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The world has yet to catch on that Sumenep is one of the most splendid towns in all of Java, finds Writer Kh2. Those who do go, though, can expect a place where much lore lurks for those who know where to find it. Many people speak of a creature named Si Mega, and they treat it with awe. But who or what was this beast?

Many guests of Madura soon end up at Taman Adipura Sumenep. This is the town’s square and central park. It is a pretty, green space with a circular plaza that acts as a main gathering spot. Pathways cross the taman, and westward-facing arrows sit in the intricately paved brickwork.

These arrows serve a purpose. They point the viewer’s gaze to the most eye-catching of Sumenep’s sights: Masjid Agung, the Great Mosque of Sumenep. This mosque has a striking yellow and white facade. Even the non-pious may agree that it makes the masjid shimmer like a beacon of holy light.

Its broad, leafy paths make Taman a good place to wander. The square invokes a civic buzz, especially at the end of the working day, when people gather there for exercise and socialising. And those who head for the Taman’s southwest corner, where Jl. Kesatrian turns onto Jl. Raya Sumenep will soon find a statue that captures the spirit of the town itself.

The statue of Si Mega

There they will see a plinth, over which floats Sumenep’s name in gold leaf. Beneath the writing await four white horses. Bodies tensed and muscles flexed, these animals give the piece a sense of infinite movement.

An unending silent bellow issues from their wide-open mouths, and their body language, even in varying states of collapse, conveys defiant will.

The quartet, locked in these poses, are the very image of charging steeds. They seem destined to run in eternal circles, which would give the statue a tragic quality, were it not for the central figure, whom the four horses circle.

This final figure draws the gaze of everyone and everything that sees it. It is another horse, rendered even more splendid thanks to its gilded skin and a fine pair of wings. In the right light, these wings appear to flutter in the breeze.

And at all times, this horse rears on its hind legs in an attitude of power, majesty and divine spirit.

What is Si Mega?

The viewer has found Si Mega, the mythical winged horse who shaped the folklore of Sumenep. Si Mega goes by different names. Some call it Jaran Semberani, while others know it as Kuda Panoleh.

But all agree that the horse is a brave animal with mystical powers. Si Mega carried gods and rulers. It was the trusted steed of all manner of holy forces, and it ferried them with the quick and cunning worthy of a divine beast.

Si Mega is the symbol of Sumenep. And in the same way that the Soul of Madura was founded upon the virtues of graceful tradition, the golden, winged creature presents the same poise and dignity. It is the sign of tradition.

Those who look closely will see that many keris knives bear the horse’s image in their beautiful and ornate carved handles. These same watchers will also note that the logos and symbols of businesses, banks and sports teams in Sumenep carry Si Mega’s image.

 But where there runs a vein of elegance, so, too, is there an undercurrent of pride. The tong tong group, Mega Remmeng, based out of Legung, named themselves after Si Mega. They did so to honour their homeland’s spirit.

The group made a name for themselves, for the triumphant vigour of their sound. But one day in 2013, Mega Remmeng lay down to sleep and entered a long hibernation. It was only in 2025 that the group finally emerged from their slumber.

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Symbol of courage

The group returned at the 2025 Madura-wide Tong-Tong Music Festival, with a float that bore the weight of a giant statue: the same winged horse from which they took their name.

Mega Remmeng made an incendiary and celebratory comeback. It invoked the spirit of Madura so strongly that it reduced many onlookers to tears. “Our presence here isn’t just to perform, but to reawaken the artistic spirit of coastal youth. Art isn’t just entertainment, it’s the breath of life,” Huri, the group’s Chair, told Indeks Jatim.

Si Mega reared triumphantly during the performance, stripped in shades of blue and pink that made it look like a creature of myth and valour reasserting that the fire of courage never goes out.

The spirit of the winged horse manifests itself in all corners of Sumenep. Some liken the cooling breeze that courses through the town to the faint rustling of feathers. The sensation of flapping wings often heralds the onset of this balming wind.

