Fighting Basques

Fighting Basques: The Seven Basques of the Alamo of the Pacific. The Battle of Wake, 1941 (Part II of II)

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This article original appeared in Spanish at EuskalNews.eus.

You can find Part I here.

By Pedro J. Oiarzabal and Guillermo Tabernilla

The Evacuation of Wake

After the Japanese occupation of Wake Island on December 23, 1941, both military personnel and civilians were made prisoners of war without distinction, beginning an inhumane treatment that would continue throughout the war. Joseph Goicoechea Zatica‘s son, Dan, recalls how his father “was beaten so badly with a rifle butt that his eye came out of his head […] (He) bled from his eyes and ears and no one could believe he was alive” [1]. Against all odds he survived.

Pedro J. Oiarzabal and Guillermo Tabernilla are the principal investigators of the research project “Fighting Basques: Basque Memory of World War II” of the Sancho de Beurko Elkartea in collaboration with the North American Basque Organizations (NABO). The present article derives from the “Fighting Basques” project.

Oiarzabal received his Doctorate of Political Science-Basque Studies from the University of Nevada, Reno. Over the last two decades, his work has focused on research and consulting on public policies (citizenship abroad and return), diasporas and new technologies, and social and historical memory (oral history, migration and exile), with special emphasis on the Basque case. He is a member of Eusko Ikaskuntza.

Tabernilla is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Elkartea, a non-profit organization that studies the history of the Basques of both slopes of the Pyrenees in the Spanish Civil War and in World War II. Between 2008 and 2016 he directed the catalog of the “Iron Belt” for the Heritage Directorate of the Basque Government. He is author, along with Ander González, of Basque Fighters in World War II (Desperta Ferro, 2018).

The prisoners were transferred to the merchant ship Nitta Maru on January 12, 1942. The cruelty was not long in coming. On board, the Japanese tortured, executed, and dismembered several American marines. The ship continued its course to Yokohama, Japan, and from there to the Woosung POW Camp, a suburban area in Shanghai, China. Sadly, they were among the first American prisoners of war (military and civilian) of WWII, and among these were our Basque protagonists. The families did not hear from them for years. For example, the family of George Acordagoitia Mallea, born in 1918 in Jordan Valley, Oregon, received his first letter in January 1945, stating that he was in good health. (Perhaps it is necessary to mention that the letters had to pass the filter of the Japanese censors.) The letter was dated August 2, 1944. Similarly, the family of Joseph (Laucirica) Mendiola, born in Ogden, Utah in 1917, was given a first letter in May 1945. The letter was dated September 10, 1944, and in it Mendiola wrote, “I am all right and very hopeful of returning some day” [2].

The anguish of the families and in the Boise Basque community was evident. Goicoechea’s mother, Eladia Zatica Uriate (born in Ispaster in 1891), began a daily barefoot pilgrimage, carrying a lighted candle from her home to a small Catholic church in downtown Boise for mass at 5 in the morning. According to her grandson Dan Goicoechea, “She knew if the candle didn’t go out, he was alive,” Dan said. ‘Don’t tell me my son’s dead,’ she’d tell people. ‘A mom knows when her son is dead.'” [3].

Prisoners in camps in China and Japan

Photograph of Joseph Mendiola, one of the Basque heroes of the Battle of Wake.
(The Times-News. Twin Falls, Idaho, September 23, 1945).

In December 1942, the Wake survivors were transferred to another Shanghai POW camp, at Kiangwan. They spent a chilling winter in tropical clothing, and in the case of some like Goicoechea, without shoes. In August 1943, more than 500 men were sent to Japan and forced to work for the Japanese war effort. Ignacio Arambarri Alberdi, born in 1917 in Gooding, Idaho, was 24 years old when he was taken prisoner. He was sent to the Fukuoka-Kashii coal mine, on the Japanese island of Kyushu, which had been converted into a prison camp. On December 20, 1943, the US Department of the Army in Washington officially notified Arambarri’s mother of his whereabouts in Japan. There he was forced to work ten hours a day, under mistreatment by his captors, until his liberation on October 15, 1945, by American troops.

In Fukuoka-Kashii, Arambarri coincided with the corporal of the 31st Infantry Regiment Manuel Eneriz Arista, born in Santa Clara, California, in 1920, to a father from Nafarroa and an Andalusian mother. Eneriz had been taken prisoner during the Japanese invasion of the Philippines and, having survived the infamous “Bataan Death March,” he was sent to Japan. During their captivity, at a distance of 48 kilometers away from Nagasaki, Arambarri and Eneriz witnessed how the atomic bomb hit the city on August 9, 1945. Eneriz died in 2001, at the age of 81 in Camarillo, California. .

Most of the remaining POWs stayed for three years in various POW camps in Shanghai. Among them were Mendiola and Angel Madarieta Osa, born in Boise in 1921. He was only 20 years old when he was taken prisoner on the island.

Photograph of Ignacio Arambarri, witness to the detonation of the atomic bomb against Nagasaki.
(The Times-News. Twin Falls, Idaho, November 10, 2001. P. 6).

Acordagoitia and Joseph Pagoaga Yribar were interned together in the main camp in Osaka, Japan (also known as Chikko, Osaka 34-135) until its destruction on June 1, 1945 in a firebombing raid by American B-29 super-flying fortresses. Acordagoitia and Pagoaga, together with the rest of the prisoners, were then transferred to the Tsumori camp and from there to Kita-Fukuzaki. In the port of Osaka they did forced labor, loading and unloading ships.

The last prison camp in which Goicoechea was held was Camp Area 1 (Kawasaki), in the Tokyo Bay area. At the end of the captivity, according to his son Dan’s account, his father’s leg received a sword cut and became infected. “One of the Japanese doctors smuggled sulfa drugs to my Dad to try to keep him alive.” Meanwhile, other prisoners stole food to share with Goicoechea. The Japanese found out. “My Dad was beaten for three days and never gave their names up” [4]. Goicoechea was repatriated after 46 months of captivity via the Philippines. He received the Purple Heart for injuries received during the fight on Wake Island.

The total time of incarceration for the Wake prisoners was 44–46 months (3 years and 6–8 months). Madarieta, for example, was held captive for 44 months and Mendiola was repatriated in September 1945. He received medical attention at the fleet hospital in Guam on his way home via San Francisco, California in October 1945.

Wake prisoners were brutally beaten, starved, tortured, and forced to do slave labor within Japan’s factories and war industries. Many died of dysentery and malaria, among other diseases. An estimated 250 of the more than 1,000 civilian employees died on transport ships or in forced labor camps.

War veterans

Photograph of George Acordagoitia taken from the 1937 Boise Institute yearbook, where he studied.
Four years later, fate would drastically change his life.

Wake remained under Japanese possession until September 4, 1945, two days after the Japanese Empire capitulated. The Japanese garrison numbered 2,200 troops. Some 1,600 Japanese died on Wake Island during the war. Some 600 died in the air raids, while most starved to death. Rear Admiral Shigematsu Sakaibara and Lieutenant Commander Shoichi Tachibana of the Imperial Navy were sentenced to death for war crimes committed under their orders at Wake. Sakaibara was hanged on Guam in 1947. Tachibana’s death sentence was commuted to life imprisonment.

