Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 162

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“We should go,” said Kepa, breaking Maite’s somber reverie. “The last boat will be leaving soon.”

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa 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!

Maite nodded and, taking Kepa’s hand, walked down the path back toward the dock. 

“What was it like?” she asked.

“What was what like?”

“Being dead.”

“I died before…” began Kepa.

“Bai,” Maite cut him off. “But last time, it was at the same time you touched the zatia, instantly returning us here. This time, you were dead for a while before I found the zatia. What was that like?”

“Ah,” said Kepa as he understood Maite’s question. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. I can’t remember much from between when I was shot to when I woke up next to you. It’s almost like it was instantaneous, like all of the other times. Except, I remember sort of watching over you, like it was some sort of distorted movie. It’s all very hazy, like a dream that you know you had but you can’t remember the details.”

“Or a nightmare. I can’t imagine being forced to watch all of that and not being able to do anything about it.”

“I’m just glad you found the zatia pretty quickly. If it had taken days…”

“Or years,” interrupted Maite.

Kepa nodded. “Or years, it would have been hell, watching you struggle, powerless to do anything.”

Maite stopped in the middle of the path and pulled Kepa’s arm so that he turned to face her. 

“We need to do everything we can to make sure we aren’t left alone in one of these bubbles again.”

“I didn’t…” began Kepa.

Maite put a finger to his lips. “I know you didn’t mean to get shot, and I really don’t think there was anything you could have done differently. But, we need to be more cautious in the future. I got lucky this time. But, I can’t do this without you.”

“Nor I without you,” whispered Kepa.

Maite shuddered. “I don’t know what would happen if we both died in one of these bubbles without finding the zatia.”

“You’d have to wait until someone else did,” echoed Garuna in her skull. “You’d both be like ghosts, passively watching the bubble, unable to do anything.”

Kepa felt Maite’s hand suddenly go cold. “We need to talk to Marina,” she said as she turned back to the path.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi, History

Basque Fact of the Week: The Bizkaian Port of Bermeo

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A few weeks ago, after a few days in Barcelona, we went to the Basque Country. Traveling with a childhood friend and his family, we found an awesome Airbnb in Bermeo, a delightful port city on the coast of Bizkaia. I’d been there before – my dad’s brother Jose and his wife Eli used to work there – and I’m always charmed by the bright and colorful apartment buildings that line the main port. While a little out of the way from the heart of Bizkaia, it was still a great home base for us. By coincidence, my mom’s neighbor Gloria Lejardi was there with her daughter and grandkids, taking Euskara classes.

The port of Bermeo. Photo taken by Blas Uberuaga.
  • In the Middle Ages, the center of Bermeo was surrounded by a massive stone wall with seven different gates offering access: Las Ferrerías, Burgos, San Juan, La Baca, Nuestra Señora de los Remedios, Santa Bárbara, and San Miguel. Today, the only one that is still standing is San Juan, though remains of some of the others still exist.
  • However, Bermeo has a much older history than that. Roman coins have been found in both the port and one of the hermitages, suggesting the village existed in Roman times. In any case, historical mentions of Bermeo go back as far as any of Bizkaia – back to 1051 – and Bermeo was mentioned in the context of the Kingdom of Pamplona/Nafarroa. The importance of Bermeo to the history of Bizkaia is reflected in the fact that it was once, before Bilbo, the capital of the province.
  • By the thirteenth century, Bermeo was an important port city, where merchants traded things like Castilian wool and salted fish with the biggest ports of Europe in England, France, and Flanders. This economic growth was spurred, in part, by special privileges afforded the city and the granting of a charter and fueros around 1236.
  • By the next century, Bermeo was the most important port in Bizkaia. However, with the founding of Bilbo in 1300, by the end of the fourteenth century and particularly in the fifteenth, Bermeo began to loose importance to Bilbo. At its lowest point, only 500 people lived in the village. (Today, Bermeo boasts a population of about 17,000.) Bermeo saw more than a few fires and conflict with England during these times. There were also internal squabbles between the most notable families of Bermeo, the Asoagas (later split into the Arilzas, Almendurus and Arósteguis) and the Apiozas that led to the mingling of other notable families of Bizkaia into the affairs of Bermeo. Some Bermeo sailors become involved in piracy against other nations and exploring the African coast. Some of these are also part of the first trip around the world.
  • In 1504, yet another fire ravaged the town, nearly destroying it. And another fire hit the town in 1722.
  • In the late 1700s, batteries were installed both at Tompon Nagusi and at the port to defend the village against pirates.
  • Bermeo was also the scene of an important offensive in the Spanish Civil War. The “Black Arrows,” a nationalist troop comprised mostly of Italians, made their way to Bermeo with little resistance. However, the Basques cutoff the road out and essentially trapped the Black Arrows in the town. If it hadn’t been for the air support afforded to the nationalist forces, the Basques might have been able to hold the town. In the end, however, Bermeo ultimately fell to Franco’s forces.
  • Today, Bermeo is still one of the most important fishing ports in the Basque Country. Indeed, Bermeo is home to the Tuna World Capital, an association of tuna-fishing cities that are working to promote a sustainable and environmentally healthy tuna industry.

