A Human Right to Love up

HARTERING THE RIGHT TO LOVE
Thanks to the United Nations (UN), and its successive
human rights legislations, men of today can take it
for granted that their lives will not necessarily be
‘nasty, brutish and short’. In addition to the
existing pool of human rights, that prestigious body
is on the verge of recognizing gay rights, the rights
of disabled persons, and the right to energy. But what
about the right to love?
Who will tell the UN that every human being should
have an inalienable right to love? Yes, the right to
get up at the behest of a pumping heart, and follow
that which the heart desires. A right enforceable
against public opinion and all parental intervention.
Our African mothers are skilled at defining for us the
geographical limits out of which our hearts must not
stray. No she can’t be that colour. No He musn’t be
from that tribe. No He can’t be from that state. Oh
definitely not! Yet our hearts are our own personal
rudders. What our hearts feel nobody can feel, no
matter how much they care. Most of the time what it
tells us are absolute  truths, so why should we not
honour it?
I haven’t seen my friend Ogechi since we were both
teenagers. Standing together underneath a pedestrian
bridge somewhere in Lagos, She told me of her
impending marriage. Her mother had decided to marry
her off as a way of protecting her. Her mother had
concluded that she was bound to be corrupted by the
influence of the teeming admirers that her pretty face
would no doubt attract. Both fresh out of secondary
school, we hadn’t even been to university. This
‘green’ girl obviously knew nothing of what marriage
would ask of her. Fifteen years down the line, I
wonder if her husband still represents for her the man
of her dreams. If he ever had. I don’t know where she
is today. Or if she is grateful to her mother for that
decision. But what I do know for sure is that Ogechi
should have had a right to say no.
The right to love encapsulates so much. It includes
the right to choose. To prefer Ade, although Kofi is
smarter, richer and cuter. Or to prefer Ade for being
smarter, richer and cuter than Kofi. To meet a
complete stranger, and find yourself inexplicably
drawn to him. To have in your life someone who
sometimes says your words aloud, in his own words. To
reach a point where being with this other person makes
all other things insignificant by comparison. The
right to love is a right to give in. It is also a
right to walk away.
The right to love also subsumes the right to speak up.
To tell our world that this is the person that  we
choose. Regardless. Sometimes we stand imprisoned by
the opinions of our friends. Sometimes ours is the
voice that shackles us. Like when my friend Uche
refused to tell her friends that she had celebrated a
traditional wedding to fat Tom. The same friends that
she had told at least seven hundred times that she
hated men with pot bellies. And then there was head
covering, extremely Moslem Bose, who fell in love with
and married a born again Christian. Just then her
world fell apart because her parents and siblings
totally cut her off.
Sometimes, our folks just don’t get it that the right
to love is a right to make our own mistakes. Every
time we choose to fall in love, we play roulette with
our hearts, and sometimes our lives as well.
Sometimes, when we are in love, we honestly think that
things are one way when they are really the other. We
make projections that are never met. We assume and
presume, only to end up shocked and discouraged. Yet
if love turns sour, we are entitled to moan, and cry.
After all it was our own mistake. It is good to learn
from other people’s mistakes, but when we do make a
mistake, it is better that it should have been as a
result of our own decision, our own judgement.
Sometimes love is honey in our lives, and sometimes it
stings harder than a ruffled hornet. But when Hip hop
star Akon sings about fighting for the right to love,
I seriously feel Him. And I wish the UN would feel him
too.