What Are We Made of by Gonsalves Mpili and ISAAC SANGA

I was pushed out of my mother’s womb,

In a mannerly way,

I won’t wear my trouser under my butts,

I’m made of pure black.

 

This rare confutation,

Takes me beyond space,

Where I think powder will make me lightskin,

My blackness is peculiar, even my blood is black,

Why take the blackness out me for whiteness.

 

We sang all these songs,

London bridge is falling,

Even before we knew of Dodoma,

Then why are you suprised to the songs?

 

You said it wasn’t Christmas till it snows,

And we didn’t celebrate even a season,

Still I ask,

Why are you suprised?

 

And we went to Lusaka,

You claimed for fried potatoes,

You were upset with name,

You thought  of broccoli,

To correct myself I aired out french fries,

Why are you still suprised?

 

Let it be clear,

If you are bothered,

Buy a thesaurus,

It will help you with synonyms.

 

Who we are doesn’t matter,

Keep on being suprised,

I’ll continue being black,

Keep on with being white.

 

You can’t change me,

I  was raised blackish,

You are always welcomed ,

To be black,

Don’t be suprised,

When you are sprinkled to become inky.

 

Acknowledge the naked truth,

We are just different,

Customs are shoes,

And the shoes we are wearing,

Are at odds,

My feet won’t fit into the size of your shoes.

I won’t ask questions anymore.

Full stop.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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