Fighting Basques: The Aluminum Trail. Basques who flew over the Himalayas, 1942-1945

In memory of Dr. Emilia (Sarriugarte) Doyaga (Brooklyn, New York, 1925-2020).

This article originally appeared in Spanish at El Diario.

Japan’s military advance (in blue) between 1937 and 1942. Allied countries in red. (Source: Wikimedia).

With the attack on Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, and the invasion of the Philippines, the Japanese Empire began an unstoppable expansionist military campaign across the Pacific against American, British and Dutch possessions in response to logistical support that, since 1941, the United States (USA) had given to the Republic of China in its war with the Japanese (the Second Sino-Japanese War began on July 7, 1937), and to the oil embargo by the Dutch and the British. In December 1941, Japan attacked British colonial territories in Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, and Burma (today Myanmar). This opened a new military front in the global war, in which China, with the support of the United States and the Soviet Union, became a key player in curbing Japanese imperialist ambitions in Southeast Asia and which was baptized the China-Burma-India Theater of Operations. It was the great forgotten military theater of World War II (WWII). An estimated four million Chinese and Japanese soldiers perished as a result of the war, to which should be added between 10 and 25 million Chinese civilians who also died. The Second Sino-Japanese War was the greatest human tragedy in terms of the number of deaths in the entire Pacific War.

“Echoes of two wars, 1936-1945” aims to disseminate the stories of those Basques and Navarrese who participated in two of the warfare events that defined the future of much of the 20th century. With this blog, the intention of the Sancho de Beurko Association is to rescue from anonymity the thousands of people who constitute the backbone of the historical memory of the Basque and Navarre communities, on both sides of the Pyrenees, and their diasporas of emigrants and descendants, with a primary emphasis on the United States, during the period from 1936 to 1945.

THE AUTHORS
Guillermo Tabernilla
is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Association, a non-profit organization that studies the history of the Basques and Navarrese from both sides of the Pyrenees in the Spanish Civil War and in World War II. He is currently their secretary and community manager. He is also editor of the digital magazine Saibigain. Between 2008 and 2016 he directed the catalog of the “Iron Belt” for the Heritage Directorate of the Basque Government and is, together with Pedro J. Oiarzabal, principal investigator of the Fighting Basques Project, a memory project on the Basques and Navarrese in the Second World War in collaboration with the federation of Basque Organizations of North America.

Pedro J. Oiarzabal is a Doctor in Political Science-Basque Studies, granted by the University of Nevada, Reno (USA). For two decades, his work has focused on research and consulting on public policies (citizenship abroad and return), diasporas and new technologies, and social and historical memory (oral history, migration and exile), with special emphasis on the Basque case. He is the author of more than twenty publications. He has authored the blog “Basque Identity 2.0” by EITB and “Diaspora Bizia” by EuskalKultura.eus. On Twitter @Oiarzabal.

Josu M. Aguirregabiria is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Association and is currently its president. A specialist in the Civil War in Álava, he is the author of several publications related to this topic, among which “La batalla de Villarreal de Álava” (2015) y “Seis días de guerra en el frente de Álava. Comienza la ofensiva de Mola” (2018) stand out.

The invasion of Malaysia occurred on December 8 and was fully occupied by February 1942. From there, Japan launched another attack on the island of Singapore, south of the Malay Peninsula. On February 15, British troops from Singapore surrendered. In late December, Japan invaded Burma with 100,000 soldiers and nearly 700 aircraft. The British capitulated in April 1942. The invasion of Burma meant for Japan the capture of military supplies vital for the Allies and particularly for the United States, such as natural rubber. 90% of all natural rubber production grew within a 15-degree radius of Singapore. The response from the US government did not take long, which formed a consortium of rubber manufacturing companies with the objective of replacing natural rubber with synthetic ones. The multinational companies of today Firestone and later Goodyear would manufacture, in the spring of 1942, the first synthetic rubber in history.

Poster for a 1942 US War Production Board information campaign to ration the use of rubber (Source: Northwestern University Library).

