Be Open and Curious: An Interview with Gloria Lejardi

To those with any connection to the Basque community in Idaho, Gloria Lejardi is a household name. Having been a driving force behind youth dancing in the Treasure Valley of Idaho for so long, she has made her mark on so many young Basques in the area. Her dance classes are often the first foray into Basque culture for many kids, many of whom parlayed that experience into a deep and lasting appreciation and fascination with the culture. In this interview, Gloria describes her experiences as a dancer and a dance teacher, the origin of her passion for dance and music, and her dream trip to the Basque Country with her grandchildren.

I was born in Burns, Oregon, to Margarita Osa and Henry Garatea, first generation Basques.  Many of my childhood memories are centered around boarding houses and of course family gatherings.  My amuma, Margarita Osa (Aremayo), was my first Basque dance teacher.  She loved all music and dance and was happiest when a celebration included dancing. We moved to Boise when I started the 7th grade and this is when I began dancing with the Boise Euzkaldunak children’s group.  From there I went on to dance with the Oinkari Basque Dancers for 15 years. In 1980 I started my dance group, originally called the Caldwell Basque Dancers and now called Herribatza Dantzariak.  I am grateful for all those who taught me about Basque dance through the years.

In regards to Euskara, I started taking classes from Miren Artiach (Rementeria) when I was a senior in high school and studied with her for a few years.  Attending a summer program in 1972, sponsored by the University of Nevada, Reno, was my first experience in the Basque Country. Then in 1974-75 I went to study in Onati with the first Boise State sponsored program. Jon Onatibia was our Euskara teacher and I still refer to his books while teaching my class.

Buber’s Basque Page: Gloria, you are the grandchild of Basque immigrants. How did growing up in a Basque family and in the Basque culture impact your childhood? Did you feel different from the other kids?

Gloria Lejardi: My maternal and paternal grandparents were immigrants; my parents were born in the US. I seemed to always know as a child that being Basque was different but I do not ever remember it being anything other than special. Although I did not learn Euskara until later, we all knew Basque words and phrases. Some words I did not even realize were actually Basque. For example, I remember in elementary school during lunch the girl next to me said her food was too hot so I told her to “putz” on it.  She, of course, did not understand so I blew on her food to show her. All of our friends called our grandmothers “amuma” and it just seemed to be a natural thing to do. The Basque Boarding House was part of my upbringing. When I was a child my paternal grandmother, Lucy Garatea (Luciana Aboitiz) owned the Plaza boarding house in Burns, Oregon. Many Sundays and holidays were spent there among the boarders. An interesting fact is that my maternal grandparents (Marcelino and Margarita (Aremayo) Osa actually built this boarding house and my mother and her siblings lived there until my mother was in high school. There were many Basque families in our town so the language, the card games, the music, and the food were a natural state of being for me.

BBP: When was your first trip to the Basque Country? Where did you go? What did you think?

Gloria Lejardi: My first trip was during the summer of 1972. I attended a 6-week course through the University of Nevada, Reno, where we stayed 3 weeks in Ustaritz in Iparralde and 3 weeks at Arantzazu in Gipuzkoa. We studied Euskara with Jon Onatibia and went on many excursions to experience as much as we could in those 6 weeks. After the course, I visited relatives for another 4 weeks. My first impressions were how green everything was compared to the high desert areas that I was used to, and the smell of diesel.  When I visited relatives in Ondarroa, Lekeitio, and Elantxobe it was the smell of the ocean that was so noticeable. Of course the food was another experience. As a child I refused to try many of my grandmothers’ specialties but while in the Basque Country, I knew better than to refuse, so I learned to eat and love gambak, txipiroiak, mina, and more. 

BBP: You clearly have a passion for the Basque culture that you’ve channeled over many years through dance. How do you see the role of dance in keeping the culture alive?

Gloria Lejardi: My amuma Margarita Osa loved all music and all types of dancing and she was our first dance teacher. My clearest memories are dancing the Jota and Porrusalda at church events, accompanied by the piano and amuma stage left playing the spoons to keep us in beat. I think a few times she made us repeat our performance if we didn’t dance well enough! She was a task master for sure, the Ondarrutarra that she was should explain it all!

Music and dance through the centuries tell a story about the times. The traditional dress of the time, the instruments, the intricate steps, or the adaptations of foreign dances are all a part of the Basque culture.  Just like passing on our beloved Euskara keeps it alive, the passing down of these dances is another way to keep the Basque culture alive. Of course this goes for traditional sports, gastronomy, bertsolaritza, etc. 

Gloria with the Herribatza Dantzariak.

BBP: What are your proudest or most memorable moments that you’ve had dancing, both as a dancer yourself and as a teacher?

