In the fifties, Plaridel was a quiet, seaside town with livelihood consisting mainly of farming, fishing and small businesses. Townspeople who go out of town north to Dipolog or south to Pagadian, would travel by bus on dusty unpaved gravel roads.

Since trips were few and far between, passengers would wait for the bus very early in the morning ("mangadlawon" 3-4am) at the shed at the intersection ("crossing") in front of the plaza. There was no electricity then, so it would be pitch dark on starless nights. But on a clear night with the moon and stars out, visibility could be some distance away.

It was on moonlit nights when people waiting for the bus would tell the story of seeing a woman in white, walking on the road leading to the public market. When the woman passes by them, they would say "maayong gabii" or "maayong kaadlawon" but the woman just ignores them and continue walking.

Not really walking but moving in a floating sort of way ("morag galutaw"), they’d say. She had long black hair covering half her face making her unrecognizable. Before she reaches the market, and in front of an ancestral house at the corner, the woman disappears.

Another version would be the woman in white walking on the road leading to the “munisipyo” and upon reaching the corner, turns left going to the market. And when in front of the ancestral house, the woman disappears.

Thus, was born the legend of the White Lady of Plaridel.

As a boy in my teens, I was curious and wanted to find out if the stories were true. I was too scared to go alone, so I dared two of my friends to come with me. When the moon is out, ("bulanon") we would sneak out of the house at dawn and go to the plaza and wait for the White Lady to show up.

Morning came but no White Lady. We tried three more times. Still no White Lady. And as time went by, we heard less and less of the story until nobody seemed to mention it anymore. I said to myself that maybe it was just a made-up story after all.

Fast forward to several years later when I was already in college. On one summer vacation, I went to visit my aunt, Tia Ceding, who was living at that ancestral house near the market. I stayed for supper and later had a conversation on a number of topics. Then the subject of the White Lady came up. I asked her if there were new stories about the White Lady. She said no and that people may already have forgotten that story.

Then she added, "If those stories were true, and if indeed they saw a White Lady, I think they must have seen my sister. The white dress, long black hair, that’s how she looked when we buried her."

I was surprised. I knew all her brothers and sisters but I didn’t know there was a sister who died. I asked her for more details. It’s hazy now, but her story was that the sister died of an unknown illness during or after the war. If there was medical care then like what we have today, she could have been saved.

The family was devastated. Hers was the typical story of a young woman who tragically died before her time. A reason why maybe she was the White Lady. She kept coming home. She didn’t want to leave yet.

My aunt took the White Lady story seriously. She prayed hard that her sister’s spirit left the earth already and move on to the afterlife in peace. The White Lady was never seen again. Maybe her prayers were answered.

I asked her what the name of her sister was. She replied that when her eldest brother got married, he named his first-born daughter after her sister. He named her Aurora.