Folklore And Legends
GOLDEN WATERMELON FOLKTALE

Once upon a time, in Sambas lived a rich merchant. The merchant had two sons. His eldest son was named Muzakir, and the youngest was named Dermawan. Muzakir is very loba and miserly. Every day he just collects money. He does not care about the poor. On the contrary, philanthropy is very different in its behavior. He is not greedy with money and always gives alms to the poor.

Before he died, the merchant divided his property equally to his two children. It means that his children do not argue and envy each other, especially if he has died later.

Muzakir immediately bought the vault. The money was put in the box, then locked. When a poor man comes, he does not give alms, but laughs at the poor man who is limping, blind and paralyzed. If the poor man did not want to leave his house, Muzakir called his pay man to drive him out. The poor then flocked to the house of the Benefactor.

Generosity always welcomes the poor with pleasure. They were fed and given money because he felt sorry to see the poor and destitute. Over time the generous money ran out and he could no longer afford to pay for his large house. He moved to a smaller house and had to work. The salary is nothing, just enough to eat. But he was happy with that life. Muzakir laughed out loud at the news of the benefactor he thought was stupid. Muzakir has bought a nicer house and a spacious coconut garden. But the benefactor paid no heed to his brother's behavior.

One day Dermawan was sitting around letting go of his tiredness in his yard. Suddenly a sparrow fell in front of him. The bird squeaked in pain "Pity," Dermawan said. "Your wings are broken, huh?" dermawan continued as if he was talking to the sparrow. Caught the bird, then examined its wings. Sure enough, the bird's wings were broken. "Let me try to treat you" he said. After treatment, the wings of the bird were wrapped slowly. Then take the rice. The sparrow fed him.

Three days later, the seed grew. What grows is a watermelon tree. The plant is well maintained so that it grows abundantly. At first Dermawan thought there would be many fruits. Of course he will be full of eating watermelon and the rest will be devoted. But it is strange, though the flowers are many, that the fruit is only one. The size of this watermelon is unusually large, much more than watermelon in general. It looks good and smells good. After cooking, Dermawan picked the watermelon fruit. Amboi, not playing heavy. He panted to lift it with both hands. After putting it on the table, he took a knife. He split the watermelon. After the watermelon split, how shocked was Philanthropy. Fill the watermelon in the form of yellow sand piled on the table. When he looked carefully, it was evident that the sand was pure gold. The benefactor danced because of his joy. He heard birds squeaking outside, seen sparrows he had helped alight at a milestone. "Thank you! Thank you!" exclaim Dermawan. The bird flew away without coming back.

The next day Donghawan members a nice house with a large yard. All the poor people who came to his house were fed. But the Benefactor will not fall as poor as before, for his money is plentiful and his garden fruit is abundant. Apparently this made Muzakir envious. Muzakir who wanted to know the secret of his sister then went to the house of Dermawan. There Dermawan told him honestly about his story.

Knowing this, MUzakir immediately ordered his paymen to look for birds that had broken legs or broken wings everywhere. But for a week, a bird was not found. Muzakir was very angry and could not sleep. The next morning, Muzakir made sense. He ordered a payday to catch a bird with a flail. Of course the wings of the bird were broken. Muzakir then pretended to take pity on seeing it and bandaged a wound on the bird's wing. After a few days, the bird was healed and released from flight. The bird returned to Muzakir to give him a seed. Muzakir was happy.

The bird-giving seeds were planted by Muzakir in the best place in his garden. Also grow a lush and leafy watermelon tree. The fruit is only one, the size is larger than the watermelon Dermawan. When harvested, two of Muzakir's men laboriously brought him into the house because of his weight. Muzakir took the machete. It will split the watermelon itself. Just now the watermelon was cut, spurt from the fruit black mud mixed with dirt on Muzakir's face. It smells like carrion. Muzakir's clothes and the tapestry in the room did not escape the flush of mud and dirt like that porridge. Muzakir ran to the highway screaming. The one who saw it and smelled the stench laughed out loud as he clapped his hands with his ripple.