Gloria Lejardi: During the 15 years that I was an Oinkari Basque Dancer I was able to travel to a number of different Basque festivals or dances and, of course, this led to a familiarity with the people and these different communities, which in turn led to friendships.  The most memorable trip for me was our trip to Montreal.  At that time, I had never been out of the country, so this was an eye opener. Montreal is a beautiful city and another first was riding the subway to our performance location. The first day carrying the Ikurina and bags of equipment was quite the site for the other passengers. Most of us had never been to a big city so we probably looked like a bunch of dumb tourists, oh well…..

BBP: It seems that dance is, in many ways, a bigger element of cultural identity for Basques in the diaspora than in the Basque Country itself. How do you see the differing ways culture and identity are expressed in the diaspora versus in the home country?

Gloria Lejardi: I think this is because it is much more acceptable for immigrants to showcase their music and dance to the local people than anything else and then comes the sharing of the food. Dancing is the most fun and enticing element of the culture to teach the children and grandchildren of  immigrants.  For some, dancing is the only Basque thing they will learn but for me it was just the first step.  Participating in dance led to my desire to learn Euskara and I know this has happened for many others. 

BBP: Homedale has an amazingly vibrant Basque community and, for such a small group, has accomplished some amazing things, including the building of their Basque center the Txoko Ona. How has Homedale accomplished so much where others have struggled?

Gloria Lejardi: I think it was the vision and hard work of many people but if I try to name them all I would surely miss someone. Some people gave money, others donated hours of work and the building came together under the leadership of the building committee. There is always work to do, a class to teach, an event to volunteer for or Txoko Ona would not continue to exist.

BBP: The nature of the Basque community in the United States is evolving. We don’t have the influx of Basques coming to work, the same motivations that brought your grandparents and my dad. How do you see the future of the Basque diaspora in the United States? How do we compensate for the diminished ties directly to the Basque Country?

Gloria Lejardi: I believe that the way we compensate for the loss of the immigrant generation and what they have given us is to cross the ocean in the other direction.  For so many immigrants the trip here was permanent because travel was so difficult and expensive. For others, they occasionally made trips back to the Basque Country but the influx of immigrants was waning. The opportunity to study in the Basque Country opened up in the 70’s and continues today.  Young American Basques are continuing to attend language schools (barnetegis) to learn Euskara and immerse themselves in the day to day culture.  Also the visits of musical or dance groups, Ikastola teachers, and occasionally visiting professors continue to enrich our cultural lives here in the US. I have always taught my dancers how to count in Euskara and maybe a few other words but in the last ten years I have enlarged the vocabulary to include directions, colors, family members, and a few phrases. Hopefully dance and a little language will encourage them to continue to learn about their Basque culture.

BBP: You are a mother and now a grandmother (zorionak!). How do you pass the Basque culture onto your daughters and grandchildren? What do you hope their connection to the Basque culture and the Basque Country will be?

Lejardi family chorizos!

Gloria Lejardi: We spoke to our daughters in Euskara as much as we could when they were growing up but they say they only speak “baby Basque.” Their children know words and phrases only, but hopefully, like me, they will want to learn Euskara and perhaps study in the Basque Country. Of course our daughters were part of my dance group and continued on dancing with the Oinkaris for many years. Currently two of our grandchildren are dancing in my group. When it comes to the food, I have tried to learn to cook like my grandmothers did; low and slow starting with olive oil, onions, and garlic. Our daughters are very good cooks and are always willing to try something new. One family tradition we started when our girls were young was “chorizo making” and 25 years later our grandchildren and extended family are ready to go when the time comes.  My dream is to be able to travel to the Basque Country with our grandchildren. The Basque Country has to be experienced with all the senses; the smell of the ocean or fresh mountain air; the sound of the music or Euskera spoken by children; the taste of the food or of txakoli; the view from a mountain top or of waves crashing to shore; and finally the feeling, coming to the surface, of what it means to be an Euskalduna.

BBP: Your ideal trip to the Basque Country would be with your grandchildren. Where would you go? If you were planning your ideal route through Euskalherria, what would it look like? Where would you stop, what foods would you have to share, who would you have to see for it to be the ideal trip?

Gloria with her husband John, her daughters Miren and Yasone, and their families.

Gloria Lejardi: Ideally we would pick one town for a home base and visit all of our relatives from there.

I find you can feel the sense of the community if you sleep, shop, eat, and drink in one town for the majority of your visit. You become familiar with the streets; the shop owners get to know you; the coffee barista understands your Euskara even though you speak it with an accent (me, not my husband; he speaks like an Erenotarra). I would first take them to see where their great and great-great grandparents were born; Ibarengelua/Elantxobe; Ondarroa; Nabarniz; Lekeitio; Gabika; and Ereno. Of course we would explore Gernika with all its history and the Monday market. The Peace Museum is also a must see. Into Gipuzkoa I would show them Onati, where I went to school, Arantzazu, and also the beautiful town of Tolosa. Besides enjoying the beaches, a hike up the trail to San Miguel above Ereno with a picnic lunch would be ideal. The view from there is breathtaking! My go-to choice of food in the Basque Country is fresh fish, particularly Lebatza, or Hake in English. No trip there would be complete without pintxos; daily of course!  I would like our grandchildren to explore this array of wonders, watch their faces as they take the first bite, and see what they like the best.

