I think I heard the term black tax from my students and comrades Lannie and Romario on our two weeks’ long trip around Namibia for almost a year ago.

My early and, thus, superficial interpretation of black tax, back then was that of restriction and limit, even a burden.

Young black people have to graduate soon and get regular income to start making money that they need to give to others, also outside their core family.   

Since then, I have learned, understood and experienced the importance of and belongingness to the extended family for these young, talented millennials, with a caring soul.

They belong to the generation that is looking forward to making Africa the next superpower, as Lannie phrases his vision.

And in their vision, as how I have learned to understand it, black tax has twin faces, almost as Janus, the Roman god of beginnings, transitions and ends, had.

Millennials, coping with the vague expectations of our era, dearly love their families, respect their roots, and would do anything they can to ensure an increasingly good life to their closest ones.

At the same time, they are anxious of the future – what will the life, outside their family, context and culture, demand from them? What should they achieve, learn and master to become real change makers?

Are we for the back tax, or is the black tax for us?

***

From this background, it was revealing to read a book on black tax, compiled by Niq Mhlongo.

The editor has managed to find a set of authors that have written their personal and touching stories of how black tax has been both burden and ubuntu of their own lives, and that of their family members.

I have to confess that the reading took a long time for me. I could not but empathize in the real life narratives of the authors.

Most seriously, I was thinking of the future of the young people I am living with, and that of their loving families.

While these millennials are building the foundations for the next steps in their lives, will they afford to have energy, courage and patience to prepare themselves with the time and care demanded?

Will they remember to love themselves as they do their nearest ones?

Will they have ears open enough to hear how their families wish them the best for their lives, and how they have set them free?

Will they take their time to research, develop and innovate their own lives – so that their dreams will come true?

***

My mother just turned ninety, and is, hence, certainly not a millennial.

At her birthday party, last July, his little – yes – brother thanked her for reaching out to him during the years of his study.

I wonder if this was an instance of the collective family responsibility (a term suggested by Mzuvukile Maqetuka for rephrasing black tax) that Finnish families were practicing during the post war years?

Or the many examples of my father’s family – he grew up in poverty at a small farm in North Karelia, born in 1929 – when they exercised the interdependence of one another, by sharing but also following up or even controlling each other.

Many stories since my early childhood resembled those told in the Black Tax book.

***

Finland recovered by mutual responsibility within families, and beyond those, within the society. So will Africa.

And that requires that we all stand by the millennials, the future of not just Africa, but our common globe.