not my photo…
What you perceive, may not be the truth of the matter here, translated…
There is this elderly woman who’d sold bubble teas from her cart, there’s that simple setting on the cart, with two aluminum kegs with the black teas, the milk, a small bucket of tapioca, a cup, along with the cups to the sides, decorating her cart. The location she chose actually wasn’t that good at all, although the early markets are filled with the shoppers, but the elderly woman’s location was closer to the residential areas, and, the crowd was, cut off a block before. I’d found this elderly woman’s tea stand as I was trying to find a parking spot, without the shouts of the sales styles, without even, the pricing plates, easily missed.
An hour later, after I’d done my shopping, saw that nobody had, frequented her stand, I’d decided to buy me a cup of tea, and struck up conversation with the elderly woman.
“Grandma, your tea tastes amazing.” Her old-fashioned black tea wasn’t made with tea extracts, it has that aromatic, full flavor to it, and, I saw some unfiltered out tea leaves at the bottom of her cup. At five in the morning, after she woke up, she’d started, brewing up the teas, and, she’d used brown sugar to sweeten it, she said she’d made her teas this way for decades on end already.
“Is it too harsh for you alone? The kegs look so heavy, and, you’d still needed to push this cart, is there anybody to help you out?”, as she’d wiped down the spilled teas, she’d replied, “I’d pushed this sort of a cart around for over decades now, there’s no heaviness, or hardships in my way of making my living.”, her simple and plain explanations didn’t satisfy me at all, so, I’d took another sip, and prodded, “Don’t you have children or grandkids to help you out?”, she’d only, lifted her arm, mentioned to me to hand my cup to her, and filled it up again. Then, she’d said, “If it’s good, then, have some more, free. I’d not put any additives in my tea here.”, she’d supported her own back, slowly, sat back down to the bench.
not my photo…
“Children have their own separate businesses.”, after a period of silence, she’d started again, then, shifted her gaze toward some corner. “I’d sold these teas with my husband from before, he’d been gone a long time, and I just, couldn’t sit at home, and do nothing, and, being at home along, I’ll age even faster!”, her gaze still stayed afar don’t know if she was spacing out on purpose or not. “But, your cart is not on the busier streets, do you have enough business?” I’d handed back the cup to her again, paid for my drink, I’d decided, to hit the points, and I’d, rummaged through my backpack for my phone, thinking, maybe I can, advertise for her a bit.
“There’s NO way I can squeeze my way into the crowded section of the marketplace up front. This is a nice spot, very quiet, I can also, doze off if I needed to. In the summers, the business would be better, and now, the winter, there’s rarely any business, and, what I didn’t sell, I can put it in the fridge and store them for three whole days, or, I’d bring it over to the kindergarten next door, the teachers loved my drink.” “Grandma, or, I can, help you advertise your teas?”, I’d showed my cell phone out of courtesy. “No, it’s not necessary!”, I thought she was too shy at first, and as I’d asked her in a more persistent manner, she’d showed a straight face, “Don’t help me out! Someone like you did it from before, said he was going to post it online to help me out. Then, a ton of people came, to take photos, every single day, even the T.V. stations too, I’d told them to get the hell away. I don’t own a ZOO. However much I manage to sell, that, is how much I will sell a day, I can’t manage that many customers all at once, besides, it’s, way too rowdy.” In the end, she’d concluded with just one sentence, then, ignored me, “The people are so weird now, they’d loved playing roles in the sword fighting soap opera storylines, used their cell phones, to help others all over the places.”
not my photograph…
The elderly woman’s words became like a HARD slap on my face, and, my beliefs of helping her out by inquiring, is actually a sort of an invasion of her privacy, let alone, using my cell phone, to breach her rights, in the name of justice, helping someone I thought needed to be saved.
So, this just showed, how sometimes, things may not be what you perceived as, and, unless you’re the person you encountered, there’s NO way you can know what s/he is thinking, or is feeling on the issues, so, don’t ASSume, that what you’re doing, is helping someone out, because in actuality, it may be, very, inconvenient, to the individuals you’re trying to lend a helping hand to.
Life, the Obstacle Course 