Furthermore, Burma was a strategic target for Japan in its final victory against the Chinese resistance. Japan needed to cut off supplies to China, which were mainly carried out through the so-called Burma Road, built in 1938 with a length of 1,154 kilometers, that connected Yangon, to the south of Burma, and Kunming, in the Chinese province of Yunnan. Burma was the main country through which China supplied itself in its objective of defeating Japan since the invasion of 1937. The taking of Yangon in March 1942 meant control of the Burma Road and the end of allied supplies by land to China. (Japan had China isolated by sea since 1937.) The only allied solution at the time was to supply Chinese nationalists and US Air Force units by air from, initially, Dinjan in the province of Assam, India, to the city of Kunming — through the eastern tip of the Himalaya mountain range, baptized by the pilots as “hump” (with elevations above 4000 meters). The 800-kilometer-area route, also known as the Aluminum Trail, was inaugurated on April 8, 1942.

Allied lines of communication in Southeast Asia, 1942-43. (Source: The Department of History, United States Military Academy).

Among the children of immigrant Basques who flew over the Aluminum Trail, there were coincidentally four young people from Humboldt County, in the State of Nevada: Santiago Arriola Onandia and Joseph Malaxechevarria Plaza — both born in 1919 in the small rural town of Paradise Valley — John Montero Bidegaray, born in 1922 at the Leonard Creek family ranch, and Domingo Arangüena Bengoa, born in 1917 in Winnemucca. Santiago Arriola was recruited on October 17, 1941 before the United States entered the war. He joined the Air Force and received radio operator training at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois. Promoted to Staff Sergeant, he departed for India under sealed orders from Sioux Falls (South Dakota) on an extraordinary journey that took him first to Greensboro (North Carolina), then to Miami Beach (Florida), where he caught a flight that would fly a route via Puerto Rico, Belim, Ascension Island, the Gold Coast of Africa (present Ghana), Khartoum, and Aden. His plane had engine problems and was forced to land in Madagascar, then continude on to Karachi, Barrackpore and, finally, the Kurmitola (Bengal) airfield, where he was assigned to the China-India Division of Transport Command. He flew the C-109 “Liberator Express” aircraft, modified as fuel transports, in what became known as the “Gas runs” from India to China. In late 1944 his unit was posted to the Shamshernagar Indian Airfield, where it remained until it was bombed by the Japanese in June 1945. By the end of his term of service he had crossed the Himalayas more than 100 times. At the end of the war, he was flown to Karachi, where he took a boat that would take him to New York. Demobilized in Fort Douglas, Utah, he arrived at his Paradise Valley home just in time for Christmas. He died in 1994.

Image of a C-109 “Liberator Express” airplane unloading fuel (Source: Wikimedia).

Joseph Malaxechevarria (in the USA he was known as Joseph Echevarría) enlisted the same day of the attack on Pearl Harbor. He entered the Air Force and got a place at the technical training school at the Chanute Air Force Base (Illinois), where he graduated as a mechanic. He was sent to North Africa in late 1942 and then to Sicily, reaching the rank of Staff Sergeant. Later he was sent to India and China, where he had the opportunity to fly over the eastern end of the Himalayas. He received the Bronze Star for having successfully completed 150 hours of operational flight on transport aircraft in the months of January and February 1945 on the dangerous and difficult air routes between India and China, “while flying both day and night at high altitudes above impassable mountains which required courage and skill for long operating periods.” In the spring of 1945, he returned to the United States and was assigned to the fighter jet base in Indian Springs, Nevada, where he graduated. He passed away in 2010 at the age of 91.

An estimated 650,000 tons (81% of all supplies and people entering China) were transported by air between India and China throughout the war. By volume transported, it was the largest and most extended strategic airlift in the history of aviation until 1949. The human and aircraft cost was considerable, due to adverse weather conditions, extraordinary altitude, mechanical failures, the inexperience of pilots, and the occasional attacks by Japanese fighters. The pilots did not have a radar or a control tower and the radios were inadequate. Almost 1,700 crew and passengers and about 600 planes that made the India-China route were left for dead or missing. Among the latter is John Montero.

