Father Daughter Taboo Incest

Father Daughter Taboo Incest

The Standard Group Plc is a multi-media organization with investments in media platforms spanning newspaper print
operations, television, radio broadcasting, digital and online services. The Standard Group is recognized as a
leading multi-media house in Kenya with a key influence in matters of national and international interest.

Standard Group Plc HQ Office,
The Standard Group Center,Mombasa Road.
P.O Box 30080-00100,Nairobi, Kenya.
Telephone number: 0203222111, 0719012111
Email: corporate@standardmedia.co.ke

According to Moi University sociologist Moses Mutua, these cases are rampant in Western and Nyanza regions.
“There was a time when I spent most of my time there and one of my students confessed that those things were common in the region,” Mutua told The Nairobian , adding that most people don’t talk about it because it is taboo.
Some of the reasons Mutua cited for these incidents included women neglecting their husbands, single fathers bringing up their daughters, alcohol and evil spirits.
He also accused some girls of seducing their fathers.
“Some daughters view their fathers as their heroes. Since they provide everything for them, they see no reason to date other men.”
Psychologist Wandia Maina of Phoenix Training Solutions says that such cases must be reported.
She also argues that when such acts are committed, the affected homes can never be the same since most wives do not report such cases, but rather walk out of the marriage or suffer in silence.
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Dads are notoriously hard to buy presents for, but sometimes kids can go above and beyond the expectations for gift giving.
Gabriella Lynde from Port Richey, Florida, gave her stepfather the ultimate gift for his birthday: adoption papers.
Like any true dad, he starts opening the gift by torturing everyone around him. He slowly rips away the tissue paper, and checks in between each sheet to see if there are any hidden presents. But as soon as he picks up the adoption papers, his joking manner quickly turns emotional.
"Am I adopting you?" he asks Gabriella.
"I want you to, you don't have to. You can say no, but I want you to adopt me. You've been my dad and those legal papers don't change anything," Gabrielle responds.
The two then embrace and a river of happy tears flood the room.
Although Gabriella is above the age of 18, people can still opt to be adopted under Florida law.

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Even though I was convinced Tamsin had been telling the truth, still a tiny part of me had hoped it was all a mistake

