticos pontiagudos]. Name, age, address, and cause of death were transcribed in flowing script, year after year, through the Civil War, Gilded Age, and finally, the First World War (the so-called Great War). I’m a volunteer archivist at Green-Wood, with a career in public health. Those entries are more than a list to me. The burial log [registro de enterros] is a treasure trove [valiosa coleção] of epidemiological data that tell the stories of life and death in the metropolitan area.

    In the nineteenth century, many of the burials were of children, the entries [anotações] in the ledgers representing grief and loss from diseases unheard of today. Then, young people stopped dying. Improvements in public health – safe drinking water, pure milk, and improved sanitation – were responsible. Child deaths in New York City fell by one-third in the first decade of the twentieth century, and continued falling. By 1917, the burial log began to tell a new story. The very face of death had changed – to an old face.

    That made what happened in the fall of 1918 all the more staggering [chocante]. The deadly “second wave” of Spanish influenza struck the city in mid- September. First dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of cases per day were reported. The disease hit young adults in the prime of life, such as the soldiers gathered at nearby camps, particularly hard. Hospitals were swiftly overwhelmed [inundados]. Some 150 field hospitals [hospitais de campanha] were established by the Board of Health throughout the city, in any place that could be found to set up rows of cots [camas portáteis], but especially in the tenements [cortiços].

    At its peak in mid-October, almost a thousand people were dying each day of influenza, lobar pneumonia (which could kill a healthy person in a day), or bacterial pneumonia (which destroyed flu-damaged lungs). Whether the burial log said “influenza” or “pneumonia,” all were casualties from the same pernicious virus.

    The burial log shows dozens of burials per day – typically people in their twenties or younger. Mildred Sturmpolis, pregnant at eighteen, dies of flu with her unborn baby. Edgar Nystrom, a twenty-year-old Swedish immigrant who came to New York City to find his fortune, is instead buried in a borrowed grave. The funeral of Millie Cuming, newly wed to a prosperous businessman, is held on Armistice Day, three weeks before her thirtieth birthday.

    Then, a series of notations hints at a deeper horror. Said to be Anna Kennedy. Said to be James Seward. Those dying at the field hospitals were removed swiftly to make room for the next victims. Others were dying at home amid family members too ill to get out of bed and attend to the niceties [formalidades] of death. Said to be… there was no one, no time, to positively identify the dead. Gatherings [aglomerações] at wakes [velórios] or funerals were discouraged, to prevent further spread of this plague. Graveside services [cerimônias religiosas na sepultura] were perfunctory.

    Over 20,000 New Yorkers died of Spanish flu in two months – part of the estimated half-million Americans who died in the epidemic. By Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, officials declared the epidemic over, yet people continued to die of the disease for two more years.

    When will the next deadly flu pandemic emerge? Will it be avian flu? Swine flu? There is a worldwide network of epidemiologists racing to anticipate it. It is the stuff of nightmares for public health people like me, as we try to prepare.

Adapted from Natural History, September 2017.

Texto para a pergunta.

“ SAID TO BE” [“PROVAVELMENTE É”]

BY

STEPHANIE CAREY

    Founded in Brooklyn in 1838, the park-like Green-Wood Cemetery was one of the first examples of America’s Rural Cemetery Movement. Decade after decade, clerks carefully recorded each of the dead who passed through its spired gates [portões góticos pontiagudos]. Name, age, address, and cause of death were transcribed in flowing script, year after year, through the Civil War, Gilded Age, and finally, the First World War (the so-called Great War). I’m a volunteer archivist at Green-Wood, with a career in public health. Those entries are more than a list to me. The burial log [registro de enterros] is a treasure trove [valiosa coleção] of epidemiological data that tell the stories of life and death in the metropolitan area.

    In the nineteenth century, many of the burials were of children, the entries [anotações] in the ledgers representing grief and loss from diseases unheard of today. Then, young people stopped dying. Improvements in public health – safe drinking water, pure milk, and improved sanitation – were responsible. Child deaths in New York City fell by one-third in the first decade of the twentieth century, and continued falling. By 1917, the burial log began to tell a new story. The very face of death had changed – to an old face.

    That made what happened in the fall of 1918 all the more staggering [chocante]. The deadly “second wave” of Spanish influenza struck the city in mid- September. First dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of cases per day were reported. The disease hit young adults in the prime of life, such as the soldiers gathered at nearby camps, particularly hard. Hospitals were swiftly overwhelmed [inundados]. Some 150 field hospitals [hospitais de campanha] were established by the Board of Health throughout the city, in any place that could be found to set up rows of cots [camas portáteis], but especially in the tenements [cortiços].

    At its peak in mid-October, almost a thousand people were dying each day of influenza, lobar pneumonia (which could kill a healthy person in a day), or bacterial pneumonia (which destroyed flu-damaged lungs). Whether the burial log said “influenza” or “pneumonia,” all were casualties from the same pernicious virus.

