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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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?
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 2017it 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.
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.
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.
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.
This article originally appeared in Spanish on EuskoNews. Translated, with the aid of Google Translate, with permission of the author.
Jordan Valley, Oregon includes the village of the same name and the nearby territory in which it is located. It is halfway between Boise, Idaho, and Winnemucca, Nevada. As Joseph H. Geiser recalls, in the early 1940s, the Basques “constituted the strongest community in the entire area” [1]. Jordan Valley, which became a city in 1911, has therefore been considered as “a Basque settlement” (Geiser, 1944: 13). This author also highlights that the Basques of Jordan Valley managed to maintain a strong cultural and ethnic identity due to many years of geographic isolation, the exclusive use of the Basque language by the first generation, the self-sufficiency of the group, and the cohesion of the community that excluded “Americans” except for business and commerce. The strong family structure and its collective pride reinforced the use of Basque, even among members of the second generation educated in American schools. Many first-generation Basques never learned English.
Jordan Valley. The fronton is in the center.
Social life was spontaneous because they lived close to each other. Even the Basques who lived in canyons or streams always had two or three Basque families nearby with whom they interacted. There were many ways to gather: playing cards, dancing, and music. In addition, boarding houses became meeting places, not only for guests but also for the Basques in the surrounding area.
Between the 1910s and the early 1940s, Jordan Valley was primarily a Basque enclave, with 250 to 300 Basques living in the area, comprising more than two-thirds of the population (The Sunday Oregonian, 1937- 06-20). Christian R.N. Beers points out that in the 1920s most of the businesses in the city were owned by Basques. Second-generation Basques were involved in the service economy: shops, hotels and pensions, pool halls, blacksmith shops, or family ranches. In the 1940s, 90 percent of Jordan Valley sheep farmers were Basque, and they also owned half of the cattle ranches in the area. In the 1940s, the six-member city council consisted of four Basques and two non-Basques. During the same time, the mayor and the city treasurer were Basques.
Between 1940 and 1943, 60% of the men recruited in Jordan Valley were first and second generation Basques: they served in the infantry, artillery, marines, navy, or counterintelligence. There were some wounded who were repatriated and one casualty. On October 9, 1944, James Corta Ocamica died on the Italian front due to wounds from a German machine gun. Four other Corta brothers fought in World War II.
Basques in Jordan Valley, around 1920.
The vast majority of first generation Jordan Valley Basques come from the Lea River Valley: Lekeitio (28), Ispaster (18), Gizaburuaga (5), Mendexa (5), Amoroto (3), or Aulestia (3). They are followed by Errigoiti (10), Ibarrangelua (9), Berriatua (6), or Ereño (5) (US Federal Census). Many of them are buried in the local cemetery and, with them, their children and grandchildren.
The first Basques to arrive in the area were Antón Azcuenaga and José Navarro, after an odyssey that almost cost them their lives. This is how Sol Silen tells the story:
“…He and his partner José Navarro decided to go from McDermitt to Jordan Valley. That trip demonstrated all the energy and perseverance that form the basis of Mr. Azcuenaga’s character. As the roads were very lonely, they deviated from the highway and were lost for five days in the desert. At the end of that time, after having manifested an integrity worthy of discoverers, when they were already considered lost, they arrived at an inn of the diligence, and fainting with hunger, they remained there until they regained their strength” (Silen: 49).
Geiser includes in his thesis the names of the pioneers that Agustín Azcuenaga had given him: Agustín and Antonio Azcuenaga, José Navarro, Pedro Arritola, Luis Iturraspe, Cipriano and John B. Anacabe, and Juan Urlézaga (Urlizaga). Only Urlezaga is not from the Lea Valley, although he actually lives in nearby Jordan Creek. And he married Gloria Bermeosolo Acarregui, from Lekeitio. After them came friends, neighbors and relatives who settled in Jordan Valley (Geiser:24). In 1900, only ten Basques appear in the Jordan Valley census: Anton Azcuenaga, John Anacabe, José Calzacorta, José Navarro and his wife Pia, Luis Yturraspe and his wife Catalina, Dionisio Egurrola, Marcos Renteria, Luis Bermeosolo, John Anacabe and José Calzacorta. All but three – Navarro (Ibarrangelu), Calzacorta (Berriatua), and Rentería (Elantxobe) – come from Lekeitio and nearby villages. That same year, in neighboring Pleasent Valley, twenty Basques lived spread out on the ranches of Sam Anacabe and Agustín Azcuenaga. All but one, Domingo Lequerica, also came from Lekeitio (US Federal Census, 1900). Ten years later, the number of Basques had multiplied by twenty.
