Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 166

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“What do you think we’ll find here?” asked Kepa as he pulled their car into a little carpark. When Maite had suggested they go to Marina’s ancesctral home in Lapurdi, he was into the idea as he was always ready to see something new, but he wasn’t sure what good it would do or how it would help them.

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!

“Ez dakit,” replied Maite. “I’m not sure. But it’s better than just sitting on our asses and waiting for the next bubble to appear.”

Kepa nodded. He knew how Maite hated inaction, hated just sitting around while things moved around her. She needed to feel some level of control or things would just drive her crazy. 

Sara was a bit different from most Basque towns he had been to. It didn’t seem to have a plaza like he was used to, with the traditional church, fronton, and bar. There was a fronton – an open air structure that was in contrast to the enclosed ones he was used to playing in – but it was just laid out differently. Maite walked the streets with determination, but Kepa wasn’t sure what she was really looking for.

They eventually came upon a cemetary full of funeral steeles. Maite began examining the headstones though Kepa was still confused as to what she thought she might find. 

“What are you looking for? I can help.”

Maite shrugged. “Any sign of Marina, I guess.”

“Given how she died, I doubt she was given a proper burial. And we don’t even know her surnames, to find her relatives.”

“True…” began Marina as she held up her hand, which began to glow with a bright white-blue light. She closed her eyes and swept her hand in front of her, letting it swing back and forth like some kind of divining rod. Eventually her arm came to rest, pointing at one of the steeles in the back. 

Kepa walked over to the steele Maite was pointing to. It was old, the stone edges crumbling and some of the engraved letters so worn that they were barely visible. But the names were clear. “Vicente and Clara,” read Kepa.

“Marina’s parents,” remarked Maite. 

“I guess that means she didn’t make up that part of her story,” said Kepa, “but I’m not sure how it helps us.”

“Let’s keep looking. There has to be something in this town that will.”

Kepa shrugged. “Let me try.” He held up his hand in front of him, pointing just like Maite had done. He let the power of the zatia flow through his body. His arm went limp just as some invisible force took control, holding it up. It floated in front of him, sweeping around. He could feel it bouncing back and forth as it swept an imaginary arc in front of him, each time the arc getting a little smaller and tighter. Suddenly, his arm flew around, pulling and spinning him by one hundred and eighty degrees as it pointed rigidly into the woods behind the town.

“I guess we know where we are going next,” he said as his arm fell limp next to his body.

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, History

Basque Fact of the Week: The Bombing of Munitibar

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I’ve written about how towns in the Basque Country besides Gernika were bombed during the Spanish Civil War. After lunch at the txoko, we went to the plaza in Munitibar to meet my dad’s sister Begoña, her husband Javier, and my dad’s sister-in-law Rosario. While we were there, Beñat Zabalbeaskoa Zabala, one of the town councilors of Muntibiar-Arbatzegi Gerrikaitz who I’ve met a few times before, grabbed me and took me to the udaletxea, the town hall. There, he gave me a copy of a book detailing the 1937 bombing of Munitibar by the Germans and Italians in support of Franco’s coup. I can’t do the book justice here – it is filled with first-hand testimonials of those that experienced that horrific day. I only wish I knew Basque better to more fully understand and appreciate what they went through.