Photograph of John Montero in uniform, who disappeared on a mission in the Himalayas in 1944, at the age of 22.
Crew of the B-29 “Stockett´s Rocket”. John Montero is standing in the middle with a mustache (Source: Fold3.com)

Montero was drafted on October 28, 1942 and entered the Air Force. He graduated as a gunner, joining the 45th Squadron of the 40th Bombardment Group, being part of the crew of the B-29 Superfortress “Stockett’s Rocket,” which was piloted by Captain Marvin M. Stockett. The B-29s began arriving at the base in Kuangchan (China) on April 24, 1944, but the first combat departure would not take place until June 5, 1944, from airfields in India. The objective was to bomb railway workshops in Bangkok (Thailand), losing up to five planes due to technical problems. The next mission was on June 15, 1944, targeting Japan, in what would be the first such attacks since the 1942 “Doolittle” Raid. Three B-29s were lost, including the plane that Sergeant Montero was flying in, who covered the gunner position on the left side. After taking off without incident from its base in Chakulia (India), “Stockett’s Rocket” disappeared without having been able to learn what its destination was, and its loss was officially reported. Everything indicates that they crashed when they could not pass the Himalayas. The news of Montero’s disappearance reached his hometown of Leonard Creek just a month later, and a mass was celebrated in his memory in the Catholic Church of Saint Paul in Winnemucca on July 9, 1944. The family was informed that he died during a routine flight from Chakulia (India) to Hsing-Ching (China) and that the last radio contact occurred when they were flying over Jorhat (India). Neither the plane nor, obviously, the bodies were ever found. Montero is memorialized in the Manila American Cemetery.

Domingo Arangüena was drafted on March 10, 1942. Destined for the Air Force, he trained as a mechanic and flight engineer for the B-25 medium bomber “Mitchell” at Mather Air Force Base in Sacramento, California. He then began a long journey that took him to North Africa, Egypt, Iran, Indochina, Burma and India, establishing his base of operations in Jorhat. Just after the war, he took part in search flights over the Himalayas, India, and Burma, where hundreds of planes had been lost, including John Montero’s B-29 “Stockett’s Rocket”. After returning to Winnemucca, he had the opportunity to speak with Montero’s father, Ramón, who asked him if he knew that country well and if it would be possible to go look for his son. He replied that there were planes searching and that he participated in many of those missions after the end of the war. About 1,200 crew members were happily rescued or returned to base on their own during the war. Arangüena passed away in 2004 at the age of 86.

Without the sacrifice and iron will of the air command and its personnel, it would not have been possible to distribute the resources necessary for the defense of China, which would have led to its military defeat. The success of the heroic operations over the Himalayas led Japan to keep more than a million soldiers and numerous resources on the Chinese front, without being able to dispose of them on the Pacific front, which greatly facilitated the final success of the Allies (1).

(1) Launis, Roger D., Scott, Beth F., Rainey, James C., y Hunt, Andrew W. (eds. 2000). The Hump Airlift Operation. The Logistics of War: A Historical perspective. Air Force Logistics Management Agency (U.S. Air Force). pp. 110–113

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 5

The crowd cheered as Unai clicked off the beat with his drum sticks and Idoia lit into a guitar riff that filled the entire town with the metal sounds of their first song. Ainhoa laid a thick bass beat that Kepa could feel in his ribs. When Koldo finally joined in with his voice, the crowd had already been worked into a frenzy. 

The band’s first song was about Gernika and remembering 1937, remembering one of the lowest points in Basque history. But it was also a song about hope and community, about rebuilding and coming together.

The second song, featuring more of Ainhoa’s bass skills, described an old uncle who had gone to America to seek his fortune and then come home a wealthy man, only to find that he had no home to come back to. 

Buber’s Basque Story is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

The band’s full set was nine songs. They ended in a thrash-metal speed fest with Unai and Ainhoa almost fighting one another to lay down the fastest beat and Idoia’s fingers screaming across the neck of her guitar. Koldo’s guttural lyrics told the story of a woman who was accused of witchcraft by her neighbors and who was ultimately burned at the stake during an auto-de-fe, but who, before she died, cursed her enemies to a life of misery. While the energy of the song flowed through Kepa’s body, he couldn’t help but wonder about the morbid and dark song his friend was singing.

After the last song, Koldo, sweat dripping down his brow, grabbed the mic. “Mil esker etortzeagatik! Thanks for coming! Hoberena zaude!” The band left the stage to an avalanche of cheers and applause.

Maite, Kepa, Xanti and Itxaso met the band behind the stage where they started packing and the next band began setting up.

“That was awesome!” yelled Itxaso as she ran up and gave Koldo a huge hug. 

“Thanks, arrebatxu!” replied Koldo, a smile beaming across his face. “It was so much better than we expected. The crowd really got us going!”

