As I clear the clutter of receipts and scraps of papers that accumulated in the pockets of the clothes that I wore today, I look inside my wallet and see a tattered 50 shillings note. It is among other notes that are clean and crisp. Of all the money that is in my wallet, the 50 shillings note is the only one that I did not get from the bank. I think about removing it from the wallet, but then I change my mind and decide to let it stay. And as I finish clearing the clutter, the story of the tattered 50 shillings note suddenly comes to mind.

While I was going to work in the morning, some school boys boarded the public transport matatu that I was traveling in. When the time came for everyone to pay their fare, one of the boys gave a 100 shillings note, and was given back a 50 shillings note as his change. However, he angrily thrust the note back at the conductor since it looked old and dirty. The conductor must have been offended by the boy’s rudeness since he refused to change the note for him, and they began arguing over the issue. I was amused when the conductor matter of factly told the school boy that the 50 shillings note was not meant for hanging in the house, and so its beauty did not really matter. But that only incensed the boy who insisted on getting a different note from the conductor to no avail. And that is when I fished a clean 50 shillings note from my pocket and exchanged it with the school boy’s. That is how the tattered 50 shillings note ended up in my wallet.

When I look at the tired 50 shillings note, all I can think is that rejection can sometimes make a person lose themselves in self pity and easily forget his or her true value. In the face, the 50 shillings note looks tattered, and yet its value is exactly the same as all the other 50 shillings notes in the country. And as I think about the 50 in my wallet hanging out with all the 100s and 200s and 500s and 1000s, I know that this might just be what it needs right now; to know that others accept it as it is. For just like each one of us once in a while, a tattered 50 needs to hear someone tell it that everything will be OK.