    The burial log shows dozens of burials per day – typically people in their twenties or younger. Mildred Sturmpolis, pregnant at eighteen, dies of flu with her unborn baby. Edgar Nystrom, a twenty-year-old Swedish immigrant who came to New York City to find his fortune, is instead buried in a borrowed grave. The funeral of Millie Cuming, newly wed to a prosperous businessman, is held on Armistice Day, three weeks before her thirtieth birthday.

    Then, a series of notations hints at a deeper horror. Said to be Anna Kennedy. Said to be James Seward. Those dying at the field hospitals were removed swiftly to make room for the next victims. Others were dying at home amid family members too ill to get out of bed and attend to the niceties [formalidades] of death. Said to be… there was no one, no time, to positively identify the dead. Gatherings [aglomerações] at wakes [velórios] or funerals were discouraged, to prevent further spread of this plague. Graveside services [cerimônias religiosas na sepultura] were perfunctory.

    Over 20,000 New Yorkers died of Spanish flu in two months – part of the estimated half-million Americans who died in the epidemic. By Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, officials declared the epidemic over, yet people continued to die of the disease for two more years.

    When will the next deadly flu pandemic emerge? Will it be avian flu? Swine flu? There is a worldwide network of epidemiologists racing to anticipate it. It is the stuff of nightmares for public health people like me, as we try to prepare.

Adapted from Natural History, September 2017.

Texto para a pergunta.

“ SAID TO BE” [“PROVAVELMENTE É”]

BY

STEPHANIE CAREY

    Founded in Brooklyn in 1838, the park-like Green-Wood Cemetery was one of the first examples of America’s Rural Cemetery Movement. Decade after decade, clerks carefully recorded each of the dead who passed through its spired gates [portões góticos pontiagudos]. Name, age, address, and cause of death were transcribed in flowing script, year after year, through the Civil War, Gilded Age, and finally, the First World War (the so-called Great War). I’m a volunteer archivist at Green-Wood, with a career in public health. Those entries are more than a list to me. The burial log [registro de enterros] is a treasure trove [valiosa coleção] of epidemiological data that tell the stories of life and death in the metropolitan area.

    In the nineteenth century, many of the burials were of children, the entries [anotações] in the ledgers representing grief and loss from diseases unheard of today. Then, young people stopped dying. Improvements in public health – safe drinking water, pure milk, and improved sanitation – were responsible. Child deaths in New York City fell by one-third in the first decade of the twentieth century, and continued falling. By 1917, the burial log began to tell a new story. The very face of death had changed – to an old face.

    That made what happened in the fall of 1918 all the more staggering [chocante]. The deadly “second wave” of Spanish influenza struck the city in mid- September. First dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of cases per day were reported. The disease hit young adults in the prime of life, such as the soldiers gathered at nearby camps, particularly hard. Hospitals were swiftly overwhelmed [inundados]. Some 150 field hospitals [hospitais de campanha] were established by the Board of Health throughout the city, in any place that could be found to set up rows of cots [camas portáteis], but especially in the tenements [cortiços].

    At its peak in mid-October, almost a thousand people were dying each day of influenza, lobar pneumonia (which could kill a healthy person in a day), or bacterial pneumonia (which destroyed flu-damaged lungs). Whether the burial log said “influenza” or “pneumonia,” all were casualties from the same pernicious virus.

    The burial log shows dozens of burials per day – typically people in their twenties or younger. Mildred Sturmpolis, pregnant at eighteen, dies of flu with her unborn baby. Edgar Nystrom, a twenty-year-old Swedish immigrant who came to New York City to find his fortune, is instead buried in a borrowed grave. The funeral of Millie Cuming, newly wed to a prosperous businessman, is held on Armistice Day, three weeks before her thirtieth birthday.

    Then, a series of notations hints at a deeper horror. Said to be Anna Kennedy. Said to be James Seward. Those dying at the field hospitals were removed swiftly to make room for the next victims. Others were dying at home amid family members too ill to get out of bed and attend to the niceties [formalidades] of death. Said to be… there was no one, no time, to positively identify the dead. Gatherings [aglomerações] at wakes [velórios] or funerals were discouraged, to prevent further spread of this plague. Graveside services [cerimônias religiosas na sepultura] were perfunctory.

    Over 20,000 New Yorkers died of Spanish flu in two months – part of the estimated half-million Americans who died in the epidemic. By Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, officials declared the epidemic over, yet people continued to die of the disease for two more years.

    When will the next deadly flu pandemic emerge? Will it be avian flu? Swine flu? There is a worldwide network of epidemiologists racing to anticipate it. It is the stuff of nightmares for public health people like me, as we try to prepare.

