Across Nigeria, countless families bear the deep emotional, financial, and psychological scars left behind by fathers who walked away. In homes where love once lingered, silence and unanswered questions now reside. In this report, GODFREY GEORGE unearths the raw truths of abandonment — its roots, psychological toll, and the cruel, weighty expectation of forgiveness that society places on those affected, especially on the weary shoulders of children struggling to piece their lives back together

Their relationship has been a journey through stormy seas. Since meeting Mr Soprinye in 1996, peace has eluded Clara.

They both attended the same skills acquisition college in Port Harcourt, Rivers State. Both were in the Catering Department: Clara specialised in pastries, while Soprinye focused on events management and large-scale cooking.

Weeks grew into months, and their friendship began after a casual conversation during a joint class. A few weeks later, Soprinye sent Clara a love letter. Although flattered, Clara said she had no intention of replying, as Soprinye was not her ‘kind of man’. But just days after, something unexpected happened.

Soprinye fainted during a practical class. Clara heard about the incident and ran barefoot across campus to  a nearby clinic where he’d been taken. He was on bed rest, with a drip in his arm.

“I ran barefoot to the clinic to be with him. When he opened his eyes, it was me he saw. At that point, I had not even agreed to his proposal, but he knew I liked him. That was how we started. If anyone had told me this man would become who he is today, I wouldn’t have believed it,” she said, her voice heavy with regret.

The pair quickly became inseparable on campus. When Soprinye graduated and Clara still had a few months left, she said she felt genuinely sad.

But fate took a different turn. Clara was to return to her hometown after school, but her father, an oil servicing firm employee, was transferred to Port Harcourt. She helped him settle in and began living with him.

Every evening, Soprinye would visit. Clara said she often snuck out of her father’s house just to see him, and it was in those clandestine meetings that their bond grew stronger.

Eventually, Soprinye visited her family formally, bringing a few bottles of wine. Clara left with him that same day.

That very night, everything changed. They had a minor disagreement, and Soprinye slapped her.

“I didn’t think too much of it. I just assumed I was at fault. He was correcting me about how I served his food. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. But then, it happened again two days later. This time, he shoved me into a corner in the house and stormed out. When he came back that night, he was drunk. I had to change his clothes and bathe him.

“By morning, he was hungry. I still cooked for him and even apologised for the night before,” she recalled.

Things grew worse when Clara became pregnant with their first child, a daughter named Faith. The abuse intensified.

“He would beat, kick and push me. He would even lock me in the room for an entire day without food or water until he returned from work. Then I’d still have to cook and serve him first before I could eat. I did all of this while pregnant. Even in my ninth month, I was still waking early to make his meals,” she said.

A few days before she delivered, Clara said Soprinye beat her so severely that she began to bleed. She was rushed to the community health centre. Her offence? She had asked him to help set up a small pastry shop in front of the house so she could support the family after childbirth.

“I ran to my people, but I couldn’t tell my father. He was already ill and had just resigned from his job. We were all scared that either I or the baby could die. I gave birth four days after that beating, and for a few weeks, everything seemed normal. Then the beatings started again,” she said.

Travelling without notice

Clara said another pattern soon emerged. Soprinye would disappear from home without a word.

“He would just travel. It was through friends that I heard he had left town. There’d be no food in the house. We’d practically be begging, but he didn’t care. One day, I went with our daughter, who was four at the time, to his uncle’s house. The man was livid and told me to stay with him until Soprinye returned.

“Can you believe that when he eventually came to pick us up, he beat me? The moment we got home, he slapped and warned me never to pull that stunt again. I was broken. I didn’t know what to do,” she said quietly.

“Before I knew it, I was pregnant again.”

Two months into that pregnancy, 51-year-old Clara said Soprinye left the house once more—this time, for good. He didn’t return until after she’d delivered.

“I don’t even know how he heard about it, but he came back after I’d had our son, Tonye. He didn’t contribute anything. The only thing I remember is that he left N470 on the table. Was that what he expected me to use to look after myself and the baby?” she asked, visibly upset.

Soon, Clara began to hear rumours that Soprinye had taken another woman—and that she, too, was pregnant.

“In fact, what I heard was that they were expecting another child. Whenever I tried to confront him, he would beat me till I could no longer speak. That was the level of cruelty I lived with,” she recounted sadly.

The Tuesday he left

On a Tuesday in 2010, Clara said Soprinye left and never looked back. At first, they assumed he had travelled as he usually did, but this time, it was taking too long. His family began to grow anxious and tried to reach him.

Clara said it took eight months before anyone could track him down. Some said he was in Ebonyi. Others claimed he had relocated to Cross River to live with a new family.

“I was more concerned about the kids. We had another boy by then. So there were three children now, and they were all in school and needed money. I was doing a small business in front of the house, but it could only take care of our feeding. Everything else was left undone.

