I was born in the house that had belonged to my maternal grandfather in Purwokerto, central of Java, Indonesia on August 15, 19… My mother used to tell me that I was the only one of her babies that kept the doctor waiting. I was a ‘breach baby’. Thanks God for keeping my life.

I have 2 brothers and 1 sister. My grandparents were all dead before I was born so I had no relationship with them. The house that I was born in and lived in until I was 14 years old was a white, wood house. It had a sitting room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom.

My mother gave “readings.” There was no TV, only rich people have a TV. Mother entertained us by giving readings. She kept a scrap book of poems or “readings” from which she could select poems and subjects she wanted to use.

I have been writing since before I could read. My mother told me that at the age of two, I would come to her and say, “Write this down. I have a poem.” While I was growing up, I wanted to write the kinds of books. I loved to read: stories that made me laugh or cry, and religious book.

My parents were very concerned with their children. They always knew where we were and knew the parents of the children we played with. Education was very important and we were expected to excel at school.

My job in keeping up the house was to dust and the shelf once a week. I was also expected to go to town to get items for my mother and I helped with gardening and preparing produce for eating. Sometimes I helped with ironing but I think Mother thought I wasn’t able to iron anything very complicated!

My mother thought playing games was good for us and favorite gifts to us were various games. We played them with the family and also with our friends who came home with us from school to play. We played dakon(a traditional game), Monopoly, football and some others various games. Mother taught us to take care of the games and put them away carefully so that we had the games when we wanted to play with them.

I respected my parents most. I’m sure every parent agonizes within himself about things they wish that they had done differently. I hope this story of my life makes my children realize how much we love them.