27/5/94

The Land of Yisrael Kessar

When the cabinet goes away on business, it's time to call the national babysitter. (A true story. Sort of.)

    Transport Minister Yisrael Kessar got to work bright and early one day recently, wondering if he'd have anything to do. He was a quiet little man, in a quiet little job, and when his quiet little secretary stepped in for their daily 9 a.m. agenda meeting, he expected yet another quiet little session.
    "G'morning."
    "G'morning."
    Usually, that was it.
    "Anything today?"
    The secretary perused her list. "Not much. Today's the 11th anniversary of the first Hadera traffic light, and they want you to give a speech. Egged is asking for permission to paint the buses yellow. We got a complaint about a taxi driver, a broken sidewalk in Holon and El Al wants to switch blueberry tarts for the apple sauce on the flights to Finland. Oh, and the prime minister wants to see you, he's waiting outside."
    Kessar jumped out of his plush chair. "Rabin wants to see me?!"
    "Should I send him in, or tell him you're busy?"
    The prime minister was shown in. "So, what's new in Transport?" he asked Kessar.
    "Got those new railway switches," the minister responded proudly. "And they gave me a discount."
    "Nice. Very nice." The pee-em lit a cigarette. "Yisrael, I want you to do me a favor. I have to go to Cairo to sign this thing with Yasser."
    "-- And you want me to pull strings to get you a seat on the bus?"
    "No, I want you to assume my portfolio while I'm gone. I want you to be acting prime minister."
    Kessar blanched. "But -- what do I have to do?"
    "Nothing. Don't do anything. It's a formality, really. You can use my limo if you want. But for goodness sake, don't answer my phone, don't talk to the press, don't sign anything. Don't meet with Palestinians. Or Jews. Just hold on until I get back in a few hours."
    Kessar was bursting with glee. "I'll be the best prime minister ever, I promise!"
    Rabin gave him a dirty look, and grunted. "Oh, there's one more thing. I also take care of Religious Affairs, my portfolio-without-minister. And Interior. Take care of them, too, will you?"
    "And I shouldn't talk to anyone from Shas while you're gone."
    "Especially Deri."
    "Your non-minister with portfolio."
    "You're catching on."
    Rabin got up to leave. At the door, he stopped. "And Health. I almost forgot. I'm also temporary health minister."
    Kessar smiled. "No problem, sir."
    Alone again, he put his feet up on his desk and basked in the glory of his new titles. He couldn't wait to tell the wife and kids. He jotted down the list of ministries in his care, just so he shouldn't forget even one.
    He was interrupted by his secretary's excited voice on the intercom. "Foreign Minister Peres to see you, sir."
    Kessar couldn't imagine why the FM wanted to see him.
    "Nice office," Peres said as he strode in.
    "The rug was handmade by my niece," Kessar told him.
    "How would you like to be foreign minister for a day or two?"
    Kessar was stunned. Who wouldn't!
    "I have to go --"
    "-- to Cairo. I know. The prime minister was just here. Or should I say," Kessar winked, "the temporarily former prime minister."
    Peres was not amused. "Look, do you want the job or not?"
    Kessar nodded eagerly. He loved to travel, to meet with important people in exotic faraway places. He always felt that should be a responsibility of the Transport Ministry. "I'll do it," he told Peres. "I'll have a bag packed and be ready to go anywhere in the world that your itinerary demands."
    "Actually, I was scheduled to go to the dentist."
    "But what if a country wants to suddenly establish relations while you're gone?"
    "They can wait. But I'll tell you what: if it's Albania, you can go."
    Peres left. In walked Finance Minister Avraham Shohat.
    "Going to Cairo?" Kessar asked.
    "Yup."
    "-- And you've got a ministry that needs a minister."
    "I brought you a few letterheads, just in case. You can cross out my name and type in yours."
    The quiet little minister of transport, prime, interior, religious affairs, health, foreign affairs and finance buzzed his secretary for a cup of coffee. She asked if he would please call back a little later when she wasn't so very busy.
    "Busy!?" he asked incredulously.
    "Up to my ears in ministers. And the phone's ringing off the hook. I've had Rabin on hold for 20 minutes."
    "Put him through."
    The prime minister was abashed. "I just read in the newspaper that I'm defense minister as well. Did you know I'm defense minister? I really have no idea when that happened. Be a sport, Yisrael, call the ministry for me, tell them you're in charge and I'll get in touch with them when I get back."
    "Certainly, sir."
    "Thanks. Now, would you put me through to the finance minister? I need some cash for my trip."
    "Uh, I'm finance minister, too. But Shohat said I shouldn't touch any money till he gets back."
    Rabin slammed down the phone, Kessar winced and Moshe Shahal walked in to the office. Kessar glowered at him. "Hey, aren't you the police minister?"
    "Also the energy minister."
    "Have fun in Cairo."
    Shahal said thanks, and left. The door opened, and the janitor stepped in. Kessar gasped, but he'd only come to empty the garbage cans.
    Kessar half expected Yair Levy to walk in and announce that he was going to Cairo and would he mind sitting in prison for him for a couple of days. Maybe Haim Yavin was going and they'd need Kessar to read the news on TV. Maybe the opposition was going too. Maybe --
    The intercom startled him. "Pick up line two," said his secretary, "it's your wife. Urgent."
    Panicked, he grabbed the phone. "Don't tell me you're going to Cairo."
    "No, sweetheart; you're going to the makolet on the way home to pick up some burekas for supper."
    There was a knock on the door.
    "Who is it?" Kessar yelped from under his desk.
    "Yossi."
    Kessar relaxed. He remembered: it was lunchtime. "Yossi the pizza delivery man?"
    "No. Yossi the environment minister."
    Sarid entered. Kessar snarled that he'd be absolutely thrilled to serve as acting environment minister.
    "Terrific!" Sarid said gleefully. "I've got a list of things for you to take care of while I'm gone: nuclear-waste disposal, garbage-dump inspection, raw sewage and public toilets to check. Thanks, pal." And he was gone.
    It occurred to Kessar that he now had more portfolios than even -- omigod, what if...
    He lunged for the intercom. His secretary answered. "Whatever you do," he said hoarsely, "Don't let Shulamit Aloni in. Tell her I'm out. Tell her I'm --"
    "Tell her yourself," Aloni said as she let herself in.
    Kessar whimpered. "Well, if it isn't the minister of communications..."
    "... and science," she reminded him.
    "... and arts..."
    "... and culture."
    Kessar tried to smile collegiately. "And you want me to take care of religious affairs for you while you're in Cairo, right?"
    "Precisely." She blew him a kiss and was gone.
    After a spell, Kessar realized the rush was over. He was going to finish the day as 15 ministers. He had half a mind to call an emergency session of the cabinet and call off this Cairo thing. Who would oppose him?
    He told his secretary she could have the rest of the day off, but she grumbled that it was already an hour and a half past quitting time so thanks for nothing.
    He locked the office, got into his car and joined the early evening traffic jam. He chuckled, figuring he had enough parliamentary immunity to zip through a yellow light if he wanted.
    He pulled into his driveway, bounded up the steps and burst in. "Honey, I'm home!"
    He found her in the kitchen, frying schnitzel. "Guess what!" he said, ready to plotz.
    "You got a raise."
    He recounted the incredible events of the day. "So! I'm in charge of the whole country, what do you say to that?"
    She put down her spatula. "The whole country!" she echoed. "You couldn't even be put in charge of buying the bourekas."
(Editor's note: While the events described are true, if a little transmogrified, all characters are wholly fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons is unintentional and purely coincidental.)