“We sent messages through family, but this man did not respond. One time, he sent us N5,000. Another time, it was N2,000. The next time I saw him was in 2012, when he came back to ask for my forgiveness. I forgave him. But in 2015, he left again. This time, for four whole years.”

“He was still in Port Harcourt because people said they usually see him around. His things were still at home, but he simply stopped coming. He would send us N1,000 for the entire month, those were even the lucky months.

“He came back again briefly and asked me to forgive him in 2019. By then, the children had grown up. The first one, Faith, was around 22. She had graduated from school where she studied Accounting, but was still job-hunting.

“She told me not to forgive him—that she sensed he only returned because his money had finished. And do you know that this man left again? He said he was going to a pastoral school, that God had called him. That was how he vanished for another year. By then, I had become used to it, so I didn’t bother looking for him.

“I told his people, and they said I should leave him. His daughter took the matter to the police, but I told her to withdraw the case. I don’t want that kind of drama. It was only when his mother died that he came back and joined his people to bury her. My own father died during one of his absences, and he didn’t attend the funeral. I carried the weight alone,” she said.

Clara said Soprinye is now down with a stroke and is living with a friend in another state, which she refused to disclose.

“I have forgiven him, but his children have refused. God knows I never told them anything bad about him. They watched it all unfold right before their eyes. They’re no longer children, even the youngest,” she added.

‘I won’t forgive him’

It was Faith who convinced her mother to speak after our correspondent heard her share the story during a webinar on fatherhood and abandonment.

“I will not forgive him,” Faith said. “I’m already engaged to be married. And by God’s grace, it will happen. If that man is truly my father, he wouldn’t have done what he did to my mother. I’m not even sure my mom told you that he used to flog her with a cane like a baby. He would ask all of us to kneel down and flog us one after another, including our mother. We would all cry and beg him, but he’d still lock us in the house for the entire day. What kind of man does that?

“My mother is the one who is always forgiving. Let him go and ask God for forgiveness.”

Asked if she had seen him since he became unwell, she replied, “I saw him twice, when he came with his people to beg my mum. Both of them were crying. I just took my two siblings and walked out of that gathering. I know what I had to go through to be where I am today. I know the things I did that I am not proud of. Please, let him leave us alone and go meet the other family I learnt he built while he was away.”

A family member, Tamunoboma, contacted by Sunday PUNCH, said he was aware of the situation, adding that everyone had warned Soprinye repeatedly to be responsible, but he never listened.

“He’s my cousin, but I can’t lie to you—he doesn’t listen. Until his mother died, she kept begging him to come back, but he refused. He doesn’t listen to anyone. That’s the problem,” he said.

Tamunoboma said he had recently spoken to Soprinye, who claimed to have turned a new leaf and was urging his children to forgive him.

I am a changed man, says Soprinye

Telling his side of the story in a WhatsApp voice note, Soprinye said he accepted full responsibility for his past actions, admitting that he had been “overtaken by youthful exuberance and life’s pressures.”

“I don’t want to trade words with my family. They remain my family. I never married another woman. I may have made some mistakes in the past, but I am a changed man now. I have pleaded with them to accept me as their father,” he said.

He also confirmed that he had been battling diabetes, arthritis, and hypertension.

“I’m not asking them to send me money or take care of me. I believe God will take care of that. I just want to be free. That’s all. My wife has accepted me—it’s my children’s forgiveness I’m seeking.”

 Reappeared after children had grown

For years, the name Titus Egbuniwe evoked silence and sorrow within his family. Once a husband and father, he vanished, leaving behind a wife and children to navigate life’s hardships alone.

His absence was so profound that his wife eventually declared him “dead and gone.” But in a twist that has captured public attention, Titus returned, seeking forgiveness and reconciliation.

A family torn apart

Titus’s departure, he said, was not due to a lack of love but stemmed from familial disapproval. He confessed that his family did not accept his wife and pressured him to leave her.

Succumbing to the pressure, he abandoned his wife and children, eventually pursuing another relationship that never culminated in marriage.

During his absence, his wife bore the burden of raising their children alone, enduring years of hardship and emotional turmoil.

Years later, with the children now grown, Titus returned to the family, seeking forgiveness.

His reappearance was met with shock and disbelief. In a video shared by TikTok user @eseosaruben, his wife is seen expressing her astonishment, stating that to her, he was “dead and gone.”

Despite the initial emotional upheaval, the family eventually reconciled, embracing the opportunity to heal and move forward.

The story of Titus’s return sparked widespread discussion on social media.

Many users expressed empathy for the family’s ordeal, while others criticised Titus for abandoning his responsibilities.

The 2007 case

In 2007, Segun Adepegba dropped off his three young children at a private boarding school in Abule-Iroko, Ogun State.