From Arropain to Oregon: How the Jordan Valley Community Was Formed
At the end of the long straight line of the Lekeitio-Durango highway, in the section that goes from the humilladero – the shrine – to the hermitage of Santa María Magdalena de Azurtua, is the Arropain neighborhood, part of Ispaster, of the Krutziaga neighborhood, and part of Lekeitio. Here was the primitive port of Lekeitio and, until the beginning of the 20th century, two riverside shipyards, where carpenters from the neighboring villages (Ispaster, Amoroto, Mendexa, Gizaburuaga) worked. There are also some scattered hamlets such as Venta (Benta-zaharra), Sosuena, Zubieta, Amillaga, Madalena… or houses that had been appearing after the construction of the new road, such as Troixa, Gasparrenekua… Some belong to Ispaster; others, to Lekeitio. Here lived families like the Acarregui, the Achaval, the Odiaga, the Uberuaga, the Azcuenaga, the Eiguren…
Antonio Azcuenaga
Eva Hunt Dockery refers to Azcuenaga as “the first Basque who came to this state (Idaho).” Different authors have followed Sol Silen’s account of the trip that José Navarro and Antón Azcuenaga made from Northern Nevada to Jordan Valley, Oregon. Navarro was born in the Akorda neighborhood, in Ibarrangelua, and Azcuenaga had come into the world in the anteiglesia of Abando (now Bilbao). It was not clear if they knew each other before or if, after meeting in Nevada, they decided to embark on an adventure north together.
Today we know more. The genealogist Lisa Corcostegui discovered that Antón Azcuenaga, although born in Abando-Bilbao, had grown up with his brothers in the Arropain neighborhood, in the house of a great-aunt. Furthermore, we know that Azcuenaga was in Lekeitio in 1887 working as a basket maker. We also know that, in November 1886, Jacoba Navarro, José’s sister, had married José Eiguren, moving to live in the Zubieta farmhouse, in Arropain. This hamlet is one hundred and fifty meters from Azcuenaga’s house.
But let’s return to Silen. In his work it is said that Azcuenaga arrived in New York on April 3, 1887. From there he traveled by train to Winnemucca after suffering some mishaps (S. Silen: 49). That year he was still listed as a parishioner of the parish of Our Lady of the Assumption of Lekeitio (Libro de Registro). With regard to José Navarro, in Hawley’s History of Idaho – Silen does not give the date – it is said that he arrived in 1887 and that he spent two years in Nevada before beginning the journey to Jordan Valley (a period similar to that of Azcuenaga ). In the testimony of a “nephew” of Navarro (probably Pasko Eiguren) to Hellen Corta collected by Sarah Baker Munro, it is stated that the two Basques had arrived in Winnemucca together from New York via Salt Lake City, which makes one think that they did the whole journey together [2]. It remains to be known where Navarro lived before emigrating.
The truth is that, following Antón Azcuenaga, a significant number of friends, relatives and neighbors arrived in the United States whom he sponsored so that they could pay for the trip and settle in the New World (Idaho Statesman, 1910-02-06). These included, among others, his younger brother Agustin, Luis Yturraspe, Pedro Arritola (from Ispaster), and Cipriano “Sam” Anacabe (Oregonian, 1968-07-28). These, in turn, brought relatives and neighbors in a chain that we are now trying to reconstruct.
Antonio Azcuenaga, while born in Abando (now Bilbao) on June 17, 1868, grew up in Arropain, in the part belonging to Lekeitio. He, his younger brother, and his older sister were orphaned when they were very young. Anton was not yet seven years old. They then went to live with some relatives, the Uberuaga (originally from Gizaburuaga) in the Troixa house, in Arropain, Lekeitio. Old man Uberuaga’s wife was the great-aunt of the orphans. Antonio attended the local school for a time until, when he was of age, he began to work as a basket weaver, the trade of his relatives. He worked for a while until, while continuing to attend to the family finances; he saved a hundred dollars to go to America. His employers in the basketry lent him the money that was missing. Neither in Silen’s work, nor in the biography published in the third volume of the History of Idaho [3], are there references to how and why he decided to emigrate to the American West.
He left Bilbao for Bristol and, from there, he headed for Liverpool, where he embarked along with another young Basque. He was then nineteen years old. He landed in New York on April 3, 1887. After a rough train ride, he reached Winnemucca, taking a job as a sheepherder. From there, he went to McDermitt where he teamed up with another Basque, José Navarro, from Akorda-Ibarrangelua, and they both decided to go to Jordan Valley, Oregon. On their trip, they were lost for five days and barely managed to reach a stagecoach post.