Idoia nodded enthusiastically. “I knew it would be different playing in front of all of those people, but the energy! I really could feel it coursing through me and into the guitar.”

“Really, that was one of the best shows I’ve seen,” added Kepa. “You guys were great! The next Su Ta Gar!”

Unai smiled. “Let’s not get too excited, that was just one show. And, besides,” he added, with a wink, “we are aiming to be the next Negu Gorriak!” 

They all laughed as Kepa led them to the kalimotxo booth and bought a round for everyone.

Basque Fact of the Week: Julio Eiguren, the Basque-American Spy

As so strongly depicted in “Fighting Basques,” an initiative by the Sancho de Beurko Association, Basque-Americans have always played an important role in the armed services of the United States. They served in all branches of the military and served their country, often the adopted country of their immigrant parents, with honor and distinction. However, few had the secretive career of Julio Eiguren Bermeasolo, the Basque-American spy in Southeast Asia.

Julio Eiguren on a Harley Davidson WLA motorcycle (image from El Diario, courtesy of the Eiguren family / Basque Museum and Cultural Center).
  • Eiguren, who was born in 1919 in Jordan Valley, Oregon to Basque immigrant parents from Bizkaia, enlisted in the US Army during World War II. In a few short years, he found himself deep in the US’s activities in Southeast Asia, particularly the country then known as Burma (now Myanmar).
  • The Office of Strategic Services, or the OSS, was created in June of 1942 as a wartime intelligence agency. Disbanded in 1945, it was the predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency, the CIA. The OSS’s primary job was to manage espionage activities behind enemy lines, both in Europe and in Asia. In 1944, Eiguren was transferred from the Army to the OSS, specifically to “Detachment 404.”
  • The “404” was a “US Experimental Division” that had about 200 agents in Southeast Asia. With their headquarters in what is today Sri Lanka, the “404” was active in Thailand and the surrounding areas. In fact, they had oversight of all activities in the region except for in Burma and China. But, their reach was even longer, conducting operations in Burma and even India. During the war, the “404” mapped the Arakan coast, collected thousands of intelligence reports, reported on Japanese submarine activity, rescued downed Allied pilots, and many other activities.
  • The OSS had particularly close ties with the Basque government in exile led by Lehendakari José Antonio Aguirre. However, this didn’t play any factor in Eiguren’s transfer to the OSS. Officially, he was a “messenger” or “dispatcher” with the special ability of “aircraft worker.” Eiguren proved highly talented and, in months, rose from private to sergeant.
  • Eiguren left the OSS in 1945 and later left the Army. Details of his activities as part of the OSS are unknown, but one of his superiors noted that “Sergeant Eiguren was one of the most exceptional soldiers in this Detachment.” He died in 1976 of a heart attack.

Primary source: “Objetivo Birmania. Julio Eiguren el espía vasco que no existió,” in El Diario, by Guillermo Tabernilla, Pedro J. Oiarzabal, and Josu M. Aguirregabiria.

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 4

Kepa and Maite made their way through the growing crowd. “Want something to drink?” he asked Maite. 

“Sure, a kalimotxo would be nice,” she responded.

They weaved left and right around people, avoiding knocking into anyone else’s drink, toward one of the booths lining the edge of the plaza. After a short wait, a young woman with short and dark curly hair turned to them. “Zer nahi duzue?” she asked.

“Bi kalimotxo, mesedez,” replied Kepa.

Buber’s Basque Story is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

Exchanging a few euros for the two drinks, he passed one to Maite. As he turned toward the stage and took his first drink, he heard his name over the noise of the crowd. “Maite! Kepa! There you are!”

Itxaso suddenly appeared from the crowd, almost like the crowd parted to reveal her. She had pulled her long brown hair up into a ponytail and she was wearing a brand new Tximistak Ta Trumoiak t-shirt that featured the four band mates frozen in the middle of a performance on the front. Right behind her was Xanti, who towered over her, his natural smile radiating a level of natural confidence Kepa had never felt himself. 

“That’s different!” said Kepa, raising his cup toward the direction of Xanti’s head.

Xanti rubbed his head across his bald scalp. “Yeah, I decided to shave it all off. This is so much cooler in the summer. You should try it.”