BBP: What advice would you have for the next generation that wants to connect to their Basque roots but isn’t quite sure how?

Gloria Lejardi: I would tell them to start with what they do know. Do you know your immigrant family history or only know a name? With the genealogy sites readily available it is not difficult to research family names and birthplaces. Researching Basque history is another good way to connect to your culture; there are so many good sites where one can learn about the history of Basques in the world.  If you know of family in the Basque Country then connecting with them is the first step. Planning a trip to visit the birthplaces of ancestors and exploring the area is another step to take. Be open and curious to whatever experiences come your way.

Basque Fact of the Week: Jose Mari Iparragirre, the Man Behind The Tree of Gernika

Soldier. Poet. Singer. Composer. Romanticist. Jose Mari Iparragirre was all of those things and more. A man out of time, he enjoyed great success and renown but never found a place he truly belonged. Even so, his most famous song, Gernikako Arbola, inspired generations of Basques.

Jose Mari Iparragirre, according to Pancho Bringas. He recreates an episode of Iparragirre’s exile from Araba, Bizkaia and Gipuzkoa for singing ‘Gernikako arbola’ in 1852. Image from Berria.eus.
  • Iparragirre was born on August 12, 1820, in the village of Urretxu, in Gipuzkoa. His father, a merchant, pushed him towards of life of letters – Iparragirre was sent to Zerain to study Spanish with his uncle, then to Vitoria-Gasteiz when he was 11 to study Latin, possibly to prepare him for the priesthood. When he was 13, the family moved to Madrid where he entered a school run by the Jesuits.
  • In 1833, the First Carlist War broke out and Iparragirre ran away to join the fight, with no other thought than “love for my countrymen.” He enlisted on the Carlist side, as part of the first battalion of Gipuzkoa. It seems this is when he took up the guitar, playing during free moments. He was injured first in the battle of Arrigorriaga and later in the Battle of Mendigorria, both in 1835, after which he became an attendant to Carlos, the claimant to the throne. Rejecting the Convention of Vergara that ended the war but saw a reduction in the strength of the fueros — the tradition of Basque home rule — and the final incorporation of the Basque Country into Spain, Iparragirre fled to France.
  • Iparragirre became, in essence, a traveling minstrel. With guitar in hand, he wandered Europe, singing his songs wherever he could. In 1848, he joined the French Revolution of 1848, singing La Marseillaise — the French National Anthem — and inspiring the crowd. Once he took over, Napoleon III expelled Iparragirre as a subversive, after which he traveled through Italy, Switzerland, Germany, and, ultimately, England.
  • In England, he met with a Spanish general who proposed a pardon. Iparragirre was given a pardon to return to Spain in 1853, and, it was during that year, in Madrid, that he first publicly performed, with Juan José Altuna, Gernikako Arbola. The song became the de facto Basque anthem, sung by Basques everywhere. The Spanish authorities became nervous and expelled him from Spain in 1855.
  • This time, Iparragirre made his way across the Atlantic, to Argentina, with fellow Gipuzkoan, Anjela Kerexeta, in tow. In Argentina, they wed and had 8 children together. All the while, Iparragirre kept composing songs. In 1876, the last of the Basque fueros were abolished, leaving Iparragirre disconsolate for some time. He struggled, unable to make a living as a musician and with no mind for business. He told Anjela “It doesn’t matter if you have anything or not. Even the birds have nothing, and they live happily, flying in the sun.”
  • In 1876, with the financial support of his countrymen, Iparragirre returned to the Basque Country, leaving his family behind in Argentina. He was honored by his country. He traveled, giving public recitals. Ultimately, he was given a pension by the provincial councils of Bizkaia, Gipuzkoa, and Araba while that of Nafarroa gave him a donation. He died on April 6, 1881, in Itsaso, Gipuzkoa, after being caught in a storm and catching pneumonia.

Primary sources: Arozamena Ayala, Ainhoa. Iparraguirre Balerdi, José María. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/iparraguirre-balerdi-jose-maria/ar-69087/; Amagoia Gurrutxaga Uranga, Konbentzioen kontra, Berria; Wikipedia.

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 28

“Bai,” replied Ainhoa. “Zer nahi duzue?”

Maite looked at Kepa with uncertain eyes before returning her gaze to Ainhoa. “Ummm,” she began. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Marina.”

“Nor?” asked Ainhoa when suddenly her eyes flashed, changing from Ainhoa’s dark brown to the green they recognized from their earlier encounter with Marina.

