The Legend of the Breadfruit Tree

The Legend of the Breadfruit Tree

(A Legend from Guam)

Long ago, on the Pacific island of Guam, there lived two brothers. Each of them was kind, just, and faithful to his people. So it came to pass that one became the chief of the southern kingdom of Guam. The other brother became chief of the northern kingdom of Guam.

At first, the two brothers took turns holding enormous fiestas each month, to which the other kingdoms would be invited. Gradually, these fiestas were held every few months. Then they were held only once a year, and then— never.

Sometimes the brothers would think about each other, but their memories would be swept away by the hard duties of ruling so many people, people who continued to squabble and fight. So each time they planned to visit each other, their plans were delayed.

Many years after the brother’s separation, a great drought struck Guam. The people had become wasteful of the water and land. They argued with each other over everything. The less they had, the more selfish they became. Soon the drought became a terrible famine.

The chiefs advised their people to eat and drink sparingly, but greed continued to rule over compassion. As time went by and still no rains came to quench the thirst of both the land and the people, even the coconut trees withered and died. Nowhere on the island did any vegetation grow. All of the freshwater springs and streams dried to dust. The brothers in each of their kingdoms watched despairingly as young children weakened and grew silent with hunger.

“Enough!” the chief of the northern kingdom yelled. His chief counselor jumped.

“What is it?” the man asked. He watched his chief with dulled eyes.

“Get the four strongest men remaining in my kingdom and have them carry the youngest, weakest children. We will visit my brother in his southern kingdom and see if he will give us food and water.”

Meanwhile, the chief of the southern kingdom was experiencing the same terrible famine. He woke each day to complaints about the hunger that ravaged his kingdom. He went to sleep hearing the moans of starving people. Eventually, he decided to take three of his men and six of his children and see if his brother would help them.

The next morning as the sun was peeping up over the horizon, the morning birds still could be heard, lifting their voices in hopeful song. “A sign for us to begin,” thought the northern chief. Certainly we will find food at my brother’s.” The northern chief departed with four men and six children. The party walked slowly, saving their energy to plead with the southern chief. All along the path they passed dead trees and dusty pits where cooling springs once gurgled. Hour after hour they walked past parched ground.

At the boundary between the two kingdoms, the northern chief told his men to carefully set down the children. “Let them rest. Find shade for them. I will try to find some bite of food.”

Suddenly, the group heard a rustling from the dry tangle of bush and vines. The northern chief struggled to stand.

Surprised, he stared as his brother stepped toward him. For a moment, the northern chief thought he was seeing a mirage. The last time he had encountered him, his brother was healthy, strong, and sleek with good food. Now, he was gaunt and streaked with dry dust and sweat. The southern chief looked beseechingly at his brother. Then he realized there was no hope. His head hung low with failure and despair.

“Oh, my brother, there is nothing to eat. Nothing has survived this terrible drought. Guam’s people will die,” moaned the northern chief. His brother nodded his head in agreement. The children listened but did not utter one word of complaint.

The two groups decided to rest the night at that place, since they were too tired to return home. Gently, the two chiefs placed the children on beds of dried grass.

They pleaded with the children to hold on one more day, but the exhaustion and disappointment were too great for their already weakened hearts. As the moon rose, the children’s sad faces smoothed, one by one, into death. The men dug twelve sad graves before the moon set, then went to sleep in sorrow.

The next morning, they awoke with the bright sun burning their faces. For a moment, the northern chief forgot about the famine and about the sad news he would have to bring to his people. The birds were singing.

He remembered his failed quest when he opened his eyes, ready to shake his fist at the birds flying above. How could they sing on such a sad day!

A mottled shadow cooled the earth on which he lay. When he looked up, lo and behold, twelve large trees stood where a dozen new graves had been.

“Brother, wake up! It’s a miracle!” the northern chief cried.

He looked again. Yes, twelve trees stood tall and strong. Half of them bore fruit! Large green fruit, dimpled and round, almost within reach.

Breadfruit

The men harvested the fruits and shared them equally. The breadfruit, as it came to be called, nourished both kingdoms. The famine was ended!

To this day you can eat delicious lemmai, the breadfruit that bears its fruit in spring, or dokdok, the fruit that ripens later. And you won't go hungry.

Source

Marianas Island Legends: Myth and Magic

Nancy Bo Flood

2001

Pages: 66-69