Synchronous Reading/Story Retelling/Poster Making

THE STORY OF THE FIRST DURIAN

(The Hermit’s Three Wishes)

Barom-Mai was an old and ugly king who lived in a kingdom called
Calinan in the Visayas hundreds of years ago. Although he was powerful,
he was helpless when it came to winning the love of his young bride,
Madayaw-Bayho (daughter of Tageb, king of the pirates).

Barom-Mai asked his advisers to help him win his bride’s love, and
Matigam (the wisest of advisers) told him about Impit Purok, a hermit
who lived in a cave in Mt. Apo.

They went to the hermit and he asked for three things: the egg of the
black tabon bird, twelve ladles of fresh milk from a white carabao without
blemish, and the nectar from the flower of the tree-of-make-believe.

The egg will be used to soften the bride’s heart; the milk, to make her
kind; and, the nectar, to make her see Barom-Mai as a young and
handsome king.

The king finds the egg through the help of Pawikan, the king of the sea
turtles. He luckily gets milk from a white carabao the following breakfast,
thanks to his cook. Hangin-Bai, the nymph of the air, leads him to her
sister, the wood nymph who had the magic flower in her hair.

Barom-Mai gives the three things to Impit Purok, who asked him to
prepare a big feast after Barom-Mai wins his queen back, and to invite
Impit Purok as the king’s guest of honor.

Impit Purok mixes the three ingredients and instructs Barom-Mai to plant
the mixture in the royal garden. The morning after it was planted, a tree
grew. It had a sweet smell and tasted good. When Madayaw-Bayho was
given the fruit, she fell in love with Barom-Mai.

The king throws a big feast but forgets to invite Impit Purok. In
retaliation, Impit casts a curse upon the fruit: The sweet smell was
replaced with a foul odor while the smooth skin of the fruit was covered
with thorns, which is how the durian smells and looks today.
 Oral Interpretation

The Road Not Taken

BY ROBE R T FR OST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.