Building of a Statue

((Second Largest in South America) (Concepcion, Peru))

Things kept on the swirl in the City of Concepcion (2003), and the new mayor, Jesus Chipana Hurtado, and the gods of chance played into his hands. Mayor Chipana's wife standing with him on the road to Piedra Parada ((otherwise known as Standing Stone Hill) (a road that winds up to Marron Hill, to where below, one can see the whole city of Concepcion, high up in the Andes of Peru)) his wife invented an idea-right then and there-for building a statue of the Virgin Mary. The new Mayor thought for a moment: 'How's one to lift and load, carry all the material into the air and dump its contents on top of this hill- top?' There shortly after, with a roaring small vehicle, they reached to the top. Thus, '...it could be done!' thought the Mayor, and a model of the new invented thought of a statue of the Virgin Mary was secured.

The Mayor carried it off to the other Mayors of the vicinity, the different provinces thereabouts, even to the Church head in Huancayo, the Archbishop, and all the way to Lima, the Capital of Peru, and its higher echelon. Received thousands of dollars, for this inventive genius' idea, a statue that started out at eighteen feet, now was seventy-five feet tall. The City of Conception was a renewed and strengthened city-to say the least.

As the plans of the statue were being drawn out-and the whole Mantaro Valley Region of the Andes, awaited with anticipation, the Mayor looked forward with a feeling of almost approaching pleasure to the time when the city would be forced to face the fact, they were more remarkable than what they thought possible, possible for a smaller city to be, to build something beyond its means.

But there developed a snag.

One morning on top of the hill, stood a tall man, puffed at his cigar. He looked like a soldier weighting the chances of battle, vaguely, the Mayor thought this man thought of himself as a general, "Well," said the Mayor, "what can I do for you?"

The Mayor looked upon the city, probing as it seemed to be, he felt inside his head no man, and no individual can stop it, can stop this project. There was not going to be a failure that was for weaklings and he wasn't one of those. He was one of the few men that saw things clearly.

"The top of this hill is my property?" the stranger confessed strongly, "and you are about to start building on it, why?"

'Woops...!' thought the Mayor, eyebrow near touching the top of his forehead.

"Well?" said the owner.

If there was an empty backroom to a mind, that is where the Mayor's mind was for a second, as he looked about-near dumbfounded, standing now looking down upon the city, over at another hilltop. His mind now ran in the same channels his father's did, and his father's father- '...they were not pessimists,' he told himself. His thoughts only differed, because it was a different time, "I'll build it on another hill," he told the owner, as he muttered aloud.

That night, the owner's mind began to secrete, ooze out the poison of his greed, '...after all it's for the city, for the Virgin Mary,' he told himself, '...plus, I want to have a good sleep, and if I agree to let them have the land, that will take care of things, and to be honest, I'll be in better shape for the Lord when my day is due to meet him.' (Perhaps, just perhaps, he was thinking Mary might put in a good word for him? Who's to say?)

The next day, the owner of the hilltop, explained his new frame of mind, and the Mayor explained his plan. There was now occasion for all to get excited again. In a way, the owner declared, he was glad things had turned out as they had. He was angry at first, and at the same time forlorn. In the end, they had all tried honestly to do something for the city, and the once owner of the hilltop knew the Mayor would see to it that everything came out all right, and now pert near, eight years later, the Statue stands proud and tall, looking down upon Concepcion, from that very hilltop.

In conclusion to this story, let me simply say: it is worthwhile to keep still, while someone has an idea, one can never tell-who knows what may come of it.