In April 1889, he was tending sheep in the Owyhee Mountains. That same year, he returned to Jordan Valley. For quite some time, Azcuenaga was the only Basque there.
In Jordan Valley, while working as a shepherd, he bought a blacksmith shop. He was in business for six years and, with the proceeds selling his shop, he opened a supply store (Jordan Valley Mercantile Company) which he sold in 1902 to Fred J. Palmer (Idaho Statesman, 1902-07-25) and, after some time, he gathered a flock of sheep that was the origin of his fortune.
In 1900, when he moved to Boise, he opened, with two other partners, the Oregon Hotel at the corner of Ninth and Front Streets. The hotel was across from the Oregon Short Line Railroad station. A few years later he rented it to Mateo Arregui.
In 1909, he headed the Jordan Valley Livestock & Land Co which also included his brother Agustin and Elmer Clark. The company had a capital stock of $50,000 (Idaho Statesman, 1909-07-29). Later, the company was renamed the Azcuenaga Valley Livestock & Land Co. That year, together with his brother Agustin and José Navarro, he was the owner of the company that owned the Hotel Iberia in Boise (Idaho Statesman, 1909-12-10).
María Urquiza and Agustín Azucena
Agustín, “Gus” as he was known, was the youngest of the Azcuenaga brothers, born on August 27, 1872, and immigrating to the United States in April 1890. He headed for Jordan Valley, where his brother Antón lived. He came to be regarded as the foremost rancher among the Owyhee Basques. He had his cabin on Trout Creek. In 1903, he owned a herd of 5,000 sheep (Owyhee Avalanche, August, 7, 1903). He was married in the Boise Cathedral on March 26, 1896, to María Agustina Urquiza, of Lekeitio, becoming the first Basque marriage in Owyhee (Owyhee County marriages 1890-1904, Owyhee, ID).
In 1900, the Azcuenaga (Agustín) family was made up of the married couple, their two eldest children, and their fifteen-year-old niece, María Uberuaga, who had resided in the United States since 1899. She resided in Pleasent Valley. From there she moved to Jordan Valley (Oregon).
The house of Agustin Azcuenaga (known today as Wrotten House) constructed by Basque stonemasons in 1920
Agustín lived in Boise for a while until he built the Jordan Valley Hotel and a general store, settling permanently in this small Oregon village (Etulain, 1991: 2). The financial crash of 1929 affected him very negatively. He lost the ranch and the sheep that he valued at $100,000 (J.H. Geiser: 85). He was the father of five children: Antonio (4-Feb-1897), Luis (16-Apr-1899), John (4-Apr-1901), Alice (14-Aug-1907), and Ethel (6-Aug-1910). ). He passed away in Idaho Falls on February 2, 1942. He is buried in Jordan Valley.
The century had not yet ended when Antón and Agustín Azcuenaga’s niece and nephew, Maria and Lorenzo Uberuaga, arrived. The first had been Maria, daughter of Florentina and her first husband. She was born in Arropain on October 6, 1883. She arrived in 1899. She was married in Silver City, ID, to Pedro Arritola on December 20, 1905. By 1910, she was in Boise. In 1920/1930, they resided in Jordan Valley, Oregon. She was the mother of Eduardo, Lorenzo, Pascual, Paul, Manuel, Joe, and John. She passed away in Nampa on June 10, 1934.
Lorenzo, born in Lekeitio on September 5, 1888, arrived in New York aboard La Lorraine from Le Havre on August 20, 1900. In 1917/1920, he owned a farm in Brunzell, Owyhee, ID, in partnership with his brother Pedro. His parents also lived on the farm: Agustín and Florentina. Luis Murelaga worked for them. On October 9, 1942, he married Edna Koch. He retired in 1945, settling in Nampa. In 1936, he was a farmer and rancher in Reynolds, Owyhee Co. That year he filed for his naturalization. He passed away in Nampa, Idaho, in March of 1969.
Valentina Uberuaga and Elias Gabicagoxeascoa, 1911
María and Lorenzo were followed by Valentina, born in Lekeitio on February 15, 1891. Before emigrating she was a seamstress. She arrived in New York aboard La Lorraine from Le Havre on August 24, 1907. She headed for Jordan Valley. She gave her uncle Anton Azcuenaga as a reference. She married Elias Gabica. She was the mother of Charlotte, Ricardo Pedro, Louise, and Alice. She for many years she lived in Nampa, Idaho. She passed away in Ontario, Malheur Co, Oregon, in September 1973.
