I live in Rwanda. Here Leopold, an indigenous Rwandais, also lives here. He is a man of literacy, studied in Moscow, married a Russian woman, now works as a professor at the university and sows among local residents the reasonable, good, eternal under the guise of higher mathematics.

One day he went with his wife on holiday to Russia and there he was obscured. What we think is that we live loosely and unculturally. Even our house is not covered. Now we will dress up and live no worse than the aunt in Nalchik. And brought home full suitcases of wallpaper. Since in Rwanda wallpapers are not sold and generally unlikely to suspect this overseas wildness.

The body of the famous cat grabbed into one room wallpaper. I would add more, and it was over. Beautiful, he says, were, with impressive flowers, in colonial style. The background, of course, among all the neighbors produced a great furor. No one has seen them before. Leopold was known as a fashion designer, gentleman and squirrel. And after some time, the wallpaper broke away, as the proper skill of sticking the hero of our story did not have.

To summarize, I dare to say that what is good for the Russians, for the Rwandan, is glued away from the wall.