Cover to the book, produced by the Munitibar town council, that chronicles the first-hand experiences of those that were there during the 1937 bombing of the town.
  • The book, entitled Munitibar 1937/04/26: Aire-eraso baten kronika (Chronicle of an Air Raid), collects testimonials from some 31 witnesses who were there on the day of the bombing on April 26, 1937, including my dad’s uncle, José Uberuaga Urionaguena. The book is broken up into several sections that detail the situation in Munitibar the days before the raid, the actual day of the raid, and the aftermath. It is illustrated with period photos, recreations, and maps that highlight where the bombs, some 25 at least, fell.
  • Two days before the attack, the line holding the fascists at bay broke near Elgeta. This led to soldiers and civilians fleeing their advance. In particular, the Itxasalde battalion passed through Munitibar where soldiers were able to warn their families about what they feared would be an impending bombing. Indeed, bombs fell the day before the main attack of the town, in the surrounding forests, leaving craters that some witnesses called the size of a house. As soldiers fled from the front, reconnaissance planes tracked their movements and fed them to the advancing fascists.
  • The towns of Arbatzegi and Gerrikaitz, today collectively known as Munitibar, were bombed on April 26. The Kamptgrupe K/88 squadron, comprised of Junkers Ju-52 bombers supported by Heinkel He-51 fighters and under the command of one Karl von Knauer, left Burgos in the morning, flying over Vitoria-Gasteiz and across the peak of Oiz as they made their way to Munitibar. The attack occurred in the morning, before noon as recalled by multiple testimonies, with bombs followed by machine guns strafing the ground. The squadron made several passes over the town during the day.
  • Testimonies describe how people were in their fields plowing for beets or eating arroz con leche at lunch when the bombs fell. Others escaped to the woods, leaving older relatives who couldn’t easily flee behind in the baserri. The first bombs hit the Mataun baserri, right in front of the door, immediately killing 84 year old Justa Mendibe Arteach and wounding her son and granddaughter.
  • Many of those present at the attack were families fleeing from other towns that had been attacked before. These families didn’t always have obvious places for shelter. Some hid under the bridge, which was an unfortunate choice as the bridge itself was bombed. Depending on the source, between 11 and 36 people were killed and many others seriously wounded during the day. Many houses and town buildings were damaged or destroyed. Craters littered the two towns and surrounding hillsides.
  • The attacks on Munitibar ended some time around 3pm as the planes made their way to a new target: Gernika. Two days later, on April 28, the fascists occupied Munitibar.
Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 165

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To Maite and Kepa’s relief, the next few weeks were uneventful. So much so, in fact, that they actually found time to relax. Maite had heard so much about La Perla, the spa nestled into the heart of La Concha beach, that she had to check it out. So, early one morning, she made a reservation and, while Kepa was recovering from a late night with a few friends in the Parte Vieja, she made her way to the spa. She wasn’t sure what to expect – a spa is a spa – but she was pleasantly surprised by what she found. There were two floors of various water treatments. The first floor had a large pool with various stations of water jets that each targeted a different part of the body – the lower back, the legs, the upper back. Maite could have spent all day just cycling between these stations, but the wonderful sensations as the water massaged her body made her eager to explore the rest of the spa. Another pool, with its own massaging stations and a waterfall that hid a secluded area, was somewhat warmer but otherwise quite similar. So, she made her way to the second floor. This one was filled with yet another pool with yet a different temperature and more water jets. But, it also housed several saunas, both dry and wet. Maite had never really experienced a sauna before and she relished the opportunity. She enjoyed both, in a different way. The dry sauna was maybe a little more uncomfortable at first, but as she got used to the dry heat she felt it relaxed her more. She had heard of a Nordic tradition of going from the sauna to the cold lake, so she immediately made her way to the cold diving pool next to the saunas. The hot/cold contrast shocked her to her core, but energized her in a way she never would have guessed. She hadn’t felt so alert in forever. After the shock of the cold water plunge abated a bit, she made her way to the last station, a waterbed, where she simply lay still for a while. All told, it was probably two hours later when she finally emerged from the spa into the bright sun that sparkled over the ocean in front of her.

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!

She texted Kepa, asking if he was awake. A reply came quickly, saying he indeed was, and even showered. Maite asked if he wanted to meet her in the Parte Vieja for a bite to eat since she had skipped breakfast and imagined he hadn’t eaten yet. He replied – Noski! Soon, Maite found herself sitting opposite Kepa at a small cafe where they each ordered a coffee and a pastry to start the day.

“What do we do now?” asked Maite.

“What do you mean? I’m going to eat.”

“I mean, about Marina, about the zatiak.”

Kepa shrugged. “I guess we wait until we see the next light and we go chase the next zatia.”

“Should we do something about Marina?”

“What would we do?” asked Kepa. “We could just ignore the zatiak and her quest, but I have a feeling that would cause more trouble than not.”

Maite nodded. “I agree. I think she might prove vengeful, depending on her fractured personality.” She paused. “Should we be more proactive about chasing the zatiak?”

“Proactive how?”

“Well, we can just sit around here, waiting for another light to appear, or we can try to actively hunt them.”

“How would we hunt them?” asked Kepa between sips of coffee. “We don’t know how to find them?”

“Don’t we?” replied Maite. “When we were in old Donostia, we were able to use our absorbed power to find the zatia there.”

