I was recently woken up from my afternoon nap by the agonising cries of a child in the neighbouring compound. I recognised the voice. It belonged to a ten-year-old girl who lives with her mother, a working woman who spends most of her time away from home, leaving the little girl alone for much of the day.

My first thought was that perhaps a neighbour was beating her for something she had done. I rushed out to find out what was happening, only to discover that it was her own mother administering what appeared to be a brutal punishment.

The woman was wielding a large stick. From the girl's cries and the injuries I could see, it was evident that she had been struck several times. She kept holding her head as she wailed, and on closer inspection, I noticed a small cut on her head, with other injuries around her neck and back.

I asked the mother what had happened.

It turned out that the little girl had been lying about attending school. She had convinced her mother that schools were not operating because of the Primary Leaving Examinations (PLE). However, her school was a private institution that did not have a PLE examination centre and was still conducting lessons. The teacher called on the second day and girl explained that she must have misunderstood the teacher's communication.

The mother had apparently asked her to go to school the next day, given her money for breakfast and left for work, believing that her daughter had obeyed. When the school called again to ask why she was absent, the mother became worried that something might have happened to her on the way. She left work to look for her, only to find her at home, carrying another neighbour's child.

When the little girl saw her mother, she ran and locked herself inside a storage room in the compound. Her mother eventually broke the door open, and what followed was the beating I had just witnessed.

I could understand the mother's frustration. Imagine working long hours, struggling to pay school fees and making sacrifices for your child's education, only to discover that the very person you are doing all this for has been lying to you and deliberately missing school.

It is frustrating. It is disappointing. It can make a parent feel helpless, angry and even betrayed.

But I struggled to reconcile that frustration with the injuries inflicted on a ten-year-old child.

As I tried to calm the mother down, she became increasingly agitated, explaining how difficult it was to raise the girl and how she had lost all love for her because of her indiscipline. At one point, she said she would not feel bad if the child died.

I wondered what those words meant to the little girl, who was standing within earshot. What does it do to a child to hear that the only parent she has at home no longer loves her? What does it feel like to know that the person you depend on for protection is also the person you fear most?

The mother eventually locked the girl in her studio room and returned to work. I pleaded with her to get medication for the child's injuries or at least leave the door open in case she needed help while she was away. She was not receptive to my suggestions, so I eventually stepped back.

Later that evening, I went to check on the girl. She was still crying, although much more quietly. She told me she was hungry, but I was worried about her condition and whether she needed medical attention. She also said her mother would be returning soon. I tried to comfort her and reassure her that things would get better.

The following day, I checked on her again. She appeared to be her usual cheerful, jumpy self, and I was relieved.

But the incident stayed with me.

It made me think deeply about discipline, punishment and abuse, particularly in our communities where corporal punishment is still widely accepted as a normal part of raising children.

Growing up, many of us were taught that a good child is one who fears their parents. A cane was considered an essential parenting tool, and being beaten was often presented as evidence that a parent cared enough to correct you. Some of us grew up believing that a little fear was necessary to keep children on the right path.

Even today, when a child is described as stubborn, disrespectful or undisciplined, the suggestion that they need a good beating is rarely questioned. Sometimes, even those of us who would ordinarily condemn violence find ourselves wondering whether a child needs a little punishment to straighten them up.

But where exactly do we draw the line between discipline and abuse?

Children lie. They disobey instructions, test boundaries, make poor decisions and sometimes deliberately do things they know are wrong. Parenting is not easy, especially for single parents who have to balance work, financial responsibilities and the demands of raising children with limited support.

Parents deserve empathy. Their frustrations are real, and their responsibility to guide and discipline their children cannot be understated.

However, discipline should teach a child to understand the consequences of their actions, not leave them injured, terrified or questioning whether they are loved.

There is a difference between correcting a child and hurting one. There is a difference between establishing boundaries and using violence to enforce obedience. And there is certainly a difference between a child respecting their parent and a child being afraid of them.

What troubled me most about this incident was that it was not the first time I had heard this little girl being beaten mercilessly. On previous occasions, I had heard the mother describe some of the things her daughter did, and I would sometimes find myself thinking that perhaps the child needed firmer discipline.

But having witnessed what I did, I began to question how often we excuse excessive punishment simply because we believe a child is difficult to raise.

We must also remember that children do not always understand the sacrifices their parents make. A ten-year-old may not appreciate the financial pressure of school fees, the exhaustion of working long hours or the anxiety of worrying about their future. That understanding develops with time, guidance and experience.

What they do understand, however, is pain. They understand rejection. They understand when the person they depend on makes them feel unwanted.

And perhaps this is where we need to rethink our understanding of good parenting. Raising a well-behaved child should not come at the expense of their physical and emotional wellbeing.

We cannot keep telling children that home is their safest place while normalising violence within those same homes. We cannot insist that children should respect their parents while overlooking the responsibility parents have to protect the children entrusted to them.

Discipline is supposed to prepare children for life, not make them afraid of living in their own homes.

Perhaps the question we should be asking is not whether children need discipline. They do. The question is whether our methods of disciplining them are building the kind of adults we hope they will become, or simply teaching them to fear the people who should love and protect them.