Agustin Uberuaga was born in the house called Troixa, in Arropain, Lekeitio, on September 2, 1859. Before emigrating he was a basket maker, as were his father and the Azcuenaga brothers. He married Florentina Azcuenaga in Lekeitio on December 10, 1887, with whom he had three children. Florentina had had a daughter from her marriage to José Ignacio, Agustín’s brother who had died. He first arrived in 1896. In 1900, he was working as a sheepherder for his brother-in-law Agustin in Pleasent Valley. In 1908, Agustín Uberuaga, his wife Florentina Azcuenaga, and his youngest son, Pedro, arrived and met with Lorenzo. In this way, the three Azcuenaga brothers were reunited forever in the American West. In 1920, he lived with his wife and their children Lorenzo and Pedro in Reynolds, Owyhee, ID. He passed away on December 27, 1924. Florentina Azcuenaga was the eldest of the Ascuenaga Basterrica siblings. She was also born in Abando. She was married twice: the first with José Ignacio Uberuaga with whom she had a daughter. The second with her brother-in-law Agustín from her with her had three more children. In 1908, she moved to Oregon. (Voices from Basque America: Richard Gabica, CBS-UNR).
Pedro Uberuaga, born in Lekeitio on June 29, 1894, arrived with his parents in 1908. In 1914, he is listed as the buyer of a 160-acre parcel in Bruzell (Idaho Statesman, 1914-12-04). On November 2, 1917, he was drafted into the US Army. At that time, he had already made a declaration of intent to become a naturalized American. In 1920, he was a partner with his brother on the Brunzell farm. He passed away in Nampa on January 10, 1939.
The first of Antón Azcuenaga’s friends to arrive was Cipriano “Sam” Anacabe, born in Lekeitio, on September 16, 1862. He immigrated in 1889, heading for Jordan Valley (Oregonian, 1968-07-28). In June 1894, he had a letter at the Boise post office (Idaho Daily Statesman, 1894-06-30). In 1896, his wife Bibiana Arguinchona, whom he had married in Natxitua, and his son John B. joined him. In 1900, he was listed as a rancher in Pleasent Valley (Owyhee). That year, Domingo Ocamica and John Acarregui worked for him. On July 22, 1905 he was killed by John “Arenzadel” (Aranzabal) in Jordan Valley. The latter committed suicide in jail after leaving a letter in which he confessed to his crime (Idaho Daily Statesman, 1905-09-19). After the death of her husband, Bibiana returned to Bizkaia with the three small children born in Jordan Valley. The woman died three years after her return. Later, Joseph settled in Boise. John B. (Juan Bautista) was born in Lekeitio (Bizkaia) on August 29, 1888. In 1910, he was a sheepherder in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co. In 1917, he resided in Boise. He worked for many years at the Golden Rule Store. In 1930, he moved to Reno where he franchised the bus service between Reno and Sparks. Later, in addition to the bus line, he became a taxi driver. He died after being run over by a young man on June 11, 1948 (Nevada State Journal, 1948-06-12).
Pedro Arrítola, born in Ispaster, on June 12, 1867, arrived in the United States in 1893. He worked as a sheepherder in Nevada and Oregon. He became a rancher and, by 1917, owned a ranch in Dry Creek, ten miles from Boise. He was also listed as a shareholder of the Iberia Hotel along with Antonio and Agustín Azcuenaga and José Navarro. In 1930, he was a rancher in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co, Or. On December 20, 1905, he married María Uberuaga, niece of Antón Azcuenaga, in Silver City. He had seven sons (Silen: 195). He passed away in Oregon in 1933.
After Pedro, in 1894, came his brother Juan Manuel, born on April 19, 1862. Before emigrating he was a baker. In 1906, he traveled to Ispaster in search of his son Dionisio. His other son, Rufino, had arrived three years earlier. He was the owner of several herds and, with his sons, he formed a company. He passed away in Jordan Valley in 1921.
Rufino “Rufus,” born on November 16, 1887, had arrived in New York aboard the Yvernia from Liverpool in March 1903. He settled in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co, Oregon, where his uncle and his father lived. He worked as a sheepherder and, for a time, was employed by the Jordan Valley Mercantile Co (in both cases for the Azcuenaga brothers), until he decided to become independent by dedicating himself to raising sheep. He owned the Garden Ranch known as Arriola Ranch. The brothers also headed a sheep company, Arritola Sons and Co, which for a time were partners with José Goicoechea (Idaho Daily Statesman, 1925-11-23). In the 1930s/1940s, he ran a pool hall in Jordan Valley. On October 9, 1911, he married Maria Elordi in Nampa, Idaho. He was the father of Luis (July 26, 1912), Benjamin, and Virginia.
