The Keeling
(Adapted from an old Mexican
Folktale)
Marcelino
had been a crafty one since he was a child; he knew how to make a quick peso by smooth-talking people into
buying things they didn’t even need. Once, he sold a broken watch to his
neighbor, Prudencio, convincing him that even if it didn’t work, “You can still
impress your friends with how expensive it looks.”
One day, at
the Mercado, he met a man selling huaraches,
or sandals. “Young man”, said the merchant, “I usually sell these shoes for 3 pesos
a pair, but if you buy 2 dozen pairs today, I will give you a 15% discount.
Surely, you can resell them for 5 pesos each and make a hefty killing for
yourself?”
Marcelino
was dubious, all too familiar with these unscrupulous salesmen. He would think
it over. Yet, the man’s proposition gnawed at him all day. He tried making calculations by using his fingers:
“Let’s see, if I buy 24 pair at three pesos each, that’s a total of
seventy-two, and then if I deduct 15% off that, then….” But each time he ran
out of fingers to count with! Whatever, he concluded, “that’s one chinga worth of pesos!
But who would
he sell them to? In the city, people already had shoes. Suddenly, an idea hit
him! Nearby, in the hills, were many villages full of barefoot Indians! If he
could convince each of them to buying one pair of huaraches, he would make a killing!
He raced to
the Mercado hoping to catch the shoe salesman before he closed up for the day,
or worse, changed his mind on the deal. He was relieved to find the man still in
his stall. “Amigo,” he stammered. “Is your offer for the shoes still open?” “Sure,
marchantito, it’s still open and I
will even throw in a free pair just for you!” Marcelo, as everybody called him, excitedly loaded the shoes into
his mochila, or back pack, paid the
man and headed home. He would go to bed early, get a good night’s rest, and
head for the village of Puropedo,
early the next day.
At dawn,
Marcelino took a few tortillas, smeared them with beans and chile sauce and began the arduous trek to
the village. He envisioned pesos floating
all around him, and he stuffing them into his pockets, at will. When he arrived
at Puropedo, he asked for the Cacique, or village chief. Marcelino
explained to him that he was a shoe salesman from the city, and would he gather
the inhabitants at the plaza, so he could tell them of his marvelous product.
The chief graciously acquiesced, and instructed a young boy to ring the church
bell.
When the
citizens were gathered, Marcelino
began his well-rehearsed pitch: “Señores,” he began, “today, I have brought a
product each of you must own,” and proudly
dangling a pair of sandals before them, said “These, my friends, are not only comfortable to wear and long lasting” (he
ran his fingers through the deep tire treads on their soles), “but, most
importantly, they will protect your feet from snakes, scorpions, and disease!
Yes, “Mis Amigos, I said disease! Why
did you know that most diseases enter the human body through the feet? A
collective “Ooooo -” was heard in the crowd.
“Now, I need
one volunteer, to demonstrate how they are worn.” An awkward silence followed. Finally,
a young man came forward, and Marcelino deftly slipped the shoes on his feet. “Today,
and today only, all of you can own a pair of these fine shoes, for a special
price of five pesos! Think of it! FIVE measly
pesos for protection from disease and sickness!!”
Slowly, all
the villagers lined up to buy a pair. “I will make a keeling today!” But no sooner had the third man purchased a pair of
shoes, when a man in the crowd spoke up: “Wait! WaitI”, he cried. “Listen to
me!” As the crowd parted, Marcelo could plainly see the man had no legs below
the knees. “Look at me! Look at my legs! I have no feet and I have NEVER been
sick one day in my entire life! This man is a fraud! Do not listen to him!
Don’t waste your pesos on these
useless ‘shoes’ of his!”
Marcelino
was dumbfounded. Those who already bought the shoes approached him, one with
his hand on the handle of his machete!
Their quaint looks of humility had now turned menacing. “But… but… Mis Amigos…
surely we can’t believe the testimony of one man…?” The crowd edged toward him.
In a flash, Marcelino reached into his pocket, and refunded the men their
money. “Well, my friends,” he stammered as he hastily stuffed the shoes into
his mochila and slowly backed away. “Perhaps
you will be more disposed to buy my product at another time?” He turned and rapidly
descended the hill, never once looking back.
“There will
be no keeling today, except maybe my
own,” he grumbled, as he lugged the 24 pairs of huaraches back to his home. “Let’s see, maybe I can sell them
to....”
