Not a Coke, Not Quite a Diet Coke

In living a simple life, I have begun to appreciate the small things – those things I became so accustomed to in my American experience that they seemed to fade into the background of life. They are the things I didn’t think I would miss in coming here. The things I wouldn’t take the time to appreciate.

Back in the U.S., I was such a Coke Zero/Diet Coke addict. Oh, I tried to quit… several times. But I always came back to that conveniently available soda. When I found out I’d be coming to Africa, I thought that would be my opportunity to go cold turkey. Surely the village life would provide enough of a distraction that I wouldn’t even think about the soda I couldn’t get. Wrong. If there is an American product that has saturated the Kenyan market more fully than Coca Cola, I sure haven’t found it. But while Coke, Fanta and Sprite are household names – even in the bush – diet (as in Diet Coke) is a word that doesn’t exist.

I’m picky. It took most of my college life to sufficiently appreciate the goodness of calorie-free soda. I flew right past developing a taste for the stuff and landed squarely in the land of the Diet Coke fiend. Now it’s really hard to drink sugary soda, but that is all that is readily available here. So quitting? No, because I have found a few places that do carry the Kenyan equivelent of Diet Coke. Coke Light entered my life in Loitokitok, and continues to make guest appearances. Any day I can get the stuff is a good day… it’s one of those “little things.”

I had a terrible few days last week. I won’t go into the details, but it involved water entering my house uninvited. I will tell you that I sobbed like a little girl… the first time I’ve let myself cry since coming to Kenya.

Time put things in perspective, but it didn’t do it alone.

After the incident, I needed a break. I went into my closest big town, Bumala, and walked into a restaurant that I have frequented quite a few times in the last three months. When the waitress came to greet me, she already had it. She didn’t even have to ask. The Coke Light was in her hand. I was jumping for joy on the inside, but on the outside I just smiled and said “asante sana.” Everything in my life is OK.

(Obviously) I enjoyed the soda, and went on my way.

(And so no one worries… I’m not an addict. It is just REALLY comforting to be able to get ahold of an ubiquitous something from your former life when everything that now surrounds you is strange.)

I boarded a matatu, wondering what life’s next little pick-me-up would be. I didn’t have to wait too long. Britney Spears’ “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman,” (or whatever it’s called) was blaring, and I almost burst out laughing when my matatu driver and his manly Kenyan accent began singing along.