Random Bits of Basqueness
The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 118
A few nights later, Kepa found himself at the base of de Lancre’s tower. Kepa had wondered why they didn’t wait for a new moon, but everyone had told him that the streets were too well lit for there to be any advantage. He looked up at the moon hovering above them and noticed some strange lights coming from it. Nudging Latxe in the side with his elbow, he pointed to the moon.
“What are those lights?” he asked.
“Those?” she asked, looking at him quizically. “That’s the Chinese colony. Everyone knows that.”
“There is a colony on the moon?” Kepa asked incredulously. And then, with excitement growing in his voice, he added “That’s so cool! Maite is going to be flabbergasted!”
Latxe shook her head. “Some day, you are going to have to tell me where you really come from.”
Kepa gave her a sheepish grin before changing the subject. “So, how do we get in again?”
Latxe pulled out what looked like to Kepa a small phone or tablet. “With this,” she said, “we can hijack the nanobots within a small radius.” Her finger danced across the face of the screen, touching and highlighting various symbols and icons that Kepa couldn’t decipher. She ended with a sweep of her finger in a circle and then a sudden motion upward. Within moments, an opening appeared in the side of the wall. Latxe stepped through, beckoning Kepa to follow her.
“That’s amazing!” he said as he watched the opening disappear as if it never existed.
“The nanobots are pretty cool,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine life without them.”
“But, they are everywhere, right?” asked Kepa. “Isn’t that a little… creepy?”
Latxe shrugged. “I don’t know. They’ve been around all my life, working in the background, keeping things clean and making sure that we have the right infrastructure for the current population. None of us have any material needs since the nanobots provide everything we might want.”
“Are they all over us too?” asked Kepa with a shiver, absentmindedly brushing off his arms.
“They are programmed to stay off of living beings,” said Latxe. “I mean, if you wanted a change of clothes, they could make that happen, but only touching the fabric and not you. I guess that is one step too far for most of us.”
“What do you mean, ‘most of us?’”
“Well, there is a whole counterculture where people actually hijack the nanobots to force them to modify their own bodies. I’ve seen a few people whose faces constantly morph as the nanobots reconstruct their facial features. One moment they might be an African woman and the next a Nordic boy. Others have the nanobots cover their bodies in metallic scales, literally transmuting their skin into metal.”
“Won’t that kill them?” asked Kepa in shock.
“The nanobots also compensate for any damage they do, providing the body with just enough medical aid to counter the effects of these changes.” Latxe shrugged. “I’ve thought about it myself, about having the nanobots change me, but I haven’t thought of anything I wanted bad enough to go through with it.”
“This place is so weird,” said Kepa under his breath.
“Not as weird as you, my friend,” said Latxe with a chuckle. She looked down at her device. “Come on, we have a long ways to go.”
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Artist Bertrand Linne
I just discovered Bertrand Linne and his art. He’s from Hendaia. His art is very geometrical. It’s just great, capturing the essence of his subjects with lines and a few colors. Every image looks like a stained glass window. Ikaragarria da!
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Basque Fact of the Week: Euskalkiak, the Dialects of Basque
One of the challenges I had when I tried to learn Euskara in Donostia was that I was learning Batua but when I went to visit my dad’s family, they spoken the Bizkaian dialect and I had a hard time understanding them. When I told my dad about it, he nodded, saying he couldn’t understand the Basque from Iparralde. Indeed, it almost seems that every valley, every baserri, has its own dialect of Euskara. One of the goals of standardizing Basque is to make communication in the language easier, but of course that comes with loss of richness of the language.
- The person who really established the distribution of Basque dialects was Prince Luis Luciano (or Louis Lucien) Bonaparte, a nephew of Napoleon. Bonaparte was fluent in multiple dialects of Basque, extensively traveling the Basque Country and delineating boundaries between the dialects. By 1869, he had determined that there were 3 large groups of the Basque language, within which there were 8 dialects, 25 sub-dialects, and an astonishing 50 varieties.
- Group A is primarily Bizkaian. Within this group, Bonaparte identified three sub-dialects, an oriental dialect representative of the Basque spoken in Markina, an occidental dialect typical of towns like Gernika, Bermeo, and Arrigorriaga, and a “Gipuzkoan” dialect of Bergara and Salinas.
- The second group is much larger and comes from Gipuzkoa, Nafarroa, and Lapurdi, giving us 4 dialects and 14 sub-dialects. Like Bizkaian, Gipuzkoan is split into 3 sub-dialects, but the two “high Nafarroan” dialects split into split into 9 sub-dialects.
