Last week, as I rode from the village to the nearby town to catch the last bus to Kigali on Friday night we passed many, many children who were excited to see “muzingos” on motos passing through their small village.
They called out to me “Good morning! Good morning!” I thought to reply back, “Good evening!” (maybe they’d pick up the difference), but they still answered me again with “Good morning!” So “Good morning!” I repeated to myself with a laugh as the sun was setting.
Whoever’s been teaching them English must only come in the morning, I figured.