How I Became Ambassador Extraordinary for Unfinished Questions
People often assume I applied for the position. I did not. In fact, I remain uncertain whether the position existed before my appointment.
One morning a letter arrived. The envelope bore no address, no stamp and no indication of how it had entered the postal system. Inside was a single sheet of paper. It read:
The Committee for Matters Yet to Be Determined has the honour to appoint Sigi Ambassador Extraordinary for Unfinished Questions.
I examined the document carefully. There was no signature. There were, however, three footnotes. The footnotes raised considerably more questions than the appointment itself. Naturally, I accepted.
Only later did I discover the burden of the office. People expect ambassadors to bring answers. I was expected to collect questions. Wherever I travelled, people would approach. “Ambassador,” they would say. “How many answers do you possess?” “Very few,” I would reply. This disappointed them. Some reacted with concern. Others with suspicion.
A gentleman in Brussels once looked at me over the rim of a coffee cup and declared: “C'est un ambassadeur. Il doit avoir toutes les réponses.” (It is an ambassador. He must have all the answers.) I explained that he had misunderstood the position. I was responsible for the questions. The answers belonged to whoever was willing to continue looking. This did not improve matters.
Yet over time I discovered something interesting. People who possess all the answers tend to stop travelling. People carrying questions continue to explore. And so I carried mine from place to place. Some became larger. Some became smaller.Some divided unexpectedly into several new questions. One or two disappeared altogether, although I remain suspicious of this and occasionally check behind furniture.
The work continues. The questions remain unfinished. That is, after all, their nature. And besides, uncertainty travels surprisingly well, (rule #2) ✒️ Sigi