Singapore Children's Favorite Stories

by Diane Taylor

  The temenggong was horrified. He had heard that Kerbau Hitam's men were plundering all the islands in the area. He agreed to help stop the pirates, and asked for support from a Chinese headman.

  That night the headman called a meeting with twenty of his most trustworthy men, to discuss what they could do. All night they talked and argued and drew maps, and by the time the sun came up the next morning they had hatched a plan.

  Before dawn, a fine Chinese junk set sail for Riau. Aboard were the temenggong and Rahim, disguised as Chinese labourers, together with the Chinese headman and his twenty men. When they arrived at the very shore that Rahim had left the previous day, it was teeming with pirates. Rahim rowed alone to shore in a small boat to make contact.

  "Good evening, sirs. Can I speak to your Raja?" asked Rahim, approaching the most feisty-looking character he could see.

  "I am the Raja here, what is your business?" grunted Kerbau Hitam.

  "We're heading for Singapore, but we have a dead man on board our junk who needs burying immediately. If you allow us to stop and bury him, we can offer you a reward."

  "A reward eh? And what exactly are you willing to pay?" asked Kerbau Hitam, arms behind his back and puffing out his chest with sudden interest.

  "We're carrying a cargo of gold. We're willing to pay you a substantial amount in gold bars if you'll let us land for a short time."

  "Agreed," replied Kerbau Hitam, "but you must bring your whole crew with you. My men will guard your boat and your gold."

  So Rahim returned to the junk, and rowed back to shore carrying the temenggong, the coffin and only seven men. The rest, of course, were still in hiding on the junk.

  They picked up the coffin and began carrying it towards the trees that grew thickly above the tide-level.

  "Stop! Wait! Are you armed?"

  "Of course not," replied Rahim calmly. "We are only here to bury a dead man. By all means, search us."

  The pirates searched them, but of course, found nothing. Not wanting to disturb the dead body, they dared not open the coffin to check it.

  Meanwhile, Kerbau Hitam and his men rowed out to the junk. Their plan, as you've probably guessed, was to rob the junk, while the crew on land were burying their dead.

  "Seize him," came a bloodcurdling cry, and the thirteen sailors hiding on board leapt out, seized the pirates, bound their feet and hands, and locked them up in the twinkling of an eye.

  At the same time, back among the trees, the Chinese sailors opened the coffin and took out the weapons that were hidden inside. Quickly they ran to the Rajas house, captured the other pirates and freed the Raja, Normah and the villagers held there.

  Rahim and Normah decided to get married as soon as possible. The Raja thanked everyone, especially the temenggong from Singapore and his men. He invited them all to come back for the wedding feast.

  Kerbau Hitam and his pirate gang were hanged for piracy. They were not, however, the last pirates to plague Singapore waters. The seas around the island provided the perfect short-cut for many cargo boats, giving pirates plenty of chances to add to their booty. The small islands off-shore gave them perfect places to lie low.

  Some of Singapore's islands may still have pirate treasure buried on them somewhere. Dig deep enough and you may find it.

  Far away among the rice fields there once lived two widows named Wan Malini and Wan Empok. They had lived together since their husbands had died. They were good women, who had spent their lives planting the rice crop or padi on the slopes of one of Singapore's hills, Bukit Si-Guntang.

  They were kind to the children of the village, making special things for them when it was festival time. If anyone came to their door asking for something, Wan Malini and Wan Empok never turned them away empty-handed, even though they had very little themselves.

  Seven days a week they worked the fields. If their rice crop failed, they would be left with nothing. Tending the crops then, was their life. In the evenings they did the household chores and looked after their animals.

  Going to bed at sundown, and getting up at sunrise meant that there was never a moment of spare time. Day in and day out, the women worked extremely hard and never complained about their lot.

  One dark and silent night came a thundering noise, so loud that it woke the women out of their deep sleep.

  "What is that noise?" called out Wan Malini in a quavering voice.