“Marina?” asked Kepa.

“Bai,” replied Marina with a smile. “I guess the zatiak I gave you also let you call me to you. Provided, of course, there is a vessel nearby.”

“Is that all Ainhoa is to you, your vessel?” asked Maite. “That’s a bit cold, isn’t it?”

Buber’s Basque Story 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!

Marina shrugged. “I know she is more than that. When I possess her, I know everything about her — her hopes and dreams, her lusts and passions, her fears and anxieties. I know her through and through. But, what else should I call her? Call all of the kinswomen that I possess?”

“I guess vessel — ontzi — is as good as anything,” replied Maite. “Anyways, what happens next? How do we know when to help you, where to go?”

Marina paused for a moment, a look of concentration on her face. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure. It’s not like I’ve given the zatiak to anyone before. I’m not quite sure what to expect. But, I suspect the zatiak will be the key, they will guide you and transport you where you need to go.”

“Seriously?” asked Maite, clearly frustrated. “You ask us to help, but you don’t have any clue how this will happen?”

“Begira,” replied Marina. “Look, I don’t know half of what is going on, I’m learning as I go. It isn’t like I created the zatiak, at least not on purpose, and I don’t know exactly what giving them to you means. I just know it was the right thing to do.” She took Maite’s hand. “I’m just doing the best I can. I need you to trust me and to help me figure this all out. Otherwise de Lancre…”

“Yeah, I know, badakit. De Lancre will control all of the magic and rule the world.” She sighed. “I just wish we had more to go on.”

“I do too,” replied Marina. “I really wish I could tell you more. But, I simply don’t know. For now, go on your trip, do your interview. When the time is right, I think the zatiak will show you the way.”

Maite looked at Kepa, who shrugged. “What else can we do? We can’t just sit here, waiting for something to happen.”

“Fine,” said Maite, resignation clear in her voice. “I just hope I don’t end up regretting this.”

Marina smiled. “Oh, I expect you will, at least a few times. But, I also think you will find this journey fascinating.”

Basque Fact of the Week: Mikel Jokin Eleizegi Arteaga, the Basque Giant

Men and women who are exceptionally tall, who stand out in a crowd, who literally tower over the rest of us, certainly draw our attention. They fascinate us. Often, they become entertainers — André the Giant parlayed his size first in professional wrestling and then acting. Today, people of unusual height, particularly in basketball, use it to achieve success — think Manute Bol, Shawn Bradley, and Yao Ming, who all measured 7 feet 6 inches or greater. But, back in the 1800s, such opportunities were lacking. People who stood out, literally, became curiosities, touring as part of so-called “freak” shows. Such was the fate of Mikel Jokin Eleizegi Arteaga, the Basque Giant.

Portrait of Joaquín Eleisegui, woodcut by Pablo Alabern. Inscription: «THE INCOMPARABLE SPANISH GIANT MR. JOAQUÍN DE ELEISEGUI”. National Library of Spain. Photo from Wikipedia. To the left is his father and to the right his brother.
  • Mikel, known as the Giant of Alzo (Altzo in Basque), was born on July 10, 1818, in the baserri Ipintza-zar in the town of Altzo, in Gipuzkoa, just outside of Tolosa and about 20 miles south of Donostia. He died on November 20, 1861 at the age of 43.
  • Mikel was the largest person in Europe during his time. He was 7 feet 5 inches (2.27 meters) tall and had a wing span (length from fingertip to fingertip) of 7 feet 11 inches (2.42 meters). At his largest, he weighed 467 pounds or 212 kilograms.
  • During his lifetime, Mikel became a celebrity due to his enormous stature. After being discovered by José Antonio Arzadun of Lecumberri, Nafarroa, he became part of Arzadun’s traveling exhibit, touring Europe with his first stop being in Bilbao. His contract, signed in 1843, stipulated that Mikel would be allowed to go to mass every day, no matter where he was, and that all of Mikel’s tobacco would be paid for). At the height of his celebrity, Mikel met with four kings and queens: Isabel II of Spain, Luis Felipe I of France, María de la Gloria of Portugal, and Victoria I of the United Kingdom.
  • A businessman, who saw a potential sensation, arranged for Mikel to meet a giantess from England and asked if they would like to get married. The woman immediately said yes, but Mikel responded, saying to his father who was with him “Aita guazen Altzo-ra” (Aita, let’s go back to Altzo).
  • Like many who grow to such large sizes, Mikel suffered from acromegaly, or gigantism. André the Giant and Ted Cassidy, who played Lurch on The Addams Family, also suffered from the same disease.
  • Upon his death, he was buried in Altzo, but there was always a suspicion that his body had been dug up by either curious scientist or grave robbers, speculation fueled by the movie Handia (Giant), a fictionalization of Mikel’s life. However, in an excavation conducted in 2020, his bones were found exactly where they were supposed to be.

