This story comes to us from Indonesia's Javanese language.
A water spirit!? Instead of a pumpkin coach!? Three wicked step-sisters!? (in colour-coordinated outfits!?) instead of only two?? Still, it's not hard to see how Cinderella sometimes get called 'the Italian Ande Ande Lumut"!
Host and narrator: Alice Qin.
Story consultant and translation: Dilail Abimanyu.
Story editor: Marcel Dorney.
Voices: Poppy La Novia dan Dilail Abimanyu.
Executive producer, recording, sound design and music: Kieran Ruffles.
LISTEN TO
Ande Ande Lumut: The Cinderella of Java
SBS Audio
23/10/202418:11
TRANSCRIPT
Long ago, in Java, in a land of rivers and villages, the King of Kediri had a son.
In Java, a prince is known as Raden; and the king’s son, Raden Panji, was a handsome young man with a good heart.
More than anything, the old king wished that Panji would not have to go to war, as he had done, with the kingdom of Jenggala. For Jenggala and Kediri were once one kingdom, and many dreamed they would be one kingdom again.
Now, the king of Jenggala also had a child; a daughter, named Sekartaji. Sekartaji’s mother had died some years ago, and her father had remarried. In Java, a princess is known as Dewi. And so the king of Kediri urged his son Panji to write a letter and send a gift to Dewi Sekartaji.
Not everyone likes to write letters, but Raden Panji did. And so did Dewi Sekartaji. Soon enough, these two were writing to each other all the time. Panji’s father was very pleased.
“If these two fell in love,” thought the king, “and then were married, our two kingdoms would be reunited, and war would be only a memory.”
The new queen of Jenggala had also noticed that her stepdaughter, Dewi Sekartaji, was receiving many letters from Raden Panji.
The queen stole one of these, and as she read it, her blood ran cold. For it was filled with jokes and secret codes, like a conversation with a close friend. And although the letter had the royal seal, the prince had signed it with a strange name: Ande Ande Lumut.
The queen saw, quite clearly, that if Raden Panji and Dewi Sekartaji were to marry, there would be no more kingdom of Jenggala, and she would no longer be a Queen at all. So she set about bringing war between the kingdoms of Kediri and Jenggala.
Soon the kingdoms were thrown into chaos. Both royal palaces were attacked. And in fear for their children’s lives, both Kings sent their children away, disguised as ordinary villagers.
Raden Panji, at least, had his loyal servant Gondes, who refused to leave his side. Dewi Sekartaji, however, was all alone.
II
In wartime, many people lose a lot, and some lose everything.
Some lucky people are taken in and looked after by other, more fortunate families. Raden Panji was soon adopted by a rich widow, whose name was Mbok Randho, and whose own children had all married and moved away from her huge house. So there was even room for Gondes!
In a village on the other side of the border, Dewi Sekartaji had also found refuge.
Although the family who adopted her was wealthy, their children still lived at home. These three young women took great pride in their clothing, each of their distinctive colour. The eldest was known as Merah, for she dressed in red; the middle daughter was called Biru, or blue; and the youngest Ijo, because she liked green.
These three were very pleased that Sekartaji had come to live with them.
For now, instead of fighting amongst themselves, they had someone all three of them could bully. They gave Sekartaji the name Kuning, and gave her an ugly yellow dress to match her new name.
It soon became clear that Kuning would have to do all those chores that make your clothes wet and dirty; and while the sisters had many outfits of red, green and blue, Kuning had only one dress. Because she had to work so hard, her yellow dress was never really clean.
One day, she was in the garden, hanging out the household’s clothes, when there was a great commotion over her head. Looking up, she saw a great white bird, caught in a fishing net that hung between two trees.
Without thinking, she dropped what she was holding, climbed the tree, and seized the net.
With her help, the bird - a great white stork - worked its long legs out of the net. Kuning thought it would fly away, but the stork wheeled around and perched nearby, looking at her closely.
“What’s your name, young human?” said the bird.
For a moment, all she could do was blink in surprise.
“Seh - uh.” she said, swallowing. “Kuning. My name is Kuning.”
“No, it’s not,” the stork said. ”And I don’t think it’s Merah, Biru or Ijo either.”
They both looked to where the red, green and blue dresses lay on the ground, still wet, and now dirty again.
“Whatever your real name is,” said the stork, “you’re very kind, and I won’t forget this. You can call on me anytime, young human.”
Sekartaji watched as the great white bird flew away. Then she slowly climbed down the tree, and went back to work.
III
Raden Panji, meanwhile, had told his whole story to the rich widow, whose heart swelled in sympathy.
“What we must do,” she told the young man, “is find you a wife.
Now, I have plenty of money, and you’re very handsome, so we should have no trouble finding suitable candidates, but we can’t tell people who you really are. So is there a name you’d like to use?”
“Yes,” said Panji, without hesitation. “Ande Ande Lumut.”
The widow was absolutely right, of course; the news that a rich, handsome young man was searching for a bride spread quickly throughout Java.
The war between the kingdoms was close to ending, as most people had never been sure why it was being fought... although suspicion and distrust were, consequently, more widespread than ever.
Still, when the news reached their village, Merah, Biru and Ijo announced to their parents that they would need their finest clothing made ready, for they were going to meet Ande Ande Lumut.
