Integrity, the Real Wealth
By Achamma Chandersekaran
I had met Tina at my nephew’s house while visiting my native village of Arthunkal in Kerala. She used to come there everyday to prepare meals for the family. She was a pleasant woman who could make delicious dishes.
One day I met her daughter, a beautiful young girl studying in the fifth grade. She was a good student and did well in all subjects, except English, her mother said. I told her that I’d help her with English if she came to the house. She could come only a couple of times. During school days, especially during the Makaram Festival at the local church, it was not easy to fit this into her schedule. But I had established a good relationship with the mother and daughter.
Two years ago Tina came to me a couple of days before I had to leave and asked for a loan of Rs.10,000 to fix up her house, promising to return it the next year. I had spent all the money I had taken and asked her why she didn’t make the request earlier. We agreed on “may be next year.” But I was not comfortable with that decision. Who knows who would be there a year later? Who knows if I would go at all the next year? So I deposited a dollar check in my account at the local branch of the State Bank and arranged for Tina to get the 10,000 rupees.
After I retired from the U.S. Department of Commerce in 2000, I went to India for two months every year, supposedly to get away from the winter here in the East Coast. But invariably winter would wait for me to get back in the middle of February and give me a taste of the chill. I went last year also. Since my nephew passed away during the year, one of the first things I did was to go and visit his wife. Tina was still there and said that I should have called to say that I would be visiting. She had to return the money to keep her word. I told her that she could give it to me any day before I went back. Within a few days, when I called my niece about my planned visit, she told me that Tina had brought the money and left it with her so that I could get it whenever I went there. I appreciated Tina’s determination to keep her word.
When a grandnephew who had borrowed money from me was making excuses for not returning it, though he had been in a high paying job for a couple of years, I sent him an e-mail and said:
“Last year, the woman who has been making meals at Kenny’s house had borrowed 10,000 rupees from me saying she would return it this year. True to her word, when she learned that I was at Arthunkal she brought the money and paid me back. I realized that one doesn’t have to be rich or educated or from a “good family” to have credibility. Sometimes one has to learn from the uneducated poor.”
The young man was obviously furious and I got an immediate response that included the following: “ur microfinancing business and cheap tricks wil run well in akl, among illiterate fishermen … thatz y u hav built an inflated brand for yourself in that tiny insignificant village… but only among those innocent folks… Remember, bubbles dont last long!”
He can have his opinion. I was not helping people with any ulterior motive and my email was only a factual statement. What he borrowed is yet to be paid back.
When summer vacation started this year I called Tina to find out how her daughter was doing in school. Last year she had told me that the girl did well in all subjects, even English. But she still had difficulty with Math. So I asked Tina to arrange for someone to tutor her during the summer so that when she would get to the ninth grade in June she wouldn’t feel lost. After many attempts I was able to talk to her and get her to agree to do that.
During the conversation she told me that she had to borrow the money she returned to me at almost 20% interest to return it on time. I was flabbergasted, didn’t know what to tell her. One reason why I loaned the money was to keep her away from the loan-sharks. When I asked her why she didn’t tell me about all this she said, “I had promised to return it in a year and that was the only way I could keep my word.” According to her, most of the fishermen folks in the village lived hand-to-mouth. When they needed extra money for something urgent like fixing the roof before the monsoon season, the loan-sharks would be ready with the money for an exorbitant rate of interest. She had also pawned her gold chain because the house repair needed Rs. 40,000. From what she told me I don’t think she would ever be able to get her jewelry back.
Since that conversation, I had been wondering how I could help her. After thinking of different ways, I came up with one idea: based on a CD I have at the State Bank, I can arrange for her to get a loan at about 6.5% interest. As she is meticulous about keeping her word, hopefully she will pay back the loan in three years (a bank requirement.)
It is no fun being poor. This is one reason why I want her daughter to study well and get a job so that this hand-to-mouth existence will end with this generation. Before going to bed, I talked to the bank manager and sent an e-mail to the bank asking them to loan Tina Rs. 20,000 (she asked for 20k instead of 10 to consolidate her debts), keeping my CD as security. The CD is going to be there anyway, I thought, there is no harm in someone in need benefiting from it – as long as they keep their side of the deal of paying back on time.
Achamma Chandersekaran is the translator-author of Daughters of Kerala, a collection of short stories by award-winning Malayalam authors. She has presented a copy of her book to the Pope. You can visit her at www.achammachander.com