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. 

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