NOT A DROP TO DRINK

By Chris Rose

Two thousand years ago the Romans tried to turn this desert into an oasis, a place full of rivers and lakes and canals. The Romans wanted to build big white temples and big houses under the hot sun. They wanted to turn this desert into a new paradise, full of trees and flowers and fields. They planned to sail their ships across the desert. But they failed.

The Romans failed because they looked only at the surface of the land. They tried to make the desert into a paradise with water and trees by digging canals and building aqueducts. They dug canals to connect the sea and the rivers. They built their aqueducts, long pipes to carry water, for many miles across the desert, to carry water from one town to another.

Now, I can still see some of the old aqueducts. There are a few white stone arches under the hot sun in the dry desert. They are falling down. The water in the aqueducts dried up. There is nothing left of the Roman canals. The water in the canals disappeared and the canals filled up with sand again, but if you look carefully it is still possible to see where they were. There are lines across the desert that look like very old roads.

In 1777 a Portuguese explorer called Emanuel de Melo Pimento came to this desert with a plan to turn it into an oasis. At that time in history, everybody was very excited by new discoveries in science and technology and engineering. Emanuel de Melo Pimento was a man of his times, one of the new scientist-philosopher-engineers who believed that all the problem of people in the world could be solved by science and philosophy. He believed that he could turn the hot, dry desert where nobody had enough water to drink into an oasis, into a utopia. He wanted to build a completely new city here, he wanted to build a completely new country. He wanted to call it “Pimentia”, named after himself, of course.

Emanuel de Melo Pimento had a lot of money. He had a lot of money because a lot of rich people in Portugal and Spain gave him money to go around the world and explore. These rich people invested in Emanuel de Melo Pimento’s journeys of exploration and discovery. Now they had given him money to build a new city, a new country, a utopia, to create an oasis in the desert. These rich people hoped to become even richer. Emanuel de Melo Pimento took their money and used it not to try and change the surface of the land, like the Romans, but to change what is under the surface of the desert. Emanuel de Melo Pimento wanted to dig canals under the desert, to make big underground rivers where the water would not dry up under the heat of the sun.

He failed, of course.

Some of his plans still survive. I have some of them here in my office in the Institute of Hydrogeological Research where I write this. They are very beautiful works of art. But not one of his plans was ever completed – they needed too much money, more money than even the rich people in Portugal and Spain gave to Emanuel de Melo Pimento. Instead, Emanuel de Melo Pimento spent all the money on building beautiful buildings where he could live and dream of his new city.

From where I write in my office in the Institute I can still see one of the old buildings that Emanuel de Melo Pimento lived in before he went mad and died here. He failed because he tried to look only under the land. The Romans failed because they looked only at the surface of the land. Now, I will succeed, because I am not looking at the surface of the desert, or under it. I am looking up above the desert. I am looking up at the sky.

Now, at the beginning of the 21st century we have the ability to go up into space. We have the ability to build satellites. Some people have said that I am mad, just like Emanuel de Melo Pimento, but I know that I will succeed. I have spent many years making plans to build satellites that can not only forecast the weather, but change it.

The first of the satellites went up into space last week, and now, using a computer here in my office, I am telling it what to do. The programmes I spent many years planning and designing all work perfectly.

I look up at the sky, and it is starting to rain.

It has now been raining for three weeks. It has not stopped raining for 21 days. At first, the people were very happy to see so much rain. Now the desert has flooded. Where before there was only sand, now there is water. Where there was desert, now there is sea.

But the rain that has come down from the sky has destroyed many houses. Some people now have nowhere to live. The rain was stronger and heavier than I planned. I was right to look up above the desert, not at its surface or under the sand, but I did not expect the force of nature to be so strong.

Have I too failed? I do not know. Will people in the future think of me as I now think of the Romans and of the failed mad scientist Emanuel de Melo Pimento?

I have turned the desert into a sea. We can now sail ships across the desert, like the Romans dreamed. But the people do not thank me. They have water, but they have nothing to drink.

THE END

RIVER

By Chris Rose

My name is Kate Connor. I am a river guide. I live in Colorado. Colorado is a state in America which takes its name from the long, wide, green river that runs through it. I live by the river. My job is to take groups of people along the river. Usually we use small boats or rafts. The people who I guide along the river come from the city. They are usually groups of businessmen who come from New York or Chicago or Los Angeles, places where they work all the time and never see mountains or

This year, the river has dried up. There is no water. I look out of my window every day and walk down to the river, or rather, I walk down to where the river used to be. There wasn’t enough rain this spring, and it has been a hot summer. The river is now just one thin, green trickle of water. You couldn’t sail a raft in this. You couldn’t even sail a child’s paper boat down this river.