“Bai, but that was because there was a zatia there. There isn’t one here and now.”

“No, but there has to be some signature of them, otherwise how do they appear like they do? And if there is a signature, then that means we might have a way of tracing them.”

Kepa put his coffee down and was silent, just staring off into space. After a few minutes had passed, Maite put down her own cup a little louder than she might normally have done, to get Kepa’s attention. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to focus on finding a zatia,” he replied.

Maite sighed. “There might not be another one here – we already found one.”

“Who says there can’t be more than one in a place?”

Maite’s brow furrowed. “I guess no one…”

“Exactly.” 

Kepa began focusing on nothing again, his brow creased in concentration.

Maite didn’t wait for him this time. “I have an idea,” she said.

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, Sports

Basque Fact of the Week: Pelota Mano, or Basque Handball

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Before we got lunch at the txoko, we passed by the town plaza. It is always a magical time for me, as people are wandering the town and I’ve spent enough time there that I recognize so many faces, and they recognize me. I don’t always know everyone’s names, but there is just something special about feeling part of the community for me. We then stopped at the Munitibar fronton where some of the local boys were playing handball. We watched as they effortlessly smashed the ball with their hands, sending it ricocheting off of the front stone wall. We decided to take our turn – me, my daughter, my best friend, and his son. It was a humbling experience, as none of us could even get the serve off much less return it. The ball doesn’t bounce like anything we are used to – you have to hit it a lot harder. But it was still fun to be out on the fronton.

“Playing” handball in the Munitibar fronton. Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.
  • Ball games are almost as old as human civilization and have been developed independently around the globe. The versions played in Western Europe arose from the Romans, who brought these types of games with them as they expanded throughout the continent. Games in which a ball was hit with the hand were particularly popular in France, and the Basque versions – there are several – likely grew out of that. The importance of pelota to Basque society is reflected in the fact that discoidal stelae from as far back as 1629 feature the pelotari profession. Mentions of pelota in the Basque Country go as far back as 1331. However, the modern form played in a fronton against a wall is more recent, with first mentions in 1750 in the town of Oñati.
  • While I was told that there has been some resurgence in cesta punta/jai alai in recent years, during the whole time I’ve known the Basque Country, handball has been by far the most dominant and popular variety of pelota vasca. Handball comes in two varieties, singles and pairs – both are very popular.
  • The rules are relatively simple: each time the ball is struck, it has to hit the front wall once and only once and it can bounce no more than once within the playing area. If it bounces more than once or the first bounce is outside the playing area, the opposing team gets a point. On the serve, the ball has to fall between two designated lines after bouncing off the front wall, otherwise it is a lost point to the opposing team. The game is played to 22 points and there is no time limit.
  • The ball itself is a bit surprising. It isn’t soft or rubbery. Rather, it is made of boxwood, which is covered by layers of latex and wool, and then wrapped in a layer of leather. To protect their hands from the hard ball, players cut small strips of different types of adhesive tape that they form into particular shapes depending on the exact place on the hand where they will be placed. They thus create a set of small, custom-made studs that cover the inside of their hands. Even with this protection, injuries can and do occur. Pelotaris are famous for having hands of steel. I’ve seen documentaries of older pelotaris whose hands are a mangled mess.
  • A tournament to crown the best handball player was begun in 1940 by the Federación Española de Pelota. For the first decade, it was held every 2 years, but in 1950 it became an annual event. That first championship in 1940 was won by Atano III (Mariano Juaristi Mendizábal of Azcoitia, Gizpuzkoa), while Retegi II (Julián Retegui Barberia from Eratsun, Nafarroa) has won the most championships – 11 total, including an astounding 9 in a row.
  • Of the Basque provinces, Nafarroa boasts by far the most champions, with pelotaris from Nafarroa winning 46 of the 79 txapelas. Gipuzkoa is second with 18 and Bizkaia next with 11.

Primary sources: Pelota mano, Wikipedia; Campeonato manomanista, Wikipedia; Historia de la Pelota, EuskalPilota; ‘La increíble historia de la pelota vasca’ contada desde Iruñea, Naiz; Pelota Mano, EuskoGuide

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 164

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Maite slammed the door closed as she got into the car, the rain beginning to cover the windshield. Kepa hesitated a moment, looking at her trepidatiously, before putting the key in the ignition and starting it up. 

