Don Chan had found a sealed aluminum soup pot. The pot was sealed with cement. He looked for a machete and tried to pry it open, but the pot rolled around on the ground as if it had a mind of its own. Don Chan took the pot and held it between his feet. He pressed his body against the knife. Inside the pot was enough money to legalize the titles of the land that his family and many people of Los Llanos had worked on for so many years.

The stories about treasures so long forgotten even by those who had buried them made a gold digger of any hungry man or woman working the fields in Los Llanos. Soon, people all over D.R. talked about the rich land of Los Llanos, most assuming that the campesinos were making up lies and all that talk of richness was about the well-watered soil. No more money was ever to be found. But the people of Los Llanos dug up jewelry, silver, guns, grenades, bullets, knives. Materials left behind by past rebel groups and government officials who, while they smiled and ate dinner with Trujillo, stole from under his nose.

—Now that we legally own our land, who can stop us from doing as we want? Don Chan said to all those who joined him in his vision of a country that is owned by the people who work the land. —If we work the land, we should own the land.

The people planted seeds as they made wishes and watched the acres that were once cane fields turn into communal gardens filled with a variety of fruit and vegetables. And soon, people‘s bellies were so full, no longer did their employers‘ comments vex them or did their circumstances seem bleak. Now they had a country of their own, and when it came to the fruits in the trees, it was all for the taking.

Within three months, gossip about Los Llanos and Don Chan‘s storytelling hour went from kitchen to kitchen. Soon the Chino who lived in Los Llanos was known all over D.R. Fights broke out between drunkards over the name. Was it Invincible or Invisible? Don Chan himself was no longer invisible. And people were wise enough to keep him a secret because being the only Chino in Los Llanos made him vulnerable. Instead, they called him a medicine man to explain the crowds that sometimes gathered in the small town park filled with processions for saints and dances of palo. So popular had the parties of Los Llanos become, high government officials and television celebrities called on him to cure their ailments. Don Chan cured everything from bleeding rectums to impotence, and as a natural entertainer, he created a show for all to see and singled out the richest of his guests, placing his hand on their foreheads and saying words as if they were being fed to him from the heavens.

—Your problem is that you‘re too busy thinking about your pocketbook and don‘t spend enough time dancing with your wife. Go home, drink ginger tea with honey, give all the money you keep in your safe to the people who serve you, and make love to your wife. You‘ll see, you‘ll suffer no more pain.