The river is never what it seems. The river changes. Every day there is less water. Today I went down to the river and there wasn’t even the thin green trickle. There were just stones and dust at the bottom of where the river used to be.

I have always wanted to be by rivers. I grew up next to the river, where my father worked. When I was a child and other children wanted to be astronauts or football stars or supermodels, all I wanted to do was work on the river. I wanted to work on a tugboat on the Hudson or the Mersey or the Thames. I wanted to catch fish in the Loire or the Volga or the Rhine. I wanted to swim in the Ganges or the Amazon or the Mississippi. I wanted to take rafts across the wild white waters of the long, strong Colorado river.

Today, a man came to my house. I didn’t recognise him at first, until he reminded me who he was.
“I’m Joel”, he said. “Don’t you remember me?” I didn’t remember his face, though I remembered his name. He had changed a lot. I guess he changed because of what happened last summer.

Last summer Joel was one of a group of people who came to Colorado from Pennsylvania. The people were all colleagues from work. They came to the river to go rafting because they thought it would be a good idea. A week rafting on the white water of the river, they thought, would build up their interpersonal skills. It would make them work as a team. On the river they would get to know each other better. Then they could go back to their office in the city and work better together.

“It’s good to see you again!” said Joel.
“You look different” I said to Joel. He smiled.
“Better or worse?”
“Not better or worse. Just different.”

Last summer I took Joel and his colleagues down to the river for five days of whitewater rafting. Whitewater rafting is the most difficult thing you can do on the river. Usually people who have no experience of rivers just want to go camping, or perhaps fishing, or perhaps just swim in one of the places where the water is wide, tranquil and calm. These people wanted to do something dangerous, something that they thought would test them, and make them better people. Something which would make them work together better.

“What have you come back for?” I said to Joel.
“I came back to see the river” he said. I pointed to where the river used to be and smiled.
“It’s gone” I said. “There’s nothing to see.”
He shrugged.
“The river wasn’t the only thing I wanted to see again” he said.

There is no sound at night anymore. For all my life I have gone to sleep and woken up with the rushing sound of the water in my ears. Now I just hear silence, and the tiny sounds of the trees in the wind. I hope that the wind will bring clouds which will bring rain which will bring the river back to me.

The first day with Joel and his colleagues was good. The weather was clear and warm, the river gentle. I told the people all about the safety precautions they had to take. I made sure they could all swim well. I made sure they all had life jackets. I made sure they all knew what to do if there was an accident or an emergency. We spent a day learning how to use the rafts. We sailed them on slow, gentle water.

That night there was a big storm. We were all asleep in our tents, though, and there was no problem.

The next morning, on the second day, the sun was shining again, and everything looked fine. They all wanted to go out on the river again. I told them that this was not a good idea. I told them that even though the weather looked fine, a storm in the night meant that the water in the river would be stronger and faster. People who were not experts should not go out on the river on the day after a storm. Even if the weather looks fine, the river is still angry.

They insisted.
“We’re paying you!” said one woman. “You have to do what we tell you!”

We went out again on the dangerous, angry river. I made sure that everyone had their life jackets on. I made sure again that they knew what to do if there was an accident. At first it was exciting – everyone was laughing and shouting because the water was much louder and faster than the day before. There was so much noise, I couldn’t tell when the laughter became screaming.
“He’s gone under!” shouted one woman. “He’s under the water and he hasn’t come up again!” Joel had fallen off the raft. Usually, people come back up immediately, but not Joel. It was possible to see his body being pushed about by the wild angry river. His body moved from one side of the river to the other.

There was only one thing to do. I jumped into the water and pulled Joel onto the raft, then moved the raft to the solid bank of the river. I pulled him off the raft and on to the solid land. Joel was not breathing. I thought he was dead. I opened his mouth and gave him artificial respiration. He still did not breathe. I pushed on his heart and he breathed in and opened his eyes. He looked surprised to be alive.

Last night I lay awake listening to the silence where the river used to be. I listened to the trees in the wind. I didn’t know what to say to Joel. I didn’t know if I should tell him to go back to the city and his office, or ask him to stay here with me.