Primary sources: ELEICEGUI, Miguel Joaquín. Enciclopedia Auñamendi. Available at: http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/eleicegui-miguel-joaquin/ar-37804/; Wikipedia; Donostia International Physics Center.

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 27

It was late at night. Kepa and Maite sat together on a bench in the town’s plaza. Koldo, Itxaso, Xanti, and Ainhoa had pulled up chairs from the tables at the Herriko Taberna. Kepa took a sip of his kalimotxo.

“When do you leave for the States?” asked Itxaso. While Kepa and Maite saw Koldo all the time, they hadn’t seen his sister or her boyfriend since the concert. Itxaso seemed even more excited about their upcoming trip than they were. “It must be so exciting! I’ve never been outside of the Basque Country. Ok, I guess I’ve been to other parts of Spain. And there was that one trip to Paris. But still, America? It sounds so big! What are you going to do? Do you have everything planned?”

Kepa chuckled. “Hold on there! One question at a time.” He held up his glass. “I’ve had a little too much to keep track of all of your questions. We leave next weekend. We’re going to New York, where Maite has a distant cousin. And then to California. After Maite’s interview, we’ll be seeing my cousin and then driving south. We haven’t figured out everything yet, but we for sure want to see the Grand Canyon and Hollywood.”

Itxaso sighed. “Hollywood.” She looked at Xanti. “We have to go!”

Buber’s Basque Story 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!

“What?” replied Xanti, a look of horror crossing his face. “There’s no way I can arrange time off by next week.”

Itxaso gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Not now, txoriburu,” she teased. “But soon! I bet there are movie stars everywhere. Wouldn’t it be cool to see Hugh Jackman? Or Nicole Kidman?”

Ainhoa let out a small cough. “You do know that both of them are Australian, right? They probably don’t even live in the United States.”

Itxaso simply shrugged. “Whatever. I’m sure there is someone worth seeing.” She turned back to Kepa and Maite. “You’ll tell me everyone you saw when you get back, right?”

“Noski,” replied Maite. “Of course. I can’t imagine a better use of our time.”

“Anyways,” interrupted Koldo, changing the subject as he raised his glass. “Good luck with the interview, Maite. I’m sure you’ll make us proud.”

The others also raised their glasses, clinking them together before each taking a sip. “Eskerrik asko, Koldo.”

“Sorry to be the killjoy,” said Xanti as he stood, “but I’ve got to work tomorrow. I’m going to head home and get some sleep.” He gave Itxaso a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow evening?”

“Bai,” she said, her smile beaming.

“Have fun,” said Xanti to Kepa and Maite, waving as he walked away.

“I have to go to,” said Koldo. “Sorry to bail on you guys, but I’ve got to make some calls to arrange our next gig, check out spaces, all of that.” He looked at Itxaso. “You ready?”

She nodded as she took a last sip from her glass and put it on a nearby table. “Let me know when you’re back,” she said to Kepa and Maite. “I want to know everything!”

Kepa laughed as Itxaso and Koldo headed up the road to where Koldo’s car was parked.

Ainhoa also stood. “It was good getting to know you guys a little better,” she said. “See you when you get back.”

“Ainhoa, itxaron mesedez,” said Maite, reaching out to grab Ainhoa’s hand. “Please wait. Can we talk a moment?” 

Basque Fact of the Week: Basque Peppers

I hate peppers. They smell nasty when they are cooking and they taste vile. My dad had literally hundreds of pepper plants in his garden. He would always give me a hard time when I ate his homemade chorizo, which I loved, saying how could I like those when they had peppers in them? When I was a kid, the kitchen was often filled with the smells of txoritxero peppers being cooked by the platefuls, particularly when friends were over. Though I didn’t like them, my dad ate them like candy. My mom and him would fry them in olive oil, garlic and salt, and then cook their French fries in the leftover oil (I preferred their eggs in the chorizo grease…) Regardless of how I feel about them, peppers are certainly a key ingredient in Basque cuisine.