“No way, mutil! My aita was bald before he was forty. I’m keeping these curls for as long as I can.”

Xanti laughed. “Good to see you both!” he said, giving Kepa and then Maite a hug. 

“You guys ready for the show?” asked Itxaso, almost jumping out of her skin in excitement. 

“Let’s see if we can squeeze a little closer,” replied Maite as they heard Koldo over the speakers. 

“Probak, bat, bi, hiru.” 

“They are about to start,” yelled Maite as she grabbed Kepa’s free hand and, following Itxaso and Xanti, pulled him through the crowd. They got to the front just as Koldo began announcing his band mates.

Basque Fact of the Week: The Sun in the Basque Cosmos

As the brightest object in the heavens, the sun has always captured the fascination of those humans who gazed upon it. The Basques, of course, were no different. As the source of warmth, and thus its connection to nature and growth, it is central to several myths and stories. Much of what we know about what those pre-Christian Basques thought about the cosmos and the sun in particular comes from the work of Jose Migel Barandiarán.

Gigantic Rolling Wave Captured on the Sun, from the NASA website.
  • As the sun set, Basques thought that the sun was entering the bosom of the earth. While the sun was called grandmother, the earth was the sun’s mother. At sunset, Basques would say “Eguzki amandrea badoia bere amangana [Grandmother sun goes to her mother]” or “Eguzki santu bedeinkatue, zoaz zeure amagana [Holy and blessed sun, go to your mother].”
  • At least one story suggests that, at night, the sun travels underground. A brother, who had a rooster, saw a group of men hitting a rock with a stick. When he asked what they were doing, they said “Opening the day so that the sun can warm the world.” The brother responded “Go to sleep. This animal that I bring will be in charge of opening the day. When I sing kikiriki, get up and you will see how it is daytime.” They did so and indeed, when the rooster crowed kikiriki, the day had already dawned.
  • While eguzki is a wide-spread name for the sun, in some regions of the Basque Country they used iguzki, and related names such as iruzki and iluski. This leads to an interpretation that, originally, these words meant something like “hole of fire” and “hole of the celestial vault,” respectively, suggesting another view of the cosmos, one where the sun wasn’t an object but a hole through which sunlight came through the heavens and reached the earth.
  • As in many parts of the world, sunlight is a ward against evil, and many creatures, not just evil ones, flee in its presence. In the Basque Country, a number of symbols have arisen to represent the sun and help ward off evil: the thistle flower (the eguzkilore, the flower of the sun), the lauburu, and the fact that many tombs and houses were oriented to the east, toward the rising sun.

Primary source: Hartsuaga Uranga, Juan Inazio. Sol. Enciclopedia Auñamendi, 2020. Available at: http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/sol/ar-109005/

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 3

As they got closer to Aulesti, they found the road-side packed with cars. Every little nook and cranny had been taken and the road itself barely had enough room for Maite’s little car to squeeze through. People lined the road, walking toward the plaza. Even though Aulesti was a small town, it attracted a large crowd during the fiesta of San Juan, the patron of the village. But, Maite drove past all of the cars and all of the people toward the plaza. “I know a special place,” she said, winking at Kepa. Just before the plaza, she turned to the left down a narrow street, and then swung the car through a hole in a fence frame by some large trees and parked the car on the yard next to a large baserri. “My cousin lives in that house,” she said as she turned off the car and opened her door. “He said I could park here any time. The plaza is just a ten minute walk from here.”

She led Kepa through the thickening throng of people toward the plaza. “Goazen!” she yelled at him over the din of the crowd. “Let’s go find the stage!”

Weaving through the crowd like a snake, Maite and Kepa reached the stage in no time. They found Koldo behind the stage with his bandmates, getting their gear ready for the performance. When Koldo saw them, he cried out. “Kepa! Maite! I thought you wouldn’t make it!” 

Buber’s Basque Story is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

“We would have been here sooner if…” started Kepa but Maite elbowed him in the ribs.

“And miss your inaugural show?” asked Maite. “Never!”

Koldo just smiled. “Let me introduce you to the band. Meet Tximistak Ta Trumoiak!” he said with pride. He pointed to a young woman with long blond hair who was unpacking a guitar. “Idoia is lead guitar.” Idoia nodded in recognition as she started strumming the strings. “That is Unai, he’s the drummer.” A young man with short hair, tattoos running up and down his arms, and a large hoop earring in one ear lifted his hand in a half-wave of acknowledgement. “Ainhoa plays bass.” Another young woman, this one with short black hair spiked with dark red dye and a small hoop piercing her lip smiled at them. “And, I’m the lead singer,” said Koldo, wrapping up the introductions. 