The wind grew louder. I heard the sound of rain falling. The sound grew louder.

This morning Joel came into my room.
“I came back here to see you” he said. “I came back here because you saved my life. I was dead, and then I was alive again.”
Outside the rain was pouring down. I could already hear the river. The river was alive again.

Joel didn’t know why I told him to go back to his job and his office in Pennsylvania. I didn’t need to tell him.

I live by the river, and just like the river, I can change too.

THE END

THE HUNTING BIRD

By Chris Rose

In the small piece of dry land behind the house where Samir lived with his family, there was a bird. It was an old bird which sat on its perch all day, every day. Samir had never seen the bird fly. Samir’s grandfather told him that once, a long time ago, the bird had been a famous hunting bird. It was famous not only in their village, but in many of the other nearby towns and villages too, he said. People came from all over just to see this bird fly. Now there were very few hunting birds left, said his grandfather. Nobody knew how to hunt with them anymore.

Samir looked at the old bird on its perch, and tried to imagine how it had been when it was younger, and famous, and when people came from all over just to see it fly. It was difficult to imagine. Now the bird did nothing but sit on the wooden perch on the dry land behind their house. It looked tired. The bird’s long beak was yellow with age. Its long brown feathers were starting to fall off. There were now only a few dark feathers in the bird’s tail.

When he gave the bird something to eat it jumped down off its perch and ate slowly. Other than that, it never moved. But sometimes the bird looked at Samir, and Samir could see that the bird’s eyes were still bright and clear and awake and alive.

Samir was fascinated by the look in the bird’s eyes, and he liked the way the bird had nothing to do with anyone else. He liked the bird’s independence and its mystery.

“It can’t fly anymore” said Samir’s uncle to him one day. “There’s no point in keeping it anymore. It costs us money to feed it. We’re not rich people. We can’t keep pets. What’s the point of a hunting bird that can’t hunt? We’ll have to get rid of it.”

Samir went to bed that night and thought about how he could persuade his uncle to let him keep the bird. The next morning he spoke to his uncle.
“We’ve had the bird for a long time” said Samir.
“Exactly! It’s old and useless” replied his uncle.
“It’s part of the family!” tried Samir.
“Hmmm ...t hat’s not a good reason. I would like to get rid of your grandfather too! He’s just as useless!” laughed his uncle.
“It only eats mice. It doesn’t cost us money to feed it” continued Samir.
“Yes ... and now there are dead mice all over the place! It’s not healthy to have dead mice all over the garden!”
“It’s a hunting bird.”
“Hunting!? That bird can’t hunt anything!”
“If I can show you that the bird can still hunt, can I keep it?”
His uncle stopped and thought for a moment.
“Very well then, yes. Show me that the bird can still hunt, and you can keep it.”

Samir was pleased but also worried. He didn’t know if the bird could still hunt or not. He went to his grandfather and asked him what to do. That evening, Samir and his grandfather went to the piece of dry land behind their house. His grandfather put on a big leather glove and took the bird off its perch. The bird stood on his grandfather’s hand. Together, Samir, his grandfather and the bird walked away from their house, out to the edge of the village where they lived. The bird didn’t move while they walked. Eventually, they came to the open land at the end of the village. Samir’s grandfather stretched out his arm straight. The bird sat on his hand at the end of his arm. Then, very quickly, he took his arm away. Samir thought that the bird would fall to the ground, but it didn’t. Instead, in less than a second, it opened its huge wings and flew upward, up into the sky so quickly that Samir could hardly see it. It flew so high that it was difficult to see. It went so high it almost vanished in the bright late afternoon sky. Samir could just see it - a tiny black dot against the sky. He watched the dot move until he was sure it was the bird, his bird. The bird seemed to stop in the middle of the sky. Samir wondered how it was possible. The bird held its huge wings open and floated in the sky like a duck on water, moving slowly from one side to another. Sometimes, it moved its wings gently up and down, then was still again, as if he was on his perch in the middle of the sky. Then, in a second, the bird turned, moved its head down and fell like a stone out of the sky. Samir had never seen an animal move so fast.

His grandfather pointed to the place not far from them where the bird landed. They walked over to it and found the bird next to the dead body of a small rabbit. The bird had cut the rabbit open with its old but sharp beak. It was already eating.