The story of Joko Tole

Si Mega’s story entwines like a DNA helix with that of the Madurese folk hero, Joko Tole. Joko Tole is a revered figure in Madura’s long history. He was of royal blood. His mother was the noblewoman Putri Ragil Kuning (Madurese: Pottre Koneng), and his grandfather, King Saccadiningrat, ruled Sumenep from 1339 to 1348 CE. Joko Tole also had a brother, Joko Wedi.

The identity of the brothers’ father took a bit more time to unravel. Tole and Wedi did not have a typical birth. They were conceived in a dream state, with no physical source. The immaculate conception came about when their mother, the princess Pottre Koneng, was secluded on Sapudi Island to practice her meditation.

One night, having reached a heightened state of awareness, she lay down to rest. And as her mind drifted off, her thoughts splintered, and all manner of peculiar notions befell her. Her thoughts untethered themselves and floated off. Sleep overcame her.

But Putri Kuning’s thoughts were cunning, and they gave the princess a glimpse of something new. A figure began to emerge. And as it became clear, she saw a brawny and handsome man that she knew to be Adi Poday.

One day, Adi Poday would become the twelfth king of Sumenep. But for now, he was a recluse in Bangkalan on Mount Geger, where legend has it, Madurese civilisation took hold. Poday had a brother, Adi Rasa, and his father was Ario Pulangjiwo.

Blurred vision

Poday approached the princess, and her vision started to blur, and then she knew nothing more. It came as no surprise that the next morning, the encounter left her somewhat uneasy, with a strange sensation in her belly.

Soon, this feeling became solid, and her waist started to grow. And it continued to grow. The princess could not hide the fact that something had happened to her. Try as she might to hide the ever-larger bump, she could no longer deny the inevitable; she was pregnant.

It was an unexpected turn of events for a princess secluded from the outside world, and she did not expect an overjoyed reaction from her father. So it proved. The princess knew Saccadiningrat well. He was unimpressed, and told her so, loudly and at length. He demanded to know who had mounted her in such an unlikely way.

Pottre Koneng’s answer failed to convince him. Perhaps understanding how a solitary woman could become pregnant required a bit of imagination and an openness to the uncanny that Saccadiningrat didn’t possess.

A pragmatic man, his anger, instead, focused on the family’s reputation. Specifically, he voiced his irritation at how the pregnancy out of wedlock had ruined that reputation. People in court circles had begun to talk, he said to anyone in earshot. And none of it flattered the princess.

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Execution threat

Saccadiningrat pondered the issue. And in his pondering, he made sure to let everyone know that he had an issue to ponder, and that he was thoughtfully pondering it. And after a good long ponder, he came up with what he thought was a sensible, considered solution: he would have Pottre Koneng executed.

Thinking that outcome a bit much, wiser, saner, calmer heads prevailed. They argued in favour of exile. It would convey the same message, they said, without unjustly penalising Pottre Koneng for becoming unwittingly pregnant by a man who lived in a dream.

More pertinently, it would restore the family’s reputation, which pleased the king very much. He readily agreed to the new plan, and his guards bundled the princess away.

Thus did the still-pregnant Pottre Koneng find herself exiled in the middle of a giant forest. During her exile, nature took its course, and she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.

But despite the wondrous gift bestowed upon her, the princess felt a pang of guilt. She knew that a baby born to an unmarried mother would sully not just her standing but also undermine her father’s rule.

Abandoned child

The princess took the one course of action available to her, ignoring the heartbreak it would cause: she would abandon her baby in the forest. This she did, and, as a colossal pit of emptiness opened in her gut, she headed downhearted back to court. Her son, meanwhile, stayed where he was.

Since he was a baby, he had received no basic training, not even on an informal basis. Thus, he couldn’t defend himself, and all manner of creatures circled his weeping form. They licked their lips at thoughts of such easy prey.