My daughter and me eating fried peppers in the restaurant just outside of San Juan de Gaztelugatxe. These were actually padrón peppers, from Galicia. Photo by my wife, Lisa Van De Graaff.
  • Peppers are, of course, not native to Europe. They are native to the Americas, particularly Mexico, Central America, and the northern part of South America. However, in 1493, the Spanish took seeds back to Europe and from there they spread across the continent and, indeed, the rest of the world. Today, China is the world’s largest producer of both bell and chili peppers.
  • As peppers spread and were planted in different parts of the world, they evolved, with tastes that became particular to each local region. This is just as true of the Basque Country as anywhere else. The particular climate has led to at least six varieties of peppers unique to the Basque Country: Paprika Anglet from Lapurdi, Le Piment d’Espelette also from Lapurdi, the Gernika pepper from Bizkaia, the Guindillas Tolosa from Gipuzkoa, and two varieties from Nafarroa: the Piquillo Lodosa and Cornicabra, or Goat’s Horn.
  • Perhaps the most famous Basque pepper variety is that of Espelette. This variety, granted a “protected designation of origin” in 2002, is cultivated in various places around the village of Ezpeleta, where ristras of drying Espelette peppers can be found hanging from rafters of many of the houses. A relatively mild pepper (though hot compared to other Basque varieties), it is used to make Bayonne ham, amongst other things. There is even a site dedicated to this pepper. This pepper is often dried and used to season foods.
  • The peppers my dad grew were the choricero (txorixero or, the way I heard him say it, txoritxero) or Gernika peppers. When green, they are often fried in oil and salted, served as an appetizer before the main meal. Or, allowed to ripen further until they turn red, they are used in a number of dishes in Bizkaia, including bacalao a la vizcaína. As with Espelette peppers, they can also be dried out and used as seasoning. And, of course, they are a key ingredient in chorizo!
  • Piquillo peppers are traditionally grown in the town of Lodosa in Nafarroa. The piquillo is a sweet pepper and is much meatier than the others, making it ideal for stuffing with cheese, seafood, or actual meat. They are sold roasted and peeled in tins.
  • In the roughly 600 hundred years since they were introduced, peppers have become an integral part of Basque cuisine. And, now, I live in a place — New Mexico — where chiles are also central to food. I can’t escape the peppers!

Thanks to Lisa Van De Graaff for the photo and inspiration for this post.

Buber’s Basque Story: Part 26

“Ok, Marina,” said Maite as she and Kepa walked back to their mysterious new friend, hand in hand. “What now?”

“Are you going to help me?” asked Marina warily.

“Bai, noski!” answered Kepa, the excitement clear in his voice. “Tell us what we need to do.”

“Eskerrik asko!” replied Marina, a smile dancing on her lips. “I hoped I could count on you two. And, to be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d said no.”

Buber’s Basque Story 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!

“Come back and ask again?” said Maite. “How do we know you haven’t asked us a hundred times already, if we would just forget if you were here before?”

“Yeah, like that movie, Groundhog Day!” exclaimed Kepa. “Maybe you’ve been here trying to get us to say yes, asking us in a million different ways until you got it just right and we said yes.”

“I think getting you out of that baserri and away from that television alone will be worth it,” muttered Maite.

“I guess you wouldn’t know,” answered Marina with a shrug. “All you can do is trust me.” As if to emphasize the point, she held out the two zatiak that were still floating above the palm of each hand. 

Kepa looked at Maite, the excitement beaming from his eyes, as he reached out for the zatiak in Marina’s left hand. Maite reached out to grab his hand. “Elkarrekin,” she said. “Together.”

Kepa nodded as he held Maite’s hand. “Elkarrekin.” 

Together, they reached out with their free hand and each grabbed one of the zatiak in unison. They both suddenly went rigid as light poured from the zatiak into their hands and down their arms, coursing along their blood vessels as it weaved around their bones, through their muscles, and throughout their bodies. They both glowed as the light infused each of them. They each let out a silent scream, the light bursting forth from their eyes, their ears, and their open mouths. Marina looked away, shielding her eyes, as they became literal bodies of light, brighter than the afternoon sun that hung above them. Maite watched as Kepa mouthed “Ederra. Beautiful.” The intensity of the light grew exponentially until, with a flash, it was gone. Maite and Kepa stood there, looking like they had before, but with a strange new twinkle in their eyes. Both of their faces were flush with wonder and excitement.

“That was amazing,” Kepa said in a whisper. “I think I saw where and when all of the zatiak are, but only briefly.”

“I saw it too,” said Maite, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t really believe…” she began as her voice trailed off.

Maite looked at her free hand, the one that had picked up the zatiak. It was empty. “Non?” she asked. “Where?”

“It is inside of you now, part of you,” replied Marina. “Its power is your power. And, what better way of hiding it from de Lancre, than to hide it within yourselves.”

Maite just shook her head. “It’s all so incredible…”

Marina smiled. “I know it is a lot, and I appreciate the trust you placed in me. There is still a lot to learn, but for the moment, it is time to rest. Head back down to the town. I think you both could use a bit of txikiteo. I suspect Ainhoa and your other friends will be waiting for you.” Marina winked at them.

Fighting Basques: A Love Story. The Ybarrola Family in the United States

This article originally appeared in Spanish at El Diario. You can find all of the English versions of the Fighting Basques series here.

A young Maria “Mary” Kivimägi/Kewe poses smiling in one of the few images of her that remains. (All photos are courtesy of the Ybarrola family).

“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.