  "I think it must be elephants. Yes, that's what it is. Trumpeting elephants," replied Wan Empok.

  "But if the elephants are trumpeting, that means they are also trampling. And if they re trampling, our padi will be destroyed," wailed Wan Malini.

  She was quite right. If the elephants really were on the rampage, then their crops would be done for. The two women would have nothing left to eat or sell in the market and would certainly starve. They got dressed and rushed out of their house as fast as they could, only to see a bright light glowing on the far hill.

  "Now I'm really scared. What can it be?" cried Wan Malini nervously. "Is the hill on fire?"

  "No," said Wan Empok, sniffing hard. "If it were on fire we would be able to smell the burning."

  "Could it be fire from a dragons mouth, or a monster, or a glowing jewel?" asked Wan Malini, her imagination running riot.

  They huddled in their doorway for a while and watched, and waited, and worried themselves silly. Only then, when they were worn out with worry, and propped up on each other, did they drop off to sleep.

  When they woke up, stiff and sore, the sun was already shining. They stared hard at the hillside, which was gleaming and glittering gold in the sunlight.

  Wan Malini, feeling braver after her sleep, said: "Let's climb the hill now and find out what was glowing in the night."

  This time it was Wan Empok's turn to be more timid. "You're mad! We can't go alone, just us two women! We might need help. What if it's a vicious beast?"

  "Oh come on! We can take a peek and run away if it's anything too scary," came her friend's reply.

  Together they climbed the hill cautiously, stopping to peer into the distance from time to time, but they saw nothing except the glow, which got brighter as they drew nearer. To their astonishment they discovered that their rice padi was growing golden grains, with silver leaves and golden stems.

  "Aiyee! So this is what we saw! But how did it happen?" said Wan Malini, whispering with disbelief.

  They climbed higher, and to their amazement saw three elephants. Riding the elephants were three young men, looking like princes, wearing brightly coloured, jewel-studded turbans. They each wore a shimmering silk costume, decorated with silver filigree, with a cape that flowed down to their knees.

  "Who are you and where are you from?" asked Wan Malini in her bravest voice.

  "Are you magic? The sons of fairies or genies, perhaps?" asked Wan Empok.

  The three men replied together: "We have come from Dika. Our father is the great Raja of Kalinga, like our grandfather before him. Our mother is the Princess of Dika. We inherited magical powers from them."

  The two widows were mesmerised by the exciting story the men began to tell, but when they had finished Wan Malini was still suspicious. She folded her arms across her chest and spoke out: "This all sounds very splendid, but can you prove any of it? How do we know you're not a gang of cheats?"

  The royal princes took turns to reply. "The turbans that we wear show our royalty."

  "If you don't believe in our powers, look at your padi fields. We have heard about you, and the way you have dedicated your lives to growing excellent padi"

  "We turned your padi into gold and silver for you, so you will never be poor again. From now on this hill will be a sacred place, and you will always grow golden rice grains."

  Like most country people, Wan Malini and Wan Empok really believed in magic, and so they bowed before the royal princes. They even took them down the hillside to their house, and prepared a simple, but delicious, feast for them in their tiny kitchen. Once the princ
es had eaten, they rode away on their elephants and were never seen on Bukit Si-Guntang again. It was as if the whole thing had been a dream.

  But from that day on the padi field of the two widows produced gold and silver for the rest of their lives. If you ever come close to Bukit Si-Guntang, look carefully. It doesn't matter if the weather is bright or dull, the mountain slopes shimmer like a precious metal.

  Long, long ago, deep in the misty rainforests of Malaysia, lived a princess. She was known as Putri Gunung Ledang, or the Princess of Mount Ophir (which is much easier to say, don't you think?).