- The last group comes from Nafarroa Beherea and Zuberoa in Iparralde. In this group, Bonaparte again identified 3 dialects, comprised of another 8 sub-dialects.
- Ultimately, then, Bonaparte classified Euskara into 8 dialects: Bizkaian, Gipuzkoan, Northern Upper Nafarroan, Lapurdian, High Southern Nafarroan, Zuberoan, Eastern Lower Nafarroan, and Western Lower Nafarroan.
- Today, there are five primary dialects recognized by researchers of Euskara, as classified in 1998 by linguist Koldo Zuazo: Bizkaian, Gipuzkoan, Upper Nafarroan, Nafarroa-Lapurdian, and Zuberoan. These regions are connected by transition regions in which variants of the language include feature from two different dialects. Zuazo further notes that all of the Basque dialects have similar influences from Latin, suggesting they all diverged after contact with the Romans. Zuazo maintains the site Euskalkiak.eus, which discusses in more depth the origins and features of the various Basque dialects.
- A number of features define the different dialects, but broadly they can be classified into three major changes. In the southern dialects, there has been a loss of the /h/ and the associated aspirated stops. The sound /j/ (think of the y in English yes) has turned into a variety of other sounds, including /ɟ/ (y as in Spanish yo), /ʒ/ (s as in pleasure), /ʃ/ (sh as in she), or /x/ (ch as in loch). Finally, the Zuberoan dialect has developed the vowel /y/, not really present in English or Spanish nor the other dialects of Basque. You can find a lot more information about the features that define each dialect at Euskalkiak.eus.
Primary sources: Auñamendi Entziklopedia. DIALECTO. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/dialecto/ar-44516/; Basque dialects, Wikipedia; Euskalkiak.eus
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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 117
Kepa and Latxe were back at the baserri, sitting at a table with Olatz/Marina and a few other of her acolytes. To be honest, Kepa wasn’t quite sure how to think about Olatz’s followers. They seemed to blindly follow her direction, but he had to admit that their cause seemed just, at least as far as he understood it. Is a demogauge ok if they are pointing people in a good direction?
Kepa decided to table that thought for the moment. It would prove a fruitful and interesting discussion point with Maite sometime when they were bored, sitting in some bar somewhere waiting for the next mission to chase a zatia. For the moment, he was focused on making that a reality, to find Maite and the zatia and escape this bubble.
Looking across the table at Marina (he could tell she was in control because of the slight distance in her eyes), he asked “How do we free Maite?”
Marina looked back at Kepa and he could tell that she was supressing a sigh. It seemed to him that she would be happy enough letting Maite rot with de Lancre if she could win her revolution. He wasn’t so sure that Marina cared to pop this bubble.
“Well,” began Marina, speaking in Olatz’s voice, “we need to get into that tower. I’m sure Salazar is holding Maite there.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Kepa.
One of Olatz’s eyebrows raised. “Let’s just say that he has a fondness for a certain type of young women. He’ll keep her close.”
Kepa grimmaced. He couldn’t image de Lancre’s hands touching Maite, not that he thought she would ever allow it.
“Fine. How do we get into the tower?”
Olatz/Marina looked at the others around the table. Some shook their heads, others simply looked down at the table. No one offered any ideas.
“Well,” started Latxe after an agonizing silence. “We could use the nanobots.”
“Go on,” said Olatz after Latxe had paused.
“Just like we do here. We can use the nanobots to create temporary doors into the tower and stairs between floors. We can also use them to disguise us from any monitoring equipment.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Kepa, smacking his hands on the table as he stood up. “Goazen. Let’s go!”
“Hold your horses,” said Olatz in a stern voice. She turned to Latxe. “But…?” she asked.
Latxe smiled weakly. “But,” she said, “we only have the ability to hijack a relatively small number of nanobots. Only enough for one, maybe two, people.”
“What?” exclaimed Jorge. “Two people to storm Salazar’s tower? Are you insane?”
“We aren’t storming it, exactly…” began Latxe as her voice trailed off.
“It’s suicide!” continued Jorge. “Even with the nanobots covering your tracks, it would only be a matter of time before they failed or you ran into humans that couldn’t be deceived.” He turned to Olatz. “Tell them, Olatz!”
“What else can we do?” asked Olatz.
