Is black tax an obligation or honour?

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When you live in the West, there's always that moment that comes in neon, to remind you that you are not home. Forget that you are in the colour minority or even language. It is not when you constantly convert the local currency to Kenya shillings and cringe at how much you are paying for stuff - that, you expect. It is what you do not expect that gets you. Culture shock can, of course, happen when you move to a different part of the continent, or country, but it is more dramatic away from the beloved Dark Continent.

Mine happened when I learned that something we so naturally do at home has a name, and is often a very heated topic; black tax. My white friend and I often went shopping, more like window shopping, on London's Bond Street. Bond Street is where the wealthy spend their money on overpriced stuff. Bond Street is where poor people go 'celebrity spotting', or walk from shop to shop, looking for free samples of makeup and perfume. I was not wealthy, and neither was my white friend, but we so loved to touch stuff that wealthy people had touched.