Annastasia Kinse, a native of Plateau State, made history as the first reverend sister from her village. But after a decade in the convent, her life took an unexpected turn — she was dismissed from the Congregation of Mother of Perpetual Help of the Archangels Sisters. In this exclusive interview, she opens up about her dismissal and the challenging journey of faith that followed. PUNCH NEWSPAPER INTERVIEW
How long did you serve in the convent?
My name is Annastasia Kinse, soon turning 30. I am from Plateau State. I was a reverend sister under the Congregation of Mother of Perpetual Help of the Archangels Sisters, Auchi Diocese, Edo State. I also worked as a Graduate Assistant at Veritas University, Abuja, while pursuing my master’s degree before my dismissal.
I joined the convent in July 2015. After two years of formation, I made my perpetual profession in 2023. I was proud to be the first sister from my village and tribe. For me, religious life was a deep calling a sincere and truthful commitment to serve God completely.
What led to your dismissal?
In July 2025, my congregation issued an official clarification and disclaimer via Facebook and WhatsApp, notifying that a dismissal notice dated July 21 had been issued, but I only officially received it on September 24. By then, rumours were already circulating, fueled by a letter from Rev. Fr. Solomon Andrew Olumekhor of the Auchi Diocese posted online.
The letter falsely accused me of acting against my vows and identifying as a Muslim. The truth is, I reported sexual harassment at Veritas University. That report angered the vice chancellor and others, who responded not with support but silence, intimidation, and eventually dismissal.
Can you tell us more about the harassment you reported?
The harassment involved my head of department, who sexually harassed me. I had voice recordings and videos as evidence. My goal wasn’t to destroy careers but to protect other women from suffering the same fate.
At first, I filed a confidential complaint requesting anonymity to avoid scandal. However, I was later pressured to remove anonymity and openly defend my claims. Instead of investigating, the university set up a panel that treated me as if I was the one committing an offense.
What was your experience with the panel?
Attending the panel hearing was daunting. It was scheduled the same day I had an exam, which I forfeited to comply. Upon arrival, my phone and bag were seized.
The panel atmosphere was hostile. I faced accusatory questions like, “If you knew he was going to harass you, why did you go to his office?” Panel members spoke over me, trying to confuse and intimidate. The session lasted about an hour and a half, but despite requests for counselling and support due to my mental distress, none was provided.
After the hearing, priests and other staff, accompanied by an unidentified nurse, visited my home uninvited. I felt cornered and even tried to escape on a motorcycle, but they stopped my ride. I was terrified.
What is the relationship between Veritas University and your congregation?
Veritas University is a Catholic institution owned by the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria. My congregation was founded by the Catholic Bishop of Auchi Diocese. The vice chancellor and bishop pressured me to stay silent, worrying that exposing the harassment would damage the university’s reputation.
You also made a post about identifying as a Muslim. What was that about?
That post caused much misunderstanding. On July 12, in a moment of deep frustration and despair, I posted on Facebook that I had converted to Islam. It wasn’t a real conversion but an emotional outburst triggered by the death of my aunt, Salamatu, who was Muslim.
At that moment, I felt abandoned and betrayed by the Church, whose system seemed to protect perpetrators instead of victims. It was a cry of pain, not renunciation of my faith.
How did your congregation respond?
Instead of support, they treated me as a problem. They sent a priest who had previously made advances toward me to “counsel” me. Unable to face him, I refused.
He later called my neighbor, twisted the situation, and spread false narratives accusing me of non-cooperation. Despite my attempts to communicate with the bishop via WhatsApp messages and letters—with proof of delivery—he denied receiving them.
After ten years of dedication and service, the harassment, intimidation, and cover-up shattered my trust in the Church authorities. There are many details I still don’t feel safe to share.
Describe the day your belongings were thrown outside.
That day remains sharp in my memory. After a meeting with the bishop, superior general, a sister, and priests, I was asked to spend the night in the guesthouse of my former community. I refused due to painful memories and insisted on returning to the central house.
