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Friday, November 05, 2004
Flavier: The parable of the kalesa ride
By Sen. Juan Flavier
THE farmer tarried longer than intended in the town marketplace. His sole purpose was to sell his vegetable produce. But he had met some old friends from another barrio.
They proceeded to a corner refreshment parlor to catch up on family news and other developments since they last met a few years back. One drink led to another and before they knew it, night had fallen.
They frantically adjourned with a promise to see each other again. Maybe, even visit each other's barrio. There was still so much to talk about.
The farmer was somewhat tipsy when he proceeded to the kalesa (horse-drawn rig) stand. He preferred the regular jeepney but the last trip had already left. When he reached the waiting shed, he saw that everyone had called it a day. His only hope would be a kutsero (rig driver) who would agree to an extra trip to his barrio. He was willing to pay double fare in such a situation.
For a moment, he considered hiking. His barrio was only seven kilometers away. Unfortunately, it was a moonless night. A shortcut along the pilapil (rice paddy embarkments) would be too risky in the dark. One could easily slip on the muddy pathways. He knew he couldn't make it specially with his unsteady gait. It was the effect of too much lambanog (distilled fermented coconut sap wine.)
While mulling with other alternatives he had, a kalesa stopped in front of him. "Do you need a ride?" the kutsero inquired in a gruff voice.
"Yes," the farmer replied enthusiastically. "How much will you charge to Barrio Maligaya?"
Noticing the farmer's slurred speech, the kutsero decided to take advantage of the situation. "Your road is like a sungkaan (an indigenous game using a wooden board with 16 holes) and it is late so I will charge you forty pesos," said the kutsero.
"Okey," answered the farmer as he climbed aboard. He was somewhat annoyed as the amount was more than four times the regular fare. A double rate would have been right. But he had no choice. The kutsero might even change his mind.
He sat quietly as the horse trotted in an even pace along the dirt road.
Partly out of the effect of the lambanog but more because of his annoyance, the farmer decided to test the kutsero. When they reached his barrio, he asked the kutsero to stop near a sari-sari (variety) store. He made a visible show of looking for something on the floor of the kalesa, pretending he lost something.
Finally, the farmer alighted and said with a slurred voice, "I dropped a hundred peso bill on the floor of your kalesa. I can't find it in the dark. Kindly wait here while I buy a match from the store. Then I can find my money."
As soon as the farmer reached the front of the barrio store, the kalesa sped on. And disappeared in the darkness of the moonless night.
(November 5, 2004 issue)
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