ARTICLE: Our Favourite Toy, Readers' Digest, December 2008

Our Favourite Toy
Readers' Digest
December 2008

As soon as we saw that battery-operated car in the toy shop, my brother and I talked of little else. Could our struggling parents afford it?by Aung KhineDecember 2008The tropical sun blazed from above the toddy trees and a mirage danced on the horizon. It seemed as if Hell itself were boiling up from underneath the ground.Father sighed quietly as he looked across his fields. The cotton-wool plants were starting to shrivel in the heat. He had done everything he could to salvage his crop, but it seemed there was nothing more he could do.Both my parents were from Myingyan, a Burmese district town 100 kilometres south of Mandalay. But Ko Kyaw Zin, my elder brother, and I were raised as "country kids" in a small village near Myingyan, where Mother was a high school teacher. Father also had a bachelor's degree in education, but he had trouble finding a job. So he bought a few acres of land near the village and tried to make a living as a farmer. Unfortunately, the country's struggling economy and the region's harsh weather never favoured him. Mother's salary was not enough to support a family, and they struggled to make ends meet.Father had to labour all day long under the scorching sun. Mother also worked on the farm on weekends to save the expense of another worker. Most of the money they earned at harvest time was used to repay loan sharks.Despite their hardships, I never heard them complaining. They were happy and believed that their sons would someday become great men.When Ko Kyaw Zin was nine and I was eight, we spent our summer holidays with our grandparents in Myingyan. During a visit to the Twin Cats Store, we spotted a red battery-operated car. It had real headlights and flickering tail-lights. To our eyes it was an angel in the world of all toys.Infatuated as we were, we did not enquire about the price. Why bother when it was obviously too expensive for us? We had never owned real toys - all of our playthings were make-dos built from cardboard boxes and broken housewares.Still, Ko Kyaw Zin and I often talked enthusiastically about that beautiful car. Later, our parents joined us in Myingyan, and when Father heard about the car, he announced that if we loved it that much he would buy it for us. When he had enough money we would go to the store and get it. We were elated. From that day on, we never stopped talking about our big plans for our car. We even prepared a bamboo box with a lock to keep it in. The summer holidays were almost over; we would have to go back to our village soon. Then the big day came. Father said we could buy the car.During the ten-minute walk to the Twin Cats Store, my brother and I giggled and hopped and bounced along beside Father. When we arrived, I walked straight up to the display case and pointed to the elegant little car.The store clerk glanced at us and hesitatingly took it out. No doubt she thought that a weary-looking man and his sons in worn-out clothes could only be annoying window shoppers."It's 370 Kyats," she told us in a monotone. That's about $57 now.I stood there, holding the car and waiting for Father to pay. He smiled at us and said in a soft voice, "Ah, Sons, that's a little bit more than what I've got in my pocket at the moment. We'll have to come back later."There was a silence. We might have been young but we understood. Then Father pointed to another toy car and asked the clerk, "How about that one?""That is more expensive." She wasn't even looking at us.Father had always been a brave man, but I wonder how much courage he needed to face his boys as he took their hands and retreated from the store.We walked back to our grandparents' house in silence. "Well, with 370, your mother can buy a new uniform," Father said as if talking to himself. We knew mother had only one school uniform, which she had to wash each day after school and wear again the next day. Ko Kyaw Zin and I never spoke about the toy car again.Years passed and my parents decided there was no future for us in the village. We moved to Myingyan and Father started giving private tuition classes to matriculation students. It turned out to be a lucrative job. We no longer struggled to get by.My brother and I attended the Mandalay University of Medicine, and we only saw our parents on holidays. One day when I was back home, I saw Father counting his money after evening classes. Holding a stack of notes, he said to Mother, "What do you think I'd like to do with all this money?""No idea," said Mother."I want to buy a car from the Twin Cats Store."Mother only smiled. At first I was astonished they had remembered such a small thing after a decade. Then I realised how stupid I was to have thought it was just an unimportant incident in their lives. I pretended not to have a clue what they were talking about. Why would I let them know that their little boy, too, could not forget his favourite toy, the one he couldn't have?