Timun Mas, the Golden Cucumber Girl

The ground shakes under every step of the giant, a little closer, then a little closer still. Ahead of him, a girl runs as hard as she can. She holds four small cloth pouches tight in both arms and does not dare look back.

This is an old tale of the Javanese people, from the island of Java in Indonesia. It has been told to small children at bedtime for generations. To know why the girl is running for her life, the story has to go back to the very beginning.

In those days, in a village at the edge of a forest, there lived a poor old widow named Mbok Rondo. She lived alone. Every day she went into the forest to cut firewood and carried it to the market to sell. Her one wish was a child, someone to keep her company morning and night.

One day, deep in the forest, a green-skinned giant suddenly appeared before her. The villagers called him Buto Ijo, which means the green giant. Buto Ijo asked whether she wanted a child. He promised to grant her wish, but he set one clear condition. When the child grew up, she had to hand it over to him. The old woman longed for a child so badly that she did not stop to think. She nodded and agreed at once.

Buto Ijo gave her a strange cucumber seed and told her to take it home and plant it. From that day on, the old woman went out to her garden every day to water the seed. She tended it the way she would tend a child not yet born. Before long a green vine climbed up strong and healthy. It set one fruit that grew bigger and bigger, until one day it was larger than any cucumber she had ever seen in her life. Its skin glowed gold in the early morning sun.

The old woman picked the golden cucumber, carried it home, and gently split it open. Inside there was no soft, juicy flesh. Instead, a lovely baby girl lay there, eyes open, looking up at her and smiling. Buto Ijo had not lied at all. The old woman held the baby close, tears of joy running down her cheeks. She named her Timun Mas, which means golden cucumber.

From then on, mother and daughter leaned on each other. Their life was simple but warm. Timun Mas grew up pretty and good, and she helped her mother with the housework and the work in the fields. The two were so close that at times they forgot the old promise to Buto Ijo.

But Buto Ijo did not forget. One day he came back, stood towering in front of the house, and called out loudly. "Mbok Rondo, come out here. I have come to collect on your promise." The old woman stepped out trembling. She looked at her daughter, who was still so small, and her heart ached as if cut by a knife. She begged the giant again and again for more time. Buto Ijo thought for a while, then nodded. "Very well. I will come back in two years," he said in a threatening voice. "If you break your promise, I will not spare you."

The two years passed like a short dream. Timun Mas grew a little every day, prettier and quicker all the time. As for Mbok Rondo, each time she looked at her daughter her heart felt heavy. She could not forget that cruel promise.

Then, right on time, Buto Ijo returned. His heavy steps shook the thatched roof, and he stood towering at the door just as before. "Where is Timun Mas?" he roared. "I am very hungry. Hand her over to me, quickly." Mbok Rondo held her daughter tight and could not bear to let go. That night, in a restless sleep, she heard a strange voice from far away. It told her to climb a mountain called Bukit Gandul and look for a hermit there, who would help her save her child.

Early the next morning, the old woman set off in a hurry. The old hermit sat in stillness in a small hut on the mountain. He listened to her whole story from beginning to end. Then he took out four small cloth pouches and placed them in her hands. In the four pouches were cucumber seeds, a needle, a handful of salt, and a little shrimp paste. He told her to take them home to her daughter. He explained exactly what to do. When the giant chased her, she must throw the pouches on the ground behind her, one at a time.

Mbok Rondo hurried home as fast as she could run. She arrived just as Buto Ijo roared again right in front of the yard. She pushed the four pouches into her daughter's hands and sent her running straight toward the forest. And that is the moment where the story began, with the girl running ahead and the giant close behind, the ground shaking under his heavy steps.

Buto Ijo was right on her heels. His hot breath seemed to blow on her back, and her heart pounded as if it would leap out of her chest. She pulled out the first pouch and threw it hard on the ground. The moment the seeds touched the earth, they sprouted. Vines reached out and leaves unfolded, and in the blink of an eye there was a whole field of green cucumbers, heavy with fruit. Buto Ijo could never resist cucumbers. He stopped completely. He pulled up plant after plant and gobbled one cucumber after another, and for a long while he forgot all about the chase.

When he had eaten his fill, he took up the chase again, drawing closer and closer. Timun Mas threw the second pouch, and the needle fell to the ground. At once a forest of thorny bamboo shot up high. The stems bristled with sharp thorns and blocked the way. Buto Ijo roared and charged straight in, and the thorns scratched his arms and legs. But he would not turn back. He gritted his teeth and pushed through, and in the end he broke the bamboo forest apart and made a path forward.

Timun Mas could barely breathe. Her legs were worn out, but she did not stop. She threw the third pouch, and the handful of salt flew out on the wind. As soon as the salt fell, it spread into a wide, open sea, and waves rose up between them. Buto Ijo had to wade in and swim with all his strength through the salty water. His strength drained away, but he struggled on and reached the far shore.

Only the last pouch was left. Her arm shook with exhaustion as she tore the cloth open, and she saw that Buto Ijo was already on land, only a few steps away. He lunged forward just as the shrimp paste touched the ground. A hot, bubbling swamp appeared and swallowed him up in an instant. From that day on, no one ever saw Buto Ijo come back to trouble the village at the edge of the forest again.

Timun Mas stood still at the edge of the swamp, panting, her legs still trembling. Then she turned and ran home, where Mbok Rondo stood waiting at the door with her arms open wide.

Mother and daughter held each other tight for a long time. The ground under their feet no longer shook with any heavy steps. There was only the wind softly stirring the trees in front of the yard, and the breathing of mother and daughter slowly growing calm again. To this day, the Javanese people of Central Java still tell their children about the girl named for a golden cucumber. She made her way past a cucumber field, a bamboo forest, a sea and a boiling swamp, all to come home to her mother's arms.