Seun was six, Titilola was five, and the youngest, Seyi, was just two years old. He promised to return at the end of the school term. He didn’t.

Weeks became months. Months became years, and yet, no word from their father.

Solid Rock Model College, the school where they were enrolled, became their reluctant guardian.

The proprietor, Mr Samuel Ayegbusi, fed and sheltered them for eight years, spending over N7m to keep them clothed, fed, and educated.

All attempts to reach their father failed. Neighbours claimed he had disappeared after separating from their mother.

Others said he had fallen on hard times. None of the leads yielded answers.

During those years, the children grew up without birthdays, without visitors on visiting days, and without a single letter from home.

Titilola, the second child and only girl, once tried to escape to search for her father.

Her brothers cried themselves to sleep more nights than they could count.

In 2014, after the media took up the story and public outrage soared, Segun Adepegba finally resurfaced.

“I am not a wicked father,” he told journalists. He claimed he had been battling poverty and shame. After separating from his wife, Ruth Okochi, he was left homeless, jobless, and afraid.

“I thought the school would arrest me for owing. I didn’t know what to do,” he said.

When he returned to Solid Rock Model College, the children were no longer toddlers. Seun was now a teenager.

Seyi, who had been barely out of diapers when he was left, was now speaking with a voice deeper than his father’s. They sat with him in the principal’s office, unsure whether to hug or scold him.

“It felt strange,” Titilola later said. “But I still love him. I want my family back.”

Adepegba apologised to the school and to his children. He promised to find their mother and begin again. Where she was, no one could say for sure. He believed she might be in Abuja. The school forgave him. The children—hesitantly—did too.

The story of Segun Adepegba is a stark reminder of the ripple effects of economic hardship, marital breakdown, and the fragility of parental duty.

It is also a testament to the power of the press in reuniting families and forcing accountability where silence once reigned.

Chi’s story

She’s 31 now and a structural engineer in the United Kingdom, but she does not know her father.

“My mother told me he did not accept the pregnancy and left home. All efforts to find him to this day have proven abortive. I am married now, and I have a son. I have already prepared my mind to tell him that my father had died. I don’t want to transfer the trauma to my son, that his mother was abandoned by her father. That is traumatic,” Chi said.

The silent crisis

In Nigeria, the phenomenon of fathers abandoning their families has become a pressing social issue, with far-reaching consequences for children, mothers, and society at large.

This silent crisis, often overshadowed by other societal challenges, demands urgent attention and comprehensive solutions.

Recent data underscores the severity of paternal abandonment in Nigeria.

A 2018 report by the United Nations Children’s Fund, estimated that approximately 43 per cent of Nigerian children under the age of 18 are fatherless, translating to around 17.5 million youths at heightened risk of adversity and mental health issues.

An online repository, icareforthefatherless.org, stressed that the matter is too widespread and needs to be addressed before it gets out of hand.

Further highlighting the issue, the National Human Rights Commission reported that in Gombe State alone, 106 fathers abandoned their children in 2023.

These figures, while alarming, likely represent just a fraction of the nationwide problem, as many cases go unreported due to societal stigma and lack of formal documentation.

Why are fathers leaving?

A renowned sociologist at the University of Port Harcourt, Rivers State, Prof Ifeanacho Ikechukwu, said several interrelated factors contribute to the prevalence of father abandonment in Nigeria.

He said, “Widespread poverty and unemployment can lead fathers to feel inadequate in their provider roles, prompting some to flee from familial responsibilities. The pressure to meet financial obligations without adequate support systems exacerbates this issue.”

Ikechukwu also added that conflicts within marriages, often stemming from financial strain, infidelity, or incompatibility, can result in fathers distancing themselves from their families.

In some cases, cultural norms discourage men from seeking help, leading to withdrawal and eventual abandonment.

This was true in the case of Mr Osondu, who shared with our correspondent why he left his home for four years.

“I didn’t abandon them. I lost my job, and my wife and kids almost sent me to my early grave. I had to run away so I would not lose my mind.

I am in Aba (Abia State). Whatever I have, I will send to them. They will manage it. But if they are seeing me, the bills will be too much,” he said.

Speaking further, Prof Ikechukwu said that in certain Nigerian communities, patriarchal values and the marginalisation of women’s rights could create environments where men feel justified in leaving their families, especially when societal structures fail to hold them accountable.

“None of these excuses is viable as far as I am concerned. Your family is your family, and you only realise the mistake you have made if you abandon them when you are old. Who will be there for you? Who will take care of you? Nobody can do that as well as your family,” he added.

Impact on children

The absence of a father figure has profound implications for children’s development and well-being, says psychologist Usen Essien.

“Children without paternal support often experience feelings of abandonment, low self-esteem, and trust issues. These emotional challenges can persist into adulthood, affecting relationships and mental health,” he said.