Dionisio, born on October 5, 1891, was 14 years old when his father, Juan, went to Ispaster to look for him and take take him to the United States. In 1917, he was an independent rancher and farmer in Malheur County, Oregon. That year, after passing the medical examination, he was declared fit for military service. He worked as a sheepherder for the Bruneau Sheep Co. and for J.D. Aldecoa. In 1930, he was residing in Grasmere. He passed away in Idaho on January 20, 1964.
The youngest of the Arritola brothers, Fermín, was born on September 25, 1897. He arrived in New York aboard the Californie from Bilbao on May 1, 1915. He gave his father’s, living in Jordan Valley, as a reference. In 1918, he tended the sheep of his countryman Justo Corta. He moved to Boise where he worked for a few years as a guard. He became a naturalized citizen in 1967. He Died in Boise at age 97 on November 24, 1994.
Antón Azcuenaga’s group of friends is closed by Louis Yturraspe Uberuaga, born in Lekeitio on January 22, 1870. He arrived in the United States on March 22, 1893. In December 1893, in partnership with his cousin Jose Uberuaga, he purchased the City Restaurant and Lodging House from R. J. Luark. The Basques planned to take it over on January 1, 1894 (Idaho Daily Statesman, 1893-12-24). He also rented rooms. In 1917/1930, he owned two ranches in Jordan Valley and Jordan Creek (Luis Ranches). In addition, he built himself a stone house in Jordan Valley known as the “White House.” He married Natalia Acarregui Bilbao (b. Arropain-Ispaster) in Jordan Valley. He was the father of Jesús (19-Oct-1900), José (15-Oct-1901), María (2-Jul-1906), and Luisa (1919). He passed away in Jordan Valley on January 3, 1933.
Yturraspe, in the company of another “American” shepherd, Melitón Bengoechea (b. Bedarona), bought a piece of land in Arropain from Antonio Mendieta Maguregui on which, in 1907, they built a two-family house.
Luis Yturraspe. Casa Iturraspe-Bengoetxea in Arropain (photo by Mikel San Sebastian)
The Acarregui brothers, brothers-in-law to the Yturraspes and neighbors in Arropain of the Odiagas, the Uberuagas, and the Azcuenagas, were from the Venta or Benta-Zaharra farmhouse, now defunct, belonging to the church of Ispaster. The first to arrive, in 1896, was Domingo, born October 21, 1867. In 1900, he was working as a sheepherder for Agustin Azcuenaga in Pleasent Valley, OR (US Federal Census, 1900).
The last of the Acarregui brothers was Juan Policarpo, John P, born January 26, 1878. He arrived in New York aboard La Normandie from Le Havre on February 28, 1899. He headed for Boise, settling in Jordan Valley. He worked for four years as a sheepherder and cowboy for the Azcuenaga brothers until he gathered his own flock of sheep. In 1917, he had 5,000 sheep that grazed between the states of Idaho and Oregon. In 1930/1942, he owned a ranch in Jordan Valley. He married Paula Anchustegui (de Berriatua) in Boise on July 3, 1907 (Idaho Statesman, 1907-07-03). He is the father of Ángel (Boise, 31-May-1908), Antonio (Jordan Valley, 14-Jul-1910), Floyd (7-Mar-1911), Juanita (1918-1924), and Víctor (1919-1969). In 1917 he was residing in Boise. He died in Oregon on March 30, 1943 (Silen: 194).
The Aldecoas, who lived in a nearby hamlet in Krutziaga, were relatives of the Acarregui. The first to arrive was Domingo Aldecoa, born around 1884. He arrived in New York aboard the Rijndam from Boulogne on April 21, 1903. He headed to Oregon where his uncle Juan Acarregui lived. On April 3, 1910, he was murdered in cold blood by an individual named Charles Wear. At the time, Adecoa was a rancher and partner in one-third of a large herd in Jordan Valley.
He was followed by his father, Luis Aldecoa. He was born in Ugao-Miravalles on September 9, 1860. He went to Lekeitio where he worked on a fishing boat. On May 17, 1884, he married María Roca Egaña Bilbao in Lekeitio, settling in the Krutziaga de Ispaster neighborhood. He arrived in New York aboard the Rotterdam from Boulogne on November 4, 1903. He went to Boise where he stayed for five years. He made a second trip in 1909 after visiting his wife in Lekeitio.
The third to arrive was León, born on September 12, 1889. Before emigrating, he was a fisherman like his father. He arrived in the country aboard the Saint Paul on March 21, 1906. He settled in Boise where his mother lived. In 1917, he was an independent rancher in Jordan Creek, near Jordan Valley. He was married in Boise on October 15, 1917, to Angela Siluaga. He passed away on September 18, 1935.
