The Tiger and the Giant Rice of Toyoi Longhouse

There are many ways to learn about an indigenous community. One of them is by exploring the folklore passed down from generation to generation. Such is the case with the Dayak community in Tumbang Malahoi, Central Kalimantan, Indonesia. Few would expect that among their stories are tales of tigers and giant rice—legends that may have roots in a distant past.

These stories were shared by Animar n Toyoi, a fourth-generation descendant of the Toyoi family, the owners of the Toyoi longhouse in Tumbang Malahoi, believed to have been built in 1869. Animar, who still welcomes visitors warmly to this traditional house, is known for her hospitality. Smiling warmly, she sat writing verses on a piece of paper—songs that would later be performed during a cultural night.

One of these verses recounts the tale of Usep, a tiger, and giant rice. The story of Usep and the tiger is symbolized in the gateway posts of the Toyoi longhouse, one pillar depicting Usep riding a male tiger, the other showing a female tiger devouring a human.

“This story is true, passed down from my great-grandfather Toyoi, and continued through my own words,” Animar explained in one night a few years ago.

She went on to tell the story. Long ago, a newlywed couple lived in the community. The husband’s name was Usep. In accordance with Dayak tradition, a newly married couple was forbidden from leaving their home for seven days. But Usep and his wife broke the rule, going out to their field deep in the forest just days after their wedding.

At that time, tigers were said to roam the forests of Kalimantan. While their existence is scientifically disputed today, the folklore insists they once lived there.

Usep and his wife encountered a pair of tigers in the field. The female tiger was pregnant and craved human flesh. To satisfy her, the male tiger attacked and killed Usep’s wife, offering her flesh to his mate. This tragic moment was immortalized in the left gateway pillar of the Toyoi longhouse, where the female tiger is depicted eating a human.

“Usep was devastated and vowed to take revenge on every tiger in Kalimantan,” Animar continued.

After burying his wife’s remains, Usep set out on a quest for vengeance. He killed as many tigers as he could—three hundred in total—before finally finding and slaying the very male tiger that had killed his wife. This triumph was carved into the right gateway post, showing a man riding atop a tiger.

But according to the tale, the pregnant female tiger escaped, vanishing into a rocky crevice. To this day, her fate remains unknown.

Though difficult to believe without scientific evidence, the tale raises intriguing possibilities. If tigers were ever rediscovered in Kalimantan, such folklore could serve as an unexpected link between myth and science.

The Giant Rice

After recounting the tiger story, Animar pointed to the symbolic carvings beneath the longhouse roof. Among them was an image of a great tree, resembling a kapok tree.

“That is the giant rice plant,” she explained. “Long ago, rice here grew tall like a tree, and its grains were huge.”

But due to a small mistake, she added, rice grains are now tiny. The story goes that after harvesting the giant rice, farmers would lay the grains in the fields to dry under the sun. The heat would crack open the husks, revealing the large kernels inside.

Because farmers were too busy, the task of guarding the rice from chickens was given to a blind man—someone who could not be entrusted with heavier work like farming, fishing, or logging. His only duty was to keep watch so the grains would not be eaten.

As the husks began to crack, they made a popping sound. But the blind man could not distinguish between the sound of rice splitting and the pecking of chickens. Believing chickens were eating the rice, he struck at the source of the noise with his stick. Instead of scaring chickens away, he shattered the precious grains, breaking them into tiny pieces.

Since then, rice became “angry,” cursing humans so that they would have to work hard, sweating for every grain—and only small grains would ever grow.

Folklore as Cultural Wealth

Listening to both stories—the tiger and the giant rice—one is reminded of the depth and diversity of folklore across the archipelago. The tiger story may hint at possibilities yet to be explored, just as pygmy elephants were once rediscovered in the jungles of Borneo.

The tale of giant rice, meanwhile, contrasts with the Javanese legend of Dewi Sri as the goddess of rice. Instead of debating which version is true, these stories highlight the richness of cultural diversity—Bhinneka Tunggal Ika, unity in diversity—that has long existed in the Indonesian archipelago.

Rather than fueling conflict, such differences can be celebrated as sources of inspiration, even as material for creative industries like tourism. Folklore, when preserved and retold, is more than just myth—it is a cultural treasure with the potential to sustain both identity and livelihood. (Sulung Prasetyo)