Is there sun in America? (Scott's)

On the day after Christmas I was working in the bean field of a Methodist missionary named Paul.  He was trying to promote the use of a hand-operated plow made from an upside down bicycle frame with one wheel and a digging blade attached to where the seat would normally be.  Rural villagers typically use a hoe to weed their crops and pile ridges of soil where the seeds were to be planted or where seedlings were growing to keep them from washing away.  I wanted to use them to see if this type of appropriate technology could be applied in our village, so I volunteered to weed part of his field to see for myself how the bicycle-plow worked. 
As I worked alongside some of the Zambian boys operating these plows I could tell they were talking about me.  I couldn't understand all they were saying as they were trying to be discreet so I asked them if they had any questions for me.  They said yes and proceeded with a long-winded question.  In my typical style of answering with other questions to clarify what they said, I found out they were asking if the sun shined in America.  This was an interesting question that I don't typically get.  Usually people want to know how long it takes to get to Zambia from America or want to know what we eat in America.  They can't believe that we don't eat cassava porridge for 2 out of 3 meals a day.   So, I was eager to explain that the sun did shine everywhere in America, but differed depending on the part of America one was in.  I could tell from their expression that they understood what I was saying but I was not really answering the underlying question they were asking.  Then I recalled how on many different occasions when I am not wearing my Teva sandles, but instead my thin flip flops that show off the deep contrasting tan line of where my Tevas usually rest, how Zambian's of all ages will notice the difference in skin tone between the tanned and untanned skin of the top of my foot.  So in my best Lunda I asked them if they were asking if the sun shined in America because it seemed to them that my light skin was not used to the sun in Zambia.  They shook their heads enthusiastically and we all had a good laugh.  I thought about going into an explanation of how different races of humans developed in different areas of the world, and what happens when those people go to other parts of the world, and how the atmosphere of the earth has changed in the relatively recent past sufficiently enough that lighter skinned people are more easily burned by the sun's rays, but I refrained.  We went along working for the rest of the hour before it started pouring rain, sending us inside for the day and remembering our mutual laugh about our obvious differences.