The Tribune

There is a monster living among us. It does not hide in dark alleys or wear a stranger’s face. It sits at family tables. It attends church services. It is welcomed into homes. It is called “uncle,” “father,” “stepfather,” “brother,” “cousin,” “family friend,” “neighbour,” and sometimes even “protector.”

And for generations, society has looked away.

The sexual abuse of children, particularly young girls, remains one of the greatest moral failures of our time. It is not merely a crime of the body. It is often the assassination of innocence, trust, identity, and emotional security. The child survives physically, but many carry invisible wounds for decades. Some never fully recover.

Yet these crimes are still not treated with the seriousness they deserve.

Too many children are introduced to sex long before their minds, bodies, and emotions are capable of understanding what is happening. Their innocence is stolen before they can even define the word. Their bodies are violated before they understand ownership of self. Their spirits are wounded before they know how to speak.

And then society asks why they struggle.

Why do they become withdrawn? Why do they self-destruct? Why do they battle depression, addiction, trust issues, self-harm, anxiety, or unstable relationships?

Because trauma leaves fingerprints.

The tragedy is that these children are often harmed by people they trust. In many cases, it is not strangers. It is someone living under the same roof. Someone who brings groceries home. Someone the family depends upon financially.

This is where the silence begins.

How many mothers have suspected something but remained quiet because exposing the perpetrator would mean losing household income? How many relatives knew and chose family reputation over a child’s safety? How many neighbours heard rumours but decided it was “not their business”?

Silence becomes complicity.

Those who cover up these crimes are not innocent bystanders. Every lie told to protect an abuser extends the suffering. Every excuse becomes another wound. Every decision to preserve appearances over protection enables another victim.

And we must confront an uncomfortable truth: in many communities, this behaviour has become normalised.

Some mothers experienced the same abuse as children and never received help. Their pain became buried beneath survival. The trauma was inherited, not healed. The cycle repeated itself.

But generational trauma cannot become generational permission.

The cycle must end somewhere. The law also has questions to answer.

Why are repeat offenders still finding opportunities to reoffend? Why are predators not being monitored more aggressively? Why do some cases take years while victims wait for justice? Why are sentences still viewed by many as insufficient compared to the lifelong damage inflicted?

When a child’s innocence is stolen, the consequences can last a lifetime. The emotional death that follows is real. Confidence dies. Trust dies. Safety dies.

These crimes deserve the highest social outrage.

Anyone engaging sexually with children should face severe consequences. Repeat offenders who continually prey upon children demonstrate dangerous patterns that society cannot ignore. Protection of children must come before protecting predators.

But punishment alone is not enough.

We have failed victims repeatedly because we focus only on prosecution and forget healing.

Every child survivor should immediately receive access to trauma-informed counselling, psychological support, safe housing where necessary, educational protection, and long-term therapy. Healing cannot be a six-week programme. Trauma does not keep a schedule.

The state must invest heavily in child recovery centres staffed with psychologists, social workers, therapists, and advocates trained specifically in childhood sexual trauma.

Schools must become safe spaces capable of identifying warning signs.

Teachers need training. Counsellors need resources.

Children must be taught body autonomy, boundaries, and how to report abuse safely.

The village must return.

Too often, victims are isolated while perpetrators remain integrated within the community. That is backwards.

Communities should surround victims with support, not suspicion. We must stop asking, “Are you sure?” and start asking, “How can we help?”

Self-esteem rebuilding programmes, mentorship initiatives, survivor networks, family therapy, educational assistance, and community care systems should become national priorities.

Love matters in recovery. Belief matters. Protection matters.

And then there is the church. The church cannot be absent from this conversation.

Too often, institutions know more than they admit. Too often, forgiveness is demanded before accountability. Too often, protecting the institution's image takes precedence over protecting the child.

Silence from the pulpit is not neutrality. It is abandonment. Faith communities should become leaders in child protection, mandatory reporting, victim support, and prevention education. The sanctuary should be the safest place for the vulnerable, not the safest for predators.

The scriptures repeatedly speak of protecting children and defending the vulnerable. Those words cannot remain ceremonial. They must become action. We also must ask ourselves difficult questions as neighbours.

We know what happens next door. We hear the cries. We notice behavioural changes. We see the fear. Why do we remain silent? Why are we not our brother’s keeper? Perhaps because we fear involvement. Perhaps because we fear retaliation. Perhaps because we know it could happen inside our own families.

But fear cannot outweigh responsibility. Every ignored warning sign risks another child. Every silent witness risks another lifetime of suffering.

This issue requires a national response. Government. Churches. Schools. Communities. Families. Mental health professionals. Law enforcement. Everyone. Because these children did not ask for this burden. They should not carry it alone.

The measure of a society is not how it treats the powerful. It is how it protects the vulnerable.

Right now, too many children are carrying wounds in silence while adults argue, deny, minimise, and protect reputations. Enough. The child must matter more than the family name. More than the breadwinner. More than public image. More than shame. More than silence.

The greatest scandal is not only that these crimes happen. It is what we have learned to live beside them.

And until we refuse to tolerate the silence, the monster remains fed.