Fighting Basques

Fighting Basques: The other Basques of the Battle of Guadalcanal (1942): History Versus Myth

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This article originally appeared in Spanish at EuskalKultura.eus on July 23, 2021.

Faced with the legend and the myth of Carranza and his group of “Basque code talkers,” the real events of those Americans of Basque origin, Basque of flesh and blood, with Basque names and surnames, have to be vindicated by Basque historiography as the actual subjects who are from our diaspora and from our common history.

Raiders from Colonel Merrill A. Edson’s battalion at the end of the very hard fighting for Tulagi, where the Japanese made five charges on the first night (photo Recreation Group of the Sancho de Beurko Association, GRASB)

Legend tells of how the mythical captain of the United States Army, Ernesto or Frank Carranza, apparently in command of a group of sixty formidable US Marines of Basque origin – all of them the sons of sheepherders from California, Idaho, Montana, Nevada and Oregon – supposedly helped conquer Guadalcanal Island, located in the southwestern Pacific Ocean, in the summer of 1942.

These young men – Basque soldiers trained in broadcasting at the beginning of the Second World War (WWII) – would have carried out tasks as “code talkers” or coders, apparently using Basque as a secret code to transmit military orders, including the landing in Tulagi on August 7, 1942 and thus confuse Japanese listeners.

Decades later, on April 25, 1979, an article signed by Vicente Escudero in the Basque newspaper Deia summarized this epic under the title “110 Basques and 90 Andalusians conquered Guadalcanal in 1942.”

That article not only increased the number of Basques who, according to legend, initially took part in the battle for Guadalcanal; they were also joined by a similar number of Andalusians – we suppose that since the island was baptized as such in 1568 by the expeditionary Pedro Ortega de Valencia, a native of said Sevillian town – and revealed, strictly exclusively, the death of the enigmatic Basque-Mexican Captain Carranza on April 22, 1979 in a fatal hit-and-run in New York.

The main weight of the Guadalcanal Campaign fell on the 1st and 2nd Divisions of the Marine Corps, volunteer soldiers who improvised combat tactics on the ground against a highly motivated enemy that did not give up (GRASB)

However, this legend – as fascinating as it may be – is certainly just that, a legend, a myth. With the exception of the fight that took place between the troops, mostly between American and Japanese troops for the strategic control of Guadalcanal, none of the above story is true.

If you wonder how a leading newspaper like Deia – which was joined by all kinds of publishers, including from academia, and many other media outlets in disseminating and deepening this myth for decades – took for granted the story that young Basque and Andalusian soldiers took Guadalcanal; the military use of codified Basque; the very existence of the supposed Carranza; and to make matters worse, the final notice of his death – they will discover that hoaxes, propaganda, misinformation or “fake news” were not born with Twitter.

The high point of the Raiders’ fighting took place at Edson Ridge (September 12-14, 1942), where they withstood several night attacks that nearly broke through the North American Defensive Perimeter (GRASB)

After dismantling the myth of the “Basque code talkers” a few years ago, and trying to illuminate the reasons for its birth within the framework of the relations between the Basque Government in Exile, of the Lehendakari José Antonio Aguirre, and the Office of Strategic Services of the United States, of Colonel William Donovan, it is only fair that we recognize “the other Basques,” those who did participate in the Guadalcanal Campaign, and who unfortunately were overshadowed and marginalized by the unusual myth of the use of Basque in Guadalcanal [1].

“Echoes of two wars, 1936-1945” aims to disseminate the stories of those Basques and Navarrese who participated in two of the warfare events that defined the future of much of the 20th century. With this blog, the intention of the Sancho de Beurko Association is to rescue from anonymity the thousands of people who constitute the backbone of the historical memory of the Basque and Navarre communities, on both sides of the Pyrenees, and their diasporas of emigrants and descendants, with a primary emphasis on the United States, during the period from 1936 to 1945.

THE AUTHORS
Guillermo Tabernilla is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Association, a non-profit organization that studies the history of the Basques and Navarrese from both sides of the Pyrenees in the Spanish Civil War and in World War II. He is currently their secretary and community manager. He is also editor of the digital magazine Saibigain. Between 2008 and 2016 he directed the catalog of the “Iron Belt” for the Heritage Directorate of the Basque Government and is, together with Pedro J. Oiarzabal, principal investigator of the Fighting Basques Project, a memory project on the Basques and Navarrese in the Second World War in collaboration with the federation of Basque Organizations of North America.

Pedro J. Oiarzabal is a Doctor in Political Science-Basque Studies, granted by the University of Nevada, Reno (USA). For 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 the author of more than twenty publications. He has authored the blog “Basque Identity 2.0” by EITB and “Diaspora Bizia” by EuskalKultura.eus. On Twitter @Oiarzabal.

Josu M. Aguirregabiria is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Association and is currently its president. A specialist in the Civil War in Álava, he is the author of several publications related to this topic, among which “La batalla de Villarreal de Álava” (2015) y “Seis días de guerra en el frente de Álava. Comienza la ofensiva de Mola” (2018) stand out.

Who were the real Basques of Guadalcanal?

In this article we reveal the identity of some of these true heroes, unknown until now, that we have been discovering during the progress of the “Fighting Basques” research project. The Historical Recreation Group of the Sancho de Beurko Association has joined the commemoration of the 79th anniversary of Guadalcanal and has given us their help to visualize it.

Among the “Fighting Basques” of the Guadalcanal Campaign, or “Operation Watchtower,” we find people like John Facque Elissalde, John Sallaberry Berra, Henry Etchemendy Hauscarriage, Joseph Quintana Ybáñez, Domingo Amuchastegui Guenaga, John Maitia Urbelz, John Basañez Basteguieta, James Miguelgorry Souhilar, and Joaquin Juanche Muñoz.

All of them were protagonists of “Operation Watchtower,” which lasted for six long and bloody months, from the beginning of the invasion on August 7, 1942 to February 9, 1943, approximate date of the end of the evacuation of the last Japanese troops who resisted on the island.

