A Story About Canned Soda

This text has been inspired by one James Kubasu. Just like him, I have been racking my brain for several weeks now trying to figure out what to write about. I have been searching for a ‘light bulb’ moment in vain. All this while, I have been battling with a multitude of obscure thoughts. In the recent past, the nature and form that my literary work takes is more relaxed, laid back and possessing my life experiences as a very dominant trait. I particularly make a point to use very simple English just to keep it reader friendly. Likewise, this ‘text’ will also take that form.
Now that we have the preliminaries out of the way, I will just dig my claws deep into the flesh of this heifer. If ever life is fairytale, then the end seems far in sight and completely unpredictable.
All the people who are close to me or hang around me most of the time have probably realized by now that I am not really a fan of soda or any other Coca-Cola Company product for that matter. Paradox- I drink soda every day. This is not a metaphor. I do drink soda quite a bit. I drink canned soda; Canned Fanta to be more specific. (Yes, I know it is bad for my health and I am still planning to stop). I had never really thought about why I do this until someone asked me about it today over lunch. I actually drink the same canned soda bought from the same shop at the same price every single day. In fact, when they run out, I would just rather drink water than to buy actual bottled soda or worse yet buy soda from another shop. This friend of mine found this very unlike me because I am known to be a very spontaneous person who does not easily get attached.
Earlier in the year, I had the privilege of taking a short trip to Europe. It was an amazing trip. Except for one thing, I felt so alone. I knew no one apart from my classmates, everyone was speaking a foreign language and my family was a million miles away from me. Moreover, it was so cold, I couldn’t even hold a pen in place long enough to finish a sentence in my book. It was like being thrown into the deep end of the Indian ocean after one swimming lesson. One evening, when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed by the kind of culture shock I had been exposed to, I took a walk at around 7pm. Unfortunately for me 7pm in Europe is daytime (as if the confusion in my life at that time was not already enough). To cut the long story short, I entered a supermarket to try and find a snack. This turned out to be an adventure in itself. I was so perplexed by the variety of drinks sold in Europe that I had never heard of. Some of them were just so expensive. In the midst of my confusion, my eyes stole a glance at a canned Fanta on the extreme right on the shelf. It was the last one remaining. I was so relieved to see something I knew, and at only 50 cents. Wow, that put a smile on my face. I felt a little piece of home near me
Every person just wants to feel at home, perhaps find something they identify with. Something they can run to when everything feels rocky and ambiguous. Are you that person? Do people feel safe and at home around you? Can you identify with people’s situation and have the capacity to speak hope in their lives? Don’t be the person who makes others feel sad or left out. Sometimes it takes your caring for someone to even believe in Christ.  I enjoyed the rest of my Europe experience. I have been drinking canned Fanta ever since.
Everybody needs a canned soda. Be the canned soda.

Vision Sifuma