On March 21, 1908, two other members of the Aldecoa family arrived in New York aboard the Saint Louis from Cherbourg: Ángel and Josefa. Angel was born on March 1, 1892. He grew up in Lekeitio. He went to Boise where his father, Luis, lived. He worked as a sheepherder for his uncle Juan Acarregi. On July 8, 1916, he married Eve Victoria in Jordan Valley. In 1917, he was an independent rancher in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co, Oregon. In 1927 the family moved to Reynolds Creek. In 1942, he was an independent (dairy) farmer in Five Mile, Ada Co, Id. By 1959, he was living in retirement in Boise where he owned an apartment building. He sold the building, settling in Jordan Valley. He passed away in Jordan Valley in September 1972. His sister Josefa, born in 1887, also went to Jordan Valley to join her father.
The last one was Basilio “Juan” born on March 22, 1898. He arrived in New York aboard La Savoie from Le Havre on April 8, 1911. In 1918, he worked for Simón Acordagoitia in Jordan Valley. He was partner of John Archabal. In 1930, he was working with his brother-in-law Lázaro Urquiaga in Rome, Oregon. In 1939/1948, he was a farmer in Boise. He married Juana. He passed away in Boise on December 20, 1968. He is buried in Jordan Valley.
The Eiguren of Zubieta
The Eiguren Navarro family in Zubieta
In Arropain, there was also the Zubieta farmhouse, situated within the limits of the park of the palace of the same name belonging to the Adan de Yarza family. The couple formed by José Eiguren, from Mendexa, and Jacoba Navarro, from Akorda-Ibarrangelua, lived here. Jacoba was the sister of José Navarro, the adventure and business partner of Antón Azcuenaga. In 1899, Navarro had returned to Lekeitio to marry a young woman from Mendexa, Pia Azpiri. Later, he sponsored the trip of his nephews, his sister’s children.
Pascual Eiguren and his family in Jordan Valley
The first of the nephews to arrive – in 1902 – was Pascual, “Pasko,” born on May 17, 1889. In 1910, he was already a partner of his uncle. In 1917, he was a farmer and rancher in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co, Oregon. He had an 800 acre ranch and a share in the famous Sheep Ranch. That year, he argued against recruiting him to care for his wife and his two children. On June 14, 1913, he had married Catalina Elordi. He was the father of Federico (Fred). In 1942, he had a ranch near Arock, Malheur Co,. Oregon.
Pasko Eiguren transformed the ranch from sheep to cattle. His son Fred completed the process. Elias, Pasko’s grandson, is a well-known rancher who takes his children to learn Basque and, once a week, Basque dances.
Elias Eiguren, grandson of Pasko, with his wife and daughter
On April 25, 1908, two other siblings arrived in New York aboard La Savoie from Le Havre: Félix and María. They traveled with their uncle José Navarro. Felix was born on January 30, 1894. In 1910, he was working for José in Jordan Valley. In 1917, he was working as a sheepherder at Jordan Creek. He resided in Jordan Valley, Oregon. He worked on different ranches: Skinner Ranch, Oliver Ranch, Cow Creek… In 1936, the family moved to Arock. Felix started working for his brother. In 1938, he purchased his own ranch near Arock, Malheur Co., Oregon, which he farmed until his retirement in December 1958. On April 25, 1923, he married Rufina Celaya in Lekeitio, and was the father of Iñaki, Miren, and Begoña. He passed away in Boise in November, 1970.
For her part, Maria was born on February 17, 1888. On December 23, 1908, she married Domingo Eiguren “Kashpar” (b. Mendexa) in Nampa. She was the mother of Pilar, Luis Domingo, and José. In 1916, Domingo sold his sheep and moved with his wife and four children to Lekeitio.
Another of the Eiguren sisters, Inés, arrived aboard La Lorraine from Le Havre on October 15, 1910. Her sister “Milagros” was traveling with her. They gave her brother Pascual as a reference. She married Blas Tellería in Boise on November 21, 1911.
In the midst of World War I, Pablo, born on January 26, 1899, arrived in New York aboard the Hudson from Bilbao on March 18, 1915. He headed for Jordan Valley where his brother Pascual lived. In 1917, he was working for F.J. Palmer & Co. in Jordan Valley, Oregon. He died in Malheur on February 17, 1936.
The last of the Eiguren Navarro family to arrive was Frank. He was born in the Zubieta farmhouse (baserria) in Ispaster, Bizkaia, around 1903. He arrived in New York aboard La Bourdonaise from Le Havre on April 14, 1921. He headed for Jordan Valley. He gave as a reference his cousin Blas Tellería.
