The sense of frustration was compounded by his deliberate plans to ensure a male progeny. He married a woman who came from a lineage with a definite tendency towards sons. The second generation produced six children only one of whom was a female. The next group of grandchildren numbered fourteen; all of whom were males except one. It was this one girl the farmer selected for a wife even if her looks left much to be desired.

The farmer followed all the superstitions that tended to result in male siblings. Sleeping on the right side of the wife. Having contact before the calculated date of ovulation. A hot climate was supposed to produce a girl so he avoided this period.

But as if a joke of fate played beyond unbelievable proportions, the couple had a succession of daughters. On the eighth female child, the farmer consulted a leading obstetrician, to no avail. The ninth and tenth continued to be girls.

"If I were gambling, this is a winning streak. Imagine six daughters and four girls,’’ he kidded his neighbors.

On the fourteenth female offspring in straight succession, the farmer was asked about the name of the child.

"I thought you named this one ‘Rosa’?’’ inquired a friend.

"Yes, we did,’’ replied the farmer with a wry smile. "But I had to change the name. I found out we already had a daughter with the name of Rosa.’’

Then, when least expected, the much awaited son was finally produced on the fifteenth birth of the wife. There was much rejoicing and genuine glee. The farmer finally got a child who would carry his name and continue ownership and tillage of their twohectare irrigated land.

A neighbor asked the happy father, "Whom does your son resemble, you or your wife?’’

The farmer had a blank look. "I do not know,’’ he replied simply.

"Why don’t you know,’’ pursued the friend. "After all it is now three days since the birth of the child.’’

"Yes, but you see I have not yet looked at the face of the baby.’’