  Mount Ophir was a giant mountain that lay across the border separating the states of Melaka and Johor. The Princess of this mountain was a strange and magical girl, with such great powers that she could transform herself into thirty different people. She could be an old woman one moment, a beautiful young girl the next. She could switch from servant to child to queen without even taking a breath. Many men were fascinated at the thought of such an interesting girl. Someone like her would never be boring, would she? Several wanted to marry her, and countless others had tried already, but she refused them all.

  A few suitors had given up when they saw how tricky the journey was to visit her, for the princess's palace was built on the very summit of Mount Ophir. The steep slopes leading up to it were covered with dense jungle. Many princes had already tried to reach the princess, but had failed. One or two were taken by tigers, known to roam the slopes by day. The people who lived by the mountain believed that the tigers might be the princess in one of her disguises.

  Others just weren't fit enough to climb such a steep slope and gave up half way huffing and puffing heavily. Still others took one look through their royal telescopes and did not even attempt to begin the trek.

  It just so happened that the Sultan Mahmud Shah of Melaka was looking for an extraordinary girl to be his bride. His wife had died just a few months earlier, leaving him sad and lonely, with a baby son to care for. He had heard tales of this princess, and the stories fascinated him. He thought that she sounded enchanting, and he decided to see if she would be interested in him.

  He also heard that the princess could be rather awkward. Not wanting to leave his son for any length of time, he asked his best friend, Hang Nadim, a favour.

  "To save me some time, would you go up there first? Go and ask her if she would consider marrying me, the Sultan Mahmud Shah of Melaka. If she seems enthusiastic, I'll definitely go up there in person next week."

  Hang Nadim prepared well for the trip, as he wanted to do his very best for his friend. With the help of the Sultans advisors, he arranged for a team of horses. On the first horse he hung bags filled with glittering gold coins. On the second he placed bags overflowing with fine, flowing fabrics. The third carried baskets of gorgeous gem-stones, and in the fourth basket he placed succulent hand-made sweets cooked by the Sultan's own palace chefs.

  With the horses laden down with these goodies, and six servants to help him, he set off on the journey to find the princess.

  Hang Nadim, his horses and his six servants struggled through the tough terrain. They stopped to rest, halfway. Suddenly, an old woman appeared in front of them. She was horribly ugly, with straggly black hair, a truly awesome nose, and eyebrows like furry tarantulas. She was leaning on a stick. She pointed the stick up the mountainside.

  "I've been sent here to guide you," she croaked.

  As she spoke, a pathway lit up in front of them. It glowed in the dark, showing the way to the top of the mountain. Hang Nadim wondered if this was the princess in one of her many disguises. But by the time he turned to take another look at her, she had already vanished.

  The group struggled on, eager to get to the top in case the light went out. As they reached the palace, the main doors swung open. Dragging their weary bodies inside, they saw the princess. She was sitting on a throne draped with shimmering royal red velvet. Hang Nadim threw himself at her feet.

  "Salaam, Princess!" he greeted her. "My name is Hang Nadim. My closest friend is Sultan Mahmud Shah of Melaka. He is a very busy man, but has heard so much about you that he thinks he wants to marry you. He has sent me here to meet you, and to see if you are interested in meeting him too. He has sent you all these gifts."

  As Hang Nadim spoke, the servants brought the gifts and laid them in front of the princess. She stood with her arms folded and a very haughty expression on her face.

  "The Sultans gifts don't impress me," she said. "I've seen better things than this. And expensive presents certainly don't prove love. If he is so keen on me, he must complete three tasks. Listen hard because you will have to remember everything I tell you: First, he must build a bridge of solid gold between his kingdom and mine. Then I can visit him whenever I want. Second, he must bring me seven trays of mosquito hearts, because they are the most difficult things to catch, and they bite me all night long. Lastly, I want a cup of blood taken from his son's right hand. These tasks must all be done by a week from today. Then I will decide if he is worth marrying or not."

  With that, the princess stood up and left the room. The exhausted men were shown to a side room where food and drink had been prepared, with enough beds for them all. They knew that early the next morning they would have to return to the Sultan with the Princess's extraordinary message.

