September 2005-It was mid-afternoon on an excruciatingly scorching day in the Valley of The Kings, Egypt. I was spending a few days on a Nile cruise, and each day the boat would stop for an excursion of some sort. On this particular day our group boarded a shuttle van to view some pyramids and tour an alabaster factory. The alabaster manufacturing facility was the last cease of the day. The intense warmth of the Saharan September could solely be described as oppressive. The heat got here from above and seemed to return from under as effectively. It just bounced off the sandy Sahara with no reprieve in sight.
After a number of exhausting, albeit exhilarating, hours of improbable historical Egypt, I saw a well-recognized and great sight. Tucked away in the corner of the alabaster manufacturing facility was my previous buddy, Coca-Cola. There she was, a large, beautiful, purple Coke machine, and I wasted no time procuring myself a chilly one! I took my seat on the shuttle van, sipping my Coke, studying a travel guide and ready for fellow passengers to take their seats. As the van was about to set off for the cruise ship, I requested the driver to present me a moment to step outside to throw away my can. The driver gingerly took the can out of my hand and shook it lightly. There was just a small bit of soda in the backside of the can that by then had grown warm and relatively flat. He said, "No, do not throw it away, give it to them." With that, he gestured exterior to a group of five small Egyptian kids taking part in in the dusty warmth simply beyond the van. I stared in full shock as he opened the door and handed the can to one of the kids. I watched, horrified as they fought over the hot flat remnants of my Coke.
I am no Marie Antoinette and this was not to be a "allow them to eat cake" second. I grabbed my bag and instructed the driver that he must give me 5 minutes.
I went straight to the Coke machine and prayed there could be five cans within it. Shortly I emerged with a contemporary full can of coke for every little one. It was their turn to be stunned. Two completely different tour teams exploded in applause as five little youngsters hugged my legs, danced round me, and chanted something in Arabic. I later learned that the youngsters had been saying in Arabic that I must be very wealthy to be able to give them each their very personal drink. Practically 100 British, American, and German vacationers clapped, photographed, and even cried as I opened every child's Coke and handed it to them.
I wiped my eyes and climbed on board the van taking the very back seat so I could watch them within the distance as we drove away. What I noticed have been five dusty and joyful kids dancing about within the sand proudly turning up their Coke cans. What I felt was large wealth. Not the sort they thought I had, but the type you get from sharing a bit of something of your self to present someone else some happiness.
To be sure, an ice-cold Coca-Cola is extra special for me these days than it was.