Also linked to some of the above was José Eiguren. He was born in Mendexa on May 3, 1880, and arrived in New York aboard La Champagne from Le Havre on March 11, 1901. He gave J. Navarro in Boise as a reference. He settled in Jordan Valley, Oregon. In 1918/1942, he was an independent rancher in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co, Oregon. He married Carmen Uberuaga in Boise on August 6, 1906. Carmen had arrived in March of that same year. She was the cousin of María Urquiza, the wife of Agustín Azcuenaga. They were the parents of five children.
Simón Acordagoitia was born in Ispaster on July 17, 1876. Before emigrating, he lived in Lekeitio. He arrived in New York aboard the steamer Oceanic from Liverpool on March 20, 1900. He headed for Boise. He worked as a sheepherder for the Azcuenaga brothers. He later bought a ranch, the Birch Creek Ranch, in which he had Donato Uberuaga, Antón Azcuenaga’s brother-in-law, as a partner. He owned one hundred and sixty acres in Watson, Oregon. In 1921, he sold all of his cattle, some 200 head, to Frank Folcher, a member of a wealthy Californian family (Idaho Daily Statesman, 1921-03-24). In 1930, he was residing in Jordan Valley. On January 31, 1910, he married Mercedes Eiguren Barinagarrementeria (b. Mendexa, arrived 1909) in Boise. He was the father of Alexander, Asunción, Alfonso, Aurora, Anna, Angel, and Albert (Silen: 246). He passed away in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co on June 14, 1943.
Life in Jordan Valley
Mike Hanley points out that the first Basques were received poorly by the ranchers considering that their sheep damaged the pastures. The situation changed when the Basques became cowboys and bought the ranches of the pioneers either as a result of the depression or because they had already made their fortune [4].
According to attorney Anthony Yturri, in the early 1940s there were fifty-two Basque families in Jordan Valley: there were one hundred and thirty-two adults, twenty-five in high school, and another thirty-two in secondary school (cit. By F.M.McCullough, The Basques in Northwest p.35).
Basque women in Jordan Valley, 1940
Christian R. N. Beers points out that the Basques transferred to Jordan Valley the ways of interacting typical of any Bizkaian village. They were concentrated along Main Street to the south of an imaginary line that, in the 1920s, marked three of the Basque boarding houses of the time (Elorriaga, Madariaga, and Marquina), a section of town that the local Anglos referred to disparagingly as “Chinatown” (Beers: 50). Regarding customs, Cressman and Yturri highlight that, for example, “Basques who have adopted American work clothes, special days, and especially first-generation Basques, wear a white button-down shirt at the neck, without a tie” (Cressman & Yturri: 10).
Group of Basques in the Jordan Valley fronton, 1920
The Basque emigrants from the Jordan Valley were not especially religious, especially the men. The women (and children) attended weekly service and sponsored a summer school. And, in addition, they made a decisive contribution to building a stone church, whose solidity, by the way, contrasts with other places of worship in the town. Scattered throughout the Jordan Valley are a series of hewn stone buildings built by the Basques. Among these, the Catholic church, the so-called Azcuenaga house (on Bassett St), a two-story hipped house (where an ostatu used to be) and, of course, the fronton. In the spring of 1915, Ambrosio Elorriaga began the construction of a fronton with the help of Basque stonemasons who used local stone. The stones were carved one by one. In 1917, they finished the work [5].
Hotels
José Navarro was the first Basque hotelier in Jordan Valley. He owned the Monopoly Hotel which he sold shortly thereafter, although this was not a proper Basque hotel. The first Basque hotel was opened by Augustín Azcuenaga, who opened the Jordan Valley Hotel, which also had a grocery store – it was “an imposing structure,” according to the press, (Oregonian, 1971-05-23).
Domingo Yturri could be considered a pioneer among Basque hoteliers in Jordan. He was born in Errigoiti. He arrived in Boise on February 11, 1902. He was employed as a miner in Owyhee County. Subsequently, he opened a hotel in Jordan Valley and, later, a store in partnership with William Helm. Later, he opened a grocery store in De Lamar (Owyhee). He was married to Maria Elorriaga. He was the father of Juanita, Lola, and Luis.
He sponsored the trip of his brother-in-law Ambrosio Elorriaga (born in Laukiz). Since at least 1915, Elorriaga owned a hotel in Jordan Valley, Malheur Co, Oregon. That year he began the construction of a stone fronton with the help of Basque stonemasons (Oregonian, 1971-05-23).