Primary sources: Castaño García, Manu. BERMEO. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/bermeo/ar-13316/; Bermeo, Wikipedia; Bermeo, Wikipedia

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 161

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Maite opened her eyes. It was dark and for a moment she wondered if, somehow, she had messed up and this time she had truly died. But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she started to make out a face hovering over her. It was Kepa, looking down at her and smiling.

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa 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!

“You did it.”

Maite gave him a weak smile. But before she could respond, images of Catalina’s life and death flashed through her mind. Her body shivered uncontrollably. Kepa, thinking she was cold, pulled of his jacket and wrapped it around her body.

“It’s ok,” he said. “You’re safe.”

Maite pushed herself up so that she was sitting, Kepa to her side, bent over on his knees. 

“What happened, after I got…”

“Shot?” finished Maite. She paused. “Not yet. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Kepa simply nodded. He remembered how hard it had been for Maite when Donny McCowen had shot him. He assumed that she was upset about him being shot again, this time leaving her alone to find the zatia.

Maite stood and looked around. It had gotten dark, which puzzled her as she thought they usually returned to the same time they had left. It hadn’t been quite dark when they touched the zatia. 

“How long have I been out?” she asked. 

“A couple of hours,” replied Kepa. “You were breathing, but it seemed like you were in a deep sleep.”

“Almost like a coma,” murmurred Garuna from deep in her mind. “Like a medically induced coma. You are welcome.”

Maite’s blood started to boil. Her fists clenched as her face contorted in anger. “What the hell did you do?” she shrieked. 

Kepa took a step back. “I didn’t…” he began.

Maite sighed, all of the anger released at once. She nearly collapsed, but Kepa rushed to her side, keeping her from falling.

“Not you,” she said, looking up at him. “The damn AI.”

“You needed rest,” replied Garuna. “I made sure you got some. If you over tax your body, I’ll die too.”

“Great,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve got a built-in nanny.”

Maite leaned on Kepa’s shoulders and looked out beyond the water. The city, Donostia, was so beautiful. The lights from the apartments facing La Concha reflected off the rippling water. She could hear the faint sounds of people in the streets, enjoying the pintxos, zuritos, and kalitxikis. A wave of jealousy washed over her. It felt like she would never enjoy another day in her life.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, People, Politics

Basque Fact of the Week: Pedro Etxenike, Physicist

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As a scientist of Basque heritage, it is truly inspirational to see the success of people like Professor Pedro Etxenike. Not only is he a world class scientist, but over his career he has advocated for the role of science in society, helping the Basque government form educational and scientific policy as well as advocating for the wider use of the Basque language. In a society where musicians and athletes tend to capture our attention, I think it worth while to also celebrate people like Pedro Etxenike.