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 can’t believe it,” said Maite as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the road that took them back to Donostia. “She simply doesn’t care what happens to us.”

“I think she does care,” replied Kepa. As Maite shot him a menacing look, he quickly added “She cares that we find the zatiak.”

“Bai, the zatiak. That is all she cares about. You know, de Lancre tried to warn me about her.”

“What?” Kepa jerked and the car swerved a bit before Kepa corrected its course. “When?”

“When we were in future Bilbo. He tried to tell me that Marina was no different than he was, that she was after the power just like he was. I didn’t want to believe it, but now…?” She paused a moment. “I’m not so sure.”

“She’s nothing like him,” replied Kepa. “He just wants to take over everything. Marina wants things back to the way they were.”

“Does she?” asked Maite, looking earnestly at him as he drove down the wet road. “We don’t know what she wants, not really? All we know is that she doesn’t want de Lancre to get the zatiak.”

“And that she doesn’t want them just for herself. We absorb the ones we find, remember?”

Maite looked ahead as their headlights reflected off of the rain drops in front of them. Each rain drop seemed like one of their bubbles, a world unto itself, falling blissfully through time until SPLAT it hit the pavement or their windshield and disappeared. How many bubbles were out there, waiting to be popped by them, or Marina, or de Lancre? Were there more than the number of rain drops that hit their windshield between each swipe of the wiper blades? More than would fall in Euskadi during the drive home?

She sighed. “I guess I’m just tired,” she finally said. “You are right, Marina is an infinitely better choice than de Lancre. But, I find it hard to trust her.”

“I agree with you on that,” said Kepa. “She hasn’t been forthcoming and the way her other selves are fracturing, I’m not sure we should even think about trusting her. But, I am sure we can’t trust de Lancre. After what he did to Blas and the rebels in Bilbo? He’s ruthless and will do whatever he has to to get power.”

“You know, you would make a great lawyer. Or maybe politician.”

“Huh? Why do you say that?”

“You just have a great way of laying things out so that the only obviously good answer is the one you want me to pick.”

Kepa sort of frowned. “I’m not trying to swindle you…” he began.

“Ez! That’s not what I meant!” Maite sighed again. “I simply meant that you make the choices very clear. When all I see is a muddled mess of grey, you help me see the black and the white.”

“I guess that is the scientist in you – nothing is ever fully resolved. There is always more to know. Everything has a caveat.”

Maite paused. “Maybe. But, in this case, there is a clear choice. Thanks for reminding me of that.”

Kepa smiled. “Noski.”

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

Basque Fact of the Week: How Eucalyptus Became Banned in Bizkaia

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On the way down from Mount Oiz, as we took the back road that passed by Goikoetxebarri – my dad’s childhood home – Jon Zuazo told us about how the pine trees of the surrounding forests were dying and how eucalyptus had been recruited to replace it. However, because eucalyptus can be so hard on the surrounding lands, the government of Bizkaia is imposing a moratorium on planting new eucalyptus trees. How did things get so bad?

A eucalyptus plantation, photo from Deia.
  • There is no doubt that eucalyptus is an economically profitable tree crop. Native primarily to Australia, it grows quickly – 13-15 years to cutting, compared to 35 for pine, 100 for beech, and 130 for oak. Its wood has a number of uses, from ornamentation and firewood to being used as fence posts and to help prevent erosion. It is also used in the extraction of biofuels. Because of all of these factors, it is the most widely grown tree in plantations. However, their fast growth comes at a cost – they consume a great deal of water.
  • In the Basque Country, eucalyptus has been seen as a replacement for the pine trees that are being killed by brown band disease (“banda marrón” in Spanish, not sure if this is brown spot needle blight or Dothistroma needle blight). Compounded by drops in lumber prices, the Basque forest industry saw eucalyptus as a viable path toward economic profitability. As of March, 2021, eucalyptus covered 3.5% of the Basque Autonomous Community (Bizkaia, Gipuzkoa, and Araba), up by 5 times in the last 35 years. Much of the expansion in eucalyptus has occurred in Bizkaia, which has some 20,000 hectares of the trees. In some places, 50% of the trees have been replaced by eucalyptus.
  • However, eucalyptus has many down sides for the local environment. It releases biochemical compounds that are harmful to other plants and to animals. It soaks up lots of water, further compounding the effect on other plants. All of this impacts biodiversity. For example, the amphibian population has fallen by 50%. There are also fewer birds and insects in regions with eucalyptus.
  • On April 13, 2022, the government of Bizkaia passed a moratorium on the planting of new eucalyptus trees until 2026. The goal is to develop a long term and sustainable forestry plan for the province.
  • The pines that are being replaced by eucalyptus are, themselves, not native to the Basque Country. The native forests contained oak, beech (the Iraty forest is the largest beech forest in Europe), birch, and ash trees, amongst others, including apple. There is a story that the man my mom’s grandparents worked for in Ispaster, who owned a palace there, gained his wealth by introducing pines to the Basque Country. (It was Mario Adán de Yarza of Ispaster who first planted these trees on his land in 1857.) These were radiata pine, native to California, and now representing 33% of the forests in the Basque Country. When the pine was introduced, the Basque forests had been decimated by overuse and the pines brought new life to them. Further, because its lifecycle is only 30 years to maturity, it proved profitable for the baserritarak who called it “green gold.”

