Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore, People

Basque Fact of the Week: José Miguel de Barandiaran Ayerbe, the Great Patriarch of Basque Culture

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The Basques converted to Christianity relatively late compared to many of their neighbors, and before that they had a complex and fascinating mythology that involved a myriad of creatures and powerful beings that impacted the daily life of the people dotting the Basque coast. Much of what we know about that mythology – and Basque prehistory more generally – can be traced to the efforts of one man, a priest who grew up in the most modest of conditions: José Miguel de Barandiaran Ayerbe.

Barandiaran at his desk. Photo from The Jose Miguel de Barandiaran Foundation.
  • Barandiaran was born in the Gipuzkoan village of Ataun on December 31, 1889 to Francisco Antonio Barandiaran and María Antonia Ayerbe. He was the youngest of nine children. He grew up in a world where Euskara was the language of the home and the street and Spanish was for rich and learned people. Remnants of mythological beings sprinkled the countryside. The children believed that lamia, basajaun, and tartalo used to roam the region. At the village school, the children were forbidden to speak Euskara. Whoever did, was given a ring. The ring passed to the next student to speak Euskara. At the end of the day, the child holding the ring would be punished.
  • At the urging of his mother, he began studies to be a priest when he was 14, being ordained in 1914 at the age of 24. He joined the seminary of Vitoria-Gasteiz two years later as a science teacher, where he taught, amongst other subjects, physics and chemistry.
  • Not long after becoming a priest, Barandarian began his ethnographic studies of the Basques and their culture. Barandiaran was extremely prolific, publishing a large number of articles and books over his career – nearly 250 in total. Of particular note is the large collection of Basque folk tales that he collected, often directly from the tellers, capturing their individual idiosyncrasies in each story. He also documented the daily life and the important dates in many towns of the Basque Country, providing an invaluable snapshot of Basque life.
  • He worked closely with other prominent ethnologists, including Julio Caro Baroja, whom he mentored, his own mentor Telesforo de Aranzadi, and Enrique Eguren Bengoa. Together, Barandiaran, Aranzadi, and Eguren formed a particularly successful research team – sometimes called “the three sad cavemen” – that lead many of the prehistoric excavations in the early 1900s, beginning with the excavation of dolmens in the Aralar mountains. This discovery was inspired by local legends of the jentilak that were buried there.
  • At the beginning of the Spanish Civil War, in September 1936, Barandiaran went into exile. His work on Basque prehistory and ethnography was viewed suspiciously by those on the right, who connected it to separatist movements. He escaped to Iparralde, living first in Biarritz and then in Sara, Lapurdi, where he would remain until 1953, when he finally returned to Spain and took a position at the University of Salamanca. The three sad cavemen, separated at the beginning of the war, never saw one another again as Eguren died in 1942 and Aranzadi in 1945. During his exile, he received many offers to join other institutions, including Columbia University in New York, but he turned these down, expecting to return some day to Vitoria.
  • Over his career, he enjoyed many recognitions for his work, including being a member of Euskaltzaindia (the Royal Academy of the Basque Language), serving as president of Eusko Ikaskuntza (the Society for Basque Studies), and receiving an honorary doctorate from Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (the University of the Basque Country).
  • Barandiaran died on December 21, 1991, just 10 days shy of his 102nd birthday. He worked until the end, publishing Myths of the Basque Country in 1989 when he was 100.

Thanks to Jabier Aldekozea who inspired the title of this post.

Primary sources: The Jose Miguel de Barandiaran Foundation; José Miguel de Barandiarán, Wikipedia (Spanish); Jose Migel Barandiaran, Wikipedia (English); Estornés Lasa, Bernardo [et al.]. Barandiaran Ayerbe, José Miguel de. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/barandiaran-ayerbe-jose-miguel-de/ar-11007/

Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore

Basque Fact of the Week: Lamiak, the Basque Mermaids and Nymphs

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Mythical creatures abound in Basque folklore, decorating the Basque countryside, from powerful god-like beings like Mari and Sugaar to more “common” creatures like Tartalo and Basajaun, creatures people might encounter as they go about their daily business. The lamiak are another such being. Living in the streams and ponds of Euskal Herria, their beauty – their feet not withstanding – often beguiles passing men.