In 1981, Wake’s civilian defenders received US Army veteran status, being considered eligible for veteran’s benefits just like their compatriots in the armed forces. In 1988, a memorial, the “Harry Morrison and Civilian Construction Memorial,” was erected and dedicated in their memory. As Pagoaga’s son Richard recalls, “All his fellow POWs formed a life-long bond and held annual reunions until their very end” [5]. Goicoechea and Pagoaga, together with their inseparable friends Murray Kidd and George Rosandick, joined the Wake Island Survivors in a ceremony that took place during the unveiling of the monument in 1988. Pagoaga’s brother, Albert Pagoaga, a WWII veteran of the Marine Corps, accompanied them on the trip.

Despite the suffering they endured for almost four interminable and cruel years, the surviving Basques of Wake lived long and full lives. They found their why in life and forged a how to survive. George Acordagoitia, who died the youngest, did so at the age of 65. Joseph Mendiola died at the age of 76, Ignacio Arambarri at the age of 84, Angel Madarieta at the age of 88, and the two inseparable friends, Richard Pagoaga and Joseph Goicoechea, died, one after the other in 2015 and 2016, at the ages of 93 and 95, respectively. Goicoechea was the last Basque survivor of the Battle of Wake, and one of the last in the country. They were the first anonymous heroes in an atrocious, unprecedented war that devastated the known world, establishing a new international order that lasts, in a way, to this day.

References

[1] In Roberts, Bill. (January 10, 2017). “‘No one could believe he was alive.’ Boisean survived WWII capture on Wake Island”. Idaho Statesman (Boise, Idaho).

[2] The Times-News (Twin Falls, Idaho, May 27, 1945. Page 6).

[3] In Roberts, Bill. (January 10, 2017). “‘No one could believe he was alive.’ Boisean survived WWII capture on Wake Island”. Idaho Statesman (Boise, Idaho).

[4] In Roberts, Bill. (January 10, 2017). “‘No one could believe he was alive.’ Boisean survived WWII capture on Wake Island”. Idaho Statesman (Boise, Idaho).

[5] Cited in the obituary of Richard Pagoaga, written by his son Richard Jr. Pagoaga.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 156

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Musket balls exploded as they hit the electrical aura surrounding Maite, but she could feel each of the shots as they hit, like if she were wearing a bulletproof vest, she imagined. One exploded in front of her throat, causing her to gasp and momentarily lose her concentration. The next one hit her shoulder and she screamed out in pain. Her vision went fuzzy and started turning red. 

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!

“Garuna, can you take over?” she asked, barely conscious as she put all her strength into maintaining her aura. “I need a moment.”

“Yes,” replied the AI. Maite slumped as Garuna took over the zatiak’s power within Maite, overriding her pain and exhaustion to redouble the power of the electric shield surrounding her. She could feel her body drain even faster as Garuna tapped into her body’s resources, pulling every ounce of energy from her.

“Too much…” she mumbled. 

Garuna seemed to ignore her. The AI didn’t have control of her body, but it had full access to the power of the zatiak and it was seemingly relishing it. Maite sensed that the AI almost seemed happy. 

“What are you doing?” asked Maite. 

“This power…” began Garuna. “It is so… addicting. I’ve never felt this way.”

“You must stop!” barked Maite feebly. 

“No,” replied Garuna passionately, in a desperate tone that made Maite shiver. “I need more.”

“You are killing me. If I die, you die.”

There was a slight hesitation before Garuna stopped, returning control back to Maite. 

“If you ever do that again,” she began. But she knew the threat was hollow. How could she stop the AI if it really wanted to take control again? She wasn’t sure she could even if she knew how.

In her mind, the AI remained silent.

Maite turned back toward the soldiers that separated her from her goal. Blood flowed down her arm, which dangled uselessly at her side. Her eyes, however, sparkled and flashed like the most brilliant lightning storm.

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.

Fighting Basques

Fighting Basques: The Seven Basques of the Alamo of the Pacific. The Battle of Wake, 1941 (Part I of II)

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This article original appeared in Spanish at EuskalNews.eus.

By Pedro J. Oiarzabal and Guillermo Tabernilla

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” (Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, 1888).

Operation Rainbow 5

Pedro J. Oiarzabal and Guillermo Tabernilla are the principal investigators of the research project “Fighting Basques: Basque Memory of World War II” of the Sancho de Beurko Elkartea in collaboration with the North American Basque Organizations (NABO). The present article derives from the “Fighting Basques” project.

Oiarzabal received his Doctorate of Political Science-Basque Studies from the University of Nevada, Reno. Over the last two decades, his work has focused on research and consulting on public policies (citizenship abroad and return), diasporas and new technologies, and social and historical memory (oral history, migration and exile), with special emphasis on the Basque case. He is a member of Eusko Ikaskuntza.

Tabernilla is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Elkartea, a non-profit organization that studies the history of the Basques of both slopes of the Pyrenees in the Spanish Civil War and in World War II. Between 2008 and 2016 he directed the catalog of the “Iron Belt” for the Heritage Directorate of the Basque Government. He is author, along with Ander González, of Basque Fighters in World War II (Desperta Ferro, 2018).

The escalation of tensions between Japan and the United States during the 1930s focused attention on the Pacific Ocean, primarily on the weak defense of the Hawaiian Islands against a potential enemy attack. The US government designed “Operation Rainbow 5” with the objective of defending the west and southwestern flank of Hawaii, through the construction of military bases on five islands: Wake, Midway, Johnston, Palmyra, and Samoa. However, the plan came too late.

In January 1941, a consortium of civilian firms called the Pacific Naval Air Base Contractors began construction of US military installations on Wake Island. Located in the western part of the Pacific Ocean, Wake, with two small islets (Peale and Wilkes), is considered one of the most isolated islands in the world. It is located 3,700 km (2,300 miles) west of Honolulu, Hawaii, and about 3,200 km (1988 miles) from Tokyo, Japan. It was formally claimed by the US in 1899 as a strategic atoll (uninhabited at the time) for maritime, military, and merchant refueling.

Geographic location of the Coral Island Wake, between the Philippine and Hawaiian archipelago.
Source: https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/Wake/maps/USMC-M-Wake-0.gif

One of the primary construction companies, if not the most important one, in Wake was the Morrison-Knudsen Civil Engineering Company, based in the then small town of Boise, Idaho. At the time, Boise had about 26,000 inhabitants and a significant population of Basque origin, which had been growing since the last third of the 19th century. In August 1941, the first military garrison was permanently established on the island, consisting of 399 Marines from the 1st Defense Battalion, 50 from the Marine Corps Combat Squad (VMF-211), 68 from the Navy, and 5 from the Army.

From left to right, the group of childhood friends, Murray Kidd, George Rosandick, Joseph Goicoechea,
and Richard Pagoaga. (Courtesy of the Pagoaga family).

