Josephine Adeh
The reactions to my last post left me genuinely surprised. What was meant to be a sober reflection on patience and dialogue within families quickly turned into a heated debate, with most of the energy channeled towards defensiveness rather than introspection.
I had hoped the conversation would draw attention to the importance of slowing down, listening, and making deliberate efforts to resolve issues—especially when children are involved. Instead, what unfolded revealed just how sensitive, and sometimes misunderstood, these conversations can be.
The central message was simple: families thrive on patience and communication. It is not about judging anyone’s choices but about pausing to ask ourselves whether we have done all we can before making decisions that alter lives forever.
Too often, the idea of “escape” appears easier than the hard work of reconciliation. Walking away may feel like relief in the moment, but it leaves behind scars that children often carry for years.
Children, after all, are the silent witnesses to adult decisions. They may not always voice their pain, but the emotional burden of broken homes has a way of echoing through their lives. That was the heart of the conversation I was hoping to spark.
Yet, rather than reflect on this truth, many of the responses were defensive. Some seemed more concerned with protecting personal choices than engaging with the bigger question of responsibility.
To be clear, the point was never to assign blame or ridicule anyone’s pathway. Life is complex, and no two families share the exact same story. But surely, there is room to ask ourselves: have we exhausted every option before giving up?
This is not a call for people to remain in harmful or destructive relationships. Rather, it is an invitation to consider the long-term implications of decisions made in haste, particularly on children who had no say in the matter.
In every society, family remains the first school of love, resilience, and trust. When it breaks, the ripple effect is generational. A decision made today can shape a child’s worldview for decades to come.
This is why patience and dialogue matter. They may not solve everything, but they often give space for healing, understanding, and growth. The quick exit, by contrast, rarely comes without consequences.
But here’s where the conversation took an unexpected turn. Instead of staying with the core message, some men became particularly enthusiastic about defending the idea of second wives.
The energy with which this argument was made almost overshadowed the original point. It was as though the post had suddenly become an open forum to rationalize and normalize polygamy, regardless of the context.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Here I was talking about dialogue, patience, and children, yet the loudest voices were about defending an entirely different subject altogether.
At one point, I honestly wondered if I had mistakenly set up an online recruitment agency for “new brides.” The passion with which the case for second wives was made was nothing short of surprising.
But beyond the humor, the lesson remains: our conversations must return to the heart of the matter—children, families, and the responsibility we all share in giving them the best foundation possible. Because at the end of the day, it is not the debates about pride or choices that echo the loudest. It is the silent weight children carry when adults move too quickly to let go.
Josephine Adeh,
Police Public Relations Officer,
FCT Command