The Guadalcanal Campaign became the first US amphibious offensive in a new Allied military strategy to dominate the Pacific Theater of Operations. Since December, 1941, the military expansion of the Empire of Japan across the Pacific seemed unstoppable until the Allies conspired to end it. And they did so on the hitherto almost unknown Guadalcanal Island.

In January, 1942, Japanese troops had landed in the Bismarck Archipelago, located between the Solomon Islands and New Guinea. They later occupied Kavieng in New Ireland and Rabaul in New Britain in Papua New Guinea. Rabaul would become Japan’s main military base in the Southwest Pacific.

In March, the Japanese seized Salamaua and Lae in Papua and Bougainville, the largest island in the Solomon archipelago. A couple of months later, the Japanese were in Tulagi where they began the construction of a seaplane base.

Between May and July, the Japanese forces continued their expansion throughout the rest of the Solomon Islands.

On June 8, they landed in Guadalcanal, where a month later they began to build an airstrip near the mouth of the Lunga River.

For the Allies, this posed a fearsome threat against the allied air base of Espiritu Santo, located in the New Hebrides archipelago. This development also endangered the communication routes between the US, Australia, and New Zealand. It was imperative to neutralize it [2].

On August 7, 1942, 8 months after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, US Marines landed at Tulagi, Florida, Tanambogo, Gavutu, and Guadalcanal. After defeating the Tulagi and Guadalcanal garrisons, they took over the port of Tulagi and the Guadalcanal airstrip, which they christened “Henderson Field,” finishing its construction on August 21 [3].

Map of the land battles of the Guadalcanal Campaign. (Weapons and Warfare. History and Hardware of Warfare)

From the coast, the US fleet provided cover support for the initial amphibious assault, which came under heavy enemy air fire. On board the USS President Hayes, an attack transport, was the young Basque-Nevadan, of Nafarroa Beherean parents, John Facque. The mission of the USS President Hayes was to land units of the 2nd Marine Regiment on the northeast side of Guadalcanal.

On the ground, among the marines of the Second Division we identified the Basque-Nevadan Henry Etchemendy. Etchemendy, also of parents from Nafarroa Beherea, served in the 10th Regiment, providing artillery support from the beginning of operations.

The Guadalcanal Campaign had just begun, leading to numerous land and naval battles over the coming months, with significant aerial skirmishes.

From Rabaul, the Japanese launched air strikes against the American forces deployed in Tulagi and Guadalcanal, which were joined by attacks by the destroyers and light cruisers of the Imperial Navy, while supplying their troops on the ground as best they could.

The shortage of food and military materials would be a general trend for both the Allies and the Japanese, although it would be noticed with much greater impact among the Japanese troops.

Map of the naval battles of the Guadalcanal Campaign. (Weapons and Warfare. History and Hardware of Warfare)

The clashes between Japanese and American patrols were constant, while sporadic Japanese attacks of greater magnitude took place, such as the one that occurred between October 23 and 26, 1942, which aimed to recover the airstrip now known as “Henderson Field.”

Among the American reinforcements sent to Guadalcanal during the beginning of autumn, there was, for example, the light cruiser USS Boise. On board we find Joseph Quintana – born in 1917 in Nevada to Nafarroan parents. The mission of the USS Boise and the soldiers like Quintana was to give cover during the landing of a new wave of marines in Guadalcanal.

The USS Boise was damaged during the Battle of Cape Esperance on the night of October 11-12 and would have to return to the US for repairs. Quintana passed away in Sacramento in 1979.

Domingo Amuchastegui (center) with his brothers Julián (left) and John, also veterans of the US Navy in WWII (courtesy of the Amuchastegui family).

The USS Boise was joined by the escort carrier USS Copahee, which moved fighters and torpedo boats bound for “Henderson Field.” Domingo Amuchastegui, born in 1923 in Nevada to Bizkaian parents, served aboard the Copahee, where he was in charge of repairs to the structure of embarked aircraft.

John Maitia, a Marine of the 14th Aircraft Group, landed on the island in October 1942.

Maitia, whose father was from Nafarroa Beherea and whose mother was from Nafarroa, was born in California in 1922. He took part in the so-called Naval Battle of Guadalcanal, another attempt (again unsuccessful) to retake Henderson airfield, with an important deployment of the Japanese Navy and a large number of Japanese troop reinforcements from Rabaul.

The reinforcements sent by the Americans to repel this new counteroffensive were attacked by Japanese airplanes on November 11 and 12.

The naval battle was a victory for the Allied side after days of heavy fighting, ending on November 15.

It was Japan’s last and greatest attempt for “Henderson Field.”

Maitia passed away in 2018 at the age of 95.

The marine Facque was aboard the cruiser USS Northampton when it was sunk by Japanese torpedoes at the Battle of Tassafaronga on November 30, 1942, in an effort to prevent the Japanese from reinforcing their troops at Guadalcanal. Facque was unharmed and survived the sinking.

He died in 2015, at the age of 93.

Photograph of John Basañez, possibly taken during the New Britain campaign. He graduated with honors in 1945, he earned five Bronze Stars during his military career for his participation in five battles, and an individual Bronze Star, for his meritorious combat service (courtesy of the Basañez family).

In December, 1942, two other Basque-Californians arrived at the Guadalcanal front: the soldier John Basañez and the “seabee” James Miguelgorry. Basañez, of Bizkaian parents, served in the 185th Regiment (Regimental Combat Team) of the 40th Infantry Division, facing Japanese troops from the first minute. At Guadalcanal he fell ill with malaria, which he carried for the rest of his life. He passed away in South San Francisco in 2001.

Miguelgorry was born in 1918 to parents from Nafarroa Beherea. He served in the 18th Naval Construction Battalion, which was assigned to the Second Marine Division, for reconstruction duties. Miguelgorry’s unit was outfitted with Marine uniforms and equipment. He passed away at the age of 81 in Washington State.

