Peace is justice for the innocent children

Peace is not just a word we say at home or in church. It is the feeling of safety when a child walks to school. It is the trust a parent has when leaving their child with someone they know. It is the knowledge that if something goes wrong, the law will act quickly and fairly.

But what happens when that trust is broken? When the people we know, the people we think we can rely on, become the ones who hurt our children?

Tamara was only seven years old. That day, she was accompanying her mother and grandmother to the market. She walked alongside them, laughing at the colors of the fruits and the bustle of the vendors. She held their hands, feeling safe, feeling loved. She trusted the people around her.

From the CCTV footage, it is believed that a man lured her with sweets. He held her hand, and she held the sweet in the other. A small, simple gesture. A small thing that seemed harmless.

But that trust was a trap.

The man who took her used her innocence against her. He defiled her.

And then he ended her life.

He buried her under the bed, where he thought the world would never see her again.

Ten months later, the court has sentenced the offender to death. Justice has come, but it has come too late.

Tamara will never grow up. She will never go to school, never play freely with friends, never laugh again.

Her parents live with wounds no medicine can heal. Every day, they are reminded of her absence—the empty chair at the table, the silence in her bedroom, the gap in their hearts. Her classmates lost a friend.

And the community? How do they explain to their children that someone they know could do such a thing? How do they keep their little ones safe?

Shantel was nine years old. She went missing for three days. Her family searched, prayed, and feared the worst with every passing hour.

Then she was foundIn a pit latrine.

Her body had been cut into two pieces. She had been defiled. Brutally murdered.

The man who killed Shantel was her uncle. Someone she knew. Someone she should have been able to trust.

He even led the police to the pit latrine.

He showed no shame. No guilt.

Only in court did he claim that the devil controlled him.

Now, the fear is not only in the families of Tamara and Shantel. It is across society. Mothers and fathers everywhere worry about the safety of their children. They wonder: Can I leave my child at home while I go to work? Can I trust the neighbors, the relatives, the people around me? How do I protect my children when even those we know can betray them?

The horror of what happened to Tamara and Shantel cannot be overstated. They were children who trusted, children who smiled easily, children who believed the world would care for them.

And that trust was taken.

They were defiled. Their innocence stolen.

They were murdered in ways that no child should ever face.

The trauma left behind is immeasurable. Families carry nightmares in daylight and in sleep. Every laugh, every hug, every moment that should have been shared with these children is now a wound, a memory shadowed by pain.

Fear has become part of daily life. It lingers in classrooms, in playgrounds, in homes across the country. Parents constantly question every person their children meet. Every gift, every gesture, every hand offered.

Justice, even when delivered, cannot bring these children back. It cannot restore the stolen moments of their lives. It cannot heal the invisible wounds of parents or the fear that now spreads through communities.

And yet, these stories demand our attention. They demand that we confront uncomfortable truths about trust, safety, and accountability. They demand that we ask ourselves: What kind of society allows this to happen? How do we prevent it from happening again?

Peace cannot exist where children are not safe. Peace cannot exist where families live in fear of those closest to them. Peace cannot exist where justice is delayed, where excuses are given, and where society turns a blind eye to the suffering of its most vulnerable.

Peace is more than the absence of violence. Peace is justice. Peace is protection. Peace is swift action when children are missing or harmed. Peace is supporting families who have been traumatized.

Peace is knowing that a parent can trust the people around them. That a child can go to school without fear. That the law will act without delay and without excuses.

Peace is a child who can run freely, who can laugh without fear, who can grow up knowing that the world around them will not betray their trust.

Peace is a mother who can leave her daughter at home without fear, and a father who can walk to work without dread.

Peace is a society where offenders are punished, where excuses are not tolerated, and where every child’s safety is the priority.

Until justice reaches children like Tamara , Shantel and many others whose theirs stories didn't hit the headlines ,peace will remain a promise unfulfilled.

Until every child is protected, every parent assured, every criminal held accountable, peace will only exist in words, not in reality.