Primary sources: Eucalipto, un árbol maldito para nuestros bosques y ríos by Mikel Zubimendi, Naiz; La restauración de los bosques autóctonos del País Vasco, LandK; «El pino radiata llegó a denominarse ‘oro verde’ por su gran rentabilidad» by Miguel Villameriel, El Diario Vasco; El pino radiata en la historia forestal vasca by Mario Michel.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: Mount Oiz, the Balcony of Bizkaia

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The day after celebrating Madalenas, we went to Munitibar, the home town of my dad, where we met up with my friend and distant cousin Jon Zuazo. He and his cuadrilla made lunch for us at the txoko in Gerrikaitz and it was fabulous! Fried peppers, tomato salad, merluza, and home made cheesecake! After, we found my aunts Rosario and Begoña, and Begoña’s husband Javier in the plaza, where we ate and drank even more. But, before all of that, Jon took us to the peak of Mount Oiz, the dominating mountain visible from town. The view from the top was simply spectacular! We took a different road back down and passed by my dad’s childhood baserri, Goikoetxebarri.

My daughter, me, and my wife Lisa on top of Mount Oiz. Photo by one of our friends.
  • The mountain, the peak of which is part of the municipality of Munitibar, rises to a height of 1026 meters (or 3366 feet). Its sides are covered in oak and beech trees, but near the summit, the landscape opens to large pastures where sheep, horses, and cows graze.
  • In past times, Oiz, known as the “balcony of Bizkaia,” was one of the deiadar mountains. Bonfires were lit on its peak and horns blown to signal the gathering of the General Assembly in Gernika.
  • Multiple dolmens have been discovered on the mountain. Barandiaran discovered three: Iturzurigaña near the Iturzuri spring to the SE of the Oiz peak; Probazelaiburu located 200 meters to the NE of Iturzurigaña, and Estrakinburu on the hill of the same name. In 1976 Sarachaga found another two new dolmens. These dolmens attest to the ancient human populations that settled on the mountains of the Basque Country.
  • The hermitage of San Cristóbal lies next to the Arreseburu spring on the mountain. Ecclesiastically, it belongs to the parish of Our Lady of Gerrikaitz – one of the two villages that now form Munitibar. San Cristóbal celebrates its fiesta the Sunday following July 10, the day of San Cristóbal.
  • In ancient times, it was believed that Oiz was one of the homes of Mari. Every seven years, she would move between Oiz and Anboto and whichever she called home tended to have better weather and healthier crops.
  • Today, Oiz is home to the largest, and first, wind park in Bizkaia. 40 turbines, built between 2003 and 2007, sprout from the mountain near its summit. The combined power generating capacity of the wind park, owned by the company Eólicas Euskadi, is 34 MW, able to power some 85,000 homes each year.
  • On February 19, 1985, Oiz was the scene of a terrible accident. A plane flying from Madrid to Bilbao crashed into an antenna on top of the peak. 148 people died.

Lasalle, Xabier. OIZ. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/oiz/ar-99260/; Oiz (mendia), Wikipedia; Oiz, Wikipedia; Oiz, Wikipedia

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 163

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“This is it,” said Maite as she looked over at Kepa. They had left the city early in the morning, driving back to Bizkaia, to Mallabia, where Ainhoa lived with her parents, Martin Goikoetxea and Marta Zabala, who resided in apartment C on the 4th floor. “You ready?”