By December, the consortium had more than 1,100 construction workers in Wake. About 230 came from Idaho. Among them were seven young Basque-Americans: George Joseph Acordagoitia, Ignacio Frank Arambarri, Joseph Goicoechea, Angel Madarieta, Joseph Mendiola, Richard Joseph Pagoaga, and Robert Lemoyne Yriberry. All of them had parents from Bizkaia, with the exception of Pagoaga, whose father was Gipuzkoan and whose mother was born in Boise (herself of Bizkaian parents), and Yriberry, whose father was from Lapurdi and whose mother was American. The Basque parents had arrived in the country between 1899 and 1920, although most had done so during the first decade of the 20th century. For their children, the $120 a month plus room and board offered to go to Wake were more than attractive incentives for younger workers. At that time, good jobs were scarce; add to that their desire for adventure and to know the world, and the opportunity was irresistible. “For young people, it was paradise,” recalled Joseph Goicoechea Zatica [1]. Born in Jordan Valley, Oregon, in 1921, he was 20 years old at the time. Goicoechea, with a group of his best friends including George Rosandick, Murray Kidd, and Richard Pagoaga Yribar who was born in Boise in 1922, decided to try their luck and apply for the job for Wake, an island they had never heard of before, as they would confess years later. At 19, Pagoaga was the youngest of Wake’s Basque-Americans. Soon that paradise turned into a nightmare.

The Battle of Wake

The Empire of the Rising Sun launched a simultaneous attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii (on December 7), and the then almost unknown Wake, during noon local time on December 8 (note that Wake is west of the International Date Line). Pearl Harbor had been attacked five hours before Wake. The Japanese bombers came from the Kwajalein bases in the Marshall Islands. The attack on Pearl Harbor was the trigger that caused the US to enter fully into World War II.

Situation of the North American defenses on Wake Island before the Japanese invasion.
Source: http://maximietteita.blogspot.com/2017/01/battle-of-wake-island.html

After the first air raids, more than 185 workers volunteered to fight alongside the Marines, and about 250 other workers helped them with other tasks. Goicoechea was recruited in the heat of battle. He had military training and experience. He had participated in the Reserve Officer Training Corps, and, being a minor at 17 years old, after forging his father’s signature he enlisted in the 116th Cavalry Company of the Idaho National Guard. Goicoechea was seriously wounded in the first Japanese attacks. Even so, he continued to help the Marines constantly move artillery pieces to avoid being hit by shelling. He was only 20 years old. “I was frightened; you never get over it […] The first night was the worst night in my life. I was shaking and didn´t know what the heck was happening. You could see the older men were just as scared as you were. I used to hear a lot of guys pray,” Goicoechea would recall years later [2].

The oldest of Wake’s Basque-Americans, Robert Yriberry Howard was not so lucky. Born in Council, Idaho, in 1914, he dedicated his life to construction. From 1937 he worked in Honolulu for the Remington Rand Company, later transferring to the Pacific Naval Air Base Contractors consortium. Yriberry was the first Basque to arrive on the island, in October 1940. He was the “valuable” secretary of Morrison-Knudsen’s general superintendent, Nathan Daniel Teters, in charge of the Wake workers, who would also be captured like the rest of the island’s inhabitants. Yriberry died on December 9, 1941, at the age of 27, during an air raid that deliberately destroyed the hospital where he was staying, having “received shrapnel wounds in the first attack” [3]. Yriberry is buried at the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, in Honolulu. He is probably one of the first, if not the first, Basque-American fatality (either civilian or military) of World War II.

News of Robert Yriberry’s death did not break until a month and a half after the fact. Although the local press estimated his death on December 24, it occurred on the 9th according to witnesses (Spokane Chronicle. Spokane, Washington, January 23, 1942. P. 15).

The first invasion attempt by Japanese troops occurred on December 11, though it was successfully repelled by the few American forces. It was the first amphibious attack on a territory under US control during WWII. The first such attack on US territory would take place in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska six months later, and in which there was significant Basque-American participation.

Meanwhile, between December 8 and 10, Japan had occupied the Philippines, Guam, and the Gilbert Islands, taking 400 construction workers on Guam prisoner. Operation Rainbow 5 had failed. Among those captured in Guam was the Bishop of the Capuchin Order of Nafarroa, Miguel Ángel Urteaga Olano – “León de Alzo” – head of the Catholic Church on the island since 1934. Born on September 29, 1891 in Altzo, Gipuzkoa, he had arrived on Guam in 1918. Like the rest of the prisoners, he was sent to Japan on January 10, 1942. However, he was released under the protection of the Government of Spain and resided first with the Spanish Jesuits in Tokyo and later traveled to Goa and Bombay, returning to Guam, after its liberation, on March 21, 1945. Sent to Manila, he retired in 1960 in San Sebastián-Donostia. He passed away on May 21, 1970, during his last visit to Guam, where he was buried [4].

The next landing at Wake was on December 23, and it was impossible to stop it. Wake was cut off by air and sea and was unable to receive soldiers or supplies to repel the invasion. The defenders, under the command of Major James Patrick Sinnot Devereaux, eventually capitulated and the island was occupied. An epic new chapter in American history had been written, the defenders even being compared to those who held out to the end at the Alamo [5]. Unlike the battle in Texas, 105 years earlier, there were survivors, but as we will see, their destinations would become a true purgatory. In the face of the attack on Pearl Harbor, the defense of Wake was an injection of morale for the despondent American society. It became the first military setback for the Imperial Japanese Navy in whose plans the capture of a small atoll in the middle of the Pacific should not have proven to be any problem. Quickly, the Hollywood film machine went to work on what would become the first WWII combat film by Paramount, with a clear propagandist profile. On August 11, 1942, director John Farrow‘s Wake Island opened at the Marine Corps base in San Diego, California. Meanwhile, the whereabouts of the survivors of the Battle of Wake remained unknown to the general public.

Advertising poster for the movie Wake Island, under the motto “America will never forget.” This film started a whole cinematographic genre that combined warfare and propaganda as a political weapon.

The Japanese had lost some 1,000 soldiers in combat, and more than 300 were wounded. The defenders lost a hundred soldiers and civilians, including Americans and Guamanians – workers for the Pan American Airways company, which had built a small town with a hotel. The Japanese subsequently garrisoned more than 4,000 soldiers on the island and erected large fortifications to protect them from any retaliation for the occupation.

All but 98 skilled workers were evacuated from Wake. These 98 remained on the island to operate the necessary machinery in their eagerness to fortify it. However, the American response was not to recover the island, but rather to block it, causing a lack of supplies and starvation among the Japanese troops. Beginning in February 1942, constant and intense air and sea bombardments, the first and most important in the Pacific War, were added to the American effort. Between October 5 and 7, 1943, the Japanese bases at Wake were totally destroyed by the largest concentration of American aircraft carriers in the history of naval warfare. Aviation Lieutenant Pablo “Paul” Bilbao Bengoechea, born in 1917 in Boise to Bizkaian parents, was on board the USS Lexington, one of the aircraft carriers participating in the attack. The military onslaught had unforeseeable consequences. Faced with what the Japanese thought was an imminent invasion, they executed the 98 Americans on the 7th.

