Tainted innocence

TÀINTED INNOCENCEWhen news of my teenage daughter's pregnancy spread like wildfire through the village, our lives took a dramatic turn. We faced a lot of persecutions from the villagers. While my husband was constantly teased by the men in every social gathering, my competitors in the market taunted me day and night. There was no peace. “They said that your daughter is pregnant? Heya. Sorry ohh”. They would gather around my space, pretending to pity my condition, but seconds after they left, they would burst into thunderous laughter. Even the ones I knew I was better than, everyone taunted me, always seeking an opportunity to remind me of the situation. And It didn't end in the market. It extended even to the church. My position as the woman leader was called into question too. “If she cannot take care of only one daughter, one small daughter, how would she be able to control us? Women of timber and calibers?”. The women argued during the meeting. ..This was a role I had held for nearly five years.All I did was sit in a corner, drying my tears occasionally. My daughter's friends weren't left out; they passed by the house every opportunity they got, just to catch a glimpse of the pregnant Deborah. Some of the daring ones had even walked into the compound on several occasions. “We only came to say hello”. They would say with mockery in their voices. It's not as if it is a new thing, we have a handful of teenagers getting pregnant and giving birth every day, while living in their fathers' houses, both within the village and beyond. However, Deborah's situation stood out because she was the last person anyone expected to find themselves in such circumstances. What do I mean? You might be asking. My daughter was not like every other child. She was devoted to the things of God. She was that kind of child who had a burning passion for the things of God. We are Roman Catholics. At the tender age of seven, she joined the lay readers and started reading lessons in masses. At nine, she became an altar girl. By ten, she was already assisting in the children's department.Unlike most of her peers, Deborah had no time for gossip and childish displays. Her routine consisted of her school, our home, and the church. Whenever she is not in the church, she is either at home reading her books or in rare cases, helping me out in the market…no time for worldly pleasure.My husband and I didn't bother her at all. We allowed her to participate in those activities since that was the thing that made her happy. However, we intervened when we noticed she started getting close to the reverend sisters in our parish, as we were worried she might consider joining the convent, which isn't what we envision for our only child. To that effect, we withdrew her from the Catholic school to a government college, still in the village. Even academically, my daughter excelled. She was the best. All the women in the community envied me, and when I talk in meetings and public gatherings, I never fail to refer to my daughter as a perfect example of what a child from a godly home should be. Infact, I was a proud mom until that fateful Friday afternoon, when she suddenly fell ill at school and I was called to come pick her up.We initially suspected ordinary malaria, so her dad took her down to the village chemist for treatment. When she didn't improve, I took her to the hospital for testing. The results revealed a shocking truth: my 18-year-old daughter was three weeks pregnant. I was stunned and initially disputed the diagnosis, but confirmation from two other hospitals erased every doubt...Deborah was indeed pregnant. This story belongs to Joy Ifunanya. My world shattered. As though she hasn't done enough damage to the family's reputation, my daughter refused to mention who got her pregnant or even admit to the fact that she has been deceiving us …she insisted she was a virgin.“These results are fãke, mama. I am not pregnant”. She denied it. “Deborah, I am not here to joke with you. For the last time, who got you pregnant?”. Her father howled at her. “Papa, I am not pregnant. I mean, how can I be pregnant when I don't even have a boyfriend? No man has ever seen my nákedn…”. Before she completed the last statement, her father landed her a slap across the face.She got angry and ran outside. She ran into a neighbor's. And that was it. Before the next morning, news was all over the village. “Mama Mary”. That became my new name. All the tactics my husband and I employed in order to make her confess was futile. She insisted she was a virgin all through the period of her pregnancy and even after my grandson was born. Her father called the child's name Joshua. But the villagers called him Jesus…Baby Jesus. “Here comes the virgin grandmother. The only woman whose grandson was conceived through the power of the holy spirit”. That became a new anthem among my fellow women. In all these, I kept mute…I had nothing to