Jorge threw up his hands. “If they get caught, and reveal our ability to hijack the nanobots, we are all screwed.”
“Do you have another idea?” asked Latxe, defiantly.
Jorge stuttered, looking first at Olatz, and then Latxe. He then looked at Kepa and saw the hope on his face. His own face fell.
“No,” he said, glumly.
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Basque Fact of the Week: Anton Abadia, the Basque Scientist Who Promoted Basque Culture
Leading scientist – once president of the French Academy of Sciences – and key promoter and defender of the Basques. Anton Abadia was both. During his career, he won numerous scientific accolades while also founding the first festivals celebrating the Basque people and their culture. His impact was so great that, in 1997 – one hundred years after his death – his life was celebrated by both academics and politicians.
- Anton Abadia, also known as Antoine Thomson d’Abbadie d’Arrast in French, was born on January 3 or 10, 1810 in Dublin, Ireland. His mother was Irish while his father, Michel Abbadie, was from Ürrüstoi-Larrabile in Zuberoa. When he was a child, his family moved to France where he and his two brothers received an education focus on the physical sciences. When Anton was 19, he was awarded his degree.
- As a scientist, Anton traveled the globe. In 1835, he went to Brazil to study the magnetic field of the Earth. A few years later, he went with his brother on a decade-long trip to what today is northern Ethiopia and Eritrea, where they studied the region, focusing on the geography, geology, and natural history of the country. He also compiled a 15,000 word dictionary of the Amharic language. He was a lover of languages, speaking some 14, including both the Souletin and Lapurdian dialects of Euskara. He also promoted the Catholic faith while he was in Africa.
- He later traveled to Norway (in 1851) and Briviesca (in 1860) to observe solar eclipses. In 1882 he went to Santo Domingo to study the passage of Venus in front of the sun.
- In addition to his scientific life, Anton was also a strong proponent of the Basque culture and people. In 1853, he started Basque festivals in Urruña. The first several where held here, but later festivals traveled around Euskal Herria, continuing on until his death in 1897. All aspects of Basque culture found a home in these festivals, including poetry, sports, and religion. He rewarded participants with an ounce of gold and a makila plated in silver. Anton himself would sing with particular affection the song Aitarik ez dut (I don’t have a father). He was the first to coin the phrase Zazpiak Bat, representing the unity of the seven Basque provinces.
- As a sign of his pride in his Basque heritage, he once wrote: “We Basques are a secret, we are not like other peoples, proud of their origins and full of national traditions. If we have a founder, a first ancestor, it is Adam.”
- In 1859, he married Virginie Vincent de Saint-Bonnet. They settled in Hendaia where they built a castle which he named Abadia and Anton became mayor of the city from 1871 to 1875. Earlier, he had become a knight of the Legion of Honour and a member of the French Academy of Sciences. Upon his death in 1897, he left his estate to the Academy on the condition that, within 50 years, they completed a catalog of at least half a million stars.
- The castle, which today is a museum and can be toured, consisted of three parts: a scientific wing, where he housed his instruments, particularly his observatory; a residential wing for him and his wife; and a chapel. The castle is adorned with inscriptions in the 14 different languages Anton knew.
Primary sources: Auñamendi Entziklopedia. Abadia, Anton (1810-1897). Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/abadia-anton-1810-1897/ar-611/; Antoine Thomson d’Abbadie, Wikipedia; Anton Abidia, Wikipedia
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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 116
“What is this?” asked Maite.
De Lancre had taken her outside of the city using one of the strange egg-pods. Maite had almost had a panic attack, sitting that closely to him inside the egg, but had fought to keep her emotions under control. It had been a relief when they arrived and the egg dissolved around them.
In front of her was a massive complex. A large domed building sat above another, larger building. Maite watched as the building complex seemed to undulate, almost shimmering like the landscape behind a hot road when the waves of heat warped the surrounding air. She assumed this was due to the invisible nanobots constantly building and rebuilding parts of the complex.
“This is the AI,” replied de Lancre. “The main AI is housed in the dome and, underneath, is a fusion reactor that powers the AI.”
Maite gasped. “A fusion reactor just for the AI?”
De Lancre nodded. “Computing at the scale of this AI, which is essentially the brains for the whole city and beyond, requires a huge amount of energy.”
“I would never have imagined…” began Maite, her voice trailing off in awe.
“Imagine how I felt,” chuckled de Lancre. “At least, in your time, you have a concept of fusion energy and artificial intelligence. In my time, we didn’t conceive of running water, let alone electricity.”