A drawing of a lamia with her golden comb. Found on Pinterest, but I couldn’t find the artist’s name. If anyone knows, please let me know! They have a series of drawings about Basque mythological figures.
  • Lamiak – also called lamin, lamiña, amilamia, eilalamia, basandere, or saindimaindi depending on the location – have the appearance of a beautiful woman and spend much of their time sitting on a large rock next to a river, brushing their long, luxurious hair with a golden comb. However, their most striking feature is their feet. While typically depicted as having the feet of a duck, some describe them as having a hen’s or even a goat’s feet. And, in some stories, they have a tail like a fish.
  • The golden comb is central to the myth of the lamia. It is their greatest treasure. If someone stole it, the lamia would find them, yelling at them from outside their window, and threatening to curse all of their descendants if the comb was not returned.
  • Lamiak tend to live in caverns or in the backwaters of streams or springs. They are said to be builders, credited with constructing dolmens, bridges, churches, and castles. Like Mari, they live off of the “no,” the goods that people denied they had. They also fed themselves with the offerings from their devotees.
  • While the origin of the word lamia comes from Latin, the Basque mythological figure has nothing to do with the sirens and mermaids of Roman lore. Rather, they are much more akin to nymphs than mermaids.
  • Sometimes they are described as little people that live underground, or covered in long hair, with beards like monkeys. And in others they have no hair at all, except for a small patch on the back of their neck in the shape of a coin. Sometimes they appear lit up in their mouths.
  • Lamiak require certain services, such as midwifery, from humans. If a human helped a lamiak, they were given ample gifts. However, they were not allowed to take anything without permission and, if they tried, were unable to leave the lamia’s dwelling. And they were forbidden to look back once they left. In one story, as a human reached home and crossed the threshold of their house, they looked back and immediately half of the gifts disappeared. Further, lamiak could not die without a human seeing them, even if they were in great agony. They needed the human to see them and recite a prayer before they could die.
  • Lamiak have other interactions with humans as well. Sometimes, they fall in love. In one case, a lamia would only marry her suitor if he could guess her age, which a neighbor tricked her into revealing (105 years!). Sometimes they kidnap people, particularly those that don’t heed warnings to not return to their caves. And people sometimes kidnap the lamia, dredging ponds on the day of San Juan.
  • There are many places in Euskal Herria named after the lamia. The oldest reference is back to 945, where “lamiturri” – or lamia’s fountain – is mentioned. Lamiategui – literally the place of the lamia – is mentioned as far back as 1221 and is a name that occurs in several places across the country. Lamindania is a mill in Lacarry that is said to have been built by the maide, the husbands of the lamiak. Lamiozingoerreka – stream of the lamias’ well – appears near Vera. There are many more such examples all over Euskal Herria.
  • Today, there aren’t so many lamia, which is attributed to the church bells and the hermitages and shrines that, in some case, were said to be built specifically to drive the lamia away. Sometimes, more directly, their disappearance is traced to the spread of the Gospel.

Primary source: Hartsuaga Uranga, Juan Inazio. Lamia. Auñamendi Encyclopedia]. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/lamia/ar-84676/

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 122

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De Lancre stood at the end of the hall. His fingers started crackling with small bolts of lightning that illuminated his face from below, giving him an eerie glow. 

“Oh sh!t!” said Kepa. “I’ve seen this movie…”

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!

Lightning flew from De Lancre’s fingertips and across the walls and ceiling as it marched down the hallway to where Kepa and Latxe stood.

“What is that?” Latxe barely whispered, paralyzed as she watched the lightning dance in front of her.

“Magic!” bellowed Kepa as he pulled Latxe and ducked into a side room. He grabbed her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “That was magic. He’s a powerful… magic user. That sounds so lame when I say it outloud…” he mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he continued. “He’s going to fry us if we don’t find a way out of here!”

Latxe nodded numbly, but then swiped furiously across her tablet as light flashed through the open doorway with increasing frequency and brightness. Suddenly, the door disappeared and a new staircase appeared in the room before them, vanishing into the ceiling. 

“Goazen!” barked Latxe as she rushed up the stairs, Kepa on her heels.

As soon as they got to the next floor, Latxe swiped at her tablet and the opening faded as if it were never there. They found themselves in the dining area of de Lancre’s suite. Kepa quickly looked around, seeing the balcony that overlooked the city on one side and several closed doors on the other.

“Maite!” he yelled.

“Hemen!” he heard in reply from behind one of the closed doors.

He rushed to the door, fumbling for some kind of door knob or control panel that would let him open it, but finding nothing. He pounded on the door in frustration. “Maite!” he bellowed again.

Latxe nudged him gently aside as she again focused on her tablet. The door disappeared.

Maite burst from the room and threw her arms around Kepa. “I knew you’d find me!”