A mighty thirst overtook Joko Tole. But the impish Time and Tide, looking down from their clouds, decided that, for once, they would help a stranger rather than hinder them. They coughed, and they spluttered, and they pointed, and the resulting din drew a buffalo to Joko Tole.

The buffalo fed the baby some of her milk and came back each day to tend to him. Soon enough, the beast’s owner, a master blacksmith named Empu Kelleng who lived in the village of Pakandangan, became curious about why the buffalo would wander off so often. The next time she left, he followed her.

Empu Kelleng soon found the buffalo with the baby. And despite his confusion, he felt great joy, for he and his wife were childless. He took the child home, and the pair named him Joko Tole. They had no idea what lay in store for the newborn. For now, they basked as a new spring of joy flowed through the household.

Empu Kelleng

The princess, meanwhile, still beset by an emptiness where the unconditional love of raising her child should have been, returned to her meditation on Sapudi. And again, the same pattern occurred.

She dreamed of a mysterious figure, became pregnant, and, to avoid reprisals and charges of impure behaviour, left the child in the forest. The princess had done nothing wrong, but the constraints of her environment and the family’s public image left her no other choice.

She would have to hope her meditation would teach her how to navigate the pit of sadness in her belly.

This boy was called Joko Wedi. And like his brother, a blacksmith found him in the woods; this time in Pademawu, near Pamekasan in Central Madura. The brothers would one day reunite. But, for now, they did not know of one another’s existence.

In the meantime, the eldest brother, Joko Tole, settled into family life. He cared deeply for his foster parents and absorbed so thoroughly into their rhythms that his presence was as natural as the ebb and flow of seasons.

He had an unerring knack for metalwork. Empu Kelleng marvelled at how well young Joko Tole could mould and manipulate materials to make tools and weapons. And he did so with his bare hands, with skill and speed far in excess of his foster father.

Joko Tole and Kris

By now a master Empu in his own right, Joko Tole’s prowess bred rumours that he could turn clay into metal. He produced antique blends of wondrous and intricate designs. And with these same skills, he perfected a style of kris dagger known as Jenengan Pakandangan.

These kris had profound spiritual and cultural importance. Sumenep was the centre of their production.

Empu Tole imbued his kris with spiritual energy and protective powers. Many deemed his work pusaka, or sacred heirlooms. Legend tells that a kris finds its owner, and not vice versa. So doing, the bond ‘twixt blade and owner links spirits and ancestors and bloodlines. A kris shows a person’s place in society. And none could weave into these blades a tapestry that blended tradition, protection, culture and blood better than Joko Tole. His expertise turned heads from many miles away.

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Family reunited

One day, word reached Empu Kelleng from Kediri, on Java’s mainland. The message, in the form of a summons, came from King Brawijaya VII, the last Majapahit monarch.

The king had a task for the master blacksmith: he would build the gate for the royal palace. Empu Kelleng, who had a civic mind and knew never to test the whims of royalty, heeded the call and headed to Java.

And for three long years, Empu Kelleng vanished. Neither word was heard of him nor sight seen. The master blacksmith’s wife, whose name history never recorded, became nervous. She sent Joko Tole to find him.

And so he set off from Sumenep, on the east of Madura. He took the southern coast road and passed by Kampung Jumiang, on the outskirts of Pamekasan. There, he came across a mysterious hermit, who identified himself as Adi Rasa. Joko Tole had found his uncle.

Adi Rasa had a lot to say to his nephew. Words of advice and encouragement. And also family. Adi Rasa told Joko Tole about his lineage.

He introduced the hitherto brotherless Joko Tole to his younger sibling, Joko Wedi. The younger Joko had waited patiently for his brother’s arrival, and they shared a joyful embrace.

Time and Tide, for once, had chosen to do something to help a stranger, not burden them. An agreeable sound and the motion of nodding floated down to the ground, creating in all who beheld them a keen sense of purpose. Thus buoyed, Adi Rasa continued to prepare his nephew for what lay ahead.

