Friday, March 04, 2005

God & Coca-Cola: Covering Kenya like the Dew

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution has had the same tagline for a century or more: Covering Dixie like the Dew. When people think of Atlanta, they usually think of Coca-Cola, CNN, and Gone With the Wind. I worked at The Coca-Cola Company for a couple of years, where I met Kate Yandoh. We were both temp workers determined to hit Coke’s high customer service standards and become full-time permanent employers. We did. Kate is now a free-lance writer contributing to Worthwhile magazine and other national publications (www.kateyandoh.com).

Kate would have fallen out of her seat on the bus the day we entered Kisumu. Their welcome sign is an 18-foot diameter Coke bottle cap that reads, 'Welcome to Kisumu.' Every school in town has a sign next to the road and every school sign has Coca-Cola on it. Dukas are little kiosk/shack stores along the road and on corners. Coke has designed an all-metal kiosk painted totally in Coca-Cola red. They stand out amongst the dark exhaust fumes and dirty roads.

Most Cokes sold in Kenya come in glass bottles of 350 or 500 ml. When ordering a coke in a restaurant, they’ll bring it to the table then they’ll open it. The bottles can’t leave the premises since they have deposits on them. Occasionally, plastic coke bottles can be found, but normally they’re only available in glass.

The first day I was shown into my office, a sheet was tied over one window to block the sun. Printed in the pattern on the sheet/curtain was the Coca-Cola logo. It is simply everywhere, just like God. It seems like every person in Kenya is a reverend or a bishop or a nun. Prayer is a common way to start the day, or to kick off and close conferences. When discussing strategies during a meeting, someone will usually interject a parallel with a story from the bible, or they’ll make their project analogous to one of Jesus’ parables.

Devotionals each morning at 10 a.m., lead by Reverend Obondi, remind me of church gatherings from my childhood at Eureka Baptist, a tiny church set in the Piney woods of South Georgia. There are hymns to sing, prayer requests and vigorous hand-shaking afterward. Drinking a cold Coca-Cola after the devotional, when co-workers gather for tea in the common room, reminds me of home. The geographical distance is vast, but the human difference is nil.

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