This is a poem supposed to be written by a black African.

Dear white, something you gotta know,
When I was born, I was black.
When I grow up, I am black.
When I’m under the sun, I’m black.
When I’m cold, I’m black.
When I’m afraid, I’m black.
When I’m sick, I’m black.
When I die, I’m still black.

You—white people,
When you were born, you were pink.
When you grow up, you become white.
You’re red under the sun.
You’re blue when you’re cold.
You’re yellow when you’re afraid.
You’re green when you’re sick.
You’re gray when you die.
And you, call me “colored”?

അയച്ചു തന്നത്:

Dr. Shihab Ghanem
مع تحياتيشهاب غانم