Gate quest

The gate had reached an impasse, and no one knew how to advance. It was a question of adhesion, said Adi Rasa, who proffered a solution, albeit a painful one for Joko Tole. Completing the gate required a spot of magic.

And this magic existed only in the form of a gluey, tin-like liquid that came from the burned body of Joko Tole. A flash of scepticism bounded across the blacksmith’s face, and his eyebrows raised in shock for a split second.

Joko Tole quickly adjusted his perception. When his uncle announced that the young man’s ashes were the source of this adhesive, and that someone would have to retrieve the tinny ooze before pouring water over Joko Tole to restore his body, it seemed like a perfectly sane course of action.

With this plan settled, Joko Tole readied himself to depart. He invited Joko Wedi to join him.

Before the pair left, Adi Rasa handed Joko Tole two things to aid him in his quest: a winged horse named Si Mega (*stirring chorus of trumpets*)(*audience applauds and vacates the theatre*) and a cemeti, or whip, that was a gift from the youngsters’ father, Adi Poday.

King of Gresik

The pair soon reached the mainland of Java and stopped in the regency of Gresik. But they received no friendly welcome. Armed guards met them and marched them away. Their destination was Gresik Palace, where the area’s king told them of a dream he had had. In his vision, an oncoming pair of visitors were the sons of royalty.

When these mysterious new arrivals suddenly appeared in Gresik, the king knew his dream had come true.

The wily monarch suggested, by way of violent insinuation and subtle threats of bodily harm exacted on the brothers Joko, that a strategic marriage would suit all parties.

The brothers had little to barter with. Joko Tole unwillingly consented, and his sibling was soon wedded to the King of Gresik’s daughter. The elder Joko, bereft of a younger brother and in a state of some sadness, then carried on to Kediri.

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Body burn

He still hoped to find Empu Kelleng, and upon arriving, offered his services to King Brawijaya VII. One way or another, the gate would be built, and its creators set free. Si Mega wisely kept its own counsel.

The project to build the gate had come to a standstill. Tiredness had claimed some of the blacksmiths, while others, including Empu Kelleng, fell to heatstroke.

This creative impasse did not hinder Joko Tole. His power swayed more to the supernatural, and a half-finished, heavy, iron gate did not intimidate him. It was a simple fix that called only for a little welding. He had his body burned to ashes, and the resulting ooze slathered upon the gate to aid his task.

Reembodied with a splash of water, Joko Tole tackled the task of finishing the gate with the smooth and quick ease that only a master of their craft could employ. Task done, the king kept to his word: Empu Kelleng could return home. Joko Tole, though, was told that he could not leave; the king had other things in store for him.

Dewi Ratnadi

For all his bluster, the king was not a complete tyrant. He was no stranger to gratitude and rewarded Joko Tole for his service to the Majapahit kingdom. The king gave his blind daughter, Dewi Ratnadi, to the blacksmith in marriage.

This union suited all parties, not least Joko Tole, who felt deep, immediate love for his bride. They dutifully stayed in Kediri a while. But before long, Sumenep called Joko Tole home. The king granted the couple permission to go, and back to Madura they headed.

The couple first crossed the Madura Strait, where the water between Java and Madura is at its thinnest. Joko Tole’s bride’s compromised vision soon affected him too, because neither of them could see what lay in store. They heard only positive murmurs descend upon them from the clouds. 

The journey to Madura took no time. They soon reached the outskirts of Bangkalan. But the call of nature, following them from afar but creeping ever-closer, caught up with the travelling party, and they took the time to rest and recover.

As they did so, Joko Tole struck the ground with his wife’s cane. A fearsome roar from below the earth answered the strike, as did a shaking of the ground. There followed a spurt of water that shimmered like glass, which rained down upon the couple.

It hit the princess first, and a great shock overcame her, and then a blur of vision. The water, as though driven by magic, had restored her sight.

Meeting Adi Poday

The couple collapsed in shock and gave their thanks to God. By way of fiendish coincidence, the place where this happened was called Socah, which means ‘eye’ on Madura. It was not the only miraculous or uncanny event they would meet on their trip.

