Why don't white people have white ashes?

As a dutiful Catholic who happens to be teaching at a Catholic nursing college, where classes are scheduled around Ash Wednesday, I attended the service... along with 320 gradeschool children. I was somehow ushered into the side chapel, and found myself to be the only adult, as well as the only white person in the congregation. The usual things amused the surrounding children: the hair on my arms, playing "here is the church, here is the steeple", yes- I'm as white as cassava, yes, I can hear you when you speak Runyankore, no, I don't have money, sure you can come to America, etc, etc- all while the preists droned on about preparing ourselves for this Lenten season. Then came time for the receiving of the ashes- and a mad dash to the altar ensued, as if the ashes would run out. I get pushed and prodded, but end up being at the back of the line. As the marked children return, I strain, and can barely notice the black ashes on their equally black forheads. My turn finally arrives, and the preist scoops a generous amount of ashes and crosses my forehead- all of which is very familiar. What I wasn't prepared for was turning to face the congregation, and having the entire community burst into laughter at the contrast of the ashes on my forehead. To ashes we shall return..... after a few good laughs.