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In seconds my world came tumbling down
Emma Charles thought that she and her family were living a normal life. But then she discovered that her husband had been sexually abusing their daughter Tamsin since the age of ten. Twelve years on, Emma recalls that devastating day and the traumatic events that followed
In many ways, we were an ordinary family – mum, dad, two kids, a Volvo in the drive. And in some ways we weren’t so ordinary. As a ship’s engineer, my husband Daniel worked away from home for up to four months at a time. But I never for a moment dreamt that we were extraordinary – until that day.
It started out fine, that Tuesday in December 1996. Our younger daughter, Claire, 13, was at school, and I was looking forward to spending some time with Tamsin, who had just broken up for the holidays. At 15, she was a weekly boarder at a specialist school for high-ability dyslexics.
We chatted about what she was going to do. That was when the first hint of discord arose. Tamsin and I squabbled, like all mothers and daughters. But that day she was impervious to reasoned argument. She began making hurtful personal attacks on her father and me, something she had never done. At bedtimewe kissed goodnight, but for the first time we parted with a coolness between us.
The following evening, I was in the living room when she burst in, flung a piece of paper at me and stormed out. ‘I have to leave or he has to,’ she had written. ‘And you seem to need him. And f*** you, you probably won’t believe me anyway.’ She was talking about her father – telling me that he had been sexually abusing her for the past five years. In the seconds it took me to absorb her words, my world came tumbling down.
I found her down the road with her dog. ‘Come home and tell me about it,’ I begged. She looked into my eyes and must have been reassured by what she saw. ‘He won’t leave me alone,’ she cried. ‘He’s always feeling me up. He brushes against my breasts so I know it’s not accidental, but he could persuade someone else it was.’
Hope blossomed in my mind. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, an over-tactile father who would have to learn to respect his daughter’s personal space. ‘Has he ever touched you between your legs?’ I asked. ‘Last time he was home on leave,’ she sobbed.
Tears were falling from my eyes as I looked up the number for social services and picked up the phone. I just knew I had to do the right thing.
Daniel and I had been married for 18 years. I was 27 when we met, working as a medical photographer; he was a year older and at college, studying for his Second Engineer’s certificate. He was tall and slim with auburn hair and blue-grey eyes and a full beard and moustache. And he was gentle, laid-back – all the things I wasn’t. Within a week, I had decided he was the man with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. We married the following year.
I hadn’t wanted children. It was Daniel who felt that we wouldn’t be a ‘proper family’ without them. Tamsin was conceived two years after our wedding, and Claire came along two and a half years after that. As it turned out, I loved being a mother and Daniel was good with the girls as babies. But as they grew up, he changed. His own parents had been authoritarian, and not reluctant to use a belt to hit their children. He, too, resorted to smacking and violence.
One incident in particular stands out. When the girls were seven and four, I noticed ‘fingertip’ bruising on Claire’s arm. I really went for Daniel, threatening to kick him out if he couldn’t control his temper. He was angry with me for taking him to task; but when he realised I was serious, he backed down and apologised. Over and over again, we talked about what was reasonable behaviour and over and over he agreed with me. But his efforts to improve never lasted long.
Why did I stay with him if things were so bad? Well, they weren’t bad all the time. Mostly, we had a good family life. I knew the harm that divorce causes to children. I still loved Daniel and I thought we could make it work. Until that day.
Tamsin, aged four, and her 18-month-old sister, Claire
Daniel was in the Far East when Tamsin wrote her devastating note. Social services set up an appointment for the following Monday. Meanwhile, I had to address another horrible thought. Gently, I asked Claire if her dad had ever touched her. ‘He used to come and give me back rubs,’ she replied. ‘But I liked that…’ ‘Nothing else?’ I asked. ‘He asked me to take off my T-shirt, but I just said no. And once he tried to give me a tummy rub, but I wouldn’t let him.’
It was becoming clearer now. Claire has always been an upfront child. Whenever anything was worrying her, she would come and tell me. If only Tamsin had been the same.
I’m not going to describe Tamsin’s statement to social services. Listening to her engraved pictures on my mind which I still have trouble banishing today. The police also took statements and arranged a medical examination. Several weeks later, Daniel was arrested as he stepped off a flight from Jakarta. DC Barbara White from the sexual offences unit called later to tell me: ‘He’s admitted everything. It’s a very credible confession. He wants me to tell you that he’s never raped Tamsin, and he’s never been unfaithful to you with anyone else.’
I cried my eyes out. Even though I was convinced Tamsin had been telling the truth, still a tiny part of me had hoped it was all a mistake.
Daniel was bailed, with strict conditions not to approach either Tamsin or me. I had imagined that he would be feeling crushed and placatory. I was soon to discover how little I knew him. Within a few days, a letter from him arrived informing me that his mother was bitter that I had not kept our troubles ‘within the family’. So that was it. I was to be blamed for reporting the abuse. This was my first experience of the denial which abusers use to protect themselves from acknowledging the harm they have caused. Who is protected by dealing with such matters within the family? Only the abuser.
For the sexual assault on his daughter, Daniel was sentenced to 12 months’ imprisonment and placed on the Sex Offenders Register for five years. The case took ten months to come to court and was finally heard in October 1997. When people asked me that year how I was coping, I said I had pencilled in a nervous breakdown for November. In the event, it didn’t happen. I didn’t have the time. Tamsin needed all my energy.
Tamsin went downhill quickly. The first signs were strange attacks, which she called freakies. They are difficult to describe. Her body was there, but the rational person that was Tamsin disappeared. Instead there was a frightened creature which threw itself at walls and on the floor, and scratched itself incessantly. I spent many evenings desperately holding her hands to stop her scratching out her eyes until the prescribed tranquilliser could take effect.
For a while, she underwent counselling and we got a brief glimpse of the old Tamsin – a normal teenager full of fun and laughter. But then she went downhill again. Two years after she first disclosed the abuse, she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where nurses found her scraping away at her wrist with a knife. When they took the knife away, she continued to scratch with her nails. She talked about hearing bad voices – the Doctors, she called them. One night, after she was discharged, I found her shaving the skin off the back of her hand with a razor. ‘Don’t be angry with me,’ she begged. ‘I didn’t want to do it. It was the Doctors; they made me!’
Five-year-old Tamsin enjoying a family day out
For six desperately anxious months, we worried that Tamsin was schizophrenic. But psychiatrists eventually concluded that she had been suffering from a neurotic, rather than psychotic illness. As new medication began to work, life calmed down and there were no more voices or self-harming. It was by no means the beginning of the end of our story; but perhaps it was the end of the beginning.
I, too, underwent counselling to unravel my confused feelings. There have been those who, on hearing our story, have expressed amazement that I had just accepted Tamsin’s word when she told me her father had been abusing her, without first giving Daniel a chance to have his say. I can’t explain it. Partly it was because I knew from reading about the subject in newspapers and magazines that children seldom, if ever, lie about abuse. Partly it was because I knew that Tamsin was a truthful person. But mostly it was that somewhere deep inside I had known instinctively that she was telling the truth. Afterwards, odd bits of behaviour and events began to click into place.
One of the difficulties when a relationship ends abruptly is that there is no proper closure. I never got the chance to say goodbye to Daniel. People didn’t expect me to grieve for him because of what he’d done; but this was the man with whom I had spent half my life. I came to understand that without grief there can be no final acceptance.
Another insight was the realisation that the pain of Daniel’s betrayal will never go away. Again the answer is acceptance, because without acceptance nothing changes. Daniel served six months of his sentence. Our only contact with him since has been through solicitors.
Today I can look more objectively at our experiences. When Tamsin revealed the abuse, some friends found it hard to accept. Daniel doesn’t look peculiar or behave in a peculiar way. He was on the Playing Field Committee in our village; he was asked to be a steward in our church. Surely he can’t be a paedophile? Surely it must have been a misunderstanding? At the heart of this attitude is denial. To open yourself to the knowledge of what an abuser has done is hard. Much easier to think of it as a mistake for which no one should suffer.
Tamsin has had the most horrendous time. Anyone who understands about self-harming knows that physical pain is easier to cope with than mental pain. At 27, she is still extremely anxious all the time. She has not worked since leaving school and only now is she well enough to attend college, where she is studying horse management. Like most abused kids, she has been through a period of promiscuity. You’d think that abused kids would want nothing more to do with sex; but the fact is, they do not know, have not experienced, any other way of relating to men.
Child sex abusers do not believe that what they do is wrong. They convince themselves that the child wants it to happen as much as they do; indeed, it is not uncommon for them to blame the child for leading them on. It is in this denial that the danger to other children lies. If an abuser does not believe that what he does is harmful, he has no reason not to do it again.
Of course, we as a society are also in denial. We warn our children about ‘stranger danger’, but the truth is that the vast majority of abused children are abused by relatives or close friends. We would much rather objectify offenders and think of them as shadowy figures, totally unlike those we know. Until we stop burying our heads in the sand nothing will change. This is the bottom line. And one abused child is one too many.
This is an edited extract from How Could He Do It? by Emma Charles (Preface Publishing, £12.99). To order a copy post-free, call the YOU Bookshop on 0845 606 4204 or visit you-bookshop.co.uk
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The Standard Group Plc is a multi-media organization with investments in media platforms spanning newspaper print
operations, television, radio broadcasting, digital and online services. The Standard Group is recognized as a
leading multi-media house in Kenya with a key influence in matters of national and international interest.

