No can do, a rule man was explaining to a wounded, crying a little woman who'd come to donate what she could ayudar, to help.
The gentle giant of a rule man tried to pantomime please, don't cry, stop crying, then barked for a little help here please. His trousers were still covered in red mud slid into browns we aren't used to describing. A translator stood between the country eggs moving and all parties and partners and said exactly, please, don't cry, stop crying, in perfect-pace Indian.
Why?
Why not?
Suddenly the translator was like a traffic cop. Stopping the conversations long enough to stall what may have been sales-on-the-sly or may have been good will. Explaining time to feed our own families mommy and any food sales require licensing.
It reminded me of working in grocery and learning why the CDC and health inspectors (especially with wonky FDA going on) have had to supersleuth which came first, the chicken or the egg.
Adding to their stress was other peoples' stress about paying the bills and so, example: working 24 hours as couples/units of money gatherers. It wasn't helping anyone's health to share without sanitizing and sterilizing, some health-minded people were mass-explaining about caretending and psychology. Transfer, I explained about one company's ingredients--powdered--being in a competitor's overhead.
Ooooooh. Each person in the group gathered around possible resources processed the new information.
Back then we even had to consult with engineers at a true standard sawmill about the sizes and pricing of lumber.
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