Rich Man

A Parable of True Wealth

The rich man drove up to the tiny coastal town in his big, white, expensive car. It was the first time such a car had ever entered these streets.

The rich man stepped out, peering around with disgust. "What kind of place is this?"

Then he walked down the street to see the sea. On the way, his wallet fell onto the street and into a sewer. It was gone, but he didn't know it.

He walked to the sea and through the streets with a sneer. People looked at him and smiled. "This is a strange place," he thought.

After walking for a while, he became hungry. "I need a bite to eat."

There was a cafe on the corner with tables outside. It was crowded, but there was a table for him. He sat down, famished.

The prices were good, the menu delectable. He ordered fresh juice, soup, an entrée, and dessert. The waiter was surprised. It was enough food for four.

The rich man ate. His eyes swirled with delight. "Not even the fanciest restaurants of Paris served such scrumptious dishes," he thought.

He listened to the laughter of the other patrons, noticed their smiles. He even let out a giggle under his breath. "This is truly a strange place."

"The bill, please."

The waiter brought the bill with a smile. "This can't be. Only this?" he thought, reaching for his wallet.

It was not there. "Is this place filled with thieves? Have I been robbed?"

He desperately searched his pocket. "Oh no. It must have fallen from my trousers," he thought.

"Is there a problem, sir?" asked the waiter.

"I, uh, I, uh, I am so sorry. I can't seem to find my wallet."

"Hold on a minute. I'm going to get the owner," said the waiter.

The owner was an old woman. She came out. "Is everything okay, sir? I heard you can't find your wallet."

The rich man, in desperation, tried to explain.

The woman held up her hands with the gentlest face the rich man had ever seen. "It is okay," she said. "You are my guest today."

The rich man nodded in disbelief.

He never did find his wallet that day, but he did find a place where the gold was not in people's pockets, but inside their hearts.

A story by Pemba Umoja