“So, this AI runs everything?” asked Maite.
“Well, it doesn’t control what I do, or any individual for that matter, but it manages the city and, in particular, the nanobots. You can think of this as the nest from whence the nanobots – the ants – come and go.”
“I guess that analogy only goes so far,” said Maite, “as ant colonies don’t have a central intelligence guiding them – ants are all autonomous.”
De Lancre looked at her with admiration. “I didn’t realize that. But, yes, the nanobots are not autonomous, they get direction from the AI here. Out in the field, they communicate with one another, exchanging information and orders, until they come back here to bring back raw materials.”
“Are any of you concerned that the AI might go rogue? Might do things that are not in the best interests of humans?”
De Lancre stared at the dome before them. “I admit, I personally haven’t given it much thought. If it does start doing something like that, I can always escape with the zatia and pop the bubble. I guess the engineers and scientists who built the thing must have thought about it, but it’s evolved so far from their original designs, I doubt even they know what it is capable of.”
As de Lancre spoke, Maite swore she saw a sudden but subtle shift in the pattern that the buildings around her were being constructed and torn down, but when she looked again, everything looked like it had before.
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Basque Fact of the Week: Jean Paul “Pablo” Tillac, Illustrator of the Basques
The last one hundred years has seen more change than any other time in our history. The way that place such as the Basque Country are now would be shocking to anyone born one hundred years ago, and the reverse might be true as well. So much has changed. Having a looking glass into the past helps us appreciate that change. Jean Paul “Pablo” Tillac gave us such a looking glass. He devoted some 2000 drawings to Basque subjects, capturing them in their daily life as they played pelota, attended church, or participated in carnivals.
- Tillac was born in Angoulême, France in 1880. While not in the Basque Country, his maternal grandfather was Basque. He began study at the School of Fine Arts in Paris when he was 17. Between 1903 and 1910, he toured the world, primarily the United Kingdom, the United States, and Cuba. He eventually returned to Europe and visited his brother in Lapurdi. He fell in love with the rural Basque life and settled in Kanbo somewhere between 1919 and 1921.
- The romantic view of the Basques as a pre-Indo-European peoples was en vogue at the time and this exoticness attracted Tillac, as it did many others. However, as opposed to those who resonated with the luxurious summer vacation spot, Tillac delved into the Basque world. Everything about the Basques fascinated him – witchcraft, festivities, the ball, fishing, the tavern, the market – and he was prolific in his drawings about them.
- Paul Faure described Tillac as “a draftsman, engraver and illustrator who fixes the scenes and types of the Basque Country with such minute detail and such perfection that his work… offers the most splendid and most complete document that exists and that, without a doubt, there will be about this strange and seductive country”. His work has seen increasing value. In 2010, his Les joueurs de pelote, Andiak Egina – depeciting a jai alai player with a fronton in the background – sold for $182,661.
- Tillac also illustrated for many clients, including large publishing houses, with his work gracing the writings of Jack London. Later, during both the Spanish Civil War and World War II, he used his talents to document the two wars, including the occupation of Kanbo by the Germans.
- Tillac died in Kanbo on October 15, 1969. There are collections of his in the Basque Museum of Baiona and in the San Telmo Museum. During his lifetime, he became a member of Eusko Ikaskuntza, the Society of Basque Studies, where he often commented on ethnographic and artistic topics.
- A gallery of his work can be found here.
Auñamendi Entziklopedia. Tillac, Jean Paul. Auñamendi Encyclopedia, 2022. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/tillac-jean-paul/ar-139866/
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The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 115
Maite just sat in her room, racking her brains for some kind of plan to escape de Lancre’s clutches. But, she could see no way out. She was stuck on the top of one of the tallest buildings in Bilbo and she was sure those damned spheres would alert de Lancre to anything she did.
Her door opened suddenly and she looked up. One of those spheres hovered at the entrance, just floating in the air like a giant eye, staring at her.
“What?” she exclaimed exhasperated. “Can you read my mind too? I wasn’t going to do anything.”
The sphere just floated there. If it understood her, it didn’t acknowledge it.
Maite stood up and sighed. “I assume this is some kind of summons then?”
As she made toward the door, the sphere turned and started floating down the hall. Instead of out to the patio, where at least Maite could take in the admittedly magnificent view of the city, the sphere took her in the opposite direction. At the end of the hall was a large double door, made of some shiny metal. The sphere stopped. Maite stopped. Nothing happened. She looked up at the sphere, which just floated in the air.