“I would never leave you!” exclaimed Kepa. After a moment, he broke free. “I couldn’t have done it without Latxe here.”

Latxe smiled at Maite, and then quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her tablet. 

“We won’t have much time…” she began when the doors at the end of the dining room burst off of their frame and flew across the room.

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

Basque Fact of the Week: Winnemucca, Nevada, the Most Basque Town in the United States

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The United States has a thriving Basque community, driven primarily, though not exclusively, by many years of immigration to the US West. California is the state that the most Basques call home while Boise, Idaho, is the city with the largest number of Basques. However, it is tiny Winnemucca in northern Nevada – with only about 8000 people – that has the highest percentage of residents – 4.2% – that call themselves Basque.

The beginning Irrintzi Dancers performing in front of the Winnemucca Convention Center. Photo from Nevada News Group.
  • As with much of the US west, Basque originally arrived in Nevada as part of the gold rush, but quickly established themselves in livestock to help feed the growing population. Winnemucca, on the train line between Salt Lake City and San Francisco, was a natural stop with ample lands and opportunity.
  • Winnemucca has the most Basque restaurants per capita in the country. One of the oldest is the Martin Hotel. The building that would eventually house the Martin Hotel was built in 1878 and first hosted a brothel. It wasn’t until 1913 that the building was purchased by Augustine A. Martin and Elisee Henri Martin, who turned it into a Basque restaurant and boarding house, with 25 rooms. The Winnemucca Hotel, perhaps the oldest building in the town having been built in 1863, was another staple of Basque life in Winnemucca. It was demolished a few years ago.
  • Some of the first Basques to apply for US citizenship were in Winnemucca. In 1873, José Erquiaga, Juan Aldamiz, and Diego Ferraro, all residents of Winnemucca, applied for citizenship. Some of these were also among the first sheep ranchers.
  • In 1911, three Basque ranchers – Pierre ‘Pete’ Erramouspe, Jean Baptiste Laxague, and Bertrand Indianowere – were found killed at Little High Rock Canyon, just outside of Winnemucca. The murders were attributed to Shoshone Mike and his band, though the details of what occurred and the follow-up retaliation against Shoshone Mike’s family are vague at best.
  • Antonio Ascuenaga and Jose Navarro, who brought sheep to Jordan Valley, Oregon, had started in Winnemucca, heading north in 1889. In 1891, Jose Uberuaga took his outfit to Idaho. Thus, Winnemucca served as a gateway for the Basque settlement of eastern Oregon and western Idaho.
  • The Winnemucca Basque Club – Euskaldunak Danak Bat – was established in 1947. The first president was Julio Laucirica. In 1978, the club hosted their first annual picnic, a tradition which has been going strong ever since – the club just hosted their 42nd annual picnic in June. In the 1950s, the Irrintzi Dancers dance group was formed and continues to perform at Basque events across the state and beyond.

Primary sources: How a Remote Nevada Town Became a Bastion of Basque Culture, Smithsonian Magazine; Basque Culture; Winnemucca.com; Totoricagüena Egurrola, Gloria Pilar. Estados Unidos de América. Nevada. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/estados-unidos-de-america-nevada/ar-26810/; Home Away From Home, Jeronima Echeverria

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 121

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De Lancre’s suite was at the top of the tower and it took Kepa and Latxe a long time make their way up. The nanobots were efficient at making stairs and openings for them where none had existed before, but the two would-be rescuers were extra cautious after their encounter with the security guard and make sure to check every opening and hallway for others. 

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!

“For such a large building, it is remarkably empty,” noted Kepa as they climbed what felt like the hundredth set of stairs.

Latxe nodded. “I sometimes wonder if these big towers exist only to give those in power a high perch from which to scan their realm.”

“Like the kings and queens of old, eh?”

Latxe nodded again. “Precisely. For all of our technological advances, we still can’t root out the desire for power. Or how power corrupts.”

Latxe sighed. “How is it during your time? What is life like back then?”

Kepa chuckled. “Not too much different, at least in terms of people wanting power. We of course don’t have all of the marvels you do, and we are in a bit of an existential crisis, with climate change and the impact on our environment.” 

He paused a moment as he poked his head out from the opening at the top of the stairs. He scanned left and then right. The hallway, like so many before, was dark. He climbed the rest of the way out and reached out a hand to Latxe. She smiled as she took it and pulled herself up.

“But, it is good to know that some of those problems have been solved,” he continued.

“I remember reading about the climate problem in school,” said Latxe. “For someone today, it is inconceivable that we let things get so bad that it threatened the very existence of the planet.”