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!

Kepa gave a slight nod as Maite pushed the buzzer.

“Zer?” answered a male voice from the speaker. “Nor da?”

“We are friends of Ainhoa. Is she home?” replied Maite.

There was a pause before Ainhoa’s voice crackled from the speaker. “Nor da?”

“Ainhoa, it is Maite and Kepa. Can we talk?”

“Maite and Kepa?” replied Ainhoa with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ll explain everything. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Bai, noski.” Maite and Kepa heard a muffled shout as Ainhoa told her parents she was heading out to the street, that she wouldn’t be long. 

Within moments, she was at the front door to the apartment complex. She gave Maite a hug and Kepa gave her a kiss on each cheek.

Ainhoa led them down to the plaza and one of the few bars that was open this early.

“What brings you to Mallabia?” asked Ainhoa as they sat down at one of the tables and ordered a round of coffees.

“We need to talk to Marina,” replied Maite with such sternness that Ainhoa was taken aback before she could parse the request.

“Marina?” she repeated. “I don’t know…” she began but then her eyes glazed over and a flash of light swept across her pupils. She looked exactly the same when she looked back up at them, but there was something different about her eyes, something older, wiser.

“Marina,” said Maite almost nonchalantly.

Ainhoa, or rather Marina in Ainhoa’s body, nodded. “Bai, it’s me.”

“Dammit!” barked Maite as she slammed her fist on to the table, rattling the coffee cups. The few other patrons of the bar looked up. Maite’s shoulders slouched as they returned to their conversations. In a barely audible hiss, she glared at Marina. “You didn’t tell us how dangerous this would be.”

Marina almost shrugged her shoulders. “Would you have agreed to help me if I had?”

Kepa’s eyes widened. “Of course not!”

“Well, there you go. I need help. And if I told you all of the dangers, you would have told me no.” She paused for a moment as she took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, I do so love the coffee from this time. But, I digress. Look at you both. You are both perfectly healthy. What’s the problem.”

“What’s the problem?!?” repeated Maite incredulously. “We’ve now gone on four excursions to retrieve the zatiak from the bubbles. Twice, Kepa has been shot. I’ve been captured and nearly tortured. And I almost died myself…”

“Ah, but you didn’t, did you?” interjected Marina. “You are finding the zatia and gaining power, becoming powerful enough to protect yourselves in the bubble.

“What happens if we do?” responded Maite. “What if we both die? Garuna says…”

“Who is Garuna?” interrupted Marina.

Maite pointed to her head. “The AI I’m stuck with.”

Maite could hear Garuna rumble in her head. “I beg your pardon…” it began, but she ignored it.

“Garuna said that, if we both die – “ she pointed to herself and Kepa “ – we are stuck just watching the bubble from afar, almost like ghosts, until someone miraculously finds the zatia.”

Marina sighed. “I guess that is a possibility, yes.” She looked at first Maite and then Kepa, recognizing the fear and the panic rising behind their eyes. “But,” she quickly added, “it isn’t going to happen. As you grow more powerful, there is nothing that will stop you from finding the zatia and staying out of harm’s way.”

“Has it happened to you?” asked Maite coldly.

“What?”

“Have you died, only to watch the bubble from the outside?”

Marina shook her head as it drooped. “No. There is always another descendant or ancestor I can occupy. I’m not tethered to a specific body like you are.”

“But you knew it could happen to us?” asked Kepa.

“I knew it was hypothetically possible, but I really didn’t think it would ever happen.”

Maite stood up and turned to leave.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Marina.

“Ez dakit,” replied Maite, her back to Marina. “I don’t know.”

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, Fiestas

Basque Fact of the Week: The Madalenas Fiesta of Bermeo, Mundaka, and Elantxobe

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One of the most memorable parts of my time living in the Basque Country was the fiestas. There simply is no equivalent in the United States – throngs of people cramming the streets, drinking, eating, and singing until the wee hours of the morning. That the Basques have a phrase for spending all night out – gau pasa – is telling. By coincidence, the day after we arrived in Bermeo was the fiesta de las Madalenas. While we didn’t stay up until dawn, it was still a great opportunity to introduce my family and friends to a Basque festa. But, before that, we had to go to Aritzatxu beach and get a little time in the ocean.

