CHILD MOLESTATION: WAY OUT- Emmanuel Ferdinand
A child should be able to run into an adult’s arms without fear. To believe that the person opening the door, sitting beside them or calling them by name means no harm. But sometimes, that trust given to their guardian is broken. A child may notice that something feels wrong but remain silent. Why? Because the consequences of speaking out frighten them. For some, the person they fear is someone they were taught to trust. And when that happens, home, family or another familiar place can suddenly stop feeling safe.
To begin, child molestation is not only about what happens to a child’s body. It is also about the exploitation of innocence, trust and vulnerability. It can involve inappropriate sexual touching, forcing or persuading a child to engage in sexual activity, exposing them to sexual acts or materials, grooming or other forms of sexual exploitation. A child cannot meaningfully consent to sexual activity with an adult. In Nigeria, the problem is widespread. UNICEF reports that one in four girls and one in ten boys experience sexual violence before the age of 18. To understand why this continues, we have to look beyond the act itself and ask a difficult question: what happens when the person a child depends on for protection becomes the source of their fear?
One of the most troubling aspects of child molestation is that the person responsible is not always a stranger, but someone the child already knows and trusts. Children are taught to respect adults, greet relatives, trust neighbours and listen to teachers. That trust is necessary for a child to grow, but it can also be exploited. The perpetrator may be a relative, neighbour, family acquaintance, domestic worker or someone else who has gained access to the child’s life. Children may also remain silent because of fear, shame, stigma or uncertainty about where to seek help. This is why parents and guardians must listen when a child says something feels wrong. It may not always mean abuse, but it should never be dismissed without care. The recent case of 36-year-old Anulika Onyeanusia, also identified in some reports as Anulika Nwokike, brings this danger closer to home. She was arrested in Onitsha on September 10, 2026, after the Anambra State Police Command alleged that she had sexually exploited and abused her minor daughter during online livestream videos. The case is disturbing because the person accused was not a stranger to the child, but her own mother, the very person expected to protect her. For some children, the saddest part is that the person they trust most can also be the person who hurts them.
This vulnerability becomes even more complicated when poverty enters the picture. Poverty does not cause sexual abuse, and it would be unfair to suggest that poor families are responsible for crimes committed against their children. But it can place children in situations where their exposure to exploitation increases. Across Nigeria, children are involved in different forms of labour, including street hawking, domestic work and other economic activities. UNICEF reports that 31 per cent of children aged five to 17 were engaged in child labour, with the figure considerably higher among children from poorer households. A child who spends long hours away from home, moves between unfamiliar environments or depends financially on an adult may have fewer opportunities to escape an unsafe situation. Domestic work can create another case of vulnerability when a child lives in a household where they have little power and limited access to people outside that environment. To me, this is why child protection cannot be separated completely from the conditions in which children live. A family struggling to survive should not have to choose between feeding a child and keeping that child safe.
The story of Ochanya Ogbanje shows how dangerous that vulnerability can become when a child is placed in the care of people who are supposed to protect her. Ochanya was a 13-year-old girl from Benue State who was sent to live with relatives. According to reports surrounding the case, she suffered prolonged sexual abuse involving members of her extended family and died in 2018. Her story shocked many Nigerians because the alleged abuse did not come from a stranger who had suddenly entered her life. It happened within a family setting, among people who were supposed to provide care and protection. In 2022, a Benue State High Court acquitted one of the men accused in the case, while another defendant, who had been responsible for Ochanya’s care, was convicted of negligence. The legal outcome matters because allegations should not be presented as facts where a court has not found them to be so. But Ochanya’s story still leaves us with the difficult reality of how vulnerable a child can become when her safety depends entirely on the adults around her.
Even when a child wants to speak, fear can make silence feel safer. A child may be threatened with punishment, told not to tell anyone, promised gifts or made to believe that speaking out will destroy the family. Sometimes, the child may simply fear that nobody will believe them. In other cases, adults may remain silent because they are afraid of shame, social consequences or damage to the family’s reputation. I think this is where adults need to examine themselves too. If protecting a family name becomes more important than protecting a child, then something has gone badly wrong. No reputation is worth more than a child’s safety. When adults dismiss a child’s disclosure, they may teach the child that speaking is useless. But when they listen and respond appropriately, they tell the child something equally important: what happened to you matters, and you deserve protection.
The effects of child molestation can continue long after the abuse itself has ended. Childhood is a period when a person is learning how to understand themselves, other people and the world around them. When that period is marked by abuse, a child’s understanding of trust and safety can be deeply affected. Survivors may experience fear, shame, anxiety, difficulty trusting others, problems with relationships or difficulties at school, although not every child responds in the same way. Some may become withdrawn, while others may appear fine on the outside and keep what happened to themselves. That is why I do not think we should measure a child’s recovery simply by how normal they appear. Healing is not always visible. A child may need medical attention, emotional support, counselling and protection from further contact with the alleged perpetrator. Most importantly, the child should never be made to feel responsible for what was done to them.
I believe prevention begins with creating homes and schools where children can speak without fear of punishment or disbelief. Parents and guardians should listen when a child says something feels wrong, while schools should have clear systems for reporting concerns and adults who know how to respond. Children can also be taught, in age-appropriate ways, about bodily boundaries and the difference between safe and unsafe behaviour. But responsibility should not be placed entirely on them. Telling children to “speak up” means little if they have no safe adult to speak to. What happens after a child speaks matters too. They should be protected from further harm, taken seriously and given the support they need. Families should also teach children that respecting adults does not mean accepting inappropriate behaviour or being afraid to say no. To me, teaching children about safety should never become another way of telling them that it is their job to prevent adults from hurting them.
Protecting children also requires responsibility from the wider community and the institutions that work with them. Schools, religious organisations, community groups and government agencies need proper safeguarding measures, clear reporting procedures and adults who understand how to respond when concerns are raised. Where allegations are made, they should be handled by the appropriate authorities, while the dignity and privacy of the child should be protected throughout the process. Communities should not wait until a case becomes a national scandal before taking child protection seriously. A child who has already experienced abuse should not have to repeatedly relive what happened simply to convince adults that their suffering matters. I believe justice should go alongside care. It is not enough to ask whether someone will be punished. We should also ask whether the child is safe, supported and given the chance to heal.
At the centre of this conversation is something simple: children deserve to feel safe with the people they trust. A child should be able to grow, learn, play and depend on adults without carrying the responsibility of protecting themselves from those who should protect them. Child molestation may happen in a moment, but the confusion, fear and broken trust can remain for much longer. That is why protecting children cannot mean waiting for them to find the courage to speak after they have been hurt. It must begin earlier, through listening, education, accountability and stronger protection. When a child speaks, adults must be ready to listen. And when a child trusts, that trust should be treated as a responsibility, never as an opportunity to cause harm.
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