Kepa shrugged. “As a species, we can be pretty short-sighted.”

Latxe laughed, and the melodic tone of her laughter made Kepa smile. And then blush. He turned away, pretending to examine the darkness down the hall. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t fret so much,” said Latxe. “I like you, and maybe in another world you and I could, you know, be together. But I know that, in this one, your heart belongs to Maite.”

“In another world,” Kepa mused. He hadn’t told Latxe about the zatiak and the bubble. He couldn’t bear to think about how he might be extinguishing her life, her history, when they pop the bubble. He kept telling himself that this bubble wasn’t real, it wasn’t the real time line, and that she had another life that maybe was better than this one. Maybe.

Latxe smiled, thinking Kepa was considering that what if scenario. She looked at her tablet.

“We are very near Salazar’s floor,” she said. “Only one or two more to go before we reach them.”

Suddenly, the lights burst to life, nearly blinding them in their intensity.

“Oh,” said a voice at the end of the hall. “Don’t worry, you’ve already found me.”

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

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: The Mondragón Corporation

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I have hesitated to do a Fact on the Mondragón Corporation, the world-renowned cooperative in the heart of Gipuzkoa, simply because I didn’t think I could do it justice. It’s just felt too big and important that, I admit, I was a bit intimidated. However, The New Yorker recently did a nice piece on what is probably the most famous cooperative in the world. I direct you there to get a true appreciation of what Mondragón is – the culture, the impact it has had on its employees and the region. Here, I’ll just give brief synopsis of the corporation – just the facts, if you will.

Mondragon, from their website.
  • Mondragón (Arrasate in Euskara) is a city in the middle of Gipuzkoa where about 22,000 people live. José María Arizmendiarrieta, a priest from Markina-Xemein in Bizkaia, arrived 1941. Seeing the lingering poverty in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, he established a technical college, training and educating students and selecting the most promising to pursue degrees in engineering.
  • The first company of the cooperative, founded in 1955, was Talleres ULGOR, a name derived from the surnames of the five men who founded it: Usatorre, Larrañaga, Gorroñogoitia, Ormaechea, and Ortubay. Today, the company is known as today as Fagor Electrodomésticos.
  • From there, the cooperative expanded greatly, filling needs of its members. In 1958, the Spanish government determined that the workers of the cooperative were not eligible to participate in the Spanish social security system. In response, Arizmendiarrieta created by a pension and a healthcare system, both as new coops. He also organized a bank to serve the members’ financial needs.
  • The system works with the philosophy that each co-op is owned by the workers. All worker-owners vote to elect a governing council which then picks a managing director. (Note every worker is an owner, a reality that has grown with time.) Further, the largest salary can only be about six times as great as the lowest (it varies from coop to coop, but the largest difference is nine-to-one). This differential has increased over the original three-to-one ratio, as the Corporation tries to compete in a global economy.
  • The Corporation has production plants in other countries, the first in Mexico. Today, they have more than 140 such plants operating in 37 different countries.
  • Today, the Mondragón Corporation is the tenth largest company in Spain. It employs some 80,000 people in 95 individual cooperatives and 14 research and development centers. Its products are sold in more than 150 countries. They have activities across four broad categories: Finance, Industry, Retail, and Knowledge. In 1997, they founded the Mondragon Unibertsitatea which now has 5000 students in a wide range of fields including engineering, education, communications, business management, entrepreneurship and food science.

Primary sources: Mondragon Corporation, Wikipedia; Mondragon Corporation; How Mondragon Became the World’s Largest Co-Op, The New Yorker

People

Francisco Carriedo???

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Hey friends of Buber’s Basque Page! I got a query about Francisco Carriedo and if I knew anything about the man. He was a military officer who served as Capitan General of the Philippines back in early 1700s. He was the benefactor who supported the creation of Manila’s water system. But, that’s all I could find on internet.

His descendants are trying to find out more about the man – where he came from, what his life was like, etc. If you know of any sources that discuss Francisco in any depth, please let me know or post here.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 120

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Kepa watched as Latxe’s fingers swiped around on the surface of her tablet, trying to figure out what the strokes might mean, but they were incomprehensible to him. She might as well have been waving her hands in the air, casting some kind of magic spell, for all it meant to him.

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!

When she was done, stairs started materializing in the space in front of them, growing almost organically out of the floor and the ceiling until the two halves met perfectly in the middle. At the same time, a small opening appeared in the ceiling at the top of the stairs.

