How the Guava Came to Be
- JOSEPH RICHARD MEJIA
- Sep 8, 2025
- 3 min read
(A Translated Version)
Before the Spanish conquerors arrived in the Philippines, a sultan ruled who was extremely cruel and showed no sense of justice. He was Sultan Barabas. His subjects greatly feared him because of his cruelty.
Sultan Barabas’ word was law. He showed no mercy in handing out punishments. Young or old, male or female—he punished them all. He imposed severe penalties even for the smallest of offenses. He would immediately mete out harsh punishments to serve as a warning, so people would not commit the same mistakes again.
Every day, he dressed in lavish and expensive clothing. Upon his head was always a golden crown specially made in a distant land. He wore this crown wherever he went—a symbol of his power and superiority over everyone.
He also had more than enough delicious food. Yet he was extremely selfish. No beggar could ever ask him for help, not even a scrap of food.
It was no surprise that his vast garden—filled with a variety of fruit-bearing trees—was off-limits to everyone. Only he and his slaves, who had picked the fruits, were allowed inside. He would rather let the fruits rot on the trees than allow others to eat them.
One day, the sultan ordered his guards to arrest a fisherman.
The reason? He had stayed out fishing too late. Without mercy, the poor fisherman was thrown into prison. The sultan even ordered that he be tortured as a warning to others.
News of this reached the fisherman’s wife. Despite it being late at night, she immediately went to the palace.
This fisherman's wife was known for making excellent dried fish. She would preserve and dry the fish that her husband caught.
Fearless, the woman went straight to the palace and knocked while the sultan was asleep. Awakened from his sleep, the sultan was furious. When he found out who disturbed him and why, his anger grew even more. Instead of showing compassion, he imprisoned the woman as well. He thought it was a good idea—he could eat delicious dried fish, since he would have the husband catch the fish and the wife prepare it.
The couple was somewhat content, even while imprisoned, because at least they were together. However, they were worried about their teenage son being left alone at home. They knew no one would take care of him in their absence.
What they didn’t know was that anitos of the forest were looking after their son. These anitos made sure he had food every day.
One day, the boy decided to visit Sultan Barabas. He wanted to ask the sultan to release his mother and father. The anitos accompanied him to the palace.
When they finally met, the boy boldly spoke up. He told the sultan that he deserved to be given food, since what the sultan ate came from the fish caught by his father and prepared by his mother.
Sultan Barabas refused. Instead, he just laughed.
In anger, the boy suddenly snatched the crown from the sultan’s head and ran off. The sultan chased after him.
They ended up in the vast garden. But the sultan couldn’t catch the boy—he was faster. Exhausted, the sultan stopped in front of a large tree. Gasping for breath, clutching his chest, he suddenly collapsed.
And at that very moment, he died.
He was buried right there in his garden.
A new sultan took over—one who was far kinder and more just than Sultan Barabas. He opened the garden to everyone, allowing people to enjoy the fruits freely.
Soon, a new plant was noticed growing where Sultan Barabas had been buried.
The people let it grow and bear fruit. When they first tasted the unripe fruit, everyone winced.
“So bitter!” said one. “Just like the attitude of Sultan Barabas!”
When the fruits grew larger and they tasted them again, some said, “So sour. Just like the face of Sultan Barabas!”
“Then that tree must be Barabas himself!” many declared.
But when the fruits finally ripened, everyone found them delicious—they were sweet.
From then on, the fruit became well-loved, and in time, it came to be known as the Bayabas, the first guava.
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