Black Tax in times of Austerity

A rural farmer once visited his banker brother in the city. The man had heard about his younger brother’s new house and wanted to see for himself. He also had another agenda. With mouth agape, he marvelled at the beautifully crafted POP ceilings, mighty chandeliers and expensive looking leather furniture. His feet sank deep into the […]

A rural farmer once visited his banker brother in the city. The man had heard about his younger brother’s new house and wanted to see for himself. He also had another agenda.

With mouth agape, he marvelled at the beautifully crafted POP ceilings, mighty chandeliers and expensive looking leather furniture. His feet sank deep into the lush Turkish carpets, and for an instant, he wandered if it was possible for the rug to fit into his ghana-must-go traveling bag. No one would miss it, he was sure. There was plenty more where it came from.

The brothers greeted each other, and the older farmer started by thanking the younger brother for his generosity. Their parents were well taken care of. Their sister’s new hairdressing saloon. His children’s school fees. Had he heard about his wife’s illness? She was diagnosed with something called ‘goitre’. She would require money for the surgery. Additionally, the sickness had made her fat and gloomy and averse towards her wifely duties. Was it possible that his brother could sponsor his marriage to a second wife? That should not be a big deal considering all he (the banker) had spent on his new house. Remember Umar? My second son? -yes! he sends his regards. He also wants you to send him to Malaysia for his master’s degree. That is where your son is, ko? Yauwa, they will be together and keep an eye on each other. These children! But please, don’t forget the issue of my marriage. You know it is not healthy for a man to stay without a wife, abi? Yauwa!

The banker tells his brother that he does not have money to give him. While they are talking, lamb pepper soup is served. The farmer looks at the huge meat parts and argues with his banker brother. How can he say that he does not have money, when just this morning, a ram was slaughtered in the house?

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The banker looks his older brother dead in the eye and replies: ‘I did not say I do not have money. I said I do not have money to give you to add another wife.’

The farmer leaves the next day. But not without begging his brother’s wife for the carpet in the living room. The banker gives him transport fare, bids him farewell and from then on, stops picking his calls.

Growing up, many Nigerians witnessed their parents helping out their relatives. Whether it was their grand-parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins and even far-fetched relatives whose relationship was so weak, it could be described as simply sharing a compound with his father’s brother’s uncle.

We grew up watching these financial exchanges of one person renovating the family home, caring for parents, paying school fess for siblings and later their children, supporting a n’er do well brother who has refused to get a job and has become a nuisance to the family or a sister whose husband has refused to take responsibility for his children.

Every African knows these stories. It’s called ‘black tax’.

The Black tax, a term that originated in South Africa, is the financial responsibility placed on family members who experience upward mobility to help out their less fortunate relatives. The successful person is often the first in a poor family to graduate from college or attain a high-paying job. A deep-seated sense of responsibility towards familial obligations often drives this financial assistance.

This type of tax refers to the financial burden borne by Black people who have achieved a level of success and who provide support to less financially secure family members. These monetary transfers are generally made between middle-class and well-to-do Black people and relatives who are struggling to make ends meet.

In the actual sense, black tax was supposed to be a positive thing, initially meant to propel African families out of poverty. However, most Africans would argue that it has become a burden weighing on their happiness and livelihood.

As we grow older, most of us will inherit the black tax of our parents. However, it is becoming clearer everyday, due to hyperinflation and the unstable economy that we may not have the financial, mental and physical capacity to live up to our parents’ burden.

The calls for rent, school fees, a wife in labour, a child in hospital, marriage rites and capital for a business start-up are responsibilities that this generation can simply not bear.

Hear me out.

In a recent interview, John Mikel Obi, the former captain of the Nigerian Super Eagles, discussed various aspects of his football career, comprising his time at Chelsea, a thwarted transfer to Manchester United, and his experiences playing for the Nigerian senior national team. Mikel’s discourse on the “black tax” phenomenon resonated deeply with a cross-section of the Nigerian middle class and has ignited a debate.

Mikel Obi discussed the challenges associated with the black tax, highlighting the burden of finding the balance between pursuing personal ambitions and satisfying financial demands that often come with a disturbing sense of entitlement. He describes instances where extended family members, who are previously unknown, often leverage familial connections for personal gain and selfish interests and even threaten the ‘payer’ when such tries to deny those requests. He explained how some relatives feel their lives are sorted because of their affiliation with him, highlighting how some of them with large families implicitly designate him as the caretaker for their offspring.

There are many reasons why this generation cannot continue with these financial obligations.

First of all, in these times of poverty, it is cruel to assume that other people should shoulder your responsibility. Worldwide, people are complaining of the financial crisis and therefore it would be foolhardy to think that somebody else will shoulder your responsibility. High cost of school fees? Change schools. Rent? Change house. Marriage, shelve the idea. Hospital bills? Invest in your state contributory health insurance scheme. It caters to both civil servants and unskilled workers.

Secondly, while black tax is seemingly beneficial to those who are struggling, it puts a tremendous amount of pressure on the individual to not only maintain their status financially, but to grow it with very few resources which can increase financial stress or financial anxiety. A typical example is the story of the man in Kogi who erroneously received money in his account. Instead of seeking an explanation from the bank, the guy went ahead to start raining money on his relatives to the point of paying for lesser Hajj for them.

The pressure to do more for relatives is a contributing factor to fraud. Because like one politician confessed- ‘How can I help all my relatives with only my salary? These are people who look up to me. How will they believe me when I tell them I don’t have the resources?’

The ‘Black Tax’ can be particularly overwhelming when you add in financial trauma to the mix. A high income doesn’t necessarily equate to a strong understanding of money management or financial psychology. The pressure to demonstrate wealth, hide wealth, or simply give it all away can lead those who have achieved a level of financial success down a path to financial ruin. This not only has an impact on the individual but on dependants and future generations through the disruption of intergenerational wealth transfer, contributing to an already wide wealth gap. Back to square one.

Truth is that the days of paying heavy black tax are over. That wicked brother is not going to shortchange himself for you. It is time to wake up and smell the coffee, at N1,600 to $1, nobody has it easy.

The boys are not smiling.