At the beginning of 1943, the Marine of the Second Division, John Sallaberry, and the soldier of the 161st Infantry Regiment, Joaquín Juanche, arrived at Guadalcanal. The Basque-Californian Sallaberry, of a Lapurdian father and a Gipuzkoan mother, served with the 6th Regiment, which disembarked from the USS President Adams in the Guadalcanal-Tulagi area. Juanche, born in California in 1915 to Nafarroan parents, was involved in bloody fighting in defense of the positions around “Henderson Field.” He also participated in the elimination, from January 10 to 21, of a concentration of Japanese troops in what became known as the Matanikau River Pocket, a dense redoubt of jungle situated between a steep hillside and a high cliff above the Matanikau River.

Like Etchemendy, his compatriots Sallaberry and Juanche also fought until the end of the Guadalcanal Campaign.

From January 10 and for about two weeks, the US troops began an offensive to eliminate the Japanese forces from the island, in which the 161st of Juanche participated very actively.

Sallaberry will obtain the Silver Star for his heroism in an action that took place on January 21 in Guadalcanal.

During a patrol with his platoon several hundred meters beyond their defensive lines, an enemy machine gun wounded one of his comrades. Sallaberry, with the help of another marine, picked up the wounded man under constant enemy fire and without regard for his own safety. After Guadalcanal, Sallaberry, Etchemendy and Juanche, together with their comrades in arms, would continue the fight in the southwestern Pacific.

Sallaberry passed away in 1990 and Etchemendy in 2001.

Unfortunately, Juanche was killed in combat at the age of 27 on August 5, 1943 in New Georgia.

Photograph of James Miguelgorry, presumably taken after joining the Navy in June 1942, at his home in Sunnyvale, California (Courtesy of the Miguelgorry family).

The losses, both human and material, were substantial for both sides, although evidently the balance turned to the Allies. About 30,000 Japanese soldiers out of a total of 36,000 perished in the Guadalcanal Campaign, most of them as a result of famine and tropical diseases.

After Guadalcanal, Japan found itself on the defensive for the first time since Pearl Harbor, unable to replace the air and sea fleet destroyed during the long Guadalcanal Campaign.

The allied counteroffensive continued through the rest of the Solomon Islands and New Guinea, capturing Japanese bases of enormous strategic importance, which would facilitate success in future campaigns in the southwest and central Pacific.

The historical narrative presented here arises from verifiable evidence and imposes itself on the myth and its undeniable power of seduction, which to date had falsely connected the Basque with the remote island of Guadalcanal during WWII, masking the true events carried out by Americans of Basque origin, of Basque flesh and blood.

The legend of Carranza and his group of “Basque code talkers,” and its promoters in the shadows, are left with as their only refuge the passing of time, the forgetting of history as it happened and its true heroes.

These heroes must be reclaimed. Facque, Sallaberrry, Etchemendy, Quintana, Amuchastegui, Maitia, Basañez, Miguelgorry and Juanche – among others that our investigation can still reveal – must be indisputably vindicated by Basque historiography as active subjects of our diaspora and of our common history.

We owe it to them and to their memory if we want history to impose itself on myth.

Thus, is necessary more than ever to create a future with memory; a public, didactic and inclusive memory.

Notes

(1) Oiarzabal, Pedro J. and Guillermo Tabernilla. “El enigma del mito y la historia: ‘Basque code talkers’ en la Segunda Guerra Mundial. La OSS y el Servicio Vasco de Información—la Organización Airedale”. Saibigain, No. 3 (2017)

(2) Mueller, Joseph N. (1992). Guadalcanal 1942: The Marines Strike Back. Oxford: Osprey Publishing

(3) Danny J. Crawford, Robert V. Aquilina, Ann A. Ferrante, Lena M. Kaljot, and Shelia P. Gramblin. (2001). “The 2nd Marine Division and its Regiments”. Washington D.C.: History and Museum Divisions Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps

Collaborate with ‘Echoes of two wars, 1936-1945.’

If you want to collaborate with “Echoes of two wars” send us an original article on any aspect of WWII or the Civil War and Basque or Navarre participation to the following email: sanchobeurko@gmail.com

Articles selected for publication will receive a signed copy of “Combatientes Vascos en la Segunda Guerra Mundial.”

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Basque Fact of the Week, Food

Basque Fact of the Week: The “Butter Buns” of Bilbao

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When I visited my dad’s family in Munitibar, I’d stay with his brother Martin and his wife Rosario. They ran the Herriko Taberna. Each morning, after I woke up, I’d make my way to the bar. Rosario was already hard at work, cleaning the bar and preparing the days meals. I’d take my seat at the bar and she’d serve up a cafe con leche and a pastry. I never really gave it much thought, but those pastries stayed with me, their subtle sweetness and simplicity perfect for starting the day. It was only much later that I realized their unique place in the life of Bizkaia.

Bollos de mantequilla from Bizkarra Panadería y Pastelería.
  • Bollos de mantequilla, as they are called, are actually a quite simple pastry. Essentially, they are a Swiss bun or brioche, cut in two and filled with a cream made from butter and eggs. They often have a sprinkling of sugar on top. They have a very soft texture and only a hint of sweetness.
  • Their origin dates back to 1813. That was the year that two cousins from Switzerland, Bernardo Pedro Franconi and Francesco Matossi, came to Bilbao. According to one story, they were trying to sell goats milk. Whatever the case, they eventually set up a pastry shop in the old part of town – the Casco Viejo – at Calle Correo nº 2 to be precise. Years later, they opened a second shop in the Plaza Nueva. It wasn’t long before they had a franchise that reached across Spain, with some 50 shops in cities such as Burgos, Santander, Pamplona, and Madrid.
  • The cousins started making milk buns, or brioches, which became known as Swiss buns. But it wasn’t until they added that butter cream filling that the bollo de mantequilla was born that is now so ubiquitous in Bizkaia. Today, you can find shops all over Bilbao that serve these simple delights; BilbaoClick lists several you can check out next time you are there.
  • However, if you can’t make it to Bilbao any time soon, you can always make your own! You can find recipes for bollos de mantequilla all over the internet, but Bake Street provides not only a good recipe but also advice on making them. The ingredients are pretty simply – water, flour, sugar, butter, milk, eggs, yeast, and salt – but they can take a few days to make, due to the time the buns need to rise.
  • BilbaoClick gives another history of these pastries, though their story also starts on Calle Correo nº 2. According to them, the owner of the shop “Café Suizo” traveled to Switzerland in 1831, where he discovered the bun filled with butter cream. He brought it back to his shop and Bilbao where it quickly became an enormous hit.

