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Friday, October 03, 2003
Flavier: The parable of the rice wine
By Sen. Juan Flavier
OVER a century ago, there was a remote barrio famous in the region for its rice wine. Not only was the quality unsurpassed, but the price was most reasonable. Throughout the years, the farmer refused to increase his price. The demand steadily increased daily because, as the word spread around, other farmers from distant villages came specifically to buy his rice wine.
He also refused to sell in bulk. Each costumer was allowed only one bottle to make sure everyone had a share of the special wine. And yet, with all the demand, there was not a single instance when a buyer left without a bottle of wine in his hands.
More surprising was the fact that the rice wine seller did not plant the rice variety needed for making wine. Nor did he ever buy any to ferment. Even more mysterious, the farmer did not have any fermenting jars indispensable to rice wine making.
People wondered, but he refused to enlighten them on the puzzle. He would just smile and continue dispensing the rice wine at a low price.
They did not notice the farmer praying every morning and evening beside a small well at the back of his hut. This they merely attributed to his piety.
Many years passed. The farmer had advanced in age and became bed-ridden. He was on the verge of death. So he decided to finally pass on the secret to his only son.
He summoned his heir and spoke with a feeble voice, "I will go to my just rewards any moment now. Listen very carefully, for I will not leave you the mystery of the rice wine."
"Yes, father, I am listening," said the son without mush feeling.
"Good," continued the farmer. "When I was much younger and while praying near the well, a kindly voice spoke to me. I could not see Him but from the majesty of the speech, I could only surmise He was God. He told me that if I truly believed in Him, the small well would
produce rice wine for one hour every morning from five to six o'clock.
"I could then fetch all the wine I could sell. But he imposed three commandments. One, I shall never increase my selling price. Two, I shall never sell through middlemen. And three, I shall pray in thanksgiving every morning and evening for the rice wine I fetch and sell."
The farmer stopped speaking, closed his eyes and peacefully passed away. For the nine days of prayer, no rice wine was sold in deference to the dead farmer. Thereafter, the son took over the business. He found his dying father's words to be true. From five to six o'clock in the morning,
the small well behind their house indeed produced rice wine of unlimited quantity.
But he conveniently disregarded the three imposed rules. "This is fantastic! All the rice wine to sell. What nonsense not to increase the price. With such a demand for quality rice wine, only a fool would sell at a giveaway price. From now on, I'll triple the selling price. And with infinite supply, what's the use of retailing? I'll sell wholesale. I will only sell by the barrel to middlemen and make more money faster."
That evening, instead of praying, he complained. "This is all good to have the rice wine. But why didn't God include the rice residue found in rice making. If I get that, too, then I can sell it as chicken and swine feeds."
The following morning, to his great dismay and horror, the small well produced only plain water.
The special rice wine was gone.
(October 3, 2003 issue)
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