Storms of Displacement
The storm outside had waned, but for Abigail, a tempest brewed within the walls of her home. The death of Ubong cast a shadow of grief over the family, yet it wasn't the mourning alone that burdened her—it was the whispers, the accusations. The Annang community, tight-knit yet often unforgiving, had turned its gaze on her.
"It is not natural for a man to die so young," one elder murmured during Ubong's burial.
Another woman, standing a little too close to the grieving widow, added, "There must be something... unnatural about this."
Abigail had heard the words, veiled though they were in false sympathy. She chose silence, her tears falling freely, not just for her husband but for the ordeal she sensed was to come.
The Accusatory Trial
Barely three weeks after Ubong's burial, elders from Ubong's paternal lineage gathered in the family compound. The elders were known to settle disputes and give judgments within the clan, but this time, their meeting had a sinister undertone. Abigail stood before them, holding Daniel in her arms, with her other children huddled close. Elijah, now almost a man, clenched his fists silently beside his mother.
"You must tell us, Abigail," one of the men began. "Did you have a hand in your husband's death?"
Her face contorted in disbelief. "I loved my husband!" she cried. "He was my world. Why would I harm him?"
Another elder, a woman with sharp features, chimed in, "Love? Words are easy. We need proof of your innocence."
The proceedings became an ordeal of humiliation. Abigail was made to kneel under the scorching sun for hours, her infant son crying in her arms. In a crude trial by ordeal, she was forced to drink a concoction mixed by the village herbalist, believed to reveal guilt through sickness. Though she endured the ordeal without faltering, the elders remained divided.
Whispers followed her wherever she went. Some women avoided her at the market; others stared openly when she passed by with her children. Abigail bore it all in silence, but each day felt heavier than the last.
Exile
The final blow came without warning. Ubong's younger brother arrived one morning with a decree: Abigail and her children were to leave the compound. "This land belongs to our family," he declared coldly. "You are not one of us anymore."
"Where will I go with my children?" she pleaded.
He shrugged, his eyes devoid of compassion. "That is no concern of ours."
Elijah helped his mother pack their meager belongings while the younger children watched in quiet confusion. They were told they were going on a "journey," though the weight of their mother's sadness hinted otherwise.
With no home to return to, Abigail sought refuge in her maternal family's village. The journey was long and arduous, with the children taking turns walking and being carried. Daniel, too young to understand, clung to his mother's back, crying intermittently.
A New Beginning
When they arrived at her village, the reception was warmer but not without its challenges. Abigail's aging parents opened their modest home to her and the children, though space was scarce. The compound, a simple structure of mud walls and a thatched roof, became their new haven.
Life in the village was different. Abigail, who had been a full-time homemaker during her marriage, now had to adapt to farming and petty trading to feed her children. Elijah, despite his youth, took on the role of a father figure, helping his mother on the farm and keeping his siblings in line.
Though their new life was harsh, it was also a time of bonding. Abigail's resilience became a beacon for her children. She encouraged them to pray each morning, asking for strength to face the day.
Daniel, despite his young age, was often found mimicking his mother's prayers. He clasped his tiny hands and mumbled words he barely understood, a reflection of the piety he absorbed from her. His innocence was a ray of light in their otherwise dark days.
A Child's Growing Faith
As the months turned into years, Daniel began to exhibit a fascination with religion. He often sat quietly in the village church, his eyes fixed on the preacher. "I want to be like him," he once whispered to his mother.
Abigail smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "Then you must study hard and pray always," she replied.
Daniel took her words to heart, often leading his siblings in bedtime prayers. The family's struggles seemed to deepen his resolve to connect with God. He asked endless questions about faith, often tugging at the village pastor's robe for answers after service.