“Ugh,” she said as she approached the door. It opened silently, each side sliding into the neighboring wall. Inside, she saw a large desk surrounded floating displays. She recognized a few. One was of the city from above. Another showed the plaza outside the airport where she and Kepa had first encountered the flying eggs. Others displayed more intimate settings, seemingly the inside of people’s homes. A shiver ran down Maite’s back as she watched on one display a mother and father make dinner for their two children. Were these enemies of de Lancre that he might be planning to eliminate?
De Lancre sat behind the big desk. As Maite entered the room, he waved his hand and all of the displays dematerialized, leaving the room empty and spartan. Beyond de Lancre’s large desk, there was a small table surrounded by chairs in one corner, and another large chair on the opposite side of the desk from de Lancre. There was no art on the walls, nor shelves with momentos or books. Just plain bare walls.
De Lancre stood up as the desk rotated around him such that it was now behind him. He approached Maite and offered his hand. “I want to show you something,” he said.
Maite, her hand remaining at her side, replied. “What if I don’t want to see it?”
De Lancre tilted his head to the side. Three of the spheres floated into the room, small bolts of electricity arcing between them. They surrounded Maite’s head, one at each side and one behind, with de Lancre in front. “I hate to use them, but I won’t hesitate.”
Maite sighed, extending her hand.
De Lancre smiled.
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Basque Fact of the Week: Txokos, the Gastronomic Societies
Perhaps the best steak I have ever had was at one of the Txokos – the gastronomic clubs – in Donostia. A few friends of mine were members and took me for dinner one evening. In the heart of the old town – the Parte Vieja – of the city, it was an almost nondescript building from the outside, but inside was filled with tables for dining and a large kitchen. Txokos are so important in Basque society, at least for men, that my uncle built a small one in the back of his garage, a place he could escape and have dinners with friends.
- The name Txoko comes from the Basque word zoko and means nook or corner. The importance of these gastronomic societies is reflected in the fact that the mayor of Donostia is required to dine at each of the 75 Txokos in the city each year.
- Even before the first formal Txoko or society was formed, it was already common for workers from outside the city to come to the sagardotegis – the cider houses – and spend “all day playing and chatting, eating charred cod and salted sardines, stuffing themselves to the brim with cider, while their wives and daughters waited for them to have dinner.” These cider houses were temporary, following the cider season and supply.
- Perhaps the first society for “eating and singing,” La Fraternal, was founded in 1843 in the old part of Donostia. It was followed by the Unión Artesana, founded in 1870. From the very beginning, these societies codified the male-only nature of their clubs, prohibiting women from participating. These first clubs also had roles in the local society, for example planning theatrical performances and participating in the carnival of Donostia, including the tamborrada. It wasn’t until about 1900 that a society dedicated solely to food was established, the Cañoyetan. By 1911, Donostia had some 50 clubs. From Donostia, clubs spread throughout Gipuzkoa and eventually to other parts of the Basque Country. Today, it is estimate there are some 1000 clubs across the Basque Country.
- The txokos have been seen as a bastion of conservative custom and it was a slow process to allow women to participate. At first, women were completely banned from even entering. In the 1950s, some started allowing women to come, but forbid them from going into the kitchen or the bar. However, the most conservative ones banned women from participating even in the 1980s. This eventually caused significant controversy as the mayor of Donostia customarily dined at this Txoko – Gaztelubide – every eve of the patron saint’s day. That women were barred from attending ultimately led to the mayor to change this custom. There are now txokos such as Andra Mari which are comprised entirely of women, but which do not exclude men from participating.
- Txokos, despite their exclusionary nature, have been a place where men of different classes can meet as equals. During Franco’s time, because the txokos tended to ban political discourse, they were one of the few places where Euskara could be spoken and sung. This actually had the paradoxical effect of strengthening these unique Basque institutions.
- Membership in a Txoko is either hereditary or through sponsorship. Membership could be passed from a man through his widow to his son, but the woman herself couldn’t be a member. Of course, this is changing with time, though even today, women are typically allowed only as companions to men, not on their own merit.
Primary sources: Estornés Zubizarreta, Idoia; Arpal Poblador, Jesús. SOCIEDADES POPULARES. Auñamendi Encyclopedia, 2022. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/sociedades-populares/ar-110524/; Txoko, Wikipedia
