When I was about eight, the toy I wanted more than anything else in the world was a remote-control car, a big red one with chunky tyres that could drive over rough ground. I grew up in a small town in central Java, in Indonesia, and I'm now thirty-three and work as a primary school teacher in Yogyakarta.
I first saw it in a toy shop window in the bigger town nearby, when my father took me with him to buy parts for his motorbike. A boy was driving the same car outside the shop, and I stood and stared at it for ages. After that I talked about it constantly for at least a year. I even drew pictures of it and stuck them on the wall next to my bed.
The simple reason I didn't get it is that my parents couldn't afford it. My father was a mechanic and my mother sold food at the local market, and there were four children in our family. That car cost more than a week of our food. At the time I didn't really understand that. I thought they just didn't want to give it to me, and I sulked quite a lot.
Now I feel completely differently. I understand how difficult it must have been for my parents to keep saying no. And to be honest, my brothers and I had a wonderful childhood anyway. We made our own cars out of old tins and bottle tops, and we probably had more fun with those. As a teacher, I see children today with endless expensive toys who get bored very quickly. I think not getting that car taught me to be creative and to value what I have.