Sangkuriang

In the time when West Java was still thickly covered with woods and undergrowth and wonders existed, there reigned a king, named Raden Sungging Pebangkara. He was a good ruler and to convince himself of the welfare of his subjects, he used to visit them. But the thing he liked most was hunting in the forest.

It happened that in one of the forests the king often visited there lived a she-pig, actually a cursed goddess. One day, as it was very warm, she came out of her hiding place looking for water. There she saw a coconut-shell, filled with water. Glad to have found something and expecting it to be coconut-milk, she drank it at a draught, having no suspicions whatsoever that it was the King’s urine left there the day before when hunting. The consequence was very strange. She became pregnant. In a few months she gave birth to a very pretty girl. When the king was once again hunting in the forest, he saw the girl and, attracted by her beauty, he took her to his palace, called her Dayang Sumbi and treated her as his own daughter.

Time passed and Dayang Sumbi grew up into a fine young girl. She was fond of weaving and thus passed her time. One bright morning, as she was absorbed in weaving, her weaving-spool suddenly got loose. Before she could prevent it, it flew out of the window to the field below. It was out of her reach, as her room was about three stories high. Furthermore she was very tired and had no wish to descend the stairs to fetch the spool. Quite at ease, she mumbled: “Whoever is willing to help me pick up the spool, I’ll treat as my sister, if she is a girl. If he is a man, I’ll take him as my husband.” These words were overheard by a dog, called Tumang, who happened to come along. He immediately picked up the spool and brought it to Dayang Sumbi. Tumang was in fact a cursed god too, like the she-pig. Seeing the dog with the spool in his mouth, Dayang Sumbi fainted. The gods had decided her for her to undergo the same fate as her mother, the she-pig. She too become pregnant and a short time afterwards she gave birth to a strong healthy son, whom she called Sangkuriang.

Sangkuriang became a handsome young man, as time went by. Like his grandfather, he was fond of hunting in the forest and Tumang was his faithful friend when roaming the woods. He loved this creature very much; having no idea at all that it was his own father. One day while hunting, they came across a fat pig. Sangkuriang strung his bow and z-z-z-z-z-z-z! the arrow hissed towards the she-pig, and hit but did not kill her. Wounded, she vanished into the undergrowth.

“Come on, Tumang, run after her!” Sangkuriang shouted, eager to taste the pork. Tumang, however, did not move. Whatever Sangkuriang said to urge Tumang to pursue the pig, it left him unmoved. Sangkuriang lost his self control. In his anger he killed Tumang, cut up his flesh and took it home to his mother. She prepared a tasty dish of it and after the meal she asked:

“Sangkuriang, what kind of flesh is this? It is delicious!”

“This is Tumang’s, mother,” Sangkuriang responded. “I killed him, as he did not obey my command to pursue a fat pig.” For one moment Dayang Sumbi was speechless. Then in rage she took a spool and flung it at him. It struck his forehead and blood dropped out of the wound. This left later on a scar on the spot. Then Dayang Sumbi sent him away.

Deeply grieved, Sangkuriang left and wandered through the woods. He walked for years. Finally he returned to his native place, but did not recognize it any longer. There he stood, looking around him, all alone, musing about the past. At the end of a vast rice-field, which stretched in front of him, he noticed a house on stilts. Looking closely, he saw a young girl sitting at her weaving-loom. He approached her and, charmed by her beauty, he immediately proposed to her, unaware that she was his own mother. The girl looked at him and, noticing his good looks, she promised to marry him. For some time they loved each other tenderly, making plans for their wedding day, but one day she discovered the scar on his forehead.

“That wound!” she whispered, and at the moment she realized that he was no other than her own son who had come back to his village. After being left by Sangkuriang, Dayang Sumbi had been given eternal beauty by the gods, which was why she looked so young and Sangkuriang did not recognize her as his mother. She made efforts to make him understand that a marriage between them was impossible and withdrew her promise to marry him. But Sangkuriang refused to accept the truth and was determined to get his own way. Dayang Sumbi was very sad, as she was ashamed to reveal her secret.

“What is to be done?” she pondered. She had an idea and said to him: “All right then, you shall marry me only on condition that you fulfill a wish of mine. Dam up the Citarum River and build a big vessel, which we shall use after being married. But you have only one night to complete the work.” Sangkuriang agreed and started to work. Only at daybreak did he approach the end, in spite of his magic powers and his prayers to the gods for help. Noticing this, Dayang Sumbi got alarmed and hit upon another plan to prevent the marriage. She stretched the red woven veil which covered her head over the eastern side of the plain. Through her magic powers, red light spread over the landscape, giving the impression that the sun was rising, which meant that time was up for Sangkuriang. He was astonished.

