By Juliet Bonnay

As I made my way up steps which led to the bank of the Mississippi river in New Orleans, a young man stopped me and asked for twenty-seven cents.

His breath reeked of beer, evoking an automatic response, “No, you’ll only spend it on beer.” It didn’t occur to me that it was an odd amount.

“I just want to put the money in my back pocket and leave it there…not spend it on beer,” the young man said.

“I don’t believe you,” I said as I began to walk away.

He stepped in front of me. “Please…just twenty-seven cents.”

I heard the earnestness in his voice, but sunglasses prevented me from seeing it in his eyes. He was dark-haired, slight of build and not much taller than me. People dodged around us on the steps as they made their way up and down. I wondered why he didn’t try the next tourist who bustled past.

“Please listen,” he said, moving his hands towards me as if reaching out for help. “I just got out of jail yesterday… I was in for three months. My friends bought me beer to celebrate…but I couldn’t even get drunk.”

I heard the pain in his voice. It riveted me to the spot.

“My mother threw me out onto the streets when I was fourteen because I didn’t get on with her boyfriend, and that’s where I grew up…fighting. I was put in jail because I was in a fight defending a friend. But I was hoping to die, to end the misery. Now I’m back on the streets again, but…I have this opportunity of going for a job interview as a carpenter…and I want to go…to change my life for the better, but I don’t know how.”

My lips moved and words came tumbling out. “Love yourself,” my voice said.

“I know you’ve grown up believing that your mother didn’t love you, but it’s okay for you to love yourself. If you can, then you will do what is necessary to change of life for the better.”

The young man removed his sunglasses. Through his tear-misted eyes I saw questions: “Can I really learn to love myself? Can I really change? Can I really turn my life around?”

He suddenly frowned and blinked to clear his eyes, “How do I learn to love myself?” he asked.

I told him to begin accepting himself as he was, adding, “I know there are probably things in you that you don’t like; we all have things we don’t like about ourselves. But I have learned that for every negative trait we possess there is a corresponding positive one. For example, if you think you are weak, then there are hidden strengths within you waiting to be developed. In a way it’s like going on a treasure hunt to find things inside you never knew were there.

“Some people think it’s vain to love yourself, but I’m not talking about loving what you look like on the outside; I’m talking about inner beauty. And when you discover it, your life suddenly fills with joy.

“Most people are like tightly closed rosebuds. When you begin to love yourself, the petals open one by one to reveal the rich scent of your inner beauty. Have you ever noticed that rosebuds have very little scent?”

The young man looked at me without saying a word for a few moments. Finally he said, “Will you pray that I’ll wake up in time for my interview tomorrow?”

I said I would, and offered more money than he asked for.

“I just want twenty-seven cents,” he said.

I hesitated for a moment, then handed it to him and he thanked me. “I just want to put it in my back pocket for luck…I’m twenty-seven years old.”

When he ask for a hug I could no longer smell the beer, nor did I notice his dirty clothes.

Late that afternoon as I headed into Biloxi, Alabama and saw a hazy orange sun setting into the sea, I prayed. Tears ran down my cheeks when I thought about the struggle I’d had learning how to love myself. I knew in my heart that if we could all do this, there would be no such thing as war – war between countries, between races, no bitterness and anger in relationships…because we would have peace within ourselves.

First published in the Ballarat News, January 19, 1994

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