Pedro Etxenike in front of his blackboard. Photo from Noticias de Navarra.
  • Pedro Miguel Etxenike Landiribar was born in Isaba, Nafarroa, on June 8, 1950. His father, Pedro, was a medical doctor and his mother, Felisa, was a teacher. At the time, Isaba was a village with less than 1000 people. Etxenike attended a local Catholic school before enrolling in the University of Navarra, obtaining his degree in physics in 1972.
  • Etxenike went to the University of Cambridge in the United Kingdom for his graduate studies, under the mentorship of celebrated physicist John Pendry, a solid state theorist who developed the concepts of the super lens and the invisibility cloak. Etxenike obtained his PhD in 1976, followed by a second one awarded by the Autonomous University of Barcelona in 1977. His thesis was titled Interaction of electronic particles with surfaces.
  • After graduate school, Etxenike did a postdoc at Oak Ridge National Laboratory and spent time at the Niels Bohr Institute before accepting a faculty position at the University of Barcelona. However, in 1980 he stepped down to take a position in the government of the Basque Autonomous Community – the political entity that is composed of Bizkaia, Gipuzkoa, and Araba. In 1984, he returned to academia, becoming a professor of Condensed Matter Physics at the Donostia campus of the University of the Basque Country.
  • Etxenike’s scientific work has focused on the interaction of charged particles with solids – how they behave once they’ve entered the solid. This work is important for understanding the interaction of ions with solids, such as encountered in the semiconductor industry when they implant elements in to silicon, or how electrons interact with a solid in electron microscopy. His more recent work has focused on topics such as study topological insulators and attosecond physics. He has published more than 400 papers that have been cited nearly 30,000 times.
  • He has received numerous awards and accolades for his work over the years, including the 1998 Premio Principe de Asturias, the Premio Vasco Universal in 1999, and the 2002 Medalla de Oro de la Real Sociedad Española de Física. He is a Fellow of the American and the European Physical Societies and a member of the Spanish Royal Academy of Sciences.
  • Over his career, Etxenike has been a statesman of science, espousing the role of science in society. For example, he recently presented the film The Name of the Rose at the “Cinema and Science” event held in Donostia, highlighting the role of science in modern humanism and that of cinema in conveying scientific ideas and thinking.
  • He has also been a champion of Basque language and culture. In his stint in government in the early 1980s, he served as Minister of Education and as Minister of Education and Culture and Spokesman for the Government; in these roles, Etxenike was instrumental in passing the law normalizing the use of Basque. He also helped set up the modern Basque educational system and the establishment of research and development centers.
  • In addition to all of these activities, he is the founder and first president of Donostia International Physics Center, was the first director of the Center for Materials Physics, and was instrumental in the establishment of the Cooperative Research Centre CIC nanoGUNE. He was also one of the founders and first president of Jakiunde, the Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters of the Basque Country.

Primary sources: Pedro Miguel Etxenike, Wikipedia; Etxenike Landiribar, Pedro Miguel. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/etxenike-landiribar-pedro-miguel/ar-152038/

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 160

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“What the hell?” hissed Maite. 

“Yeah, dude,” added Kepa. “What the hell?”

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa 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!

Maite just shook her head. “Whenever you want a break, that’s fine. You can leave us here, leave the plot hanging. But we barely get five words before you throw us back into the fire. How is that fair?”

Kepa shrugged. “He has all the power. We are at his mercy. We have to literally jump whenever he says jump, but he doesn’t have to do anything we say.”

Maite turned to Kepa. “How did this happen? We are the ones with the zatiak, with these marvelous powers. He’s just a guy in front of a computer.”

“Have you tried blasting him? Maybe that will get him to cooperate.”

A mischevious grin crossed Maite’s lips as she held out her hand. Sparks crackled between her fingertips. “You are going to give us some down time, or else.”

There was no response.

“You don’t even have the dignity to answer us?” shrieked Maite as her hand began to glow so brightly, the bones in her fingers were visible. 

Still there was no response.

Maite yelled as a bolt of lightning burst from her hand and evaporated into nothingness.

Maite held her hand in front of her puzzled face. “Zer…?”

“See?” said Kepa exasperatedly as he threw his hands in the air. “He has all the power. He could erase us if he wanted. Or just put us on ice, forget about us and keep us locked away on his computer forever.”

“It’s so unfair,” cried Maite. “We are put through hell for his entertainment, but what do we get out of it? Character growth? Personal development? All I know is I’m sick and tired of being put through an emotional roller coaster.”