On arrival, I found all my belongings dumped outside, and my religious habit had been taken without explanation or courtesy. I photographed the scene and sent it to a priest, barely believing it.
That night, I posted publicly about my dismissal—not for pity but to inform the public of what had happened.
How did it feel to be dismissed after ten years?
It shattered me. Ten years of obedience, sacrifice, and devotion dismissed in an instant. I was treated like an outcast—humiliated, abandoned, and betrayed by the institution I loved and served.
Despite everything, I never lost my faith in God or love for the Church, though my faith in its human institutions has been deeply tested. I continue to seek justice amid many challenges.
What are your plans going forward?
Honestly, I’m still finding my footing. I want justice, not revenge—just the truth.
When I reported harassment, the institution cared more about protecting itself than protecting victims. Silencing victims only erodes the Church’s credibility.
I speak not just for myself but for every woman told to “keep quiet.”
You mentioned health challenges; can you elaborate?
I was in a motorcycle accident in February last year and sustained a disc bulge, causing chronic pain and mobility issues. I’ve managed this on my own without medical support.
Travel between Jos, Abuja, and Auchi aggravated it. Now living with my cousin, helped by my sister, I’ve refused assistance from those who mistreated me—I’d rather struggle honestly than compromise my dignity.
As I often say, I’d rather hawk chin chin and groundnuts than sell my body or become a “temple prostitute.” I promised my mother that, and I’ve kept the promise.
Did your family get involved?
Yes. Without my consent, the congregation and university contacted my parents, suggesting I needed psychiatric care. They even sent money for my mother’s transport to Abuja.
They tried to convince my family I was mentally unstable. I warned them that if they came believing those stories, I wouldn’t be in Abuja.
To prove my stability, I completed my exams and visited a teaching hospital for psychological evaluation. I’ve been waiting months for the report.
What happened at the bishop’s meeting that followed?
While at the hospital, the bishop called. I answered and told him exactly where I was, but he later claimed I’d refused to communicate.
When I met him, he invited the dean and others. The superior handed me a letter accusing me of apostasy—claiming I renounced Christianity and converted to Islam.
I told him it was a lie, but he said there was nothing he could do and asked what I expected now that I was no longer “one of them.”
I took the letter quietly and left.
Did you face any other harassment within the Church?
Yes. Another priest made sexual advances toward me, declaring he wanted to be “the first man to sleep with me.” I rejected him and others, but was labeled “wicked” for my refusal.
The superior knew but refused to acknowledge anything. The effort to silence me was likely to keep many similar cases hidden.
Despite your dismissal, do you still consider yourself consecrated?
Absolutely. My dismissal was based on falsehoods. My perpetual vows are lifelong and cannot be undone by a letter filled with lies.
They accused me of burning my religious habit, which is untrue—I only packed my belongings in frustration and made a video asking sisters to collect their habits amid the pressure.
If they claim I am mentally unstable or received counseling, where is the proof? These questions remain unanswered. They even falsely claimed to have sent me to a monastery in Ewu.
What lessons have you learned?
There’s much rot in the Church, and silence only protects it. Truth is inconvenient, and institutions try to suppress it.
But keeping quiet helps no one. The Church must establish proper abuse-reporting systems to protect victims and restore credibility.
I’ve learned to stand firm. They can take my title and job, but not my voice.
What advice do you have for young women considering religious life?
Religious life is beautiful but not for the faint-hearted. It should lead closer to Christ, not be a source of comfort or status.
Pray deeply and discern carefully. Some enter for power, not God. Go in with pure intentions.
Choosing truth means being labeled “difficult” or “disobedient.” Don’t be broken. Stay rooted in prayer and faith.
If you experience abuse or injustice, speak out. Do your research before joining any order. If something feels wrong, walk away.
How has your family supported you?
My family has been my rock. We are six siblings, and despite their shock, they believe in justice and have stood by me, giving me
Credit to PUNCH NEWSPAPER
