The African Tax
If all your neighbors’ houses are burning and nothing is done then yours will eventually burn down too.
An acquaintance introduced me to the concept of the African Tax. An invisible yet powerful tax collected on all Africans, and more so on those who thrive despite the challenges of finding success in Africa.
In reality, I can only speak to the “Nigerian Tax” since that’s where all my experience comes from. However, I’ve chosen to generalize, pardon me if this offends your sensitivities.
There are two sides to my story.
The first. I’m a young African living the American dream, well, some version of it. I graduated from a good university, got a great job, have extra money to hangout, save, plan trips, enjoy life’s pleasures and look to the future with hope and excitement.
Second. I’m a young African who was born and raised in Nigeria, the most populous black nation in the world. Nigeria — the home of some 150 million people and counting, vast unemployment, outdated educational institutions, ailing healthcare systems, no concept of social welfare, no worldview or defining vision for the future. You get the picture, the fire’s burning.
I’m slowly learning that you cannot successfully be both those people. The thing about Nigeria is, no matter how much money you have, you will know lots of people who don’t have much or any at all. And yes, you have a social obligation to help those people, or at least that’s the general belief. You see, in Nigeria there isn’t really a strong concept of “working hard to make it.” And no it isn’t because people are lazy, it’s because there are no good examples. Our societies, beliefs and frameworks aren’t built on the notion of success as a result of hard work. Instead, in Nigeria you just “blow” — meaning one suddenly comes into wealth. Typically, an individual “blows” by joining the government and “eating part of the national cake” or becoming a yahoo-yahoo type, or because you attended a religious miracle seminar and then God instantly showered you with riches, but all this is aside the point. The point is, after you blow, you inherit a responsibility to lift those around you who haven’t yet gotten their chance to blow.
Backing up a bit. No, I don’t consider myself particularly wealthy. However, I earn money in American dollars, which today translates to a quite a bit of Nigerian naira. I also like to think that I am empathetic. This empathy often manifests as a couple hundred dollars spent on this person’s outstanding rent, a few more hundreds on that person’s children's’ school fees, and yet another thousand “borrowed” for that person’s business idea to put food on their table. It’s no wonder that in 2017 alone, Nigerians in diaspora were reported to have remitted over $20 billion back home.
The African Tax takes many forms. It’s the tax system that forces wealthy Nigerians to provide electricity and water supply for their homes because our systems are too broken to do so for ordinary citizens. The same tax causes these wealthy folk to worry that they could easily meet with untimely death during a 200km road trip — because maybe the roadside kidnappers will see you driving your fancy car and think you’re a great candidate for kidnapping. Or maybe you will die because accidents are inevitable on roads as bad as Nigeria’s, and our hospitals are so ill-equipped that not even trained doctors will be able to save your life.
The African Tax is an ironic thing. In many “developed” countries, tax systems serve as one means of providing and maintaining welfare. The type that provides citizens with serviced roads, healthcare benefits and functional social welfare. In contrast, tax systems in countries like Nigeria are still very nascent. For example, in Nigeria much of the economic activity still happens in informal arenas that prevent governments from having records of commercial transactions. The result is that most people are able to escape paying any formal taxes to the government.
The unfortunate irony is that our broken systems have resulted in a more cruel form of taxation that comes at a steep price. We pay with our savings, our hope for the future, our peace of mind, or in the most extreme cases we pay with our lives. This system forces each of us to fend for ourselves and for those who are most dare to us.
Arguably, every African regardless of socio-economic status pays the African tax but let’s instead focus on those who have found some level of success.
Like most places in the world, success in Nigeria comes with perks like bigger houses, nicer cars and nice vacations, but as a Nigerian you also inherit a sense of obligation to those around you — your extended family and friends, and in reality just about anyone else. Successful people inherit the responsibility of being the de facto source of financial aid for everyone else. This obligation can be understood by recognizing that the core of many African societies is weaved from a strong sense of community. Ever heard the saying “It takes a village to raise a child?” That one clearly came from us. This focus on community well-being is one of many reasons why the African Tax stands strong.
As I understand, there are at least two reasons why the African Tax exists — community obligation and the lack of systems to ensure economic well-being. The issue of securing the economic well-being of Africans is by no means a new topic of discussion, so no need to delve into an argument in its favor. Instead, this is a message for every African in pursuit of success and prosperity…
Dear ambitious African,
You are hardwired to care about your people and your community. Do not turn a blind eye to the issues thinking that you have, or will somehow escape them when you blow because you will not. The African Tax will prevent you from saving just that bit more, investing a little more, staying at the slightly nicer hotel or sleeping peacefully knowing that you are not the only hope for the people you care deeply for. For as long as our homes are crumbling, the African Tax will continue to weigh you down no matter how far or wide you travel.
There is no saving yourself if everyone around you is drowning.