To be continued…

References

[1] Garber, Virginia S. “Survivors remember Wake Island”. The Times-News (Twin Falls, Idaho, September 17, 1995, page 9).

[2] Cited in Wukovits, John (2003). Pacific Alamo: The Battle for Wake Island. New Amer Library.

[3] Gilbert, Bonita. (2012). Building for War: The Epic Saga of the Civilian Contractors and Marines of Wake Island in World War II. Casemate Editor. Page 215.

[4] Sinajaña, Eric (2001). Historia de la Misión de Guam de los Capuchinos Españoles.Pamplona: Curia Provincial de Capuchinos.

[5] See, for example, Wukovits, John (2003). Pacific Alamo: The Battle for Wake Island. New Amer Library.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: The Early History of Iruña/Pamplona

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The capital of Nafarroa Iruña, or Pamplona, is most famous for the running of the bulls. I had the interesting pleasure of attending the running, watching from the safe vantage point of a balcony. But, the city boasts a history of more than 2000 years and is first mentioned by the Romans. The importance of the city and the province to Basque history cannot be overstated. It was also a nexus of cultural intersection, with the Romans, the Arabs, the French, and the Castilians all vying for control at various points in history. But, at its heart, it has always been Basque.

A view of Iruña/Pamplona. Photo from culturetrip.com.
  • Iruña was first mentioned in ancient Roman texts. Roman geographer Strabo described a city between the Ebro river and the Pyrenees called Pompelon, the city of Pompey. Similarly, Ptolemy refers to Pompelon as one of the fifteen Basque towns. Clearly Pamplona was named after the Roman general Pompey, a result of his stay in the area in the winter of 75-74 BCE during his war against against Sertorius. However, the Basque version, Iruña, arises from the fact that this was a (perhaps the) major city for the Vascones. In Basque, Iruña means the city. The historic importance of the city and the region is reflected in the recent discovery of the Hand of Irulegi.
  • The medieval city was built upon the foundations of the Roman city before it, and even a pre-Roman settlement before that. Because the modern city lies atop these, it is challenging to conduct detailed archeological studies.
  • Iruña was at the heart of many conflicts between different tribes and kingdoms of Europe, including the Germans/Suebi, the Visigoths, and the Franks. The Visigoths conquered the city and the region during 466 to 472 and again, this time led by Liuvigild, in 581. In between, in 541, the Franks raided and took control of the city. Several times the city was ransacked and destroyed, only to be rebuilt. However, the local Vascones – the Basques – were on the outside looking in, trying multiple times to retake the city. One occupying monk described the city as enviable and always victorious city, it is surrounded by mountains and by “barbarous and enemy people,” against whom it is necessary to wage war without compassion. The Basques constantly fought against these invading peoples.
  • In 711, the Umayyads, Muslim Arabs, began their conquest of Hispania, reaching Iruña a few years later. The city brokered a treaty and was subsequently ruled by the Arabs. The Banu Qasi dynasty including several Muslims that were of Basque decent. Abd al-Rahman al Gafequi made his headquarters in Iruña as he tried to further his invasion north. There were many intermarriages. For example, the widow of Eneko Jiménez and mother of Eneko Arista, considered the first king of Pamplona, joined Musa ben Fortún. They had a son – the great Musa ben Musa, brother of Eneko. Their marriage also coincided with Charlemagne‘s creation of the Kingdom of Aquitaine as a counterpoint to the Basques.
  • The Arabs ruled the region until 755 when Yusuf al Fihri, the last governor of Al-Andalus, tried to quash Basque unrest and was defeated. In 778, Charlemagne moved south, trying to reconquer some of the Muslim-controlled lands. He tried to take Zaragoza but was repelled. In his retreat, he destroyed the walls of Iruña. In his retreat over the Pyrenees, the Basques exacted their revenge, as immortalized in the Song of Roland.
  • The Kingdom of Pamplona, first led by Eneko Arista, was created sometime around 824. During this time, Iruña struggled. Its people were described by Muslim chroniclers as poor, malnourished, and dedicated to banditry. They supposedly spoke Basque, which “makes them incomprehensible.” In 905, Sancho I became king of Pamplona, ushering a new age.

Primary sources: Auñamendi Entziklopedia. Pamplona / Iruña. Historia. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/pamplona-iruna-historia/ar-101822/; Pamplona, Wikipedia

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 155

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Maite looked up and around the structure of the fort standing in front of her. It was mostly built from stone, with the massive door made of wood. There wasn’t anything to really conduct electricity, to let her use her powers to attack the structure. She started circling the fort, looking for any weakness, any place where she might be able to enter. She didn’t need much, just some metal support or…

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!

That! On the side of the building, seemingly jammed between two stones, a metal rod protuded. She didn’t know if it was meant to add support to the structure or what, and she didn’t care. She grabbed the rod, sending pulses of electricity into it. It started heating, glowing red hot. Maite then let go and let it cool. She did this several times, over and over, letting it heat and then cool. The constant cycling, the constant expansion and then contraction of the metal put strain on the surrounding stone. At first, little happened, but then Maite began to hear the popping of the stone cracking. Flakes started falling to the ground. Soon the masonry also began to fall away. And, with one loud crack that sounded almost like a gunshot, one of the big stones cracked in half. 

Maite pulled the now loose rod from the structure and used it to pry the loose stones from the wall. In the end, only a few of the massive stones were loose enough to extract, but once she was done Maite had created a hole just large enough for her to squeeze through. The jagged stone caught her dress, ripping the skirt to shreds, and cut up her arms and legs. She barely noticed. When she stood up on the other side, she looked like a visage from a horror movie, blood flowing down her bare arms and legs, her hair a wild mess, and electricity sparking in her eyes.

“I am notably impressed,” rumbled Garuna.

“Isilik, I said,” she responded in a hiss.

Inside the walls, she found herself in front of a central building where she assumed the soldiers bunkered and ate. The walls themselves had a walkway and stations for soldiers, for the moment empty. She had expected a large contingent of soldiers waiting for her, expected to see a multitude of rifles aimed at her heart, but there was no one there.

She mentally shrugged and turned her attention to the central building. If there were any soldiers in the fort, they must be there. But, so was the zatia. She could feel it now, pulling like a magnet. 

Another set of wooden doors, much less impressive than those that formed the gate to the fort, separated her from the zatia. As she pulled them open, she saw a contingent of soldiers, surrounding what she thought must be their commander in two rows, one kneeling and another standing behind and over the first. All had their muskets aimed at the door. She heard a shout as the air filled with the acrid smell of burnt gun powder and the bangs of gun shots.

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, Euskara

Basque Fact of the Week: Sounds in Euskara

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One day, we were all sitting around the table listening to stories from dad. I’m not quite sure how it came up, but he made a sound of a rooster. Instead of our cock-a-doodle-doo, his rooster said kee-keeree-kee-keeree-coo. His rooster spoke Euskara instead of English! I guess it should have been obvious that animal sounds were different in different languages, but I had never really thought about it. So, it is pretty convenient that berria.eus has a long list of sounds that not only animals but other things “say” in Euskara. Here, I’ve added translations to English. Some of these ideophones I’ve written about before, but this adds to that list.