Adapted from Natural History, September 2017.

Black Lives Matter isn't about statues or TV shows. It's about real lives being ruined

Nosheen Iqbal

    In the past six weeks, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been contacted about police brutality in Britain. As a reporter, I’ve been sent photos of a black child picked up and thrown to the ground by an officer on Hampstead Heath. I’ve witnessed a dozen officers chase and aggressively pin an unarmed black 14-yearold boy on to his belly in a Tottenham park. I’ve been emailed a video of black teenagers cuffed, harassed and searched by officers while their white friend can only watch. You simply have to open your eyes and look.

    These are desperate and enraging stories. Many are barely investigated and rarely reported. It’s difficult to hold the police to account on every individual case when details are lost – the officer’s badge number, or the phone number of a witness – when the victims are traumatised and worn down. Basically, when they’re real people with real lives that don’t fit the script of what makes a newsworthy victim.

    It’s harder still when there is an institutional denial that something is wrong, even when the stats tells us otherwise: in London black men aged 15 to 24 were stopped and searched more than 20,000 times during lockdown, a figure that equates to 30% of young black men in the capital, although some may have been searched more than once. More than 80% of these cases led to no further action.

    Every Black Lives Matter event I’ve been to in recent weeks has felt political and urgent. Black, white, brown people and more are marching for equality in jobs, housing and health. Black male graduates, for instance, are paid on average 17% less than their white counterparts; the ethnic pay gap for men and women across industries is wide and it is pronounced. This is the change people are asking for.

    They want justice for black police victims, for refugees, for trans people, for Grenfell. They want protection for frontline workers dying at alarming rates from Covid-19 who, because of the way society sifts and sorts itself, disproportionately come from ethnic minorities. They are refusing to shut up and just accept small progressive gains made decade by decade. This should be inspiring for all of us; it shouldn’t be repackaged as a national threat.

    If you simply want a better, more equal world, where justice is real and not simply a slogan, it’s worth attending a Black Lives Matter rally. If you can go to a protest, do. Bear witness to what is genuinely being fought for. Black Lives Matter isn’t just a viral brand. It isn’t a political party. It shouldn’t be defined by its quickest and loudest critics. As a movement, it draws in everyone, and everyone should see that they have a stake in it. Ultimately, it’s about changing all our futures for the better.

Avaiable at: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jul/10/black-lives-matter-statues-tv-showspolice-brutality. Retrieved on August 1, 2020. Adapted.

Black Lives Matter isn't about statues or TV shows. It's about real lives being ruined

Nosheen Iqbal

    In the past six weeks, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been contacted about police brutality in Britain. As a reporter, I’ve been sent photos of a black child picked up and thrown to the ground by an officer on Hampstead Heath. I’ve witnessed a dozen officers chase and aggressively pin an unarmed black 14-yearold boy on to his belly in a Tottenham park. I’ve been emailed a video of black teenagers cuffed, harassed and searched by officers while their white friend can only watch. You simply have to open your eyes and look.

    These are desperate and enraging stories. Many are barely investigated and rarely reported. It’s difficult to hold the police to account on every individual case when details are lost – the officer’s badge number, or the phone number of a witness – when the victims are traumatised and worn down. Basically, when they’re real people with real lives that don’t fit the script of what makes a newsworthy victim.

    It’s harder still when there is an institutional denial that something is wrong, even when the stats tells us otherwise: in London black men aged 15 to 24 were stopped and searched more than 20,000 times during lockdown, a figure that equates to 30% of young black men in the capital, although some may have been searched more than once. More than 80% of these cases led to no further action.

    Every Black Lives Matter event I’ve been to in recent weeks has felt political and urgent. Black, white, brown people and more are marching for equality in jobs, housing and health. Black male graduates, for instance, are paid on average 17% less than their white counterparts; the ethnic pay gap for men and women across industries is wide and it is pronounced. This is the change people are asking for.

    They want justice for black police victims, for refugees, for trans people, for Grenfell. They want protection for frontline workers dying at alarming rates from Covid-19 who, because of the way society sifts and sorts itself, disproportionately come from ethnic minorities. They are refusing to shut up and just accept small progressive gains made decade by decade. This should be inspiring for all of us; it shouldn’t be repackaged as a national threat.

    If you simply want a better, more equal world, where justice is real and not simply a slogan, it’s worth attending a Black Lives Matter rally. If you can go to a protest, do. Bear witness to what is genuinely being fought for. Black Lives Matter isn’t just a viral brand. It isn’t a political party. It shouldn’t be defined by its quickest and loudest critics. As a movement, it draws in everyone, and everyone should see that they have a stake in it. Ultimately, it’s about changing all our futures for the better.

Avaiable at: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jul/10/black-lives-matter-statues-tv-showspolice-brutality. Retrieved on August 1, 2020. Adapted.