Coffee With The Bill I Never Signed For
Coffee With The Bill I Never Signed For – Becoming The Muse
If you were having coffee with me, I would be glad to have you visit. We have passed the Winter Solstice and it is officially winter warm yourself by the fire, feel at home, no obligations necessary.
Speaking of obligations
Have you ever gone out with a group of friends and felt that quiet pull when the bill arrives? You were invited, technically you are a guest, and yet something in you says you cannot simply sit there while others pay. Maybe you are aware of some financial reality. Maybe its pride, yours or theirs. Some people take great offence at a guest who tries to settle the bill while others take quiet advantage of one who always does.
If you were having coffee with me, I would tell you that culturally, our values have always been communal. We rise by lifting others. The success or good fortune of one person becomes the bridge that allows others to cross, and they in turn lift someone else, and so the circle turns and pays itself forward. It is not quite generational wealth, but it is something we have or had.
I have been a beneficiary of these shared values. I have watched kin come through for each other in moments of genuine need, and I carry a deep appreciation for the truth in that saying often attributed as an African proverb even though its origins are, shall we say, conveniently vague:
If you want to go fast, go alone. But if you want to go far, go together.
If you were having coffee with me, I would also tell you the part of the story that sits less comfortably. Because this arrangement, beautiful as it is in principle, can place a crushing weight on your success. Suddenly, you are not just carrying your own ambitions, you are carrying everyone’s hopes and dreams, everyone’s school fees, everyone’s medical emergencies.
How can you enjoy a spa day when someone at home does not have school examination fees. How do you choose yourself… without feeling like you have abandoned others?
And of course, there are those who abuse this unspoken contract. Those who take and take and take for granted. Perhaps it is because of such realities that this communal obligation has earned a name with a bitter taste:
Black Tax.
Because who, after all, willingly pays tax?
The moment we call it a “tax,” it begins to feel like something extracted rather than something given. A hand reaching into your pocket uninvited, someone skimming off the top of your sweat, your effort.
A little like how systems work, don’t they?
It makes me think of how our government, through ZIMRA, imposed a requirement that all online content creators and influencers declare their digital earnings YouTube, TikTok, Facebook, brand sponsorships, digital gigs, all of it. Someone noticed that money was being made and they were not getting their cut.
Tax.
Never mind that this same government has not established a single meaningful policy or framework to support creatives, no ease of doing business, no digital economy infrastructure, no creative industry protections. But the moment the coins start moving? They arrive with a clipboard, reaping where they did not sow.
If you were having coffee with me, I would tell you about Constitution Amendment Bill Number 3, which parliament recently passed. Among several changes, it effectively extends the President’s term to 2030 without the need for another election. The reasoning offered is that the President has been performing well, projects are still underway, and it is therefore the people’s wish that he simply… continue.
Now. How is that for black tax?
Because the President has done well we are obliged to let him stay. Gratitude as governance. What next? What if we decide he is the best perfoming president we have ever had would we be obliged to make him a life president?
It is a reflection of how the ruling party has held power all these years. They liberated this country from colonial oppression. How can you possibly vote for anyone else? And just like that, a historical debt becomes a political instrument, the past holds the future hostage and gratitude politicised.
If you are having coffee with me I would tell you that people tend to speak negatively of Black Tax because the meaning has been stretched and corrupted systemic collapse of the economy has not helped matters at all.
There was a time when you only needed to support someone through school and you knew they were set. A degree meant something concrete. But now university just spills out dependants who can barely afford to survive, no formal employment, no medical aid, no funeral policy, no insurance, and just one emergency away from the edge.
The communal system was designed, with the assumption that the person being lifted would eventually stand on their own and lift someone else. That circuit has been broken. And in the gap left behind, the tax just keeps accumulating on the same few people, in the same few families always the bridge but never arriving.
Grandparents who should be in retirement playing with grandkids find themselves needing to pull their weight. The hand held up to help became the hand thats never let go…
~B
WinterABC26 Black Tax
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