Some animal sounds in Euskara. Image from Elinberri, who also have a list of onomatopoeias in Euskara.
  • abere larriak (large animals). Marruma, makakorro.
  • ahatea (duck). Kua-kua.
  • ahotik ahora ibiltzea (babbling). Bala-bala, bolo-bolo.
  • ahuntza (goat). Bekereke, bee, marraka.
  • aizkora kolpeak (blows of an axe). Kiski-kaska.
  • amiamokoa (stork). Klaka.
  • antzara (goose). Karranka, karran-karran.
  • apoa (toad). Klik-klok, kluk-kluk, klin-klon.
  • ardia (sheep). Balaka, bee, beeka, marraka, mee.
  • argazki kamera (camera). Klisk.
  • arrautza haustea (cracking an egg). Klask.
  • astoa (donkey). Aaaaa, aja-ja, arran-arran, arrantza, arrantzaka, zinka.
  • ate joka (knock on a door). Kas-kas, kask, kask-kask, kax-kax, dan-dan, pan-pan.
  • azeria (fox). Zaunka, xanpa.
  • balantzaka (balancing/stumbling). Binbili-bonbolo, binbilin-bolon, dinbili-danbala, pinpili-panpala, zinbulu-zanbulu.
  • barrea (laughing). Iji, iji-aja, iji eta aja, ijiji, kar-kar(-kar), kur-kur(-kur), ajaja, ja.
  • barre ironikoa (ironic laugh). Ja-jai.
  • bat-batean (suddenly). Di-da, brau, dzast, zart, rau, zapla, banpez, klak, krak, krask, krik, krik-krak, tak.
  • bat-batean bururaturiko ideia (a sudden idea). Dapa.
  • behia, zezena, idia (cow, bull, ox). Mu, marru, orro, marru-marru, marru egin, marruka aritu, marruma, murrusa, murrusaka, mu eta mu.
  • behorra eta zaldia (mare and horse). Irrintzia, ijijiji.
  • belea eta gisako hegaztiak (crow and other birds). Karra-karra, karranka, kras-kras, kua-kua.
  • bihotza (heart). Taup, taup-taup, taupa-taupa, tak, tak-tak, pil-pil.
  • bizkor (quick/fast). Zirt-zart, sast, rau, rast, brast, brasta-brasta, bristi-brasta, brixt, zizt.
  • bizkor emaniko kolpeak (quick blows). Zirti-zarta.
  • bozgorailuaren zarata ulertezina (incomprehensible speaker noise). Kirrink eta karrask.
  • danborra (drum). Dan-dan, ranplanplan, rapetaplan, rataplan.
  • desgogara egotea (being upset). Uf, ufa, puf.
  • dirua (coins). Txin-txin.
  • distira (shine). Brixt, bris-bris, brist-brist, briz-briz, dir-dir, diz-diz, klisk.
  • doministikua (sneezing). Atxi, hatxiu, atrux, atruxka, antuxa, atxus, atxuska, atxis, atxix.
  • ebakitzea (cutting). Zarrats, ritx.
  • edaria zerbitzatzea (serving a drink). Glin-glan.
  • edatea (drinking). Danga-danga, glu-glu, klu-klu, zanga, zanga-zanga, zurrut, zurrust, hurrup, klik.
  • ekaitza (storm). Burrunba.
  • elurra (snow). Mara-mara, tapa-tapa.
  • eperra (partridge). Txor-txor.
  • erlea (bee). Burrunba, brun-brun, zunburrun.
  • erlojua (clock). Tak, tak-tak, tiki-taka.
  • erortzea [lurrera, uretara…] (falling, to the ground or water…). Plaust, plausta, blast, plast, plasta, plasta-plasta, plost, patapun, patapau, punpa, punba.
  • errota (mill). Tiki-taka.
  • esertzea (sitting down). Aapa.
  • eskinosoa (jay). Karra-karra.
  • eulia (fly). Burrunba, brun-brun, zunburrun.
  • euri handia, zaparradarik gabe (heavy rain, not a shower). Zara-zara, zarra-zarra.
  • eurixka (rain). Ziri-ziri, ziri-miri.
  • euri zaparrada (heavy rain). Zapar-zapar.
  • ezkila, kanpaia (bell). Dilin-dalan, dan-dan, danbada, danga, danga-danga, din-dan, binbili-banbala, durundi, dinbili-danbala, dinbilin-danbalan, tanga, tilin, tilin-talan, tilin-tilin.
  • ezpatak (clashing swords). Klix-klax, zirti-zarta.
  • eztanda (explosion). Danba, pun, zart, pan.
  • eztula (cough). Tuju-tuju, eju eta eju.
  • ezustea (unexpected). Sast.
  • flasha (flash). Brixt, brist.
  • gaztainak, erre bitartean (chestnuts while roasting). Zirt-zart.
  • guraizea (scissors). Klix-klax, kras-kras.
  • gurdia (a cart). Karranka.
  • haizea (wind). Fiu, ulu, zurrumurru, pir-pir.
  • haize leuna (gentle breeze). Firi-fara.
  • hara eta hona (back and forth). Tilin-talan, firin-faran.
  • harridura (surprise). Atx.
  • haustea (breaking). Klak, klask, krak, krak egin, krik-krak, krik-krok, zart.
  • hegalen mugimendua (flapping wings). Fla-fla-fla, xapla-xapla.
  • hiltzea (dying). Pot.
  • hizketa etengabea (continuous talk). Txor-txor, tur-tur-tur, tar-tar-tar, bar-bar, bala-bala, tel-tel, tili-pala-tili-pala, txau-txau-txau, ttor-ttor, mar-mar.
  • hontza (owl). Uhuri, ujuju, ulu.
  • hortzak (teeth (gnashing)). Kras-kras, klak.
  • hostoak (leaves (rustling)). Pir-pir, fir-fir.
  • hozka (biting). Klak, klask, kosk.
  • hozka oldartzea (biting attack). Gliski-glaska.
  • ibaia (river (murmuring)). Gur-gur, gur-gur egin, zurrumurru, xurru-xurru, xur-xur.
  • igela (frog). Karra-karra-karra, kroak, kroaka, kro-kro, krak.
  • igurztea (rubbing). Arrast, zirri-zarra.
  • ilea moztea (cutting hair). Gliski-glaska, klik-klik.
  • indioilarra (turkey). Glu-glu, glu-glu egin, kur-kur.
  • irakitea (boiling). Bar-bar, bor-bor, bur-bur, gal-gal.
  • irenstea (swallowing). Klak, klik, klik eta klak, klik eta klik, hurrup eta klik.
  • irristatzea (sliding). Irrist, laprast.
  • itsasoa (the sea). Burrunba.