Primary sources: Bollo de mantequilla, Wikipedia; Bollos de mantequilla from Bilbao, Bake Street; El bollo de mantequilla, Conoce Bilbao con Esme; Los 9 Mejores Bollos de Mantequilla de Bilbao, BilbaoClick

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.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 68

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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!

Months passed and Kepa had still seen no sign of the zatia. He had resigned himself to his routine of tending the camp. The only reprieve was when Dominique stopped by with supplies. The two of them had struck up a genuine friendship. To be honest, Dominique was the first iparraldetar that Kepa had really gotten to know. For how small the Basque Country was, he had never really made much of an effort to get to know the other parts. He vowed to himself to visit the baserri that Dominique was from when he got back home.

If he got back home, he corrected himself. Without the zatia, there was no way to return home, and he was starting to seriously doubt if they would ever find it. He couldn’t imagine that he and Maite had been sent here without reason, but he couldn’t see the purpose in him living this hellish life, alone in the mountains.

One day, when he had finished his daily chores and was a bit more restless than normal, he wandered into the nearby aspens. The smooth tall trees seemed to reach to the heavens, and the sun sparkled through the gently swaying leaves, dappling the ground with a tapestry of moving shadow. It took him a moment to notice the strange markings on the trees. He looked at the nearest tree a bit closer. Bai! They were carvings, left by previous herders who had passed this way. The closest tree had a carving of an elegant church, outlined in crude knife cuts that, together, conveyed a beauty that Kepa wouldn’t have thought possible. He circled the tree, only to find another carving, this one of the torso of a naked woman. Underneath was a simple inscription: “Pedro hemen zegoen” — “Pedro was here.” Kepa examined the other trees. Many had similar markings while some had notes left behind for other herders. One inscription, written in Spanish, said “If this life is what those damn oldtimers told me, my balls are carnations.” Kepa just shook his head and suppressed a resentful chuckle. He knew exactly how that man had felt.

Before he went back to the camp, Kepa pulled out his own knife. Finding a blank canvas, so to speak, he carved his own inscription. “Kepa hearts Maite.” He smiled, but then realized that, if they did find the zatia, this, along with everything he had done, would disappear with the pop of the time bubble. He shook his head and wandered back to the camp.

It wasn’t long before evening came and Santi came with it, his dog by his side. The ever laconic Santi simply nodded as he sat down near the fire and Kepa handed him a bowl of stew. Kepa didn’t say anything, but inwardly sighed, wishing for some meaningful human interaction. But, as had happened so many nights before, Santi finished his meal in silence and then handed the bowl to Kepa to wash as he prepared to sleep.

Santi was rolling out his bedroll in the dying light of the fire while Kepa gathered his own bowl to wash in the morning when they heard the clip-clop of horses. Santi moved toward the wagon and grabbed his shotgun while Kepa stood next to him, waiting to see who their visitors were. In the months Kepa had been in the hills with Santi, this was the first time they had gotten any visitors so late at night and Kepa was more than a little scared.

Three figures rode up, their features obscured by the shadows. That the moon was waxing crescent meant that there was little light. The horses stopped as they got to the edge of the camp.

“Nor da?” barked Santi, his gun raised slightly, not pointing at the men directly, but clearly showing that Santi wasn’t messing around. “Who’s there?”

The man on the lead horse, who seemed to sit up a bit straighter than the others, his large shoulders visible in the darkness, just chuckled. “Calm down, you damn Basquo. We’re just friends, hoping to get a brief respite from a long day of riding.”

Kepa shivered as he recognized that voice. It belonged to Donny McCown.

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, Basque Fact of the Week, People

Basque Fact of the Week: Cristina Iglesias and Her Newest Creation, Hondalea

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Donostia, the capital of Gipuzkoa, is a city filled with a myriad of things to see and do. From the Parte Vieja, where one can wander all night sampling pintxos, to the wonderful beaches, to the history of the San Telmo museum, there is so much to do. And, thanks to Cristina Iglesias, a sculptor native to the city, there is one more attraction that will certainly become a must-see on any visit to the city: Hondalea.

Hondalea. Photo from Donostia.eus.
  • Cristina was born on November 8, 1956, in Donostia to Eduardo Iglesias Hernández and Maritxu Fernández-Berridi Lecuona. Cristina is one of five children, all of whom became artists and creators of one type or another. She began studies at the University of the Basque Country in chemical sciences, but began down a path of art that took her to the Chelsea College of Arts in London.
  • Cristina’s career grew in the 1980s and really took off in the 1990s. Her first solo exhibition was in Portugal in 1984 but this was soon followed by exhibitions across Europe, in Vienna, Bordeaux, Athens, Dusseldorf, and Ghent. The 1990s saw her reach across the ocean with exhibitions in Canada, the United States, and Australia. In 1999, she was awarded the Premio Nacional de Artes Plásticas, for having opened new paths in the plastic arts (sculpture for example). That year, she also created special pieces designed for the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. Today, her work can be found in some of the most prestigious museums in the world, including the MACBA (Barcelona), the Tate Gallery (London), the Reina Sofía Art Center (Madrid), and the MoMA and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museums (New York). In 2016, she was awarded Donostia’s Tambor de Oro. And, in 2020, she won the Royal Academy Architecture Prize in London for looking “at the spaces between buildings, creating thoughtful work that rewards sustained reflection.”
  • Her work incorporates multiple materials, fusing the industrial and organic. She explores our relationships with both nature and space. One of her works, Deep Fountain, looks almost like a marsh with organic green leaves that cover the bottom of a pool. As the pool fills from a crack, or abyss, in the center, the water slowly flows over the sculpted leaves.
  • With her most recent work, entitled Hondalea (Marine Abyss in Basque; check out the video, the photo doesn’t do it justice) and unveiled in June 2, 2021, Cristina has converted an abandoned lighthouse on the Basque coast into a kinetic water sculpture. The lighthouse, on Santa Klara Island in the middle of Donostia’s bay, has been completely transformed. The bottom was excavated and replaced with bronze sculpture that mimics the rugged Basque coastline. Water flows in and out, driving by hydraulics, that mimic the crashing of the waves. All of this is surrounded by the walls of the lighthouse itself.

