"Mala-Si-Yqui": The Town That Got Its Name from a Priestly Argument

A long time ago, sometime in the 1600s—back when horses were the speed demons of the day and people still thought tomatoes were poisonous—three Spanish missionary priests arrived in the thick, humid lowlands of what is now Pangasinan. Their mission: to convert the locals, establish a parish, and look holy while sweating profusely under the tropical sun.

After days of wading through fields, mosquitoes the size of mangoes, and chickens that chased after their sandals, the priests finally reached a small, bustling village surrounded by bamboo huts and wide, muddy rice fields.

Father Mateo, the eldest and crankiest of the three, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief that had seen better centuries and groaned, “Mala… this place is no good. Hot, muddy, and the pigs outnumber the people!”

Father Santiago, who always agreed with Mateo just to avoid arguments, nodded solemnly and added, “Sí, I completely agree.”

But Father Ignacio, the youngest and most open-minded of the trio, shrugged as he watched children playing with carabao tails and villagers offering sweet rice cakes. With a grin, he said, “Yquí! So what? The rice is warm, the people are friendly, and I’m pretty sure that pig just bowed at me.”

Unbeknownst to them, a group of locals had been watching curiously from behind a cluster of banana trees. They didn’t speak much Spanish, but they heard everything—Mala... Sí... Yquí. They huddled together, whispering among themselves.

“What did they say?” asked one.

“I think they’re naming the place!” replied another.

“Oh! That must be it. Mala-si-yqui. Sounds fancy.”

And just like that, the name stuck.

By the time the priests held their first official Mass, the villagers had already carved signs reading “Welcome to Malasiqui.” The priests were too embarrassed to admit the name came from an argument, so they went along with it—silently agreeing never to speak of that day again.

Over the centuries, the town of Malasiqui blossomed—rice fields ripened, fiestas boomed, and not a single pig ever bowed again (as far as we know). But the name remained, a testament to the town’s ability to turn even a grumpy priestly disagreement into something delightfully unforgettable.

So next time you pass through Malasiqui, just remember: it might have started with “no good,” but it ended with “so what”—and that, my friend, is the kind of attitude that builds a town.

Reference:

https://www.pangasinan.gov.ph/city-municipalities/malasiqui/