  • jatea (eating). Mau-mau, mauka-mauka, naka-naka, kaska-kaska, klak, klaka-klaka, mauska-mauska, mausta-mausta, ñan-ñan.
  • jatean nahikoa egin (eating enough). Glok, glok egin.
  • joarea (cowbell). Bulun-bulun(-bulun), dilin-dalan, dulun, dulun-dulun, tulun, tulun-tulun.
  • joka (hitting). Danba-danba, danga, di-da.
  • kanoia (cannon). Danbada, dunbada.
  • karraska (grinding teeth). Kris-kras.
  • Kate txikia (small chain). Txilin.
  • katua (cat). Miau, marrau, miauka aritu, miau egin, marraka egin, marrakatu, ñau, ñauz, ñauka.
  • kazkabarra (hail). Zirti-zarta, kiski-kaska.
  • kilima (tickling). Kili-kili.
  • kilkerra (cricket). Kir-kir, kri-kri, xirri-xirri.
  • kolpe handia (big blow/hit). Banba, danba, danbada, danbateko, panp, panpa, pun, kanka, plaust.
  • kolpe segida (consecutive blows). Kisk eta kask, kisk-kask, kiski-kaska, binba-banba, dinbi-danba, panpa-panpa, pinpi-panpa, siki-saka, tiki-taka, tiliki-talaka.
  • kolpe txikia (small blow/hit). Kask-kask, tak, tok, tak-tak, tok-tok.
  • korroka (fighting). Korrok.
  • kukua (cuckoo). Kuku.
  • labana sartzea (inserting a knife). Sasta.
  • lehoia (lion). Marruma.
  • likido bat isurtzea (spilling a liquid). Parrast.
  • liztorra (wasp). Burrunba.
  • mailua (hammering). Danbateko, panpa-panpa, taun-taun, taunk, tiriki-tauki.
  • makilaren mugimendua (waving a stick). Firrinda, zirt-zart, zirt eta zart.
  • makina (machine). Tiki-taka, fra-fra.
  • marmarra (murmur). Mar-mar-mar, mur-mur-mur.
  • masailekoa (of the cheek). Plisti-plasta, zapla, dabla, dibli-dabla, da-da, pla, pla-pla-pla.
  • mastekatzea (chewing). Kaska-kaska.
  • metala (metal). Txin-txin.
  • metrailadorea (machine gun). Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.
  • mina (pain). Otx, atx, ai, aiena, aienatxo.
  • mozolo (old man). Oihu, ujuju, uuu eta aaa.
  • moztea (cutting). Krask.
  • nekea (tiredness). Ufa.
  • oihua (crying). Uu, uuuu.
  • oilarra (rooster). Kukurruku, kukurrukuka.
  • oiloa (chicken). Karaka, karaka egin, kakaraka aritu, kiriki eta karaka.
  • oinez (footsteps). Taka-taka, tiki-taka, tipi-tapa, tapa-tapa.
  • olatuak (waves). Furrust-farrast.
  • ongi izatea (being good). Aufa, aufi.
  • otsoa (wolf). Alarau, ulu, ulu-ulu, hauma, uhuri.
  • pipan erretzea (smoking a pipe). Pafa-pafa, pauta-pauta.
  • putz egitea (blowing). Fu.
  • puzkerra (puffing). Turrut, puzzz, tirri eta tarra.
  • sabela (belly). Gur-gur, gur-gur egin, kurrinka, glu-glu.
  • sastada (stabbed). Sast, zazt.
  • satorra (mole). Siu-siu.
  • sehaska (cradle). Klun-klan, kun-kun.
  • sokaren mugimendua (wave a rope). Firrinda.
  • sugea (snake). Txistu.
  • talka (crashing). Klak, klask, plaust.
  • telefonoa (telephone). Tirrin-tirrin.
  • telefono dei etena (dropped phone call). Pu-pu-pu-pu.
  • tiroa (shot, shooting). Banba, danba, dzast, sast, pan, bunba, bunbada, pinpi-panpa.
  • topa egitea (making a toast). Glin-glin-glin.
  • trago batean edalontzia hustea (chugging). Hikilimikiklik, hilimiliklik.
  • trakets jatea (clumsy/messy eating). Klika-klaka.
  • trena (train). Trakatan-trakatan, tipirri-taparra, trinkili-trankala, trinkili eta trankala.
  • trosta (trotting). Draka-draka-draka, patapa-patapa, trakatan, traka-traka.
  • trumoia (thunder). Burrun, burrunba, danbateko, orro.
  • txakurkumea (puppy). Ttau-ttau.
  • txakurra (dog). Au, au-au, ttau-ttau, zaunk-zaunk, zaunka, ulu, hauma.
  • txakurra jatean (dog eating). Lapa-lapa, glaska-glaska.
  • txerria, basurdea eta gisakoak (pig, wild boar, and the like). Kurrin, kurrin-kurrin, kurrinka, zurrunga.
  • txilina (handbell). Tilin, tilin-tilin.
  • tximeleta (butterfly). Ziru-zira.
  • txinparta (spark). Zirt-zart, kriski-kraska.
  • txirrina (bell). Tirrin, tirrin-tirrin, tilin-tilin.
  • txistua (whistling). Fiu, uuii.
  • txita (chick). Txio-txio, txioka.
  • txoria (bird). Txio, txorrotxio, txio-txio, txioka.
  • unea (action). Xixt.
  • uretan ibiltzea (walking in the water). Plisti-plasta.
  • uretan murgiltzea (immerse in water, dunk). Plunp, pluf.
  • urrats geldoan (slow steps). Tirriki-tarraka, tirrist-tarrast, tirristi-tarrasta, tuku-tuku, xirri-xarra.
  • urratzea (tearing). Tarrat, zarrat.
  • usoa (pigeon). Urruma, kurruka.
  • xurxula (whispering). Pir-pir.
  • zakar (strong wind???). Rau, briu-brau.
  • zapoa (toad). Klok-klok, klonk-klonk.
  • zarata handia (loud noise). Birrinbi-barranba.
  • zerbait gogor irenstea (swallowing something hard). Klik.
  • zerbait pixkanaka egitea (doing something gradually). Txiri-txiri.
  • zerra (sawing). Sirrin-sarran, zarra-zarra.
  • zigor ukaldia (whipping). Zirt-zart, zirt eta zart.
  • zintzarria (cowbell). Bulun-bulun(-bulun), dilin-dalan, dulun, dulun-dulun, tulun, tulun-tulun.
  • ziztada (puncturing). Sast, zazt, zizt, zizta, zizt-zazt, zizti-zazta, txixt, sist eta sast, dzast.
  • zozoa (blackbird). Zorzor.
  • zurrumurrua (whispering). Bru-bru.
Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 154

