My Life As a Fifty Naira Note - Part One

I lay there in the dark corner of the room, under the bed that creaked loudly every time any human weight rested upon it. The darkness shrouded my dirty, torn, worn and battered body. It was with indifference I watched as the rat seeking food nibbled at a tip of my body trying to figure if I was edible enough to serve as a meal. After satisfying its curiosity that I wasn’t delicious enough a cuisine, it scampered over me at the sound of the door opening, its little rat paws leaving a tear in my already battered body.

The opened door welcomed light into the room and some of the light found its way to my dingy corner under the bed. The shrill voice of Bimbo came from above as I heard her plop on the bed with the poor bed creaking in protest in its usual fashion.

“I am yet to find my money, you have to give it back Funbi.” The room was suddenly dark again as Funbi, her brother stood by the entrance of the room, his body blocking the source of light into the room. His shadow fell across me and I heard him reply “I have told you, I didn’t take your stupid fifty naira note. Who would accept that dirty money from you anyway?”

Shame welled up in me as I heard this description of me by Funbi. The rascal I thought to myself. Indignation rose in me and I felt like screaming from my position under the bed that I wasn’t stupid or dirty but I knew that would be useless. I had not always been dirty as he called me; after all I came out of the mint house clean, fresh and sparkling. The envy of all eyes, after all I am one of the first fifty naira notes made out of polymer. Oh the beauty I possessed then as the old fifty naira notes stared in blatant envy as the minters handled us with utmost care and packed us up for distribution but sadly that glory was short lived. My being new and rarity that had been the reason for the other notes to be envious soon became my curse.

My woes started the moment we left the safe haven of the Central Bank of Nigeria and got into the mainstream spending market. I was at first sad to be separated from other fifty naira notes of my kind but then it seemed fate already had me singled out for doom.  At my bank of destination, a man came to withdraw money and asked if he could get a single piece of the fifty naira, the cashier with her polite smile obliged his request and if I had known what was to come, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so happy to have been picked. I most likely would have attacked her and cut her with my crisp, sharp edge just to see that silly smile wiped off her face. Oh, the curse of ignorance. He didn’t put me among the other notes, but I went straight into his wallet and as he closed the snap of the wallet over me, my journey of doom began.

When the wallet was finally opened again, I breathe in the fresh air that hit me and I sighed in pleasure. You should therefore imagine my horror when I got plucked out of the wallet unceremoniously and to my chagrin my new owner immersed me in a bucket of black water that had some foul smell to it. If money could be drowned, I believe that would have been the death of me. As I lay supine in the water, chant like sounds came to me from above and I could barely make out such words like “Let this new money bring new things to my life. Let it take away all the pain, suffering, poverty and failure in my life. All the bad things in my life I deposit on this money.” I gasped for air as I was brought out of the smelling water and he began to rub me all over his body from head to toe. The prayers continued and then I got dumped in a corner of the bathroom as he quickly took his bath. After he was done, he picked me up gingerly as if I had some contagious disease and went to dress up. Off we went looking for a beggar to bequeath me to and I cried silently at the slime I felt was crawling over my body.

To be continued

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