They continued east to Sampang. There, Dewi Ratnadi washed her Amben cloth in a river. But the tide became suddenly powerful, and it stole away her garment.

Tales tell that Joko Tole waded into the water to retrieve the cloth and, so doing, stopped the flow of water. So complete was this block that the area, which became known as Desa Omben, was left without water for a good long time after.

Next, the party reached Pamekasan and headed to Mount Geger, where Joko Tole hoped to receive the blessing of his father, Adi Poday.

The meditating Poday happily agreed. He blessed the marriage of his son and the princess, but also gave a warning. Poday said that one day, Joko Tole would go to war with Chinese invaders, who would hound Madura and Java.

New king

Thus warned, Joko Tole and Dewi Ratnadi then moved on to Sumenep, where Pottre Koneng, having completed her meditation, awaited them. Each person enjoyed a loving reunion or a fond first meeting.

It was a time of great change in the region. King Saccadiningrat felt his age creep up on him and deemed it right to vacate the throne. First, he offered the kingdom to Adi Poday, who had returned from Mount Geger.

But the hermit refused, citing the fact that his own father, Panembahan Belingi, King of Sapudi, had also begun to feel the ravages of time. The people of Sapudi wanted Adi Poday as their next king.

Undeterred, Saccadiningrat looked further down his bloodline, where he caught the eye of his grandson Joko Tole. The king offered the blacksmith the seat of power in Sumenep. Joko Tole accepted on one condition: the government would move its base to Lapa Teman in Dungkek, closer to Sapudi.

Saccadiningrat agreed. He added that if Joko Tole was king, he was free to do more or less what he wanted. He could move Sumenep’s base of operations to the moon if he so wished. Joko Tole politely declined that option, however, citing a limited transport budget.

Instead, Joko Tole took the throne in 1415 and kept things in and around Sumenep. With his new role came a new honorific: King Saccadiningrat III. He was an active king, and he made sure to visit all areas of his domain, with faithful Si Mega in tow.

Power of Si Mega

One day, the new king headed north from Sumenep to the village of Batuputih Laok. The villagers lamented that their home had no clean water, and Joko Tole heard their call.

And as he rode into Batuputih Laok astride Si Mega, the winged horse and willowed and neighed. A silence followed that tried to fill the growing tension, as of a dam fit to burst.

Suddenly, the horse reared and drove its hooves into the ground. There came a rumble and a shaking of the earth that heralded a giant roar. And as the roar grew in size, fresh water burst from the ground.

The villagers rejoiced and dropped to their knees in exhausted, thankful disbelief. They named the place Sumber Tombet, which in Madurese means ‘source of water’, and gave much thanks to their king and his mythical steed for this fruitful help.

Dampu Awang

One day, Adi Poday’s premonition of war came to pass. Fishing boats in Madura came under attack from an enormous Chinese fleet, commanded by Dampu Awang, or Sampo Tua Lang.

These invaders had mythical powers that conventional forces could not stop; gravity did not bind their ships, which could soar in the sky, higher than any mountaintop. From there, they could swoop down onto their unwitting victims. The invaders caused much damage in this way.

But Dampu Awang was cursed by arrogance. He believed that his flying fleet could best any opponent. The commander did not reckon upon Joko Tole and his winged horse, Si Mega, and scoffed as the pair flew into battle to confront the Chinese fleet.

Joko Tole attacked the invaders, and he did so with the dignified, animated glee of a monarch defending his land. A divine voice guided him in the form of Adi Rasa. The sound led Joko Tole to Dampu Awang, whose vessel floated high in the sky.

Chaos unfolded around the pair, who had locked eyes and stared at one another with barely controlled fury. Of a sudden, a voice came from above; it was Adi Rasa, who commanded Joko Tole, ‘pokol’, or ‘strike’.

Invaders routed

The king did so, yanking on Si Mega’s straps so that the horse raised its front feet in a sign of impending attack and magisterial grace. The movement confused the invaders, who failed to see that Joko Tole had unfurled his whip and lashed at Dampu Awang’s vessel.