The next morning, Samir persuaded his uncle to come with him. Samir took the bird on his arm as he had seen his grandfather do. Together, they walked to the open space at the edge of the village. Samir held the bird out on his hand, then quickly moved his arm away.
The bird fell to the ground. It opened it wings, then stood still. It didn’t move again.
Samir’s uncle laughed and laughed.
“See! I told you it was useless! Come on, Samir, I know you like animals, but you need to grow up a bit. You have to learn that we can’t keep things just because you like them.”

Samir went back to his grandfather and told him what had happened. His grandfather told him that a bird wouldn’t hunt in the morning. The sun was too bright. He told him to persuade his uncle to go out again with him, in the late afternoon, when the light was less strong, when it was cooler. At that time of day, said Samir’s grandfather, the bird could see a mouse from 50 metres up.

Samir had to work hard to persuade his uncle to come out with him a second time.
“No way, Samir” said his uncle. “I’m a busy man. I haven’t got time to waste on a stupid old bird.”
“Uncle, I promise you. If the bird won’t hunt this time, then you can get rid of it, and I won’t say anything ever again.”
His uncle thought for a moment, then sighed. “Very well, then, last chance.”

Again Samir took the bird from its perch. Again they went to the open space at the end of the village. The sun was beginning to set over the hills in the distance. The air was already a little cooler. Samir stood with the bird at the end of his arm. He took his arm away. The bird flew up into the sky like a rocket. It went so high that it almost vanished. Samir could see that his uncle was quiet with surprise.
“Where’s it gone?” said his uncle. Samir pointed to a tiny dot in the sky. They both watched the dot, as it rested in the middle of the sky for a few minutes, then turned, circled a couple of times, and begin to fall like a stone. They watched as the bird came closer to them. It came closer and closer and closer, very quickly. For a moment, Samir thought it was going to hit them. His uncle ran out of the way.
They heard a swoooossssh and then a quick thummmpp and looked to where the bird had touched the ground. His uncle was impressed. The bird sat there on the ground before them. It had caught a mouse.
When they saw that it was a mouse, the expression on Samir’s uncle’s face changed. He started to laugh again.
“A mouse! A mouse! A tiny little mouse! That’s all? Very good, I’m sure, but a bird that can only hunt mice isn’t much use, is it? We can’t eat mice!” He laughed. “Why can’t your wonderful hunting bird catch a goat, at least? Or even better, why can’t it go and catch twenty frozen pizzas!!?? Hmmm???” He laughed again. “Come on Samir, I’m not a bad man, you know. But there’s no point in having that old bird anymore. Hunting is a thing of the past.”
Samir walked home alone, taking the bird with him.

The next morning he woke up and when he went out, he saw that the bird had gone. His uncle came home at lunch time. Samir asked his uncle what he had done with the bird.
“Look” sighed his uncle. “It doesn’t matter what happend to the old bird. We didn’t need it anymore. We couldn’t keep it. Now I don’t want to hear any more about this story! Is that clear?”
Samir said nothing.

That evening two men came to their house in a big car. They banged on the the door and started shouting to see Samir’s uncle. “We know you’re in there!” they shouted. Samir didn’t know who they were. “Let us in!” shouted the men. Samir saw his uncle behind the door. His uncle looked worried. Eventually, his uncle opened the door and the men came in.
“You said to us that the bird was a hunting bird!”
“You told us it could catch anything!”
“You sold us that bird and it won’t even fly!”
“It’s not a hunting bird! It just lazy, or stupid, or perhaps both!”
“Like you!”
“We want our money back!”
Samir’s uncle looked very worried. “Look” he started to say, “I can’t give you your money back .... I’ve already spent it ... but don’t worry!” He pointed at Samir. “Samir here knows how to make the bird fly! He’ll show you how to do it! If Samir shows you, the bird will do anything! It’s a great bird, that’s right, isn’t it Samir???”
The men stopped shouting at Samir’s uncle, and turned to look at Samir.
“Well then, “ said one of the men, “Is that true? Can you make the bird hunt? Show us!!!”

Samir looked at the men. Then he looked at his uncle. Then he turned and walked out of the house. The bird was in the back of the car. Samir opened the door of the car and took the bird on his arm. He held his arm out, then quickly moved it away. The bird flew high, high up into the sky, until they could hardly see it anymore.

THE END

Date: 2016-01-14; view: 2984