I HAVE LOST ALL MY DOGS (The Tax Collectors)

True Story by Becko Blues 

 It was in 1998 when I and my best ‘dog’ (friend) Mike sort of waltzed into the small town of Victoria falls amid much pomp and fanfare. Yes, in our teenage lingo we referred to each other as ‘Dog’.  We were coming from the big city of Bulawayo, having recently finished our high school education. As often is the case, when the big city boys arrive in a small town they immediately stand out, (or they would like to believe so) meaning they are different and easily noticeable from the local ones, notwithstanding the fact that me and Mike were already the sort of boys that stood out even in the big city where we came from. I must add that this was our first instance being out on our own – away from the parents’ ‘suffocating’ control. So, we were quite enjoying our new found ‘freedom’.

I now believe that it is really true when they say opposites attract, because, although me and Mike were best friends, we were nothing alike. Mike was the attention hog, the type of dude who never would pass a moment or wait for the moment to be seen or heard, and at times would go to embarrassing lengths to get that attention. On the other hand, I was and still am the shy type, I always and still do my utmost best to stay out of the spotlight. I don’t do well under the spotlight and at any given moment, I try to avoid it. But somehow, life has always dealt me a lousy hand as I have more than often found myself being the unwilling subject of attention, mostly due to association.

 I remember when Mike came to my place one evening with his latest ‘girlfriend’, whom he introduced as Sharon, and Sharon’s female friend Senziwe. I can say they were about 15 or 16 years old, judging by their looks.  It was 8:30pm and I was watching TV alone, having escorted my girlfriend home, Patricia was her name. Mike winked at me and I already knew what that wink meant. It was a code meaning that this Sharon was not his regular girlfriend, was just a ‘Taxpayer’ as we called them, and was just here at my place to ‘pay the tax’.

The Tax Collectors.

You see, Mike was a flamboyant womanizer and although he was employed, he had no fixed abode. He dated wealthy older women and stayed with them at their places until he moved in with the next poor thing in a skirt that had the misfortune of capturing his attention. He had such a sweet tongue that when he finished talking to his ‘victims’ they would firmly believe that they were most fortunate to have him in their ‘miserable’ dwellings.

 And then there was the Tax Collection. This was the act of sleeping with as many girls as one can every day.  Often, Mike would arrive at my place with two girls. One, his latest conquest, and the other one, - a friend of the conquest who more often than not believed that she was just escorting a friend to their boyfriend’s place for a couple of drinks.

This Tax Collection was common occurrence, something Mike made popular in that small town, and indulged in quite often. And by now I was already used to playing host to this sordid escapade. We, in the midst of that madness, styled ourselves the “Tax-Collectors” and, unbeknown to them, the girls we slept with were styled the “Tax-Payers”. Then other boys joined in too. Steven, Jimmy, Isaac, Ronald, Sipho, Danile, Qhubekani and many others. And I cannot claim that I didn’t like it too, because each time Mike or the other boys brought in a new Taxpayer, (It always took place at my place) they made sure there was always a friend of the taxpayer who tagged along. And whilst I would not go out of my way to find another girl and thereby cheat on Patricia, I really, really could not say no when Mike did his wink, the one that meant ‘hey buddie, look! I got takeaway and I brought one for you too!

 So, usually Mike would get the ball rolling, ‘collecting tax’ on the couch while I and the taxpayer’s friend watched. And, without fail, this always culminated in me getting aroused and the tax payer’s friend too. Therefore, it always followed that without a single word uttered, me and the taxpayer’s friend found ourselves doing our own tax transaction on my bed – all night long.

 Needless to say, it was mostly unprotected sex and today I stand here, having survived not by virtue of being clever than others but through the grace of the Lord Almighty. Now I am writing this story with a heavy heart because I lost my ‘dog’ Mike and others as well. They all succumbed to the deadly HIV/AIDS and not a day passes by without me thinking about how I could have stopped the whole madness before it got out of hand. You may want to judge me or criticize me in the manner in which I conducted myself during my teenage years, but please understand that I am only publishing this as I deeply feel that my trials and tribulations, and misdemeanours to a large extent, may be of help to those who are currently going through the teenage phase of their lives, so that they may be warned, and hence know about the pitfalls of what they may think they know whereas if truth be told, they actually know not.