He also noted that studies have shown children from fatherless homes are more likely to struggle academically.

According to him, the lack of financial and emotional support can hinder educational attainment and limit future opportunities.

A child and women’s rights advocate, Mrs Mercy Yohan-Davidson, said fatherless children are at higher risk of engaging in delinquent behaviour, substance abuse, and early sexual activity.

“The absence of a guiding paternal presence can leave children susceptible to negative influences,” the educationist noted.

Also speaking, a lawyer, Selena Onuoha, observed that weak enforcement of child support laws and limited legal consequences for absentee fathers contribute significantly to the persistence of this issue.

“Without stringent legal frameworks, many fathers evade their responsibilities without consequence,” she said.

Societal consequences

According to the social network bettercarenetwork.org, beyond individual families, paternal abandonment carries broader societal repercussions, ranging from economic strain to intergenerational cycles of neglect.

The platform noted, “Single-parent households often face financial hardships, increasing reliance on social welfare systems and charitable organisations.”

It added that communities with high rates of fatherlessness may experience elevated crime rates, as youths without adequate supervision and guidance may turn to unlawful activities.

“Children raised without fathers may perpetuate the cycle of abandonment in their own families, leading to a generational continuation of the problem,” it stated.

 The battle for forgiveness

Forgiveness, in the context of familial abandonment, is often seen as a noble and redemptive act. But for the wives and children left behind by absentee fathers, the weight of that forgiveness can be crushing.

In Nigeria, where traditional values both venerate familial unity and place moral responsibility disproportionately on women and children to “hold the home,” the emotional burden of forgiving a man who walked away is one that is frequently unspoken, yet deeply felt.

For many Nigerian women, abandonment by a husband is more than the loss of a partner. It is the loss of identity, social standing, economic stability, and often, a dream.

A man’s departure frequently thrusts the woman into immediate and unprepared single motherhood, with little or no support, says Yohan-Davidson.

“Society, however, does not pause to consider her trauma. Instead, there is often an unspoken expectation that she ‘moves on with grace,’ finds a way to survive, and keeps the children from ‘going astray.’ And if, years later, that same man returns—often aged, broke, and seeking reconciliation—it is the woman who is looked upon to forgive,” she added.

“Nigerian society is harsh on single mothers. When the man returns, she is expected to be grateful that her ‘head’ has come back, even if it is clear he is only back because he needs help,” says Dr Johnbosco Chukwuorji, a clinical psychologist at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka.

Forgiveness, then, becomes less a spiritual decision and more a societal demand. Women who express resentment or refuse reconciliation are frequently labelled “bitter,” “unforgiving,” or worse, accused of blocking their children’s destinies by nursing grudges.

For the children left behind, especially those old enough to remember the absence, the journey toward forgiveness is even more fraught.

Chukwuorji noted, “A father’s abandonment is a wound that rarely heals cleanly. It is felt in the missed birthdays, the unpaid school fees, the absence at key life moments—and in the haunting silence when friends talk about their dads.”

“When my father came back after 20 years, I felt nothing,” recounts Kachi, a 28-year-old painter in Lagos. “He said he had made mistakes. My mother died in his absence, and we had to bear everything ourselves. How am I expected to just forgive and start calling him daddy? No. It can’t work, bro,” he dismissed.

Children, especially boys in patriarchal societies like Nigeria, Chukwuorji added, often internalise their father’s absence as a personal failing.

For daughters, he said, it can affect how they trust men, shaping future relationships in unhealthy ways.

“In therapy rooms across the country, psychologists are encountering more adult clients trying to unravel the emotional tangles left behind by absent fathers,” he said.

 Religious doctrine vs emotional reality

Christian and Islamic teachings alike emphasise forgiveness as a virtue. But this religious imperative, while noble, can be dangerously simplistic when applied to the complex realities of family abandonment.

When a father returns after decades, often broke and seeking emotional or financial support, the assumption is that forgiveness will lead to healing and closure. But the emotional work required for this is rarely acknowledged or supported.

In many cases, wives and children suppress their true feelings to “do the right thing,” leading to internalised anger, depression, and anxiety.

Speaking on the matter, a senior pastor and presbyter at the Assemblies of God Church, Prince Azunna, said forgiveness was sacrosanct in the scriptures.

“It may be hard, but that is what Jesus Christ expects from us as believers—to always forgive. Let go of the past and just turn everything to Jesus,” he said.

He, however, advised men to be true leaders in their homes, adding that those who abandon their families for any reason should not have gotten married in the first place.

“Marriage and raising children is more than just two people coming together. It is God-ordained. The two parties must be mature, knowing that there will be ups and downs. They both must be prepared. No one should abscond and leave the responsibility for the other,” he insisted.