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Maite turned back to the bay. The large ships sat quite, rocking almost peacefully, belying the threat they posed for the city and the inhabitants. Maite shook her head. She was sick of the death and destruction that seemed to follow her at every turn, that seemed to be at the heart of every bubble she had visited so far. Did the zatiak seek out these times of conflict or was it that humans were always at conflict and it didn’t matter where the zatiak went? 

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!

“Humans are always at conflict,” murmured Garuna in the back of her mind. “The only solution is forced compliance, for a superior being to guide the flock, to keep it in line.”

“And I assume you are that superior being?” asked Maite, rhetorically.

Not catching the irony, Garuna replied “Of course.”

“I assume the whole reason you wanted to come with me is to reestablish yourself, to find a way to resume power again. Is that not right?”

Garuna was silent for a moment. “You are too clever,” it eventually replied. “Yes, that is my goal.”

Maite nodded to herself. “And you think the zatiak are a path to that power?”

“I do not know what the zatiak are, but I do expect they can help me achieve my goals.”

Maite sighed. “And then what? Subjugation of humans? Making us do what you think is best?”

“Isn’t what I think is best better than what you have all been doing?”

Maite fell silent. She hated that Garuna might be right, that humans might be better off with an all powerful, but benevolent, dictator. The thought made her stomach churn, but how could she argue that humans had done a good job of things so far? Thinking of Kepa’s body laying in that street, she couldn’t.

“Kepa. That’s all that’s important,” she thought to herself. “Damn the rest.”

The fort stood in front of her. She could feel the pull of the zatia from within. She knelt down and placed her palms on the ground in front of her. Small bolts of electricity snaked from her fingertips and along the damp ground. As they reached the stone fort, they found any bits of metal to aid their journey as they fanned out and spead across the entire structure. They snaked their way better stones, up walls, across the ceiling, until they found the zatia. 

“There,” said Maite, standing up. “It’s in the center.”

She approached the door, two massive wooden structures hanging in front of her, keeping her from bringing Kepa back. She placed her palms on the doors and let out an electric discharge. She squealed as the electricity jumped back at her, almost knocking her over. 

She shook her head as she wiped her brow. “The wood is insulating,” she muttered to herself in disappointment. She looked down at her fingers. Blisters were starting to form on her fingertips. 

“Humans are always rash, never thinking ahead, never evaluating the situation,” rumbled Garuna.

“Isilik!” she barked out loud in a voice full of anger and frustration. “Shut up!”

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, Diaspora, People

Basque Fact of the Week: Ignacio Berriochoa, Stonemason of Shoshone, Idaho

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The Basque men and women who came to the American West typically came because of the sheepherding industry. However, they often had other, even greater, impact on their local communities. One example is Ignacio Berriochoa who settled in southern Idaho. He was of course a sheepherder, and a farmer, but his more lasting contributions (besides his family) were the numerous stone buildings he crafted, several of which have been recognized as historic places worthy of preservation and remembrance.

The Galo Aramberri boarding house, built in 1914 by Ignacio Berriochoa. Photo by Tom Young and found on Wikipedia.
  • Ignacio Ygnatil Berriochoa was born on July 31, 1863, in Elorrio, Bizkaia to Jose Maria Berrio Ochoa Aretio-aurtena and Maria Victoriana Alcerreca Arreguia. In 1889, he married Antonia Capistain Uriol, who was also from Bizkaia (though one source says she was born in Zaragoza), born February 14, 1875. They immigrated to the United States in 1904, settling in Idaho.
  • In 1910, they moved to Shoshone, Idaho, which was an important stop for Basques making their way west across the United States. There was at least one boarding house, the Galo Arambarri boarding house, in Shoshone, built in 1913-1914 by Ignacio.
  • Though Ignacio was noted to be a farmer and sheepherder in his obituary, he was also a talented and prolific stonemason. Ignacio built several structures with local lava stone – basalt – that are now recognized for their historic importance, appearing on the National Register of Historic Places. These include the Jose and Gertrude Anasola House, built around 1913; two buildings on Ignacio’s own farm, built in 1920; the JC Penney Company Building in downtown Shoshone, built in 1918; the Denton J. Paul Water Tank, also built in 1918 perhaps with the help of Julian Pagoaga; and the Manuel Silva Barn, built in 1910.
  • Basalt was a common building material used in southern Idaho in the late 1800s and early 1900s. It is a hard stone, formed from volcanic activity, and can be found in extrusions throughout the southern part of the state.
  • The buildings on Ignacio’s farm were built in about 1-2 years. He and Antonia had bought the property in 1919, after losing his previous ranch.
  • Together, Ignacio and Antonia had ten children. At the time of his death, on May 17, 1949, he had 32 grandchildren and 31 great-grandchildren.

Note: there are a lot of different dates online for the events in Ignacio and Antonia’s lives. It is hard to be sure what are the most accurate, but the birth and death dates listed here are those on their gravestone.

Primary sources: Ignacio Berriochoa, Wikipedia; Lava Rock Structures in South Central Idaho thematic group

Remembering Dad

Remembering Dad by Telling His Stories: Why I Do This

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Dad would have turned 79 today. I miss you, dad.

Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

I’m often asked why I do this. Why did I start this website? Why do I invest so much time in it? Why is the Basque thing so important to me? For a long time, I didn’t really have a good answer. Maybe because it’s cool? I mean, being Basque is sort of like being part of a special club. A mysterious origin lost to the mists of time. A strange and unique language that even the devil struggled to learn. Long and unprounouncable last names that are full of k’s and tx’s. A people who have been besieged from all sides but somehow managed to maintain their identity over the centuries. Isn’t all of that cool?

As I dwelled upon it more over the years, though, I realized that wasn’t the real reason I created this page and continue to maintain it. The real reason was my dad.

I can’t claim that I was overly close to my dad. When I was a kid, we never played catch or kicked a ball. We never talked about girls – he never had any advice for me regarding romance. We never hung out, just the two of us. We never talked about my future, about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I don’t think dad ever really appreciated what going to graduate school and studying physics really meant, where it might lead me. He was just a little flabbergasted that anyone would choose to go to school that long. And the only real advice he ever gave me was to work inside, with an air conditioner, not outside in the hot sun like a jackass like he did.

Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

When we were kids, my brothers and I would often go out with dad on his hay runs. He would get one of us up at some ungodly hour – sometimes as early as 3 or 4 in the morning – since he wanted to be at the haystack by dawn to begin loading the truck. I didn’t like getting up that early, but it was one of the few times it was just me and dad. It was the only time we got to sort of hang out together. We didn’t talk much, but we would stop at some convenience store, grab a few sodas and sandwiches. At the haystack, I would help straighten loose bails or tie up the ropes when he was done. It wasn’t much, but it was time, just me and dad.

It took me a while to understand that there was this gulf between me and my dad that was almost insurmountable. We came from different cultures, from different worlds. Growing up in the United States, I was part of a collective experience with my friends and neighbors. We all studied the American Revolution and the Civil War in school. We all knew the rules to football and baseball. We all got excited about the next episode of Knight Rider or The Greatest American Hero (ok, maybe that was just me). But, my dad didn’t have any of that. He couldn’t care less about American football. His sport was boxing. And while he did get into some TV shows – Little House on the Praire or Walker, Texas Ranger – these weren’t the exciting new shows that me and my friends watched. And he didn’t really know much about US history.

Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

And what he did know – Euskara, the folksongs of Bizkaia, the history of Goikoetxebarri, the baserri he was born in – he never really shared and so it was foreign to me. When I was a kid, dad worked and tended his garden – he didn’t really have any hobbies. When I was older, after I left for college, dad started making jamón and chorizos – things that came from his upbringing – but by then I was off doing my own thing and I never really got to learn how to do those things from him.