  The next day before dawn, the servants and horses followed Hang Nadim back down the mountain to the Sultan's palace. Hang Nadim went straight to see his friend.

  "Welcome back—and so soon!" said the Sultan. "And what's the news? When will she marry me?"

  Hang Nadim told him of the princess's demand for a golden bridge. The Sultan clapped his hands in excitement.

  "I knew she would ask for something interesting," he shouted, "Now, I must think carefully. Where will I get all this gold from?"

  "The quickest way is to collect it from your people," suggested Hang Nadim. "They won't like it, of course, but if you tell them that it is for the Sultan's marriage, they might be more willing.

  "But there's another task too. She wants seven trays of mosquito hearts."

  The Sultan laughed. "She is playing games," he said. "That's easy. Anything else?"

  "Well," Hang Nadim hesitated, not really wanting to tell him about the third task, "She wants a cup of blood taken from your son's right hand."

  The Sultan's face fell. "What? That's too much to ask. It's madness. I'll complete the first two tasks and then I'll ask her again. She can't possibly be serious about that."

  Without wasting any more time, the Sultan gave orders for all the soldiers in his army to tour the country, asking every family to hand over its gold, by order of the Sultan. He asked for the best zoologists to catch mosquitoes without squashing them, and remove their hearts.

  The finest engineers and goldsmiths were brought to the Palace to design the bridge. As the gold rolled in, labourers worked day and night. Some smelted the gold, others laid the foundations, and others cleared a space through the jungle. For six days and six nights one thousand workers toiled non-stop, until at last the bridge was completed. Everyone agreed that it was beautiful. Not only that, but the princess would now be able to come and go across the bridge as often as she liked. The seven trays of mosquito hearts were ready and waiting. The only thing missing was the cup of blood.

  The night before he was going to travel to meet the princess, the Sultan went into the room where his son was sleeping peacefully. He was just a baby, six months old. Taking a whole cup of blood from him would certainly kill him. The Sultan knew that he could never, ever do such a thing. No princess was worth that kind of sacrifice.

  As he sat with his head in his hands, a glowing light filled the room. A beautiful young woman stood in this light. As he watched, she changed into an old hag with spider-like eyebrows, then into a tiger, then back into a beautiful woman again.

  She spoke. "I am the princess of Mount Ophir. I am happy that you can't kill your son for me. That shows you are a good man. But, it al
so means that you can't finish the tasks I set for you, so I won't marry you."

  As she finished speaking she began to change again. She turned into thirty different women in quick succession, each one more beautiful than the last, until finally she vanished.

  Sultan Mahmud breathed a sigh of relief. How could he have been so silly as to want to marry someone with such awesome powers? He shuddered at the thought. How could he ever trust anyone like that? She really was quite mad.

  The story of the princess and her strange demands spread like wildfire. Since then, no prince dared to ask to marry her, and she spent the rest of her life alone. In fact, no-one really knows what happened to her after that. The gorgeous golden bridge was soon over-run by the same jungle that covers Mount Ophir. And the Sultan never remarried, and spent the rest of his life happily caring for his son.

  Sources

  Asean Tales and Legends, System's Readers by Catherine Siew, System Publishing House Pte Ltd, Singapore

  Her Fathers' Kingdom and Other Tales, System's Readers by Sutimah Roowi, System Publishing House Pte Ltd, Singapore

  Lion City, by SutiSah Roowi, System Publishing House Pte Ltd, Singapore

  Tales from the Lslands of Singapore, by Ron Chandran-Dudley, Landmark Books Pte Ltd

  The Luminous Pearl: A Chinese Folk Tale, retold by Betty Lore, illustrated by Carol Inouye, Orchard Books, New York

  Singapore: Pages of Our History, Tan Ee Sze, Pan Pacific Publications (S) Pte Ltd