On hearing this name, that she’d read so many times, the disguised princess couldn’t conceal her surprise. Her step-sisters certainly noticed, although they misunderstood completely.
“Oh my God,” Merah said. “Kuning, did you think you’d be coming with us?”
“I think she thought she’d be coming with us,” Biru said.
“Kuning?” said Ijo. “You can’t come with us.”
“Because this place is filthy,” said Biru. “And one of us is gonna bring a husband home.”
“Oh my God,” Merah said, “Kuning, did you think it would be you?”
Their laughter followed Kuning all the way to where their clothes lay, ready to be washed. She sat on a stone, and told herself that crying would do no good.
Just as she was ready to give up and cry anyway, she heard a sound above her head. Looking up, she saw a pair of great white wings.
IV
The next afternoon, young women were converging from across the land upon the house of a rich widow, in the hope of meeting the most eligible bachelor in two kingdoms.
Just across the river, three sisters, dressed in their finest red, blue and green were staring at the rapidly flowing water.
“What do you mean,” said Merah, “that there’s no bridge?’
“I’m saying,” Biru said, “there’s no bridge, or boatman.”
“You’d think,” said Ijo, “there’d at least be a boatman.”
Merah screamed, then. And so did Biru, and Ijo. Because now, climbing up the bank from the rushing water, was a crab the size of a full-grown bull, with claws like tree branches.
“At your service, ladies!” the crab said, claws clacking. “I am the crab spirit, Yuyu Kangkang, yes, I know, you’ve heard of me, and I would be very pleased to ferry all three of you lovely ladies across the river.”
“Oh,” said Merah, “my God.”
“Um.” Biru said, “ah, Crab Man? We, ah, we won’t be doing that.”
“Wait,” said Ijo, “wait, yes, we will. We have,” she said, as he sisters groaned, “no other option?”
“It’s true,” said Yuyu Kangkang, “but, still, you’ll find my price is fair.”
“Uhuh.” said Biru. “Um. Price?”
“Merely one kiss,” the crab said. Clack, clack. “From each of you.”
“Oh,” said Merah, “my G -”
“Just,” said Biru, through gritted teeth, “just - let’s get this over with.”
A short time later, another figure walked up and stood upon the empty river-bank. In one hand, she held a slender wand, topped with a single white feather.
Clack-clack. “What a pretty yellow dress,” said Yuyu Kangkang, “for such a pretty young lady.”
“Crab spirit Yuyu Kangkang,” said the princess, “will you let me pass?”
“I’ll carry you,” smirked the crab, “and all for the price of -”
“I will not kiss you,” said Sekartaji, “for I love someone else.”
“Then I suppose you’ll be crossing some other river,” said the crab. “Oh. Wait. Your ‘love’ is on the other side of this -”
And that was all he had a chance to say, because while he was mocking her, Sekartaji had struck the riverbank with her new stork-feather wand, and the water was rushing away from where she stood. Yuyu Kangkang tumbled down and landed in the sticky mud of the exposed river bed. The more he tried to escape, the deeper his claws sank into the mud.
“Young lady, please!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Help me! Put the river back where it was!”
“Will you carry me across?” she called down.
“Anything!” cried the crab spirit.
"That’s all I ask,” said Sekartaji, lifting her wand.
V
By now, at the widow’s house, hundreds of young women milled out the front, all straining to catch the gaze of the young man they only knew as Ande Ande Lumut.
The prince’s servant Gondes moved among them, handing out flowers of many colours, returning now and then to where Raden Panji sat on a high wooden chair, looking out at the crowd.
“Do you see her, sir?” asked Gondes.
“Not yet,” said the prince.
“You’ve never met her, sir,” Gondes said. “Tell me again, how will you know her?”
“I’m hoping,” smiled the prince, “that she will know me.”
Gondes smiled politely, though he thought the prince was talking nonsense.
“Tell me, Gondes,” said the prince, “those three there…“
Here he pointed to where Ijo, Biru and Merah stood, scowling and clutching torch-ginger floweres, which people in Java use to cover up bad smells. “Why did you give them Kecombrang flowers?”
“Because you don’t want to meet them, sir,” said Gondes. “They…. have this smell. It’s overpowering. Like the mud where crabs live. I’m sorry, it sounds rude, but -”
“Gondes,” said Panji, “Thank you.”
The two young men heard a ripple of laughter, and saw that a girl in a shabby yellow dress was making her way through the crowd. She ignored the stares and whispers, and made her way directly towards Ande Ande Lumut.
“Don’t worry, sir,” said Gondes, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t -”
He looked around in surprise, for the high wooden chair was empty. Raden Panji was walking toward the young woman, his face lighting up with wonder.
When she was perhaps ten paces away, the young woman, without breaking stride, lifted a white-feathered wand high in the air. And it was then that the laughter and whispers fell away, replaced by gasps of surprise. For her shabby yellow dress now rippled with gold, and the marks that work had left now glittered like silver.
Surrounded by a stunned and silent crowd, the two young people looked into one another’s faces for the first time.
“Ande Ande Lumut,” said Dewi Sekartaji. “Thank you for all your letters.”
Raden Panji cried out with joy, and swept her up into his arms.
Soon afterwards they were married: and if there could be a wedding that was so beautiful, so full of joy, that it could stop all wars forever… well, their wedding would have been that one.
Story ends.
