By Prof. Kettehkumuehn E. Murray, Ph.D.
[Across cultures and centuries, the orphan has stood as a moral measure of society.
How a people treat the child without protection reveals whether their laws are guided by justice—or merely by power. The orphan’s suffering is never private; it is communal, even when ignored. It is a quiet trial in which a village judges itself.
IN AFRICAN TELLING, THE LIFE of the orphan is not recounted merely to stir pity, but to test the conscience of the community. His suffering is a mirror placed before elders, kin, and neighbors alike.
The “orphan-child” (as we say in Liberian parlance) is troubled, and nothing he does ever seems right.
When labor is done in common and the signal is given that food is ready, he is trapped.
If he arrives early, they say he is greedy—one who did not work but only waited for the call to eat.
If he arrives late, they scold him harshly accusing him of arrogance, as though elders must delay their hunger for his sake.
At times, they claim he must already be full and only pretends hunger to shame them.
If he reaches the place of eating, he is sent away to fetch water while others begin to eat.
Should he return quickly, he is mocked as a “greedy-gut,” one who rushes food so fiercely he does not even allow the rice to cool.
Now, if he lingers, there’s yet another matter: they accuse him of wishing harm—that he wants elders to choke on hot rice.
No path is straight for him.
No step is safe.
The orphan-child cannot win, nor even break even.
When he looks at his stepmother, she calls his gaze haughty.
When he looks into her eyes seeking understanding, he is said to be challenging her authority.
When he lowers his eyes to the ground in humility, she rebukes him again—claiming he regards her as a creature fit only for the earth beneath his feet.
Every look is wrong.
Every silence is an offense.
Every word is misread….
So, the orphan-child wanders inside a punishment he did not earn.
First, death stole his parents’ protection.
Then life handed him to a house where his very breathing is suspect.
Who will free this child from such a snare?
Who will speak for the one whose innocence has no witness?
If a child loses his parents, must he also lose his dignity?
The elders say, “The town that eats its orphan has already begun to starve.”
For how can a people call themselves whole when the weakest among them is crushed by rules that shift like sand on an African dune?
This story is not only about the orphan.
It is about us. You and me.
It asks whether tradition protects the vulnerable—or merely trains us to excuse cruelty.
… And until the orphan-child is given justice,
the village itself remains an orphan of wisdom.
Asè.
Ju-aà-naan.
Zee-ma-neen.
The Ancestors are wise