Primary sources: Cristina Iglesias, Biografias y Vidas; Cristina Iglesias, Wikipedia; Cristina Iglesias, Guggenheim Bilbao; Barandiaran Múgica, Arantza. Iglesias, Cristina. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/iglesias-cristina/ar-52092/; Harriet Lloyd-Smith, Cristina Iglesias turns derelict lighthouse into staggering geological sculpture, Wallpaper*.

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.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 67

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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!

The next few weeks at the boarding house seemed a blur. Every day was the same: get up, have a quick bite and some coffee, prepare breakfast for the boarders, clean the rooms, prepare lunch, and take a small break before having to get ready for dinner. Most of the faces were the same, and Maite was getting to know some of them pretty well. However, there was always a new face or two, someone popping in for a meal or a camp foreman who was in town gathering supplies. While Maite didn’t love the daily grind of the boarding house, she got to enjoy all of the characters that gave the house life.

She still hadn’t had any luck finding the zatia. She was convinced it wasn’t in the boarding house, but if it wasn’t there, she had no clue where it might be. Why was there a time bubble here if there was no zatia? And, if they never found the zatia, would they be stuck here for the rest of their lives? Maite didn’t know of any other way to pop the bubble and return to her own time.

It was early Friday morning and Maite was sitting at the table, enjoying her small breakfast and cup of coffee when Juan Jose walked in. He wasn’t normally up this early, so his presence startled Maite. 

“Juan Jose! What are you doing up so early?”

The old man shrugged. “Just couldn’t sleep. My mind kept drifting back to the Basque Country and wouldn’t leave.” He sighed. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” said Maite as she waved to the seat across the table from her. “Let me get you a cup of coffee,” she added as she stood up. “Want anything to eat?”

“Ez, not yet. My mind is awake, but my belly is still alseep.”

Maite laughed as she brought Juan Jose a cup of coffee. “Extra milk and sugar, the way you like it.”

Juan Jose smiled. “Eskerrik asko.”

“Any big plans for the day?” asked Maite as she sat down again. 

Juan Jose laughed. “You mean, besides trying to strike up a game or two of mus, like every other day? No, not really.”

“When was the last time you went home, went to the Basque Country?”

Juan Jose sighed again. “Too long. Like I told you before, I went back a few times not long after I first got here. I had a girl back home. The first time, I tried to convince her to come out here, that life was pretty good over here. But, the second time, she was already married. She didn’t want to come here and she got tired of waiting for me to come back.” Juan Jose took a sip from his cup and looked at Maite. “You know what hurt the most? The guy she ended up with, he was my best friend when we were kids. We were supposed to come out here together, become rich together. But, he got scared in the end and didn’t come. And he ended up with my girl.” Juan Jose shook his head as he looked down into the swirls of his coffee. “I probably should have stayed too.”

Juan Jose cleared his throat, took a sip, and looked up. “Anyways, what about you and that young man? What are your plans?”

Maite blushed. “We aren’t sure yet. We just want to get past this little adventure and then see what life has for us next.”

“Kontuz! Be careful! This ‘adventure’ as you call it has a way of keeping people trapped and not letting go. There’s another boarding house down the road… one of the boarders has been there for fifty years, if you can believe it!”

“Fifty years? Just living in one of these small rooms?”

“Hell, I’ve been in mine for ten years now. It’s not much, but it is comfortable, the people are good, and they keep you fed. And I can always find a card game.”

Maite shook her head. “No offense, but we hope to move on as soon as possible. Find the next adventure and all that.”

“I don’t blame you. When I was young, I was always looking for the next adventure. I never thought I’d be here, that’s for sure.”

Maite swallowed the last of her coffee. “Well, I better get working on breakfast. It’s been nice talking with you, Juan Jose.”

“Berdin,” replied the old man as his gaze returned to the dark pools of his coffee cup.

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

Basque Fact of the Week, Sports

Basque Fact of the Week: Basque Athletes at the Paralympics

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The Olympics ended a few weeks ago, and now it’s time for the Paralympics, which start on Tuesday. The first official Paralympic Games were held in 1960 in Rome, though there were precursors to this historic event. There are at least thirteen athletes from the Basque Country going to Tokyo for the 2020 Paralympic Games. They will be competing in events from wheelchair basketball (both men’s and women’s), swimming, rowing and paracanoe, running, cycling, triathlon, table tennis, and archery.