“He sometimes plays tambourine, too” said Ainhoa with a mischievous grin. 

Maite smiled. “Nice to meet you all,” she said. “We’ve been looking forward to today for a while.”

Kepa nodded. “Koldo has said a lot of great things about you guys!”

Idoia looked up from her guitar. “I hope you like it loud and heavy!” she said with her own devious grin.

“Bai, horixe!” exclaimed Maite. “You bet we do!”

They heard the announcer say something about “one of the newest bands” and “Tximistak Ta Trumoiak.” 

“We better get on stage,” said Koldo. “Find you after?”

“We’ll be out there!” replied Kepa. 

Basque Fact of the Week: Unique Basque Drinks

Whenever I visit the Basque Country, my entire time ends up being centered around dinner tables abounding with food and drink. I swear I always find 10 pounds that I never manage to lose after each visit. Food and drink are such central parts of Basque life that it is hard to imagine a Basque fiesta or gathering without them. And while Basque cuisine has a justified world-renowned reputation for its excellence, no Basque meal would be complete without the accompanying drink. Fortunately, the Basque menu also has a number of unique beverage choices to offer.

Photo from La Guía Repsol.
  • Basque sagardoa, or hard cider, is dry and still, in contrast to the sweeter and sparkling versions found in many other places. Cider has been made in the Basque Country since at least 1014, when an envoy of Sancho III of Nafarroa mentions it. Cider and apples were such a pervasive part of Basque life that, in the 16th century, the infamous witch persecutor Pierre de Lancre called the Basque Country “the land of the apple.” Cider was such an integral part of life that the fueros of Gipuzkoa banned the import of foreign cider, unless all of the native cider had been drunk.
  • Maybe the most controversial Basque drink is kalimotxo. This half-and-half mixture of red wine and coke always brings an initial shudder of revulsion to anyone I mention it to, but most who try it are pleasantly surprised. Though mixing wine and coke has a long history, it wasn’t until 1972 when a group of friends in charge of the drinks at a fiesta in Getxo coined the word kalimotxo that it really took off. They had 2000 liters of bad wine they had to sell and they found mixing it with coke worked wonders. And today, we have kalimotxo!
  • Txakolin is a “somewhat sour light wine” according to the Royal Academy. Until the 1980s, txakolin was primarily made for personal consumption. It wasn’t until 1989, when it received a denominación de origen, that its production and popularity grew. Three Basque varieties have been recognized: Getariako txakolina, Bizkaiko txakolina, and Arabako txakolina.
  • Picon punch is almost synonymous with Basques in the US West. Created by Basque immigrants, it has made its way back to the Basque Country, though it isn’t common there. Traditionally made with Amer Picon, this orange-based liquor is hard (impossible?) to get in the United States, so other liquors are often used. There is even a guy in Seattle, Jamie Boudreau, who makes his own version of Amer Picon.
  • Patxaran is a drink from Nafarroa made by soaking sloe barriers, a cinnamon pod, and coffee beans in anisette. While patxaran has been made and drunk since at least the Middle Ages (when it was often used for medicinal purposes), it was only in the 1950s that it became commercialized and widely available.
  • Izarra is another Basque liquor, from Baiona. It is a complex combination of many herbs and plants, at least 13-16 different varieties. The liquor’s slogan is “the sun and the snow of the Pyrenees.” While based on a traditional Basque recipe, Izarra itself was created in 1906 by botanist Joseph Grattau.

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 2

“Hemen da!” yelled Kepa over the telenovela blaring from the TV. “Agur ama! I will see you tomorrow!”

“Segura egon!” he heard his ama yell as he dashed out of the door of the baserri. Maite was there, waiting, in her little white Fiat. She smiled at him as he opened the passenger side door and climbed in.

Buber’s Basque Story is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

“About time!” he said. “If I miss Koldo’s performance…”

“Lasai, mutil,” she replied as she put the little car into gear and took off down the winding road that led to town. “He isn’t scheduled to get on stage for at least an hour, and you know how these things are always behind schedule. Besides, I just got a text from Itxaso — she said they are running late too. We’ll be the first ones there, I bet.”

