Sigarlaki dan Limbat >> Edisi Indonesia
Folklore from North Sulawesi
A long time ago, in the lush highlands of Tondano, nestled among misty mountains and sparkling lakes, there lived a skilled hunter named Sigarlaki. With eyes as sharp as an eagle’s and hands steady as stone, Sigarlaki was well-known across the land for his unmatched talent with the spear. Crafted from strong bamboo and carved with ancient patterns, his trusted weapon never missed its mark.
Every time he entered the dense jungle—where birds sang above and hidden creatures stirred in the underbrush—he would return with fresh game: wild boars, forest deer, or flocks of jungle fowl. Villagers admired him not only for his skill, but also for his bravery. He was, without question, the most famous hunter in all of Tondano.
By his side stood Limbat, his faithful servant and constant companion. While Sigarlaki was known for his strength, Limbat was praised for his loyalty and calm heart. He carried supplies, prepared meals, and watched Sigarlaki’s back during long hunting days. They shared laughter around campfires and stories under the stars.
One bright morning, the two set out once again into the emerald green forest. The sky was clear, the breeze gentle. Birds chirped as if blessing their journey. With his spear in hand and Limbat at his side, Sigarlaki stepped into the trees, unaware that this day would be unlike any other.
Sigarlaki tightened his grip on his trusted spear, scanning the forest floor for any signs of wildlife. His brow furrowed. The morning sun had already climbed high, but not a single animal had crossed their path.
“This jungle feels empty today,” he muttered, flicking a leaf off his shoulder.
Limbat, walking a few steps behind, looked around and nodded. “Perhaps the animals are hiding, Master. The wind smells like rain.”
Sigarlaki grunted. “Excuses. I’ve hunted in storms fiercer than this and still brought home wild boars.”
They continued deeper into the jungle, but the forest remained eerily still. Hours passed, and Sigarlaki’s mood grew darker. For the first time in his life, he returned from a hunt with nothing.
As they approached their hut, Limbat hesitated. “Master,” he said softly, “while we were away… someone stole our food.”
Sigarlaki spun around, eyes blazing. “What?! Are you saying you didn’t guard it?”
“No, Master. I locked the storeroom before we left. I—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Sigarlaki shouted. “I trusted you, Limbat! And now our food is gone? Maybe you took it while I was focused on the hunt!”
Limbat’s face fell, his voice trembling. “Master… I would never steal from you. You know my heart.”
“Then prove it,” Sigarlaki snapped, raising his spear. “We’ll let the spirits decide. I will throw my spear into the big pond. You will jump in after it. If the spear rises to the surface before you do, you are innocent. But if you come up first…” He let the silence hang like thunder. “Then you’re guilty.”
Limbat’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You would test me like this, Master? After all these years?”
“You said you’re loyal. Then prove it,” Sigarlaki said coldly.
Limbat looked at the still waters of the pond. His heart ached, but he nodded. “Very well. I will dive… not to prove myself to you, but to show the truth.”
Limbat stood silently at the edge of the pond, his heart pounding. The rule Sigarlaki had spoken made no sense, but he didn’t argue. His eyes shimmered with hurt, yet he only said, “I will do as you say, Master.”
With a sharp motion, Sigarlaki hurled his spear into the deep blue pond. The weapon sliced through the air and disappeared beneath the water with a splash! Without hesitation, Limbat took a deep breath and dove in after it.
Down below, the pond was cool and murky. Sunlight danced faintly through the ripples above. Limbat swam deeper, determined to let the spear rise first. He didn’t care about the strange test anymore—he just wanted to keep his honor.
Meanwhile, on the surface, Sigarlaki squinted at the water. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spotted something rustling in the bushes nearby. It was a wild pig, sniffing around the edge of the pond!
“Aha!” Sigarlaki gasped. “Finally, a target!”
He leapt into the water and grabbed his spear before it could float back up. But just as he climbed out, the pig snorted and darted into the undergrowth, vanishing before Sigarlaki could take aim.🐗🌊
By the time Limbat surfaced, panting and soaked, Sigarlaki stood fuming with the dripping spear in his hand.
“The spear came out before me,” Limbat said quietly, wiping the water from his eyes. “I’ve done what you asked.”
Sigarlaki frowned, refusing to meet his servant’s gaze. “We do it again,” he muttered. “That pig distracted me. The test wasn’t fair.”
He raised his spear once more, preparing for another throw. But just as he lifted his arm—SNAP!
“YEOWCH!” Sigarlaki howled as a large crab clamped tightly onto his toe. He stumbled and fell backward into the shallow pond, flailing.
Limbat rushed to help, alarmed. “Master! Are you alright?”
Sigarlaki groaned, holding up his foot. “That crab... it bit me!” His face twisted—not from pain this time, but from guilt. “Why would you help me, after everything?”
Limbat smiled gently. “Because that’s what loyalty means.”
Sigarlaki looked down, ashamed. “I judged you without reason… and now nature itself has judged me.”
He sighed deeply. “Forgive me, Limbat. I was blind with anger and pride.”
Limbat nodded. “Let us go home, Master. The forest has taught us enough for one day.”
And so, the hunter and the servant walked home side by side—not as master and follower, but as two men who had both learned the true meaning of trust and humility.🦀🌿💧
🌿 Moral Message:
Trust and loyalty are tested not by words, but by actions. Accusations made in anger can hurt those who are truly faithful.
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