Beatriz Zudaire shooting a basket. Photo by I. Aguinaga and found on noticias de Navarra.
  • Agurtzane Egiluz Ibarguen was born in 1997 in Vitoria, Araba. At the age of 14, she was injured in a bus accident. She is on the Spanish national wheelchair basketball team. She is studying for a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration and Management at the Faculty of Economic and Business Sciences the University of the Basque Country.
  • Beatriz Zudaire Garcia is also on the Spanish national wheelchair basketball team. From Pamplona, Nafarroa, she began as an accomplished swimmer, but switched to basketball when a team was formed in Vitoria.
  • Asier García Pereiro is on the men’s Spanish national wheelchair basketball team. He was in an accident when he was 13. In addition to playing basketball, he graduated with a degree in computer science from the University of Deusto. He is the captain of the team.
  • Iñigo Llopis Sanz is from Donostia. He is a swimmer, specializing in the 100 meter backstroke and the 400 meter freestyle. He is also passionate about soccer and has plans to become a coach.
  • Nadia Zudaire Borrezo is also a swimmer, from Zubieta, Gipuzkoa, who will compete in the 400 meter freestyle. In the Berlin Swimming Championship held in July, she set Spanish records for both the 400 and 800 meter freestyle.
  • Higinio Rivero Fernandez is a specialist in the paracanoe. In 2013, he had an accident while climbing that left him paraplegic. He kept his same passion for sport, but channeling it instead into canoe.
  • Jorge Pineda Matabuena is a rower from Getxo. He will compete in the four-crew mixed boat. In this race, the crew must be composed of two men and two women. In addition, two must be physically disabled and two visually impaired, accompanied by a non-disabled helmsman.
  • Estibaliz Armendariz Zubillaga, born without her right leg in Pamplona in 1974, is a rower. She is also an R&D manager for Naitec. She also translated Lawrence Kraus’s The Physics of Star Trek to Spanish.
  • Izaskun Osés Ayúcar was also born in Pamplona, in 1984. She is a blind runner, having won bronze in the 2016 Rio Games in the 1500 meters. She earned a nursing degree but had to give up the profession due to her deteriorating vision.
  • Eduardo Santas Asensio, born in Zaragoza but living in the Basque Country, is a cyclist. Since 2014, he has won 14 medals at the World Championships for Adaptive Cycling. He won a bronze medal in the Mixed Team Spring in the 2016 Rio Games.
  • Rakel Mateo Uriate is a paratriathlete. One of her legs was paralyzed after an accident in 2001. She has been the Spanish paratriathlete champion three times in her career. She is currently ranked 5th in the world. She is from Mungia, Bizkaia.
  • Iker Sastre Sanchez-Vallejo was born in Bilbao in 1977. His sport is table tennis. When he was 23, he suffered a surfing accident that left him with a spinal cord injury. He has won multiple championships in Bizkaia, Euskadi, and Spain. He is currently ranked 9th in the world. He is the first Basque table tennis player to ever play in the Olympics in any form.
  • María Carmen Rubio Larrion is an archer from Pamplona. She was born in 1961. She participated in the 2012 Games in London. She got her start in her archery career thanks to a scholarship from cycling legend Miguel Induráin.

Primary sources: BasqueTeam; Trece deportistas vascos participarán en los Juegos Paralímpicos, EiTB.eus

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.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 66

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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!

Dominique returned after a few hours, beating Santi to camp. Maite got back on her horse and waved goodbye. 

“It was good seeing you Kepa,” she said. “If I get another day off, I’ll try to come back.”

“I’d like that,” said Kepa as he gave an overly dramatic kiss to the back of her hand.

Dominique chuckled. “Oh, young love.”

Maite and Kepa both looked at Dominique in surprise.

“Who said anything about love?” asked Maite.

“You didn’t have to,” replied Dominique with a wink. 

He spurred his horse down the hill. Maite followed. She turned one last time to see Kepa standing near the wagon, watching her. He waved as she turned. She waved back, almost falling off her horse.

The trek back to town and the boarding house was uneventful. They didn’t encounter any other riders, for which Maite was thankful. She remembered their encounter with Donny McCowen and shuddered at the thought. She didn’t expect Dominique could be all that useful in any altercation, though the older man did carry a rifle strapped to his saddle. 

“Have you ever had to use that?” asked Maite. 

“Zer?” asked Dominique.

“The rifle.”

“Oh, yeah. A few times, hunting rabbits when I got sick of lamb. And there have been a few rattlesnakes I had to get off the trail.”

“What about another man?”

A dark look crossed Dominique’s face. “I’ve been lucky,” he said. “I keep to mine, and they keep to theirs. I tell my herders to keep their sheep off of cattle land. But, there was one time, when I was a herder myself, before I knew much better. I didn’t even speak any English, back then, at least not much. Some cowboys came up to me and threatened to burn my camp and shoot my sheep. They did shoot a few of them. But, I just stood my ground, pointing my gun at them when they got closer to the camp. Eventually, they backed off. I guess they didn’t think their lives were worth taking a chance, at least that day.”

Maite shook her head. “I can’t imagine,” she said. “That must have been terrifying.”

Dominique turned to look at Maite, a sparkle in his eye. “You betcha, it was. I almost shit myself. Especially since I’d forgotten to load the gun.”

Maite’s eyes went wide. “It was unloaded?”

Dominique chuckled. “Yep. If only those cowboys knew. I’m sure I’d be dead if they had.”

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: Gaurko Hitza, Basque Word of the Day

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In between my sophomore and junior year at the University of Idaho, I spent a year in Donostia with the goal of learning Euskara. When I told my dad that I wanted to learn Basque, he asked “Why? Why not Spanish? You can speak that everywhere.” I guess he was too pragmatic. Anyways, I did learn some Basque and felt like I got a reasonable handle on the grammar. My Achilles’ heel, though, was vocabulary. I never built up a big enough vocabulary to really be able to converse. If only I’d had Gaurko Hitza, or Basque Word of the Day! Every day, they send an email with a new word, it’s history and usage, and translation into English, Spanish, French, and Portuguese. I subscribed about a year ago. I can’t claim my vocabulary is increasing all that fast, but here are some of my favorite words over the last year.

