I was still in my bathrobe when the doorbell rang. Usually it rings once and someone leaves the newspaper on the mat. This time it kept ringing. Through the peephole, I saw a man holding a newspaper. Look at that, I thought to myself. How many people get their newspapers delivered by the UN secretary general and on the morning everyone was waiting for him in Rome to discuss Lebanon and stuff.
I have been following the news. Things were getting pretty ugly and the international community was divided. The Americans and Israelis wanted the war to go on until Lebanon ran out of taboulah and Katyushas, whereas Europe wanted an immediate ceasefire. As usual, the UN was stuck in the middle. Nine years in the job and it never gets easier. I thought of Kofi’s career as I brewed two espressos.
“I am going to Rome right away, but I thought I’d stop here first to ask you something. Where do you stand on all that? It was just like Kofi to think I was responsible for everything that moved within a radius of two or three continents. “Look, it’s been a hectic week for me too. The Israelis have just called to complain that Hezbollah was firing aimlessly at their villages with the Katyushas one of my friends had provided. I told them not to worry. From now on, my friends will only give Hezbollah pinpoint missiles so as to minimize collateral damage. Does this answer you question?
“Actually I was curious about this ‘creative chaos’ business. Was it really your idea? And how long is it going to go on? I get worried leaders on the phone asking me questions all day long. What shall I tell them? You really have to help me out on this one. If only Kofi would stop listening to rumors.
“Listen Kofi, it is not true, despite what people say, that I dictate every last thing in U.S. foreign policy. It all started when I was in DC explaining my winter collection to journalists. I remember that some politicians joined us and I remember them listening intently as I said that my style was ‘messy chic’, ‘roadside glamor’ and ‘creative chaos’ all thrown together. That was it, I swear. By some bizarre accident, someone took my words out of context and turned them into official policy.
I wasn’t sure I was convincing enough, but I didn’t owe Kofi an explanation. The world doesn’t always have to make sense. He of all people should know that. Then all of a sudden it hit me. It must be the Armani suit he was wearing or his impeccable demeanor. I looked at Kofi as if I was seeing him for the first time. Here was a perfectly competent man, a smooth and level-headed politician, with only six months to go before his contract ended. And I needed an assistant.
“Kofi, would you by any chance care to work for me? I can perhaps offer you the second top job in a medium-size Middle East country. Believe me, it’ll be more fun than what you’re doing now. His face lit up – not too much, just the right amount of enthusiasm.
“Here is the deal. The Americans are desperate for someone to redraw the map of the Middle East. They’ve been looking for someone with military experience, knowledge of the region and a good command of Arabic, Hebrew, Farsi, and Swahili. I said I’d do it and they got excited. In the briefings we’ve had so far, I suggested a grid pattern, with semi-circular ripples of sectarian tensions and north-west rays of doctrinal animosity. Nothing is final yet, but we’re working on it.
“When do you think this would happen? Kofi asked.
“We’re still negotiating. I’ve asked for something in return. I’ve asked for Tunisia, actually. I paused for full effect. “You know, a stable and scenic country with just the right amount of political discontent. If we play our cards right, a change of regime wouldn’t be hard to arrange. Remember how I helped remove the PLO from Tripoli to Tunisia 20 years ago. I am thinking perhaps I’ll remove Hezbollah from Lebanon’s south to Tunisia. Then I’ll get a few friends to pressure Hezbollah to turn secular. In the ensuing chaos, someone will get hurt really bad. I don’t know who yet. Maybe a prime minister . but we’ve done that already. Perhaps a top clergyman this time. Sad accidents happen in this region, you know. From then on, it’ll be a walk in the park. Tunisia will be mine. And the Americans will get their new Middle East map wrapped in cellophane and sealed with a kiss. But first, I’ll need someone to help me stamp out the opposition and establish a democratic regime. You, with your experience, would be perfect.
I could tell Kofi wanted to hang out with me some more, but he was already late for Rome. So I gave him the information he needed. “As for Lebanon, here is the deal. No ceasefire for now. Let them all have a run for their money. Then, when everyone is ready to talk, I’ll come in and sort things out. Forget about the Southern Suburb for now. Forget about the humanitarian situation. I’ll take care of that. I’ll write you a check now if you want. Think big, man. Think Tunisia.