From the small Baltic province of present-day Estonia, located in northern Europe, the Kivimägi/Kewe family came to Tarhan — in the western part of the Crimean Peninsula bathed by the Black Sea. They were searching in these confines of the Russian Empire for a new beginning. Maria Kivimägi was born there in 1894. Within a few months, she, her parents, and five siblings (two boys and three girls) headed to North America. For a time they lived in South Dakota, United States, where three other sisters were born. Beginning in at least 1905, the family resided in the Province of Alberta, western Canada. At 17, Maria and her family crossed the border from Coutss, Alberta to Sweet Grass in Montana. Maria would make Montana her last home.

In 1897, the SS Rotterdam arrived at the port of New York from the French town of Boulogne-Sur-Mer. On board was the young Navarrese Juan Martin Ibarrola, born in 1876 in the town of Zilbeti in the Pyrenean Valley of Erro. His destination was Montana. It was upon entrance to the US where the spelling of his surname changed to Ybarrola. After a decade of hard work, Martin, together with his nephew Prudencio Agorreta Ibarrola who arrived in the country around 1910, established a sheep ranch. At least three other nephews, including Prudencio’s brother Benito, worked on the ranch for some time.

It was at Martin’s ranch — which converted each year into a sheep-shearing center open to his neighbors — that Maria met him. The ranch was located outside of Havre, near Chester, in Hill County, in north central Montana. With an area of nearly 3,000 square miles, Hill County in 1920 had a population of about 14,000 people. Other Basque families such as the Etchart-Urquilux also made Montana their new home. In 1918, Maria and Martin got married in Havre. Maria was 24 years old and Martin 42. They had 6 children: John Donald (1917), Catherine Josephine (Sister Ann Dolores) (1919-2015), James Martin (January 26, 1921), Ann Elizabeth (1922-1962), Rosemary ( 1924-2017) and Joseph (1926). They grew up on the Havre ranch, until the sudden death of their mother in 1928 from the flu changed their lives dramatically.

Family portrait of the Ybarrola-Kivimägi family made after Maria’s death. From left to right: Ann, Catherine, Martin, Joseph (sitting on his father’s lap), John (in the background), Rosemary and James.

Despite Martin’s efforts to keep the family together, he eventually had to take the children to the Santo Tomás Orphan Home in the town of Great Falls, Montana where they received housing and education. The orphanage had been founded by the Sisters of Providence in 1908. Later, Martin decided to move into the orphanage itself to be close to his children, giving the ranch to Prudencio. He took care of the Sisters’ animals to cover the cost of keeping his children, although they only had limited contact as they were in separate dwellings. After graduating from the orphanage in 1936, Catherine, the older sister, entered the Sisters of Providence in 1937 as a novice in Seattle, Washington. She made her final vows in 1941. She was renamed Sister Ann Dolores.

Five of the six siblings pose during a military leave for soldiers John and James in Stockton during WWII. Standing from left to right: John, Joseph and James. Below: Rosemary and Ann.

Like many children of Basque-American families, three of the Ybarrola brothers also served in the US military. The oldest, Don Ybarrola, enlisted six months before the attack on Pearl Harbor, and spent four years in the military, graduating with the rank of sergeant. He passed away in San Leandro, California, in 1980, at the age of 63. Joe Ybarrola, the youngest of the family, enlisted in the Air Force in the fall of 1944, passing away at age 70 in Stockton, California.

Official photo of Platoon 3, Company A, of the 46th United States Naval Construction Battalion in which Jim (indicated by the arrow) served for two long years. (US Navy Seabee Museum).

At the age of 22, Jim Ybarrola enlisted in the Navy in Seattle in 1943. He served in the 46th Naval Construction Battalion, known as the “seabees” (a nickname inspired by pronouncing the acronym CB, Construction Battalions). These battalions were created beginning in March 1942 and served on multiple fronts throughout the theaters of operations in the Atlantic — including D-Day in Normandy — and in the Pacific, with a presence on more than 300 islands. Their job was to build all kinds of infrastructure, including airfields, docks, ammunition bunkers, supply depots, hospitals, fuel tanks, and barracks. Jim developed his military career in the South Pacific. The 46th took part in the D + 2 Day (March 1, 1944) of the assault on Los Negros Island, of the Admiralty, occupied by Japan since April 7, 1942. The allied victory meant the definitive isolation of the largest Japanese base, located in the city of Rabaul, in New Guinea, clearing one more obstacle on the unstoppable road to Japan.

Jim leaning against a B-24 Liberator bomber while on one of the Pacific islands.

