Word is out that I’m learning Rufumbira. Twice yesterday someone greeted me using the local language. The first was Peace, the lady who owns the shop where I buy tomatoes; I noticed a sly smile on her face as she did it.
The second was a group of teenage girls. We were walking the same direction on the road from my house to the hospital, on opposite sides of the street. “Warai?” one of them called. I knew what was coming. I called back “E’go” and they erupted into peals laughter.
They laughed so loud I saw a goat lift its head.
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