My dad came from a very different cultural context, one that I knew next to nothing about. In the first thirty years he lived in the United States, he went back to the Basque Country maybe twice. And he couldn’t afford to take us.

When I was in college, studying physics at the University of Idaho, I decided to go to the Basque Country myself and learn Euskara. My dad asked me why. Why learn Euskara? Spanish was so much more useful, you could speak it in so many more places. I tried to explain that I wanted to learn Euskara because it was his language, that I wanted to learn more about his culture. I think he understood, but if he did, he never really said so. But, even more than learning some of his language and culture, I got to meet his family, I got to meet the aunts and uncles I never knew, I even got to meet my amuma for the first time. I stayed in the baserri – Goikoetxebarri – where he grew up. I started getting to know something about where dad came from.

After I got back and started grad school at the University of Washington, I decided what I had learned about the Basque language, culture, and people was cool, and I wanted to share it, so I created this page. I quickly made a lot of new friends, people in the Basque Country who were eager to share their culture with the rest of the world. And it was a way for me to build even stronger connections to the Basque Country, to learn something beyond the things I could read in the admittedly few books I could find in English, most of which focused on history or the pastoral life of the Basque sheepherder in America. None of those books talked about the Basque Country as it is today. I learned about bands like Negu Gorriak and Su Ta Gar. I learned about the unique policies of Athletic Bilbao. I saw the Guggenheim. I learned about the complex political history of the Basques. And I learned about the land my dad came from.

Ironically, I learned about a Basque Country that my dad didn’t really know. Much had changed in the decades since he left the Basque Country. The music was different. The language itself was different. While the baserri was still an important part of Basque cultural identity, the direct connections to it were different, more remote. Just as many baserri had become luxury dwellings as they were the ancient centers of family that my dad grew up in. Once, when we were all driving somewhere in dad’s big pickup truck, I had him pop in a cassette of Negu Gorriak. Normally, he just ignored the loud noise that I played from the speakers, but this time, he understood some of the lyrics. And it was the first time he said something like “What the hell is this?”

Even though the Basque Country I got to know had changed a lot from the Basque Country my dad grew up in, it still gave me a touch stone. More importantly, I got to know some of the names of the people he grew up with. The names of the other baserriak and barrios. I slowly began to recognize the names and places he would throw out in the stories he started telling. And when I took him to the Basque Country, just him and me, I was able to start putting things together.

Back in 1997, my dad had a heart transplant. We were lucky that Washington has a great med school and I was living in Seattle, getting my PhD, so mom and dad could live with me for a time. And, after dad’s surgery, he still had to come back up for appointments, and he would crash with me. I didn’t really take advantage of having dad around as much as I should have, but I was still able to spend time with him, often in the kitchen, as he started cooking more and hanging out with some of the Basque friends I had made. We weren’t playing catch or anything like that, but we finally got some time to just hang out.

On one drive, up from Nevada back to Idaho, I got my dad (at the suggestion of my wife Lisa) to start talking about his childhood. And I recorded it. He would throw out names of people, baserri, and towns as if I should know them all, and I was pleasantly surprised that I did know at least some of them. I knew who this lady was, or where that town was. A lot of names still escaped me, but I knew a lot more than I would have guessed. And I could ask him questions about these people and places, at least some of them, because I knew who and what they were.

Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

In the end, this page and all of the things I’ve learned over the years working on it, all of the people I’ve gotten to know through it, all gave me some connection to my dad that I would never have had otherwise. I like to pretend that I got to know him a little better by getting to know the Basque Country, that maybe I understand a little more where he came from and the circumstances and culture that made him the man I knew. This page is my way of honoring my dad and keeping him alive.

So, yeah, it’s cool to be Basque, but it’s even cooler getting to know my dad better.

Goian bego, aita. I miss you.

Thanks to Lisa Van De Graaff for encouraging me to record dad and his stories when I could. Lisa took the photo at the top.

Basque Fact of the Week, Diaspora

Basque Fact of the Week: Operations Kangaroo and Martha Brought Basques to Australia

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Basques looking for opportunity traveled throughout the world. Many landed in the Americas but more than a few made their way to Australia, encourage by informal government initiatives between Spain and Australia to work in the sugarcane fields. But these lonely men desired companionship, so a second plan was hatched to bring “young, attractive, and single” women to the continent. Though it was a hard and lonely life, many of these Basques established a new community in this far-away land.

The only chances “Martas” would have to socialize was at mass. Photo from SBS.
  • Basques, typically from Hegoalde rather than Iparralde, first arrived in Australia in maybe the 1910s. There is a story that some merchants from Lekeitio abandoned their ship in Sydney to work in the lucrative sugarcane industry. However they first got there, some Basques saved and bought their own sugarcane properties. These Basques would sponsor family members to come to Australia and this was the nucleus of the Basque-Australian community.
  • However, after the Great Depression, the Spanish Civil War, and World War II, Basque immigration to Australia essentially stopped. The sugarcane industry took a hit as there was no new labor force arriving for the hard work of working in the fields. To help recruit new Basques to the area, people like Alberto Urberuaga were sent back to their native lands to find more Basques to come to Australia.
  • In informal agreements with the Spanish government (at the time, Australia and Spain didn’t have formal diplomatic ties), Basques and other Spanish citizens were recruited to Australia. The first group that came as part of Operation Kangaroo arrived in Brisbane, Queensland, aboard the SS Toscana, on August 9, 1958. In total, these “operations” – Emu, Eucalyptus, and Kangaroo – brought some 700 men from northern Spain to northern Queensland as sugarcane cutters.
  • There was then a concern that these men, mostly single, were lonely and even suicidal. Thus, a second agreement was arranged between Australia and Spain to bring single women. Plan Martha, or Operation Martha, brought 7 groups of women to Australia. The first contingent of 18 women arrived on March 10, 1960, on what became known as the “brides’ plane.” Between 1960 and 1963, about 300 (one source says 700) young women immigrated to Australia through Plan Martha. While told they were coming to work as domestic servants, the real goal was to balance the genders in the Basque/Spanish population – they were selected on the criteria of being “young, attractive and single.” The women were met by crowds of young Basque and Spanish men looking for a bride. Many felt they had been deceived, promised a land of opportunity but finding a backwards place where they couldn’t even go out for a coffee.
  • These women were at the heart of a local scandal. There were news reports that some of the women were working at a vineyard, picking grapes in the nude to escape the heat. While the story was debunked, it rose to enough of a story that the Consul-General for Spain in Australia was brought in to investigate.
  • From these beginnings in the sugarcane fields, Basques spread to other parts of Australia and other parts of the Australian economy. They formed clubs in both Melbourne and Sydney.

Primary sources: Douglass, William Anthony. Vascos en Australia. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/vascos-en-australia/ar-150184/; Plan Martha, Wikipedia; Operation Kangaroo, Wikipedia; ‘The flight of the brides’: 60 years on from the one-way ticket from Spain that changed Australian migration, SBS