Kepa nodded. “Maybe we can go on strike?”

“Can we? He’s the writer, we’re ‘just’ the characters. Can we go on strike?”

Kepa’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess we can’t, unless he writes us going on strike. And why would he do that?”

Maite chugged the whiskey from the glass that had suddenly appeared in her hand. “Since he’s back from whatever the hell he’s been doing the last few weeks, it’s time for us to get back to work.”

Kepa looked at Maite and at his own empty hands. “How come I didn’t get one of those?”

Maite looked ahead into the emptiness. “Because he’s so damn fickle.”

Kepa shook his head. “Do you think anyone is even reading this anymore?”

Maite shrugged. “Does it matter? We have to keep doing this as long as he keeps writing.”

They both sighed as the page turned.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore, Food

Basque Fact of the Week: The Basques and the Bees

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There are over 16,000 species of bees in the world and humans have had a long association with them. Of course, humans have exploited bees to produce honey and wax, but they have had a more intimate relationship with bees as well, telling them of important events in their lives. The Basques have their own special relationship with bees, viewing the bees as sacred to the point that killing a hive could result in the loss of an arm.

The Basque Black Bee, photo from ERBEL.
  • Of course, bees are valued for the products they produce: honey and wax. Honey was often the only sweetener and was used in all types of foods and drinks. It was also considered an energy food, to eat before hard work. Honey was also valued as a gift. Wax was even more important, as it was used for making candles, not so much to light the house, but for ritual use. Some places valued the venom from the bee sting, saying it helped prevent rheumatism.
  • Communicating with bees was an important part of the death rite. If the master or mistress of the house died, it was the responsibility of those left behind to notify the bees. It could be a child or even a friend, but if a stranger told the bees, the bees would attack. They would go up to the hive, sometimes knocking on it with their hand or a stick, and simply tell the bees that “Nagusia hil da” (The master has died) or “Etxekoandria hil da” (The lady of the house has died). In some places, the bees would be told if any death occurred in the household, in others, only if the master or mistress died. This practice of “telling the bees” was still performed as recently as the early 1900s, and is not unique to the Basque Country – the royal bees were informed when Queen Elizabeth died. In some places, the heir to the house had to communicate the news, to also inform the bees of their new owner. And, in some places, a black cloth or veil had to be placed on the hive as a sign of mourning, or the bees would die.
  • The origins of this practice are lost to time, but it is thought that, at some point, Basques thought that the bees were the souls of the dead, and that by announcing a death to the hive people were letting the bees know another soul was coming. In other places, they ask the bees to make more wax, to help light up the church or the grave of the deceased and the path for the soul. In many places, it was believed that the bees would die or the hive move if they were not told of the death. In others, it was thought that telling the bees about the death would cause them to produce twice as much honey.
  • The bee was thus considered a scared animal. It was addressed as you would a person, with the second person “zu.” When trying to get a queen to take to a new hive, she was addressed as “anyeru ederra” or beautiful lady. In Bizkaia, it was illegal to buy and sell bees for money. Instead, they could only be traded, perhaps for linen, wheat, or sheep, or simply given away. It was also considered a sin to kill bees. In some places, if someone killed a bee hive, they had their arm amputated.
  • There is one species of bee native to the Basque Country – the Euskal Herriko erle beltza, or the Basque black bee. These bees have a reputation for being aggressive, but they produce honey regularly and their hives require little attention from beekeepers. Further, they are used to the mountains and can withstand lower temperatures than other bees. There is a group – ERBEL, the Association of Black Bee Breeders, that is working to conserve and improve the breed.

Primary sources: Aviso a las abejas. «Erletxuak, erletxuak», Atlas Etnográfico de Vasconia; Las Abejas. Erlea, Atlas Etnográfico de Vasconia; Gorostitxo, Centro de extracción de la miel, Euskonews

Basque Fact of the Week, History, People

Basque Fact of the Week: Gaspar de Jauregui, the Shepherd

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The military conflicts that surrounded the Basque Country in the early 1800s changed the fortunes of many. Comrades in one war fought against each other in the next. Heroes were exiled only to be called upon again when the politics of Spain shifted. Gaspar de Jauregui saw it all. Starting as a guerrilla fighter, he became Brigadier of the forces in the Basque Country. At the same time, his politics forced him into exile more than once.