“In vain!” he shouted in despair and at the same time, filled with rage; he kicked the vessel, which was almost finished, upside-down. Then he made for the south, for the Indian Ocean. He had not gone very far when the water of the lake rose and overflowed its banks, dragging everything in its way. Sangkuriang himself had no chance of escape and with all his workers he was driven away. Sometime later the lake dried up. The mountain of Tangkuban Prahu on the northern side of Bandung is thought to be the overturned vessel of Sangkuriang. In time it became covered with trees and the lake became the present fertile rice-fields around Bandung area, every year yielding great benefits for all the people.

*taken from "Folk Tales from Indonesia" by Aman, S.D.B.

The Legend Of Toar And Limimuut

There was once a big rock in the middle of the ocean. It was so big that it rose above the surface of the water. Furthermore, it was not an ordinary rock. When the sun shone on it, it perspired and out of this perspiration was born a pretty little girl called Limimuut. The story does not tell in what way she grew up, but certainly she was a wonder-child, living in wonderful circumstances and in a time rich in wonders. The story only tells us that, when she was grown up, she felt very lonely.

One day, when she was standing on the top of the rock, she gazed with eyes full of amazement at the vast ocean and at the big, undulating waves. As she stood there, she suddenly caught sight of a crow, holding in its beak a dry branch and continously circling the spot where she stood. Limimuut became curious and wondered where the bird had come from and where it had found the branch. Suddenly the bird spoke to here: “I have carried it from Taoere.” Great was the girl’s surprise on finding that the bird could read read her thoughts and could speak her language. Then she asked: “I am anxious to go to that land. Will you take me there?”

The bird agreed to do so, and away they flew to reach Taoere, for Limimuut herself could fly too.

On arriving there, they found a small piece of land, not larger than a sieve, just emerging above the surface of the sea, one of the many islands in the watery vastness. The crow stopped flying and said: “We are at our destination. This is the land where I found the branch; it bears the name of Taoere.” Then he flew away, leaving Limimuut once again alone.

“Alone!” she sighed. “Again alone, and all around is water.”

Then an idea struck her. As if directed by an invisible hand, she took a small amoount of soil, just as much as she could hold in her hand. She flew to the barren rock from which she had come and scattered the soil on the rock. A strange thing happened. This small amount of soil grew into a big piece of land. On the ninth day, it stopped growng, for the work was complete.

As Lilimuut looked around, she realised that the ground was barren. She floew again to Taoere and took another handful of soil. On returning home, she again scattered the soil on the barren groun. Something green began to emerge from the land, and this became the vegetation that we have on our earth today. But Limimuut was not yet satisfied. She made a mountain in the southern part of the land. When this had risen high enough, she climbed till she reached the top. There another strange thing occurred; she became pregnant while she was standing there looking towards the west. A few months later, a child was born to her, a healthy son to whom she gave the name Toar.

Years went by and Toar grew up into a handsome young man. The mother thought that the time had come for him to choose a wife. But where could he find a woman to marry? Again the mother had in idea.

“Son,” she said to him, “roam the world until you find a wife.”

The son obeyed his mother’s instructions and set off for the other part of the ocean. He travelled a long distance but still could find no one fit to be his wife. Then he returned home, telling his mother that he had not been successful in finding a woman he could marry.

“Well,” replied his mother, “cut a piece of cane as long as I am tall and then go to the right. I myself shall go to the left. If on your way you encounter a woman carrying a piece of cane longer than yours, take her as your wife.”

Toar once again obeyed, and so they parted. The son went to the right and the mother to the left, roving the earth which in those days was not as big as nowadays. In the end, as Toar was on his way, he saw a woman approaching him. He put out his stick and measured the cane she was carrying. Seeing that hers was longer than his, he assumed that she was the woman he had been looking for all the time. He made her his wife and took her home. Little did he suspect that it was his mother he had married. He thought only about the message concerning the length of the stick. In actual fact, the cane had grown and had become longer and so had deceived him when he chose the woman to be his wife.

They returned to mountain built by Limimuut. There they lived happily together, Limimuut bearing children three times, but every time there were nine in number. These children lived peacefully with each other, sharing together all that their parents possessed, and this group of people became the ancestors of the people of Minahasa today.

*taken from "Folk Tales from Indonesia" by Aman, S.D.B.