My daughter having a wonderful time at the dance in the Goiko Plaza during Madalenas in Bermeo. Photo taken by Lisa Van De Graaff.
  • The Madalanas commemorates the resolution of a dispute over the island of Izaro. Izaro lies in the Cantabrian Sea about 2 kilometers (1.25 miles) from Mundaka and 3 (nearly 2 miles) from Bermeo. It is a small island, only about 650 meters or 2100 feet long. Back in 1422, the Franciscans established a convent on the island. There were also hermitages dedicated to Clara and Magdalena. In 1596, while the Bizkaian fleet was otherwise occupied, Francis Drake and his fleet of 14 ships attacked the island. The convent subsequently fell into ruin.
  • The island had been a source of constant dispute between the towns of Bermeo, Elantxobe, and Mundaka, a dispute that even reached the Juntas Generales of Bizkaia. However, legend tells that the dispute was settled peacefully, through a rowing contest, or regatta.
  • According to the story, Mundaka and Bermeo raced to see who would control the island. Elantxobe had already given up its claim and instead acted as arbitrator for the race. At dawn, the two crews left their respective ports for the island of Izaro. Bermeo won the race, despite losing a rower who fell into the sea. Mundaka claimed that Bermeo cheated: the race was to begin at dawn and the people of Bermeo supposedly tricked their roosters to crow early by lighting bonfires. Another story says that the Bermeo sailors got those from Mundaka drunk the night before.
  • The contest and Bermeo’s win are celebrated every July 22, the day of Saint Magdalena. The mayor of Bermeo leaves the port with a fleet of boats for Izaro, where he or she throws a tile into the water to recognize Bermeo’s claim to the island. The tile is meant to represent the fact that the roofs of Bermeo reach that far. The mayor then travels by water to Elantxobe and then Mundaka, where the Bermeo mayor is even given power for a few hours. Ultimately, the fleet returns to Bermeo, to much dancing and singing in the streets, particularly in the Goiko Plaza.
  • There is no historical record of this race and it has to be chalked up to legend and the storytelling of sailors. But that the three towns were able to come to a peaceful resolution of this dispute and celebrate it together is pretty cool.

Primary sources: Arozamena Ayala, Ainhoa. Izaro. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/izaro/ar-56693/; The Festival of Las Magdalenas (Bermeo, Elantxobe, and Mundaca), Fascinating Spain; La fiesta de Madalenas: Bermeo, Elantxobe y Mundaka, UrdaiLife

News, People

Bringing Ely, Nevada to London

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Vince Juaristi, who amongst many other activities has written extensively about his Basque experience, just wrote to me about Daniel Gamboa Camou, a young Basque-American who is an actor, producer, and theatre-maker and who’s debut production, Now Entering Ely, Nevada, is going to have multiple performances in London. They are looking for some help to make it all happen. The play, which Daniel wrote as his senior thesis, is about his memories visiting his grandmother in rural Nevada.

Daniel has set up an Indiegogo page that describes the play, the performance space, and the performance team. He describes the play:

It is an immersive play about sensory memory.

My grandma grew up in a high desert copper-mining town in Nevada. When I was little, she bought a rickety two-bedroom house, and for the rest of my childhood, my family would spend our summers there. All 17 of us.

We use my memories from Ely as a case study to explore questions about home, nostalgia, and growing up.

We welcome the audience into this old home of mine, where we attempt to rebuild and sort through a childhood of disorganized, fragmented, and forgotten memories.

How do we remember? How do we forget? What does that memory feel like? What do we do with a memory we know is unreliable?

“I don’t remember much of my childhood, but I remember my summers in Ely. So, I thought it’d be a good place to start.”

And, here is a little about Daniel himself:

Daniel Camou
Actor, producer and theatre-maker

I am a Basque American actor, producer, and theatre-maker from San Francisco. I recently completed my MA in Actor and Performer Training with distinction at Rose Bruford College in London. I co-founded CORDUROY THEATRE COMPANY, which strives to make work that is devised holistically. Our debut, NOW ENTERING ELY, NEVADA, will have 6 performances at THE SPACE THEATRE on the Isle of Dogs in East London from October 24th to the 28th. Come along for the ride!