While Kepa had seen the nanobots create doors out of nothing before, this was a whole new level. He couldn’t help stare at the stairs in front of him. He ran his hand along the smooth surface. There was no seam or anything where the two halves joined. He would never have been able to tell where they met. 

“These nanobots are so amazing,” he said. “I never would have believed something like this could be possible. It’s almost like magic.”

Latxe looked at him. “Look,” she began. “You keep saying things like that, being amazed at things that anyone from here would simply take for granted.” Her eyes almost turned cold as she looked at him. “Who are you? Where are you from, really?”

Sweat started beading on Kepa’s brow. Latxe was the one friend he had in this bubble, and his one hope of rescuing Maite. He couldn’t afford to alienate her. “The United States?” he asked more than answered.

Latxe threw up her hands. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. For all I know, you work for him,” she said as she gestured vaguely to the ceiling above them. “I don’t know what you’ve done to Olatz, what kind of threat you made to her, but I’m done with this.” Latxe turned away from him and began swiping at her tablet.

“Ez!” exclaimed Kepa. “No!” His shoulders slumped. “I’ll tell you.” 

Latxe turned back to face him, her fingers paused above the screen, her face expectant.

“I’m from the past,” began Kepa as he more fell than sat on the stairs. “Maite is too.”

“The past?” exclaimed Latxe incredulously. “You expect me to believe in time travel? Of all of the bullshit I’ve heard, this tops it all.”

“Seriously,” replied Kepa. “We’re from the early twenty-first century. We’re here to retreive a magical artifact…”

“Time travel and magic?” interrupted Latxe. “What next? Are you going to tell me we are all part of some computer game controlled by some kid in his mother’s basement? That none of this is real?”

“It’s real,” replied Kepa with a tinge of guilt. “But so is the magic.” He held out his hand, palm up. His brow furrowed as he focused on his hand. It started to glow, only slightly at first, growing in intensity and brightness until Latxe had to look away.

“What the hell was that?” she asked as spots danced in her vision.

“Magic,” said Kepa. 

Latxe shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. It has to be some new nanobot trick. And you keep acting like you don’t know what the nanobots are.”

“What the hell?” exclaimed a voice from above. “Where did this hole come from?”

The face of a woman peered into the hole. “Who the hell are you two? How did you get in? Central,” she began, “there are… ah!”

Kepa had thrown his hand up and released a flash of light that took the woman by surprise, blinding her. He rushed up the stairs as the woman staggered back, covering her mouth before she could alert her colleagues. Latxe followed him up, and helped him tie the woman up. 

“Magic, huh?” asked Latxe as she pulled on the knot of the gag that covered the woman’s mouth.

Kepa nodded sheepishly. “Bai.”

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.

Art, People

Reasons, a Poem by Harkaitz Cano, Translated by Elizabeth Macklin

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Harkaitz Cano

The New Yorker recently published the poem Reasons, by Basque poet Harkaitz Cano. Actually, they published the translation by Elizabeth Macklin, but on their site you can also find an audio clip of both reading the poem. I’m copying the translated version below. I admit, I’m not much of a poetry reader, not really having read much since forced to in school, but this one resonates with me. And, it was cool to see Elizabeth’s work in The New Yorker. 🙂

Reasons

By Harkaitz Cano,
translated by Elizabeth Macklin

15 REASONS TO REMAIN SILENT

Because I have nothing to say.
Because, though I’ve got plenty to say, you’re not paying attention.
Because I’d rather listen to what you’re saying.
So as not to talk to myself.
So as not to talk to the wall.
So as not to talk to the crack in the wall.
So as not to waken the cricket who lives in the crack in the wall.
Because they’ve sealed my lips with honey.
Because I’m kissing you.
Because I’m sulking.
Because I’m sulking and I’m kissing you.
Because I like to remain silent.
Because our breath is speaking all on its own.
Because I’m keeping a secret larger than words.
Because my heart is in my mouth.

15 Reasons to Yell

Elizabeth Macklin

Because you haven’t let out a yell in ages.
To make sure all your vowels are still in their proper places.
Because you’re alone and in desperate need of an echo.
To measure the height of a Gothic cathedral.
To cheer on an Italian cyclist.
To shoo off a grouchy mouse.
So they hear you from the last row of the theatre.
So they hear you from the other side of the creek.
So the fishes caught in the fish trap hear you.
When you’re in water up to your neck, to call for a ring buoy.
To measure the depth of a bottomless well.
To invite the wolves to your birthday party.
So everyone knows that yelling is not so easy.
Because some others are unable to yell.
So that the woods will learn your name.