According to Jim’s son, the anthropologist Steven Ybarrola, “the war was one of the things my father talked about a lot. It had a huge impact on his life. It wasn’t traumatic for him, from what I could see, but rather a time of camaraderie. He rarely spoke of the traumas of the war, unless he spoke of having contracted malaria and its recurrence throughout his life after the war. This may be due to the fact that he was not in ‘active’ combat, but rather on a construction team. ” After the war, the entire family, with the exception of Sister Ann Dolores, managed to reunite in the city of Stockton, the last military destination to which Don was sent. The father of the family, Martin, passed away at the age of 75 in this Californian town. He never returned to Zilbeti. An implicit theme in the immigration stories of Maria and Martin — and the consequent separation from their own families (in Martin’s case since he was 21 years old) — is the great importance they conferred on the family, whether it was the sacrifice Martin made to keep his children together or the tenacity to keep the family together after WWII, values that they were able to instill in their children and their children in theirs.

Portrait of James “Jim” Ybarrola. “He was with us for 98 years, but it still wasn’t enough!”

Jim passed away on November 3, 2019, in Stockton, at the age of 98. “My father had a sharp wit and a great sense of humor. He was with us for 98 years, but it still wasn’t enough!” laments his son Steven. With his departure, and that of many of his comrades in arms, an important part of the living memory of the United States and the Basque Country is lost. They put aside their families, their jobs and studies. Ultimately, they postponed their lives for an eventual allied victory that would make it possible for them to soon return to their homes and to their loved ones. An estimated 250,000 WWII veterans are still alive today. May this article, on the 75th Anniversary of the Victory in Europe, serve as a small tribute from the Sancho de Beurko Association and the research project “Fighting Basques: Basque Memory of WWII” to the hundreds of Basques and Americans of Basque origin who sacrificed their lives, and in some cases to the ultimate consequence, in favor of freedom.

Basque Fact of the Week: The Lauburu

It’s perhaps the most iconic Basque symbol. The lauburu — literally four-heads. This curvilinear swastika is ubiquitous in the Basque Country, appearing on store fronts, tombstones, the doorways to baserri, and, now, masks protecting us from COVID-19. If someone wants a Basque-themed tattoo, they often turn to the lauburu for inspiration. But, where does this symbol come from? What are its origins?

In his painting Joaquina Téllez-Girón, Marchioness of Santa CruzFrancisco de Goya decorated the lyre with a lauburu. Image from Wikipedia.
  • The swastika is, of course, an ancient symbol. While thought to have its origins in India (as does the word swastika itself), it can be found in pre-Columbian America. It is also found in China and Japan. However, the oldest symbols come from further west, dated to the Bronze and Iron Ages. These oldest found so far dates to 10,000 BCE from the Ukraine.
  • The ubiquitous appearance of swastika-like symbols around the world led the astronomer Carl Sagan to speculate that there could have been a comet that either broke up or whose tail split into four and curved around it due to its rotation. To him, only a celestial event like, visible across the globe, this would have inspired such a symbol to appear in cultures all around the world.
  • The word swastika comes from Sanskrit, meaning “sign of good luck” or “object of good omen.” The swastika has its arms rotating to the right. If the arms rotate the other way, the symbol is technically called a sauvastika and is a sign of bad luck.
  • The rectilinear swastika is not unknown in the Basque Country and was relatively wide spread on both sides of the Pyrenees in Roman and pre-Roman times, found on altars for example. However, the use of the swastika, curved or rectilinear, stopped for something like fifteen centuries. This gap makes any relationship between the lauburu and the rectilinear swastika unclear at best. While it is natural to assume such a relationship, there are enough examples of ‘commas’ being put together in various designs that maybe the lauburu was designed independently. A strong argument for this view is that, while the swastika is almost always an isolated symbol, the lauburu is often encircled. This points to an independent origin.
  • The oldest example of a lauburu comes from either the late 16th or early 17th century, from the town of Macaya, Nafarroa Beherea. While it is relatively common in the 17th century, it really starts to become popular in the 18th. Most of these earlier uses of the lauburu are from Nafarroa, Nafarroa Beherea, and Lapurdi — none are found in either Bizkaia or Araba.
  • While no one really knows where the lauburu comes from, there has been a lot of speculation about its meaning. Sabino Arana thought it was a sun symbol and that it proved that the Basques had been sun worshippers. Some think it represents the four ancient elements of fire, earth, air, and water. Louis Colas argued it was related to the healing profession as it appeared on certain tombs that he suspects belonged to priests or healers of flocks, derived from a magical symbol representing healing. Yet others see a connection to four Basque tribes. Maybe it was simply a decorative symbol. Its true origins are lost to time.

Primary sources: Auñamendi Entziklopedia. Lauburu. Available at: http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/es/lauburu/ar-87432/; Wikipedia: Swastika; Wikipedia: Lauburu; El lauburu. Política, cultura e identidad nacional en torno a un símbolo del País Vasco, Santiago de Pablo.

The Basque Country by the Numbers

Percent of GDP invested in research and development. All of Iparralde is lumped together. Source: http://atlasa.net/en/economy/provinces