MY DAUGHTER’S SHAME
💡“What if your daughter’s shame dragged your whole family before the church… and then the police came knocking the very next morning?”
MY DAUGHTER’S SHAME
(Episode 5)
Morning came, but it did not bring light.
The sun rose outside, yet our house was darker than a grave.
No one spoke. No one ate. No one moved.
Papa sat on the wooden bench in front of the house, his eyes swollen from a night without sleep. His cutlass lay beside him, untouched. Mama was kneeling on the cold cement floor, whispering prayers that sounded more like groans of a wounded animal.
Ada was curled in a corner, hugging her knees, rocking back and forth like a child. Her face was pale, her lips cracked. The weight of her shame was pressing her into the ground.
And me? I sat by the window, staring at the road, watching neighbors pass by with whispers and stolen glances. Our story had already escaped. It was now a tale on every tongue.
By mid-morning, we could hear the voices clearly.
“Have you heard? The girl is carrying her uncle’s child!”
“Abomination! They should cleanse that house before the curse spreads.”
“Eh! So it is true? And the man is his own brother? Chineke!”
Their words pierced us like arrows. Even inside our house, we were not safe from them.
Mama wept harder. “Oh Lord, I cannot bear this disgrace. Let the ground open and swallow me alive.”
Papa clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “Let them talk. Let them laugh. I will face them one by one. But that man… that brother of mine… he has not seen the end of me.”
Just before noon, a knock came at the door. It was Pastor James, the shepherd of our church. His Bible was tucked under his arm, his face grim.
Behind him, several elders followed, their eyes hard, their mouths set in judgment.
Papa stood slowly, his face unreadable. “You have heard, haven’t you?”
Pastor James sighed deeply. “The matter has spread through the village like wildfire. We could not ignore it. The people are demanding answers.”
Mama fell at his feet, clutching his legs. “Pastor, help us! Pray for us! This shame will kîll me!”
But Pastor James only looked at Ada. His eyes carried disappointment. “Daughter, is it true? Did you defile your father’s house with your uncle?”
Ada burst into tears, shaking her head violently. “No! I didn’t want it. I didn’t choose it. He forced me, Pastor! He used me when I had no strength to resist.”
The elders exchanged glances. One of them muttered, “Whether she wanted it or not, the shame is here. The curse is here.”
Pastor James lifted his hand. “Enough. This matter must be settled in the presence of the congregation. Tonight, we will hold a special meeting. Your family must appear.”
After they left, Papa roared, slamming his fist on the table. “They want to drag us before the whole church like criminals? They want to make a public spectacle of us?”
Mama wept. “What choice do we have? If we don’t go, they will say we are guilty. They will say we are hiding.”
Papa turned to Ada, his eyes blazing. “Do you see what you have done? You have destroyed my name. You have turned me into a laughingstock.”
Ada crawled to his feet, sobbing. “Papa, I swear I didn’t want this. I swear I didn’t ask for it. Please, forgive me. Please don’t throw me away.”
Papa’s lips trembled. His hands shook. He raised his arm as if to strike her but stopped halfway. Instead, he turned and stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing like thunder.
That night, the church was filled to the brim. The benches overflowed. Men, women, children—all had come to witness our disgrace.
We walked in slowly, like prisoners on trial. Mama’s head was covered with two scarves, her eyes red. Papa’s face was stone. Ada held onto my arm, trembling so badly I thought she would fall.
Whispers followed us as we took our seats at the front.
“See them. The cursed family.”
“That girl has destroyed her bloodline.”
“Let us hear what excuse they will give.”
Pastor James stood at the pulpit, his Bible open. His voice boomed. “We are gathered here tonight to address a matter of abomination. A matter that threatens the very foundation of this community. A daughter pregnant by her own uncle.”
Gasps filled the air. Murmurs spread like ripples on water.
Pastor James raised his hand. “Let there be silence. Let the family speak.”
All eyes turned to Ada. She shook like a leaf in harmattan wind. Her lips quivered.
Pastor James urged, “Speak, child. This is your chance to confess before God and man.”
Ada’s voice was barely a whisper. “It is true… but not the way they say. He forced me. He threatened me. I was afraid.”
The congregation erupted. Some shouted, “Lies!” Others cried, “Have mercy!”
Pastor James pounded the pulpit. “Silence!”
Ada sobbed louder. “I didn’t want it. I didn’t plan it. I am ashamed. I am broken. Please, forgive me.”
Just then, a voice rang out from the doorway.
“She is lying!”
We all turned. It was him—our uncle—walking boldly into the church, his shirt neatly pressed, his eyes full of arrogance.
Gasps filled the air. Pastor James frowned. “You dare enter here?”
The uncle spread his arms. “Why not? I have come to tell the truth. They are trying to paint me as a monster, but no one is asking what really happened.”
Papa shot to his feet, rage shaking his body. “You dare show your face again? I will kill you with my bare hands!”
The elders restrained him. The congregation was in chaos.
The uncle raised his voice. “She wanted me! She came to me willingly. Now she wants to play victim because she cannot face the shame.”
Ada screamed, falling to the floor. “Liar! You are a liar!”
Pastor James lifted his Bible high. His voice thundered over the chaos.
“Enough! This matter is no longer between man and man. It is between man and God. The sin is abomination. The shame is heavy. But God is still merciful.”
He pointed at Ada. “Daughter, whether by force or by consent, the deed is done. The child in your womb is innocent, but the stain of sin must be cleansed.”
He turned to Papa. “Father, you must decide: will you keep her under your roof and bear the shame, or will you cast her out to save your name?”
The church fell silent. All eyes were on Papa. His chest heaved. His lips quivered. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed.
Ada crawled to him, clutching his legs. “Papa, please… don’t throw me away. I am still your daughter.”
The silence stretched. The air grew thick.
Then Papa spoke, his voice breaking. “I will not cast her out. She is my daughter. Let the whole world mock me. I will bear the shame.”
Gasps filled the church. Some clapped. Some shook their heads. Mama wept loudly, covering her face. Ada collapsed into Papa’s arms, sobbing.
That night, we returned home broken but together.
The uncle had fled, chased away by the elders. The neighbors still whispered, but something had shifted. Some now pitied us. Others still condemned us.
Papa sat in silence, his hand resting on Ada’s shoulder. Mama prayed softly, tears running down her face.
And me? I watched them all, my heart torn. I knew this was not the end. This was only the beginning of a battle that would test us beyond what we thought possible.
Because shame is like smoke—it never hides for long. And the fire that started in our house was about to spread even further.
Just before dawn, as silence covered the house, a knock came at the door.
Slow. Heavy. Relentless.
Papa rose cautiously. “Who is there?”
A voice answered, cold and sharp.
“It is the police. We are here for your daughter, Ada.”
The room spun. Mama screamed. Ada froze, clutching her stomach.
The shame we thought we had survived was only the beginning of a deeper storm.
🔥 To Be Continued…
💬 “If you were the father, would you protect your daughter against the world—or hand her over to save your name?”
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