Gaspar de Jauregui, image from Auñamendi Encyclopedia.
  • Gaspar de Jauregui y Jauregui was born in Urretxu, Gipuzkoa, on September 15, 1791, to Miguel de Jauregui and Escolástica Jauregui Izaguirre. Little is known about his life before the Peninsular War (also known as the War of Independence in Spain) when, in 1807, Napoleon and his forces invaded Spain. It is thought that he tended farm animals, as implied by his nickname Artzaya, or The Shepherd. However, there was evidence that he was a postal worker.
  • In 1809, Jauregui volunteered for a Gipuzkoan regiment. By 1810, he had become an officer, Second Lieutenant of infantry. He quickly rose in the ranks and only a few years later, in 1812, he was a Commander. He retired at the end of the war with the rank of Colonel in 1814. However, his career stalled at that point, possibly because of his liberal politics. It wasn’t until the First Carlist War which started in 1834 that he again saw military recognition, joining as Brigadier and reaching Field Marshall only a few years later.
  • Jauregui is most widely known for his guerrilla activities during the Peninsular War. In 1809, he joined the rebel groups in Nafarroa against Napoleon. He transformed the irregular guerrillas into an effective troops, which allowed him to undertake larger actions against the invaders. During these attacks, his horse was shot from underneath him at least twice and he received several wounds himself – in one case he was hit in the chest and it was only the bag of money he was carrying that saved him. It was during this time that Tomas Zumalakarregi, future Carlist general, served under The Shepherd.
  • From 1824 to 1832, he was exiled to France. This was a consequence of his aligning against the absolutist monarchy that Ferdinand VII was imposing upon Spain. Jauregui had participated in the Liberal Triennium, a period of three years of liberal government that was installed after Ferdinand’s first attempt at imposing an absolutist monarchy. When Ferdinand was returned to power by help of France, Jauregui had to flee the country.
  • At the beginning of the First Carlist War in 1833, he was recalled to Spain to help counter the uprising against Princess Isabella by the Carlists, the supporters of her uncle Carlos de Borbón. Specifically, he was asked to organize the chapelgorris, a unit of volunteers fighting on the Liberal side against the Carlists. The war saw Jauregui fighting against his former comrade Zumalakerregi, who, with the other Carlist forces, captured much of Gipuzkoa and Bizkaia.

Primary sources: Rilova Jericó, Carlos. Jauregui y Jauregui, Gaspar de. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/jauregui-y-jauregui-gaspar-de/ar-63824/; Gaspar de Jáuregui, Wikipedia; Gaspar de Jauregui, ‘Artzaia’, Diaro Vasco

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi, Food

Basque Fact of the Week: The Salt Valley of Añana, the Oldest Active Salt Works in the World

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There was a time when salt was the most cherished commodity. Wars were fought over control for salt and economies depended on the production of salt. Salt was so important to economic activity that the word salary comes from the Latin word for salt. The oldest city in Europe, Solnitsata in Bulgaria, means salt works and was established precisely because of salt. However, did you know that the oldest active salt works in the world is in the Basque Country?