Eulogio Madariaga’s ostatu in Jordan Valley
Eulogio Madariaga of Ibarrangelua had arrived in 1906. He settled in Jordan Valley, Oregon. He worked as a sheepherder and later opened a hotel (Madariaga’s) in Jordan Valley that his wife ran. According to a story in the Oregonian, Trinidad served the best food in the state (Oregonian, 1937-06-20/1946-08-25). The establishment maintained its activity until 1958. The hotel’s Sunday dances were famous, in which accordionists performed, alternating between Basque and American music. The most grand of them all was the New Year’s dance that brought together Basques from many miles around. Before, for a while, they had run the Overland Hotel in Boise. In 1983, Madariaga’s, suitably renovated, became the Old Basque Inn (Oregonian, 1983-07-19).
Linked to the Yturris, Sotero Marquina of Durango was married to their sister Eustaquia. He worked as a sheepherder for Antón Azcuenaga and, later, had his own herd and was employed as a stonemason. With his wife, he also ran an ostatu that was open until 1945. It was known as “the yellow house” (J.Echeverria: 186).
The End of an Era
At the beginning of the 21st century, only half a dozen ranches remained in Basque hands. Most sold their ranches to non-Basques. Many of the Jordan Valley Basques, especially the women, moved to the Treasure Valley and Boise. All of this, as recognized by Fred Eiguren, contributes to blur the character of what, for almost a century, was one of the most Basque cities in America [6].
Bibliography
EIGUREN, Roy (1971), Jordan Valley: a study in migration of Basques to America, and within America, Boise, 1971
ETULAIN, Richard (ed) (1991), Basques of the Pacific Northwest, Pocatello: Idaho State University Press.
GEISER, Joseph Harold, The Basques of the Jordan Valley área. A study in social process and social change, University of Southern California, 1944
HANLEY, Mike (with Ellis Lucia) (1988), Owyhee Trails. The West’s forgotten corner, Caldwell : The Caxton Printers
History of Idaho. The Gem of the Mountains Vol. III, Chicago (1929): The S.J, Clarke Publishing Co.
SILEN, Sol (1917), Historia de los Vascongados en el Oeste de Estados Unidos, Nueva York: las Novedades.
[1] Joseph Harold Geiser, The Basques of the Jordan Valley área. A study in social process and social change, University of Southern California, 1944, p. 2.
[2] Sarah Baker Munro, “Basque folklore in Southeastern Oregon”, in Richard Etulian (ed), Basques of the Pacific Northwest, Pocatello (1991): Idaho State University Press, p. 26.
[3] History of Idaho. The Gem of the Mountains Vol. III, Chicago (1929): The S.J, Clarke Publishing Co,, p.246-249.
[4] Mike Hanley (with Ellis Lucia), Owyhee Trails. The West’s forgotten corner, Caldwell (1988): The Caxton Printers, p. 185.
Maite opened her eyes to nothingness. She was laying on her stomach, sprawled on what felt like a dirt floor; she could taste the dust on her lips. But there was no light, not even a faint glimmer. She lay still, her head resting against the floor, moving only her eyes to scan her surroundings, but everything was black.
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!
Her body hurt more than it had ever hurt before. She felt a numbness in her back. It took her a moment to remember she had been shot. She tried to push herself up but let out a scream as pain shot through her leg. She collapsed back down to the floor, sweat pouring from her brow. She must have broken her leg.
“Garuna,” she asked feebly. “Are you there?”
“Yes, of course,” rumbled the dull, mechanical voice in her head.
“Can you assess what state my body is in?”
“I think I can.” There was a moment of silence before the voice returned. “You have sustained multiple injuries. You have a bullet wound in your shoulder which has caused profuse bleeding and the inutility of that arm. You have a broken leg, shattered in multiple places. And the bullet in your back has lodged against your spine. You are effectively paralyzed from the waist down. You cannot walk. You are still losing blood. If you are not stabilized soon, I estimate you have one, maybe two hours to live.”
Maite nodded to herself, though even that simple act caused pain to rack her body. She focused on her finger, which still lay in the dirt at the end of her sprawled arm. A faint light glowed from her fingertip.
Still laying still, she scanned the room again. It was plane, with a dirt floor and rough stone walls. It seems as if these had not been built but rather carved into the rock. There were chains embedded into the walls. Maite gasped slightly when she saw skeletal remains piled up under some of the chains.
“It must have been a dungeon,” she whispered, trying to conserve her strength.
She tried to pull herself up again, but the pain was too much. She collapsed again, almost passing out.
“Garuna, can you block my pain receptors?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I have to find the zatia – it must be in this room. But I can’t move, the pain is too unbearable.”
There was another pause. “Yes, I can do that,” replied the AI.
Maite felt a sudden release. She knew her body was still completely messed up, but at least now she couldn’t feel it. She focused, her eyes flashing with white light.
“It’s on the other side of that door,” she said, pointing to a rough wooden door that stood on the opposite side of the room.
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