You Have Rights and Sometimes Consequences

Namibia loves rights, right? Especially the right to talk. We eat them like vetkoek at a funeral.

But here’s the spicy part nobody tells you when they’re preaching freedom of speech: The right is guaranteed, but what happens after that is your own doing.

My guy, just because you have the right to speak doesn’t mean I must have the patience to listen or the restraint to control the foot headed to your backside. And now, I guess it is your right to conclude that we are promoting violence here too. Right?

In fact, there’s even a Namibian saying: “You have the right to speak, but I don’t have the right to listen or to do anything about it.” That saying should be printed on T-shirts and handed out to the public in places where people like to test the limits of patience and tolerance.

Let’s be real. Freedom of speech sounds sexy until you find yourself in the wrong WhatsApp group dropping “unpopular opinions”. You’ll get muted faster than a cousin who keeps borrowing money at funerals. And then you discover that what you call “free expression” is actually “social suicide”.

Here’s a very short story. A guy at Mariental decided he was going to express his God-given right to shout his political views at a bar where everyone else supported another party. He opened his mouth, dropped a few slogans, and next thing you know, he was flying out of the shebeen door without wings. Was it legal for him to speak? Yes. Was it wise? That’s another story. That night, even the Constitution refused to share a taxi with him.

Too often, we act as if rights are like a lucky draw ticket: once you have it, everyone else must clap hands for you. No, baba. Rights are more like Kilpdrift brandy. If you drink too much, you’ll regret it in the morning, and the consequences are entirely yours.

Think about it. Sam has the right to say whatever he feels like, but Sam must also exercise the right to run for dear life when Mathias decides to fight. Right?

You have the right to post whatever you want on Facebook. But then the cousins you haven’t seen since 2009 come crawling out of the woodwork to fight in your comment section. And once the fight starts, you’re no longer in charge.

You’re just a spectator at your own funeral. Suddenly, that sweet freedom of expression feels like the bitter taste of Oros mixed with vinegar.

And these days it is all about who has a lawyer to sue the hell out of your Nampost savings account.

Let’s not even talk about freedom of movement. Yes, you can walk wherever you like. But if you stroll through the cattle kraal at midnight “exercising your rights”, don’t be surprised when a bull decides to teach you a quick lesson in physics.

You’ll wake up in the hospital hearing the nurses whisper, “Shame, this one was doing constitutional law revision with livestock.”

I’m not saying we must stop exercising our rights. No, baba. Without rights, we’d still be living under apartheid, where even your shadow had to apply for a ‘dom pass’. What I’m saying is that rights come with responsibility. They are like a plate of kapana. You can eat it with your fingers, but you shouldn’t touch your eyes while eating the spicy bits.
So next time you open your mouth, tweet your mind, march in the street, or blast your radio at 05h00, remember this: the Constitution gives you rights, but society gives you consequences.

Still, despite the chaos, we must hold on to the hope that Namibians can learn to respect each other’s rights. That way, you can speak and I can listen, you can march and I can drive past safely, you can dance and I can sleep. Until then, use your rights responsibly. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when they come back to bite you in the backside. And trust me, the Constitution doesn’t provide painkillers.

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