The Salt Valley of Añana, photo from the European Route of Industrial Heritage.
  • Añana is the name of both a city and a valley, in the southwest part of Araba. The heart of the city, Gesaltza Añana (Salinas de Añana in Spanish), dates at least to the tenth century, when, in the year 902, the monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña began mining for salt. Añana is the oldest town in Araba, granted a royal charter in 1140, no coincidence for this ancient salt-producing region.
  • However, archeological records indicate that salt has been extracted from the valley since Neolithic times, more than 7000 years ago, making the Salt Valley of Añana (Añanako gatz harana in Euskara) the oldest active salt production site in the world.
  • Since the time of the Romans, more than 5000 pans or beds have been constructed to extract salt. Upon these pans, saltwater or brine is poured and the water removed by solar evaporation. This method was implemented “only” as recently as the first century BCE. Before that, the salt was extracted using clay pots that were fired. The method was switched when the Romans came to the region.
  • The salt flats themselves formed in the Triassic Period, or 200-250 million years ago. The region is what is known as a diapir, where a less dense material, in this case water, can flow through rocks and rise to the surface, bringing with it material from deep within the earth, in this case salt. Rainwater passes through the salt minerals and resurfaces as brine, which is then evaporated to extract the salt. There are four existing springs in Añana which provide an average flow of 3 liters per second, with an average salinity of more than 250 grams per liter. This is almost 7 times the salinity of the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, but does not quite reach that of the Dead Sea, which is about 350 grams/liter.
  • The historical, economic, and cultural importance of the Salt Valley has been recognized by its being declared a Bien de Interés Cultural in 1984 and being added to the World Heritage tentative list in 2012. In 2017 it was named a Globally Important Agricultural Heritage System by the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations and in 2019 it was named an Anchor Point on the European Route of Industrial Heritage.
  • Today, salt is not nearly as precious or profitable as it once was and Añana has suffered economically for it. In fact, the salt beds were all but abandoned in the 1970s. However, near the end of the 1900s, a plan to revitalize the salt valley was introduced and, today, nearly half of the 5000 beds are producing salt. In 2021, the valley was given its own certified mark for its salt. You can buy their gourmet salt here.

Primary sources: Añana Salt Valley; Salt Valley of Añana, Wikipedia; Arozamena Ayala, Ainhoa. AÑANA. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/anana/ar-18153/; Valle Salado (Añana), Wikipedia

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 159

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Maite slowly pulled herself toward the door, her fingers clawing at the dirt underneath her. While she couldn’t feel any pain, she could still feel the weight of her mangled leg dragging behind her. It felt like forever bfeore she finally reached the door, a larger iron ring tauntingly out of reach. She couldn’t prop up on her bad arm to reach the handle with her good arm. In frustration, she banged on the door and it creaked open, just slightly.

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa 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!

“I guess they weren’t too concerned with whatever was in here,” she muttered. 

She pushed the door with all her might, and it opened just enough for her to pull herself through.

The room was smaller than the last one. Shelves surrounded it above Maite’s line of sight, so she couldn’t see what was on them. But she could guess.

In the middle of the room sat a lone wooden chair. The body of a woman was shackled to it. Maite was no forensics expert, but clearly the woman had been dead for some time as her flesh was withered. There were obvious signs of torture – burn scars for example – that made Maite suspect the shelves were full of tools designed for torture. 

She looked at the body more closely. The woman had been stripped naked. Scars covered nearly every square inch of her body. Her long dark hair had been shorn off and thrown on the ground. Even her scalp exhibited signs of torture. 

There was something oddly familiar about the woman. Maite couldn’t quite place it until she imagined what the woman must have looked like with her hair, what her dead eyes might have looked like when they were alive. 

“Marina!” exclaimed Maite. Or not Marina exactly, but someone who looked like her. This must have been someone in her female line.

Maite pulled herself to the chair. She could sense the zatia but she wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. She reached up to the side of the chair, grabbing the armrest with her good hand, and tried to pull herself up into a sitting position. Even though she couldn’t feel the pain, every part of her body protested. Her arm trembled with exertion. Sweat flowed across her face, which turned deathly white. But, she eventually managed to pull herself up.

She looked up into the face of the dead woman. “What was your name?” she whispered. She could only imagine that the woman was tortured for being a witch, for having powers which frightened the men in charge. 

Maite reached out to grasp the woman’s withered hand. As she did so, there was a bright flash of light. As she felt herself being pulled back through time, she also got a glimpse of the woman’s life. Her name was Catalina. She was a young woman, only about twenty, at the time she died. She had lived in a small town a bit south of Donostia, Zerain, where she helped her parents manage the family baserria. One day she felt a sudden and strange power surge through her, which was the zatia reaching through time and space to attach itself to her, though she didn’t understand any of that. She started exhibiting strange powers, which at first were a blessing. She was able to help her family and friends with relatively mundane tasks, using her “magic” to heal minor wounds and fix broken things around the baserria. But, some neighbors, whether from spite or true fear, reported her to the authorities and they had burst into her home one day to take her away. She was dragged from her home, kicking and screaming as other uniformed men held her parents back. Her parents never heard from her again, as she was locked away in this dungeon, tortured to both renounce her evil ways as well as to turn her into a weapon to use against enemies, depending on who was doing the torturing. Her spirit never broke, but after weeks and weeks of brutal treatment, her body did. It was left in this basement dungeon, lost and forgotten for years, until Maite had found her final resting place.

