Unable to face the appalling consequences of a capital city with nearly four million inhabitants slowly dying of thirst, the government passed the buck of Athens’ water shortage from ministry to ministry and from department to department until it finally came to rest on the desk of Nicolakis Nerovrastos, a mild-mannered and very junior official at the Ministry of Public Works.
When he saw the written instructions according to which he was to propose an effective solution to the problem within a fortnight, he panicked immediately and rushed to the office of his department head, Costas Kaloperasakias, a veteran of 30 years in the civil service who had long ago developed the art of doing absolutely nothing while appearing to be the busiest man in the ministry.
Kaloperasakias was on the phone with the minister’s private secretary, with whom he had entered into an illicit liaison shortly after her appointment – a run-of-the-mill survival ploy – and was fixing a rendezvous at his secret, rented, one~room basement apartment, commonly known as a garsoniera.
He glared at Nerovrastos and waved him angrily out of his office. Then he kept him waiting for 15 minutes after he had finished his conversation with the secretary before buzzing him in.
“I’m sorry I burst in on you like that:’ Nerovrastos began apologetically.
“That’s all right,” Kaloperasakias broke in magnanimously, “but don’t interrupt me again when I’m talking to the prime minister. What’s the matter?”
“This,” Nerovrastos said, pushing the offending document before Kaloperasakias.
The department head glanced at it and said: “I know all about it. I was the one who recommended you for the job”.
“But why me?” Nerovrastos wailed.
“What do I know about water shortages and how to resolve them? I’ll be sure to fail and that will be a black mark on my record. Why did you do this to me?”
Kaloperasakias looked at him with pity.
“Come now, Nicolaki. Don’t panic. Think of this thing calmly and objectively. For one thing, you won’t be alone. You will be heading a committee of experts – a university professor, a senior engineer, a geologist, a meteorologist and a water diviner. They are all friends of mine and they have promised me they will do everything possible to help you. In fact, the water diviner is my brother-in-law, but keep that under your hat. You will be getting a handsome fee as committee chairman and so will the experts. If you can’t complete the work in a fortnight, you will naturally ask for an extension. As a matter of fact, I can see so many avenues you will be exploring that your work could well take up to the time the Mornos water runs out or we get a sufficiently large rainfall to save the day. You should be thanking me, old chap, instead of complaining. I know several people in the ministry who would give their right arm for this job.”
“B-but I wouldn’t know where to start,” Nerovrastos protested.
“It’s all very well for you to say you can see many avenues to explore, but I can’t see any at all. It hasn’t rained, the water is running out. If you ask me, all we can do is pray.”
“Well, there’s one avenue for you. Get the church organized to hold mass prayer meetings all over the country.
Then get the meteorologist to write a report on seeding clouds with silver iodide. Get the water diviner to spot likely places in the Athens area where there may be underground water, aside from sewers. Find out how effective Indian rain dances can be. There’s a letter in our files somewhere from Arizona from Chief Broken Windscreen Wiper, who says his rain dancers have brought on torrential downpours nine times out of every ten they’ve tried. He says his Navajos lost a pile atLas Vegas last month, so we can probably get them on the cheap. Get the geologist to write a report on towing icebergs from the Arctic and get the engineer to do a comprehensive study on desalination plants. Want to hear some more ideas?”
Nerovrastos shook his head and said: “I can’t help feeling that all these suggestions are somewhat impractical and that if we make them, we’ll not only be fooling the Greek people but kidding ourselves too.”
Kaloperasakias shook his head and sighed.
“Haven’t you realized yet, old chap, that that’s exactly what every Greek has been doing to every other Greek and to himself since the dawn of time?”
