Buber's Basque Story

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 5

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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, History, People

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

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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

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 4

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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, Folklore

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

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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

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 3

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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, Food

Basque Fact of the Week: Unique Basque Drinks

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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

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 2

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“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, Folklore

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

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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.

Art, Folklore, History, People

Joanes 4: Traganarroo’s Revenge by Guillermo Zubiaga

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The cover to Joanes or the Basque Whaler chapter 4: Traganarroo’s Revenge, by Guillermo Zubiaga

Episode IV, Traganarroo’s Revenge: It is a period of civil war. Rebel ships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil British Empire. Joanes, aided by Rebel spies, managed to steal secret plans to the Empire’s ultimate weapon. Pursued by the Empire’s sinister agents, Joanes races home aboard his magic txalupa, custodian of the stolen plans that can save his people and restore freedom to the Basque Country….

Oops! Sorry, wrong Episode IV! Actually, I had the honor and privilege of writing the recap for Joanes 4. I got it right in print!

Joanes 4, Traganarroo’s Revenge, by Guillermo Zubiaga, continues the adventures of Joanes, a Basque mariner who, in past adventures, had made a deal with a Basque sea-demon, the Traganarroo, in exchange for a magic txalupa, or whaleboat. Having gained wealth and fame, at least with his countrymen, he confronted the demon and seemingly defeated him. When we last saw Joanes, he was presumed dead, with a forgotten headstone on Newfoundland. But neither Joanes nor the Traganarroo could be silenced for long…

In the fourth installment of the Joanes saga, Zubiaga reveals that while the Traganarroo has been locked within ice in the Arctic, Joanes has been living a quiet life with a lamia, a beautiful woman with the feet of a duck. This latest installment follows the adventures of Joanes as the Traganarroo tries to extract his revenge for his imprisonment and Joanes’ escape from his fate.

This issue is filled with the gorgeous art that is a hallmark of the Joanes saga. The attention to detail that Zubiaga gives his characters, his landscapes, and in particular his ships is always marvelous. A lot happens in this chapter of the story and sometimes it feels like almost too much is happening, that Zubiaga could have used twice as many pages and still not had enough space to tell his story. But, the action is fast paced and the story filled with various twists and turns to keep one engrossed. This is a fitting continuation of the adventures of our hero. One can only hope that, somehow, the adventures of Joanes continue.

Joanes’ adventures are based in large part on the encounters that Basque whalers had with the now Canadian eastern coast. A lot of what we know about that part of Basque history is due to the efforts of Selma Huxley. Through her research, she rediscovered the 16th century Basque whaling industry that existed in Labrador and Quebec. In a recent interview appearing on About Basque Country, Zubiaga discusses how Huxley’s discoveries inspired him to focus his Basque saga on Basque whalers and their adventures. Sadly, Huxley died on May 3, 2020, after a long and influential career examining the combined histories of the Basque Country and Canada.

Buber's Basque Story

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 1

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Kepa looked at his watch. He paced a few times across the foyer, glancing out of the open door, and then looked at his watch again. “Where the hell is she?” he muttered to himself. Maite was supposed to pick him up and take him to the fiesta in Aulesti. He knew he should have taken the motorcycle, despite his ama’s warnings.

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!

Across the foyer stood the barn. It had been many years since they had kept animals in the barn, but only a generation ago those animals had helped to heat the bedrooms upstairs. Fortunately, at least to Kepa, they had installed heaters. He couldn’t imagine having to keep and tend animals just to have a warm bedroom. 

These days, the foyer was little used. Once every long while, they had big family gatherings at the old baserri and the foyer was the only space big enough where they could put a few tables together for everyone to sit and, more importantly, to hold all of the food that they always seemed to be eating. But, it had been awhile since the family got together like that. The last time was a couple of years ago when his cousin had visited from the United States.

Compared to those feasts, the baserri felt empty most of the time. Kepa shared the huge building with his ama. He had taken it upon himself to fix up the bedrooms, to make them a little more modern — at least he couldn’t see through the cracks between the floorboards any more. He had also put in a new bathroom upstairs and fixed up the kitchen that stood next to the foyer on the ground floor. His ama never stopped cooking and he thought she should at least have a nice place to cook in. He just wished she would turn off the telenovelas when he was around. He could hear one blasting from the kitchen — his ama was a bit hard of hearing — and that just made his mood that much more sour.

“Dammit,” he said, again to no one. “I could have walked and been there by now.” He looked at his watch for what seemed the millionth time. “She was supposed to be here an hour ago!”

“Zer?” yelled his mom from the kitchen. “Zer esan zenuen?”

“Ezer, ama!” he yelled back, trying to be heard over that damn TV. He was about to give up, starting to take off his jacket, when he heard a horn blaring from outside.