Tears flowed down Maite’s cheeks as her mind whisked through time and space back to her own time.

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Basque Fact of the Week, People

Basque Fact of the Week: José Francisco Tellería Uribe, the Quack of Gipuzkoa

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There are times when someone does something so singular that their name becomes associated with the act, that their name becomes an eponym. In the United States, we sign our John Hancock. A Benedict Arnold is a traitor. And McCarthyism has taken on meaning beyond McCarthy’s original campaign against communists. Eponyms exist in other languages too, of course. In the Basque Country, there was a long line of healers that were known as Petriquillo or Petrikilo. However, because of one of these healers, Petrikilo has taken on a new meaning: a quack.

Cross in Udana (Oñati, Gipuzkoa) in memory of José Francisco Tellería Uribe. Photo by Iñaki Linazasoro Maté, 1986, from Auñamendi Encyclopedia.
  • José Francisco Tellería Uribe was born on October 1, 1774 in the small town of Zerain, in Gipuzkoa, in the Arene baserria. The baserria was owned by his father Francisco Tomás, and through helping him with the herding duties on the property, Petrikilo, a nickname inherited from his father, learned the basics of anatomy, botany, and surgery. José Francisco was actually the most famous in a dynasty of Petrikilos who had obtained fame for their healing prowess.
  • During the War of Independence (the Peninsular War), in the years of 1808 and 1809, he worked for the battalions of Gaspar de Jáuregui, known as “el Pastor” or “the Shepherd.” Even though he didn’t have a license to practice medicine – and was even ordered not to – he attended the wounded soldiers and gained some fame for his abilities. It was during this time that he got to know the future military leader Tomás de Zumalacárregui.
  • So many positive testimonials had been submitted on his behalf that, in 1827, he was admitted to an exam by the Royal Superior Board of Surgery. His specialty was broken bones and he was to be tested on his knowledge in this area, in the Basque language. In the end, the powers in Madrid declined the petition and fined him, continuing the ban in his practice of medicine.
  • He is remembered for his treatment of Zumalacárregui. Zumalacárregui was wounded in the Siege of Bilbao, a rather minor wound in his leg, on June 15, 1835. Though other professional medical staff were present, Zumalacárregui called for Petrikilo to treat his leg. Petrikilo and the other medical staff disagreed on treatment. Though the details differ depending on the account, one has Petrikilo awaking in the middle of the night to remove the bullet (though other accounts say he was not the one who removed the bullet). Though deemed a great success at the time, the general died shortly later, with Petrikilo making his quiet escape only a few hours before on the back of a mule.
  • In reality, with the state of medicine at the time and the complex set of events that happened after Zumalacárregui was wounded, it is hard to pin the general’s death on any one person. However, history has chosen Petrikilo as the scapegoat.
  • After, Petrikilo retired to rural Gipuzkoa, to his native Zerain, of which he became mayor at least once. He died seven years later, on the way back from a trip to Oñati, on August 11, 1842. One story says that he was in Oñati to court the daughter of a widow on his son’s behalf, who had just turned down a proposal for marriage. In 1949, a cross marking the site of his death was rediscovered.
  • Today, the word petriquillo or petrikilo refers to a healer that specializes in bone fractures. It is relatively common in Gipuzkoa. It is often used pejoratively, meaning quack.

Primary sources: Petriquillo, Wikipedia; Tomás de Zumalacárregui, Wikipedia; Petrikilloren heriotza, Oñati dabilen herria; Arozamena Ayala, Ainhoa. Tellería Uribe, José Francisco. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/telleria-uribe-jose-francisco/ar-139448/