The parable of the rural town bank

IN the remote rural town, there was only one legitimate bank accessible to the farming community. It had a mixed reputation. Some had suspected illegal practices but no one could get hold of hard evidence. On the other hand, farmer clients put a lot of weight to the fact that the owner lived in their midst.
"At least we know him and he will not run away because he is from here," said a farmer depositor.
"You do not have to be from out of this town to be a swindler," countered another farmer. "The banker has many shady deals in his other business. I am sure his bank is in the same mess. We are so far away from the city, the government officers have not come to check. Do these bureaucrats care about us at all? Maybe they are in cahoots with the bank owner."
The banker did not help any with his light remarks on how he established the financial institution.
"I had nothing when I first settled in this God-forsaken place. It was just another deprived barrio. When coffee arrived as a major crop, prosperity followed suit. The need for a bank became acute. For credit and savings. So I hung a sign with the word, ‘BANK.’ Farmers came in trickles to deposit. Before I knew it, I had enough cash to give out loans. At that point I decided to deposit ten pesos of my own money. That is how I got to own a bank."
He would howl with laughter as though jeering his clientele.
One day, he announced a scheme where depositors would be given eight percent interest on their investments in the bank. The rate would be ten times the going interest rates. In laymen’s language, the banker said the money would be doubled in a year.
Farmers got out their long kept cash. Teachers and other employees trooped in. Word spread that the twelve percent interest was given on the end each month. It was easily the best investment. Even businessmen and farmers from neighboring towns came to put in their money.
It was a classical case of pyramiding. New money invested were partly used to pay the interests of earlier depositors. It was snowballing in great quantities of investments.
But in six months, the banker had disappeared. A throng of farmers milled around in front of the bank. One farmer was the most vocal in his condemnation. "He should be electrocuted in the electric chair three times. After that he should be hung by the neck to die three times. His body should be deposited in an ant hill (guyam) to be bitten until his body is one swollen mass."
"Why, how much did you invest?" inquired a distressed man beside the noisy farmer.
"None," replied the vocal one. "If I had money in this bank, do you think I would be taking it so lightly?"

Barrio Breeze Juan Flavier (http://www.mb.com.ph/OPED2004072815004.html)