The Cost of Moral Decay: Children Without Mothers
Last week, Uganda stood still at
the news of the brutal killing of Pamela Tumwebaze, the Director of Student
Affairs at Uganda Christian University (UCU). A mother. A leader. A mentor to
countless young people. Her life was violently cut short in her own home.
Beyond the investigations and
headlines, beyond the public outrage and mourning, there is a quieter and more
painful reality. Somewhere, two young children will wake up and reach for a
mother who will never answer again. Long after the news cycle moves on, long
after court proceedings conclude, those children will still be living the
sentence of a crime they did not commit.
And we must dare to ask ourselves a
difficult question: If someone can plan evil without thinking about two
children left behind, what went wrong in their upbringing? This is not about
blame. It is about conscience.
Who Is Raising Our Children’s
Conscience?
Every adult was once a child. Every
violent hand was once small and dependent. Every hardened heart once trusted
someone for protection. Conscience does not disappear overnight. It weakens
gradually when it is not nurtured. We are raising children in an era that
prizes performance, speed, and achievement. We celebrate grades, trophies,
promotions, and financial breakthroughs. But who is intentionally shaping
empathy? Who is cultivating restraint? Who is teaching our children to imagine
the human consequences of their actions?
Homes are the first moral
classrooms.
Before society influences a child,
before peers shape them, before institutions refine them, a home lays the
foundation. It is at home that children learn whether human life is sacred or
expendable. It is at home that they learn whether ambition must bow to
integrity. It is at home that they discover whether other people’s pain
matters. Moral decay does not begin in dark alleys. It begins when values
become optional in our living rooms.
Beyond the Crime Scene: The
Children Left Behind
When violence happens, we often
focus on the victim and the perpetrator. Rarely do we linger on the invisible
victims — the children. A mother’s love is not easily replaced. It is not a
position that can be advertised and filled. It is security at bedtime. It is
the voice that says, “You will be fine.” It is the gentle correction that
shapes character. It is the silent prayer whispered over a sleeping child.
One day, those children will attend
school events and instinctively scan the crowd for a familiar face that will
not be there. One day, they will face milestones — examinations, graduations,
perhaps even marriage, and feel the quiet ache of absence. When we harm a
parent, we are not only ending a life. We are reshaping the emotional future of
children.
Children who grow up without parents
often carry invisible wounds. Some will become resilient. Others will struggle
silently with insecurity, grief, and unanswered questions that surface in
unexpected seasons of life. Have we become so desensitised that we no longer
pause to imagine these ripples?
What Kind of Adults Are We
Preparing in Our Homes Today?
The tragedy confronts us with
uncomfortable reflection. Are we raising successful children or safe human
beings? Are we producing sharp minds but neglecting soft hearts? Are we
training children to compete fiercely but failing to teach them to care deeply?
Parenting is not merely about providing food, shelter, and school fees. It is
about forming conscience.
If children grow up in homes where
dishonesty is excused, cruelty is tolerated, or selfishness is rewarded, those
lessons sink deep. If they hear repeatedly that “life is about survival at all
costs,” they may internalise a dangerous belief that other people’s lives are
secondary to their own desires. Character is not built accidentally. It is
shaped intentionally through correction, conversation, and consistent example.
Teaching Moral Imagination at Home
One of the most neglected virtues
of our time is moral imagination, the ability to see beyond oneself and
anticipate how actions affect others. When a child lies, do we simply punish
the behaviour, or do we help them understand the trust that was broken?
When siblings quarrel, do we only separate them, or do we teach them to see
each other’s hurt?
When news of violence reaches our homes, do we scroll past it, or do we gather
our children and discuss the sanctity of life?
We must teach our children to ask,
“Who will be affected by what I do?” Because when conscience is alive, it
interrupts evil before it matures. It whispers, “This will hurt someone.” It
cautions, “This will leave children behind.” It restrains, “This is not right.”
But when conscience is neglected or silenced, and morals decay, society pays a
heavy price. And too often, children pay the highest price.
A Nation at a Moral Crossroads
The killing of Pamela Tumwebaze is
not only a criminal matter. It is a mirror before us as parents, educators, and
leaders. It asks us whether we are forming a generation guided by values or
driven solely by ambition. If someone can plan evil without thinking about two
children left behind, what went wrong in their upbringing?
That question should not make us
defensive. It should make us deliberate. Let us raise children who see mothers
as sacred. Let us raise children who understand that human dignity is not
negotiable. Let us raise children whose success is anchored in integrity and
compassion. Because long after investigations close and public anger fades, two
children will still be living with absence.
And somewhere in that silence, a
nation must decide what kind of adults it is preparing in its homes. The cost
of moral decay is too high. It is measured in children without mothers. Do we
ever sit and imagine, what if I were the one killed? What if it were my parent
or child killed or imprisoned for masterminding the whole plan or killing the
person?
The writer is the executive
director of Hope Regeneration Africa, a parenting coach, marriage counselor,
and founder of the Men of Purpose Mentorship Program.
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