A great shattering ensued, as the wooden boat fell apart under the king’s constant bombardment. Before long, the ship was smashed to pieces, and it fell to the ground in Bancaran, taking Dampu Awang and his troops with it.

The collapsing fleet landed all around Bangkalan. Dampu Awang himself fell, in many pieces, onto the village of Ujung Piring, while his ship’s anchor clattered into Socah.

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Pride and grace

The Chinese invaders had been beaten. Like the Mongols centuries before, they fled Java to escape further losses. Joko Tole triumphed. And in this victory, Si Mega’s defiant pose, front legs raised in the air, became a symbol of Sumenep.

In that single movement, the horse embodied all that Sumenep stood for: noble grace, a fierce backbone, civic pride.

Joko Tole settled into his kingly duties in Sumenep. He and Dewi Ratnadi had a son, Raden Arya Wiragananda, and a daughter, Raden Bindara Dwiryapadha, or Sunan Paddusan.

The people of Sumenep prospered under the blacksmith king, who reigned from 1415 to 1460. His courageous deeds inspired reverence, and he and his winged steed, Si Mega, still prompt celebrations centuries later.

The meaning behind Si Mega

Such is the reach of the story and its characters that the main players live on in different ways. Joko Tole and Pottre Koneng, for instance, have lent their names to ferries that run between Surabaya and the port of Kamal in Madura. Joko Tole’s cemita whip, meanwhile, has become a symbol of the Madurese.

References abound of the island’s famed bull races, with lashes like Joko Tole’s used to control the beasts’ speed and tempo. It is up to the reader to decide whether or not they deem the addition of whips to these races cruel; EitM do.

With its graceful strength and defiant, heroic air, Si Mega has also become one of the symbols of Sumenep. Many will note that the Keraton, the royal palace, has wide doors to allow safe passage of horses and carriages. But further afield and pulsing all around, artwork and symbols and sigils depict horses as things to ward off the pull of evil.

And it is Si Mega, the winged horse, who rides at the vanguard of this protection. The creature evokes notions of might and magical power. Joko Tole would not have beaten Dampu Awang were it not for Si Mega, who aided the blacksmith king in his quest to see off the invaders.

Worthy name

Thus, the winged horse conveys divine, decisive protection and power. So doing, it has become the totem of Sumenep’s historical identity.

In Madura, a person can use the word ‘si’ as an honorific, in the same way that a Javanese speaker uses ‘ki’. From this perspective, the title ‘Si Mega’ embodies respect. Each use of the name spreads the notion of care and regard in a way that is as natural as the tides and the currents and the blood that pumps through a body.

Si Mega and Sumekar

The heraldry of Sumenep includes a single word: ‘Sumekar’. This is the place’s historical name. It dates back to the sixteenth century. ‘Sumekar’ means ‘blooming’ or ‘always developing’. The term refers to the Sumenep Sultanate, known for its art and architecture, such as the Keraton, as well as its kind people.

The place is sometimes called ‘Bumi Sumekar’, or the land of blooming, to honour its proud tradition, fertile land and vibrant culture.

And within this flourishing lies Si Mega. Sumenep’s symbol is a badge shaped like a shield. It has a green background and the horse is yellow; the green reflects Madura’s strong Islamic tradition, while the yellow, which shimmers like gold, represents agriculture and prosperity.

These two colours flow everywhere in Sumenep. They are found on the pavements and reach the cemeteries, and even mark sports teams and businesses. The green and the gold show the character of the place that contains them.

Symbolic Si Mega

At the centre of this symbol is a golden, winged horse who rears above a white scroll with red lettering that proclaims, with evident pride, ‘Sumekar’. An observer may infer a connection between horse and place: the land flourishes, and the horse symbolises this state of thriving. One cannot exist without the other. The creature gives form to the feeling, but it cannot exist without something to solidify and symbolise.

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