It is rare to find accounts that explore our country’s history before 1521. So when I read this story by Pastor Ed Lapiz of Day By Day Jesus Ministries about his journey to China in search of our ancestor’s tomb, I immediately asked for his permission to share it here.

I hope you will find it as fascinating and thought-provoking as I did. Knowing our ancestry and the earliest chapters of our recorded past helps us better understand who we are, where we came from, and the rich heritage that shaped our nation long before the arrival of foreign colonizers.

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to pass it on to all of you. What follows is Pastor Ed Lapiz’s story.

In Search Of Our Ancestor’s Tomb

In 1999, I went to China.

Part of the trip was to visit the rice terraces in the south. But there was another purpose I carried with me: I wanted to look for the tomb of Sultan Paduka Batara of Sulu, also known in Chinese records as Paduka Pahala, the Sulu ruler who went to China in 1417 on a state visit to the court of Emperor Yongle of the Ming Dynasty.

The story I knew was simple but powerful: the Sultan had been received in Beijing with royal honor; he stayed at the Ming court for several days; then, on his way back to the islands, he fell ill and died in Dezhou, Shandong, on October 23, 1417. By order of Emperor Yongle, he was buried there with dignity and according to Muslim tradition. Historical summaries also identify him as the East King of Sulu, one of three Sulu rulers who joined the 1417 mission to China.

But knowing the story was one thing. Finding the tomb was another.

At first, even the private guide did not know about it. I insisted that the tomb existed. He did some research. The next day, he said he had found the information.

Later, he admitted that he had been worried. We would have to travel more than six hours by private car from Beijing to Dezhou. For all that effort, he feared we might arrive and find only a small marker, perhaps a forgotten stone in an obscure corner.

Still, I went.

When I reached Dezhou, my first request was to stop at a florist. I wanted flowers arranged and laid at the tomb as an act of respect. I was going to the resting place of a ruler from the old Sulu world, a man who had died far from home and had remained in Chinese soil for almost six centuries.
Then we proceeded to the outskirts of the city.

What we found was astonishing.

It was not a small marker.

It was a grand tomb complex, solemn and imperial in feeling, laid out with ceremonial order. Even more astounding, I was told that in size and form, this tomb complex had only one real counterpart in China: the tomb of Confucius, the country’s foremost philosopher.

Chinese reports describe the mausoleum area as more than 80 mu — roughly 13 acres, and often described by visitors as around 16 acres. It included the royal grave, ceremonial structures, stone figures, a mosque, a memorial tablet, galleries, and halls preserving the memory of the Sultan and the old Sulu mission to China.

At the center was the ceremonial hall. There were inscriptions and poems connected with Emperor Yongle’s regard for the Sultan. There was also an image of Sultan Paduka Batara dressed in imperial yellow — a color associated in China with the highest dignity and normally linked with the emperor.

That detail struck me deeply.

China did not bury him as an unknown foreigner.

The Ming court honored him as a royal guest, a sovereign from a respected maritime world, a ruler whose realm was known in Asian diplomacy, trade, and sea power long before the colonial map renamed and rearranged our islands.

The story did not end with the burial.

The Sultan’s eldest son returned to Sulu to ascend the throne. But members of the Sultan’s family stayed behind in Dezhou to guard the tomb and observe the rites of mourning. Chinese and later historical accounts say that his wife or consort, two sons, and members of the entourage remained there. Their descendants later took the surnames An and Wen, and many in Dezhou today still trace their ancestry to the Sulu royal family.

One striking tradition says that the Ming court also provided land and assigned Chinese local clans to attend to the Sulu family that stayed behind. Some retellings call them servants or even slaves; more careful reports describe them as three Chinese Muslim families relocated to live with and attend to the descendants who remained as grave keepers. However stated, the point is clear: the Sultan’s family was not abandoned in a strange land. They were given support, place, and standing.

There is another remarkable thing about the site.

So many old monuments in China suffered neglect, damage, or destruction in times of upheaval, especially during the Cultural Revolution. Yet this complex survived in a recognizable, honored form. I have not found a firm official explanation for why it was spared, so I would not state that point too strongly as proven cause-and-effect. But the survival itself is significant. Today the tomb is recognized as a major protected cultural site; in 1988 it was listed as a national-level protected cultural relic, and in recent years it has been restored and presented as part of the Sulu Cultural Museum.
Standing there, I felt that this was not only a grave.

It was a surviving witness.

It witnessed to an old relationship between Sulu and China. It witnessed to a time when the island world now called the Philippines was already part of Asian diplomacy, maritime exchange, and royal encounter. It witnessed to a ruler from Sulu who was received by one of the greatest emperors of China, and whose death in a foreign land was answered not with neglect, but with ceremony, respect, and memory.
The officials caring for the tomb seemed surprised by the visit. They said that very few Filipinos came. Usually, only one or two people from the Philippine Embassy would make an official visit once a year, on June 12, our Independence Day.

I brought the flowers into the ceremonial hall and laid them there with gratitude and reverence.

I also wrote a message and left it there:

To the Chinese people:

May the honor and friendship that Emperor Yongle and your people gave to our forefather and Sultan Paduka Batara be the eternal guiding light of the friendship between our two nations.

Sa Bayang Tsina:

Ang pakikipagkapwa at paggalang na ibinigay ni Emperador Yongle at ng inyong bayan sa aming ninuno at Sultan Paduka Batara ang siya nawang maging tanglaw ng pagkakaibigan ng ating dalawang bayan.

Eduardo Mendoza Lapiz
11 September 1999