Kepa was still steaming, but he started to calm down. There wasn’t much he could do about any of it now anyways. He looked over Maite as she shifted gears. Her dark curls fell across her shoulders. They had been in the same cuadrilla since elementary school and Maite was a sister to him, but he had started wishing that she were something more. He shook his head and sighed. 

“Fine,” he replied. “I’m calming down. But, what took you so long anyways?”

Maite flashed that glorious smile at him that made his heart skip a beat as she maneuvered the car onto the main highway. “I had to finish my physics assignment for the uni,” she said. “It is due on Monday, but I figured I wouldn’t be in any condition to work on it this weekend, so I just wanted to get it done.”

“Beautiful and smart,” Kepa thought to himself as he held on to the door handle. Maite was taking the corners just a bit faster than normal. Fortunately, growing up in these mountains, he was used to the curves, but still, he always got a little nervous around some of the blind spots. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said. “Taking care of your parents, getting a degree in physics, and still with time to hang with us.”

Maite smiled again. “Ah, it’s nothing,” she said. “Especially compared to what ama and aita had to go through. This is a breeze.”

Basque Fact of the Week: Mari, the Basque Mother Earth

In the pre-Christian religion of the Basques, there wasn’t a strict hierarchy of beings, no Zeus or Odin who ruled over the rest of the gods. There were many wild spirts, such as the basajaunak, the lamiak, and the jentilak. And there were more powerful beings, including Sugaar and the vague sky-god Ortzi. However, Mari tends to preside over all of them. The Lady of Amboto is the Basque conceptualization of Mother Earth and, as such, she is the most revered figure in Basque mythology and folklore.

A rendering of Mari flying through the sky by Igor Mugerza.
  • Mari is often described as living underground, deep caverns she can reach through caves and chasms in the mountains. Her dwelling is filled with gold and golden objects. She herself is a beautiful woman dressed most elegantly. She jumps from one mountain dwelling to another by flying across the sky like a sickle of fire, a peal of thunder announcing her arrival.
  • Mari sustains herself by taking that which is denied. Whenever anyone denies having something, she takes the part that was denied. That is, if I have ten apples but I only tell you I have six, Mari will take the other four. She thus sustains herself with ezagaz eta baiagaz, “with denial and with affirmation”
  • Mari is unusual as a powerful supernatural being. If we take the gods of Greece or Scandinavia as examples, they often meddle in human affairs, often trying to impose their will on the humans that surround them. Mari doesn’t. She doesn’t have a distinct will or plan. She just is. She causes storms and good weather by her mere presence, but she isn’t directing those events. They happen simply because she is.
  • This leads to the ability of people to potentially control her and, by extension, the weather. Particularly in a Christian context where Mari is recast as “simply” a witch, priests would say prayers to trap her in her cave, as that would ensure good weather. Mari is more a force of nature that can, in some circumstances, be controlled.
  • In Basque mythology, Mari isn’t a really well defined figure. In fact, Mari is a name extracted out of some stories by José Miguel de Barandiarán that he gave to the concept of this mother-Earth-like figure. Some authors have argued this is an artificial construction. However, there is enough evidence for a female force of nature in Basque mythology to give her some concrete identity. In many legends, she is the “Dame” or “Lady” of Amboto, of Murumendi, of Arrobibeltz…
  • Mari can take many forms. She is often a beautiful woman, engulfed in flame, particularly when traveling through the sky. She can take the form of an animal, such as a goat, a horse, a cow, or a crow. In some places, she is a gust of wind, a white cloud, or even a rainbow.
  • Though Mari is often portrayed as a force of nature, there are stories in which she interacts with humans. She is known to keep humans captive, often the result of a curse, made in a fit of anger, from the captive’s own parents. Mari is often seen combing her hair or spinning balls of golden thread. If one found themselves in Mari’s cave, they had to leave facing the same way they entered and had to be sure not to sit down. People also asked Mari to intercede on their behalf, often giving her a ram or leaving coins in exchange for protecting them from hail.

Primary sources: Hartsuaga Uranga, Juan Inazio. Mari. Enciclopedia Auñamendi, 2020. Available at: http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/mari/ar-77955/; Wikipedia.