I HAVE attended prayer meetings and like most members of the community contribute to the collection basket that is passed around towards the end of the assembly. I am happy when I give even if it is only a little, which is usually what I can afford but I feel sorry when someone tasked with the offering of the gifts intones that may our contributions be returned to us a hundred-, sometimes, even a thousandfold.
It was probably just an expression of a hope, not a condition. Still, I found it awkward that after acknowleding that “all that we are and all that we have” are in fact not ours but a gift, we should even suggest that they be returned to us, and with interest yet!
I have searched the web for a possible Biblical origin of the supplication. Did God himself promise that what we give in his name, he will return many times over? I was referred to some passages but none of them said about God paying interest and dividends together with your donation at some appointed time.
In this sense, Kapa has outdone God. What He has promised to do only in parables, the religious (?) community explicitly committed itself to do by its very name: Kabus Padatoon. Compared to the promise of reward to those who help the poorest of our brethren, Kapa has a more specific and time-bound repayment system: a hefty 30 percent return of investments every month.
The only problem is that there is definitely no legitimate business in the world that can earn that much for its stakeholders. Where will Kapa source the funds? What magic will enable it to meet the promises it made to, and the expectations of, its donor/investors?
Jesus performed a miracle by mass-producing out of five small barley loaves and two small fish enough quantity to feed five thousand people. What miracle will Kapa pull to pay off its investors. Multiplication of the coins and paper bills?
It was faith that gathered the multitude towards Jesus. Kapa traded in the gullibility and, in some cases, indolence and greed, on the part of its so-called donors.
It was the same gullibility, indolence and greed that prodded people to invest in Ada and Organico, paying the latter P3,600 for a pig that would earn the investor P6,000 after 90 days and P500 for a chick that would net the investor P1,800 after two months.
I would be surprised if the investor saw at least one of the miracle chicks or miracle pigs or if they ever wondered how a chick could grow so fast as to be worth P1,800 in sixty days or what magic Organico uses to make a pig almost double its worth after only three months.
Kapa, Ada and Organico must have earned millions from their transactions. The Bureau of Internal Revenue should be interested in finding out exactly how much.
As for the investors, I hope it’s not too late to remind them again that when something is too good to be true, the likelihood is that it is not true.