Ipi-apa ezagutzen zituen eskualdeko bazter guztiak. [(From start-to-finish, he/she knew every corner of the region.) Erabili goldea hilen hezurren gainetik, Olga Tokarczuk]. Image from Gaurko Hitza.
  • indargabetu: depending on the context, this word means to weaken, to attenuate/diminish, or to repeal. It’s one of those words that, when you look at it closely, becomes transparent. indar means strength, gabe means without, and tu is the suffix that makes something a verb. So, literally, indargabetu means “to make without strength.”
  • lehenbailehen: as soon as possible. This word comes from lehen baino lehen — lehen means first. It can also mean before in some contexts. And baino means “than,” so this literally means something like “before the first thing.”
  • txintxo: well-behaved. Such a nice, short word you can yell at someone who isn’t behaving…
  • odolbero: irascible, irritable. Literally, it means “hot blooded:” odol means blood and bero means hot.
  • zingil: thin or slim. What strikes me about this word is that it doesn’t really sound like a Basque word. There are no “tx”s or “k”s.
  • kukubilkatze: squat. Sometimes, there isn’t a short, simple word for something in a language. It would almost take more time to say the word than to do the squats!
  • betiera: eternity. beti means always, so betiera is something that has the quality of being always, or eternity.
  • minbizi: cancer. Sometimes it seems that meanings are hidden behind words, that you can’t know what a word means without knowing what it means. But minbizi, the Basque word for cancer, literally means living or alive pain.
  • dapa: voice used to indicate the presence of a sudden idea. In English, we had to borrow the word eureka from Greek. The Basques already had their own word for eureka!
  • zipriztindu: to splash or spatter. I just think it’s a cool sounding word.
  • sabelzuri: false or a cheater. Literally, this words seems to mean white belly (zuri=white, sabel=belly), so something with a white belly was a cheater.
  • puskakatu: to tear apart or shred. It’s funny how words can be made. Puska is a noun that means piece, like a piece of something. Puskaka is an adverb that means breaking up or apart. And puskakatu, a verb, is the action of making something break apart.
  • eztitu: to sweeten or to calm. Just like in English, some words have different meanings that seemingly have little to do with one another. eztitu can mean sweeten, but it can also mean to calm or soothe, I guess making someone’s mood a bit sweeter?
  • sorgin-gurpil: vicious cycle. Literally, it means witch’s wheel.
  • ahozuri: gourmet. Literally, this word means white mouth. In addition to gourmet, it flatterer, wheedler, sycophant, bootlicker (thanks Morris Student Plus Dictionary!). What are the Basques trying to say here?
  • gurgur: rumbling sound, babbling. The word sounds like it’s rumbling!
  • bakoiti and bikoiti: odd and even, as in numbers. I assume the first parts relate to the Basque words bat (one) and bi (two)…
  • ipurdikatu: to turn upside down. Yeah, I’m a dad, I had to squeeze in a butt joke. Ipurdi means butt. Ipurdika means backwards. Ipurdikatu means to make backwards or upside down…
  • ipi-apa: detail, from start to finish. The Basque version of alpha to omega.
  • konkolotx: astride. Just another word I think sounds cool.
Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 65

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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!

Another week passed. Santi was as sullen as ever, barely saying ‘thank you’ after dinner before going to sleep. Kepa just sighed as he gathered the dishes so he could wash them in the morning. While his lamb stew was getting really good, in his own humble opinion, he was getting tired of eating the same thing over and over again. How he missed his ama’s porrusalda or the bollos de mantequilla he’d get whenever he had visited Maite in Bilbao.

But today, at least, there was something to look forward to. Dominique was due with another supply run. Kepa couldn’t wait to have someone to talk to who had a vocabulary that consisted of more than just a few grunts. Kepa made a fresh loaf of bread in the hopes of enticing Dominique to linger just a bit longer at the camp.

Just after midday, he could hear the clomping of the horses as they approached. He looked up and, to his surprise, saw three horses, the third carrying

“Maite!” exclaimed Kepa as he rushed to her side. “What are you doing here?”

Maite smiled as she let Kepa help her dismount. “Dominique gave me your note. Since I had the day off, I thought I’d join him on his rounds, see how you are doing for myself.”

Kepa blushed. “You gave up your day off for me?”

Maite blew him a kiss and a wink. 

“She’s a keeper,” laughed Dominique as Kepa turned an even brighter shade of red. 

“Look, I’m not going to linger,” said Dominique. “Maite, I’ll pass by this way again after I stop at the other camps and we can head back to town. Until then, you and Kepa can catch up.”

“But, what about my stew? I even made fresh bread!” protested Kepa.

Dominique climbed back onto his saddle. “I’m sure Maite will enjoy it just as much as I would have. I’ll be back before long.”

Soon, Dominique’s horse disappeared over the hill.

“So,” said Kepa, “how have you been?” He handed Maite a bowl of stew and a slice of bread.

Maite shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Just working. They work the girls to the bone. I get up at five in the morning to begin cleaning the dining room. Then I help prepare breakfast. After that, I clean the linens while another girl works on lunch. In the afternoon, we all get ready for dinner. Then there is serving all of these demanding Basquos. Sometime around 10 or 11, if I’m lucky, I get to have a bite to eat with the other girls before we clean up the dishes and head to bed.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m exhausted.”

She took a bite of the stew. “This is really good,” she said in mock surprise.

“What? You didn’t think I could cook?”

“I knew you couldn’t. You’ve tried, remember?”

Kepa blushed again. “Well, I’ve had lots of practice with this one dish.”

“How are things up here?” asked Maite between bites.

It was Kepa’s turn to sigh. “The work isn’t quite as hard as yours; I’ve only got one demanding Basquo to take care of, but he is the most anti-social fellow. I think you’ve spoken more words since you got here than he has in the last month. It’s just so damn boring up here.”

“Miss your phone?” teased Maite.

“I miss everything!” barked Kepa. He paused as Maite looked away. “Sentitzen dut. I’m sorry. I’m just so frustrated, being up here. What does any of this have to do with the zatia? It all seems so pointless.”

“I understand. I feel the same way. It seems we are being punished somehow.”

“Right?!?” Kepa shook his head. “I can’t believe that these people chose this life.”

“I guess things were… are… even worse back home.”

“Worse than this?”

“That’s what some of the other girls tell me. Life back in Euskal Herria was even harder, with fewer chances of it getting better.”

“It’s hard to imagine, the way things are now,” said Kepa. “I mean, the way things are in our time. Life isn’t so bad at home.”

Maite nodded. “I agree. Funny how things change in just a generation or two.”

“Anyways,” said Kepa after he pulled a squirt from the bota bag before tossing it to Maite. “Have you had any luck with the zatia?”

Maite shook her head before taking her own squirt of wine. “Nothing,” she said as she tossed the bag back to Kepa. “I’ve cleaned all of the rooms from top to bottom. If it’s in the boarding house, it’s hidden very well.”

“Damnit,” swore Kepa. “I just want to be done with this place.”

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.

Books, Diaspora, Interviews

A Sense of Family and Belonging: An Interview with Linda Uruburu

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Photo by Anatol Kotte.

Linda Uruburu was born in 1951 in New York City. She 
has been a professional musician, music publisher and songwriter for most of her adult life. Her lyrics can be heard on the two Helen Schneider cds: Collective Memory (2015 SPV Records) and Movin’ On (2017 SPV Records).