Standard Group Plc HQ Office,
The Standard Group Center,Mombasa Road.
P.O Box 30080-00100,Nairobi, Kenya.
Telephone number: 0203222111, 0719012111
Email: corporate@standardmedia.co.ke

It was a normal, busy weekday. I was driving to work and noticed cars parked along the highway. I realised that there was a police crackdown on traffic violators and, to my horror, I suddenly realised that I had forgotten my driving license at home. Luckily, no one stopped me.
When I got to work, I decided to park my car and take a bus home to get my license. I wasn't going to take chances and risk trouble on my way home in the evening.
When I got home, I found the house silent. My husband had said he had a headache and was not going to work. I figured he was in bed, still asleep. My daughter, a university student, had mentioned she didn't have didn't have morning classes so she was probably studying in her bedroom.
I tip-toed upstairs to our room so as not to disturb my sleeping husband. I knew exactly where the license was so I thought I could just grab it and ease the door shut...until I heard noises from the bedroom.
I had never suspected my husband for cheating on me let alone bringing a woman to my house. But what I saw was beyond anyone's imagination; my husband having sex with our daughter!
The sight of my daughter and my husband naked on my very bed sickened me. I still get nauseated at the sheer thought of the spectacle. It was more ugly than shocking. Momentarily, I thought I had gone mad. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.
Then my daughter shamelessly retorted: "Mum, why are you surprised? I thought you knew it all along!" And to rub it in, my husband confirmed that what they were doing was no mistake. "The only mistake we've made is using your bed," my husband arrogantly said. Only the previous night, he and I were very intimate on the same bed. What a betrayal!
Their retorts brought me back to my senses and I walked out. I later told my in-laws and the village elders what I had seen and all of us were summoned. My husband can win an Oscar; he denied everything saying that he was very concerned I was losing my mind. I was shocked when he and my in-laws suggested I should get psychiatric help. I knew they had beaten me and I got into serious depression.
I kicked my husband out of our bedroom and as expected he ran into his 'lovers' arms. My two sons kept aloof and never encouraged any discussion about what was happening. Maybe they too blame me for their sister's insanity though their distant relationship never changed.
Thoughts of pain and regret started creeping through my mind. I had severally been warned by concerned women who had seen them together that the two were overly involved. I often told-off the women justifying the closeness with the obvious fact that it is psychologically proven that daughters love their fathers more than their mothers.
When my daughter grew older and became a pretty young woman, I got suspicious but I severally rebuked myself for even imagining that my daughter and her father would ever have a sexual relationship. From when she was a tiny baby she would sit on his lap and lay her head on his chest and he would kiss her cheeks. What reason did I have to thwart the beautiful relationship between father and daughter?
I recall a day when one of my friends cal
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