Some years ago, she began writing children’s books: Animal Stories for Children and Maximillian Snail’s Wonderful Rainy Day (both translated into German and published in 2008 by Baumhaus Publishing) and Lenny’s Summertime Adventures – first prize winner of the Literary Contest 2019 – CBS – Center for Basque Studies, published in 2020.

Her hobby and part-time profession is designing patchwork.

She currently lives in Hamburg, Germany.

For those of us Basque-Americans that grew up in the West, we were surrounded by the sheepherders that came before us. Images of sheep wagons, bands of sheep, and sheepherder’s bread are common. However, the Basque-American experience is as varied as Basques themselves. Out east, the typical Basque immigrant was very different. Still driven by a desire for a better life, these Basques often found work in construction and similar occupations. And, the east coast, particularly New York, ended up being the home of many Basques fleeing the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War. Linda Uruburu grew up in this environment. In her book, Lenny’s Summertime Adventures (available here from the Center for Basque Studies), she captures the magic of that time, in which large groups of extended cousins roamed the country side, looking for adventure. In this interview, Linda describes the inspiration for her award-winning book and teases what might be next for Lenny.

Buber’s Basque Page: Ongi etorri to Buber’s Basque Page, Linda! Let’s start off with an introduction. Tell us about your Basque roots.

Linda’s family’s original summer home, the Big House, in Ladentown, New York.

Linda Uruburu: Thank you so much… what a pleasure this is! My grandparents on my father’s side both arrived in the USA in the early 1900’s – my grandfather’s family, Uruburu, from Forua and my grandmother’s, Ercoreca, from Mungia. They settled into the lower east side of Manhattan. The first meeting of the Centro Vasco, the first official Basque club in New York, actually took place in my grandparents living room. In 1918 my grandfather, Benito, was hired to do some road construction in a small village about 30 miles outside of New York City called Ladentown. He liked the area and eventually the family, actually his wife and her two sisters, bought a summer home there. More and more friends and family visited and the area soon became a small summer Basque enclave. We (my immediate family) moved there permanently when I was 9 years old. I do still have family living in Mungia and Forua.

BBP: You grew up in the Basque community of New York, which is different from the western communities many of us are more familiar with, particularly given the stronger political tendencies of the New York Basques. What was it like growing up in that environment? 

Linda Uruburu: My grandfather died when I was 8. I know that he and his brother Tiburcio (one of the founders of the Centro Vasco) were very involved with the Basque community of New York but as a young girl I was not really aware of that part of their lives. My father was not political at all but he was a Basque through and through! He instilled in me a strong pride in my heritage.

BBP: You called your childhood home a “summer Basque enclave.” What was it like growing up surrounded by those Basques? What stands out in your memory?

Linda’s grandmother on the right, her grandfather on the left.

Linda Uruburu: It was an amazing childhood. My extended family (relatives and neighbors) arrived in the beginning of the summer and stayed until the end, with a constant flow of visitors from New York City and Spain. My memory is filled with Basque and Spanish words and music and food and clothing. I’ve read that a central concept in the Basque identity is belonging, not only to the Basque people, but to a house or a clan. In the summers I always felt like I belonged to a family much bigger than my actual one. I guess that’s my most treasured memory.

BBP: Your book, Lenny’s Summertime Adventures, was published last year by the Center for Basque Studies at the University of Nevada, Reno. Can you give us a brief synopsis?

Linda (on the right) and her cousins – the inspiration for Lenny’s cousins.

Linda Uruburu: Lenny is a young girl of Basque heritage who lives in the “Little House” at the foot of the mountains outside of New York City. As they do every year, her city cousins and relatives come to the “Big House” at the other end of the road to spend the whole summer. Lenny has a wild imagination and believes she saw a ghost in the mountains the past winter and she enlists her cousins to help her find it. The book follows the children’s adventures throughout the summer and is filled with Basque traditions and words.

BBP: If I understand correctly, your story won the Basque Writing Contest put on by the Center for Basque Studies. How was that? Did you write the story specifically for the contest or did you already have the seeds planted before?

Linda Uruburu: In 2007 my family had a reunion with over 100 Basque relatives from all over the USA and Europe (I moved to France in 2002 and have lived in Germany since 2006). The next day some of us wandered through the area, hiked into the mountains, and visited the family cemetery and places we remembered as children. When I returned from that reunion, I began to write Lenny’s story, inspired by our adventures growing up. When I read about the Literary Contest put on by the Center for Basque Studies I decided to submit my story.

The baserri in Mungia where Linda’s grandmother grew up, painted by the Basque painter Inchaurbe.

BBP: What did it mean to you for your story to win the contest?

Linda Uruburu: I couldn’t have been more proud or shocked. The contest is for all genres and so the competition is tough. For years I have bought books from the Center for Basque Studies and to be recognized by that organization is an honor.

BBP: What inspired Lenny’s adventures? How much of your own experiences are part of her story?

Linda Uruburu: Lenny’s family and extended family are loosely based on my family and the local folk in the area I grew up in, at the foot of the Ramapo Mountains. The adventures are based somewhat on my childhood experiences but mostly come from my imagination.

BBP: What’s next for Lenny? Do you plan to continue her adventures?

Linda Uruburu: I’m working on a sequel right now. Having adventures comes natural to Lenny and so she is once again going to enlist her cousins to help her solve a mystery.

The baserri in Forua where Linda’s grandfather grew up, painted on an envelope sent to her father by his cousin Juan Ara-Uruburu.

BBP: Might Lenny make it to the Basque Country in one of her adventures?

Linda Uruburu: In my story, the reader can follow Lenny’s adventures with her personal map of the neighborhood. Her next adventure will extend the borders of the map a bit. As for the Basque Country… who knows?

BBP: With your deep connections to the Basque Country, I imagine you’ve visited many times. What are your favorite places to visit? 

Linda Uruburu: I am embarrassed to say that I have never had the chance to visit the Basque Country. It has always been a goal of mine but somehow life always seems to interfere. But I’m not giving up!

BBP: What advice do you have for up and coming story tellers who are hoping to share their own stories?

Linda Uruburu: Write what you know – the truth is always a good beginning. And don’t give up!

BBP: Mil esker, Linda!