![\"\"](\"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/05\/maite-and-kepa-v3b.png\")
Kepa looked up, his eyes taking a moment to focus before he saw a bent over old man looking down at them. The man\u2019s wrinkled face was framed by whispy white hair, at least on the sides. He was completely bald. His large nose, pocked with scars, betrayed his Basque blood. He glared down at them sternly, but Kepa thought he saw a glint of compassion twinkle in the old man\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat is the meaning of this?\u201d asked the old man as Kepa sat up, rubbing his eyes. The movement stirred Maite who also looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBarkatu,\u201d began Kepa. \u201cWe were escaping the cold and the gun fire. We had no where to go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo you thought to desicrate my holy garments to make a bed for yourselves?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Kepa wondered if he had mistaken that hint of compassion for true anger. He hadn\u2019t thought about what the garments might mean for the priest. It had been a long time since he had entertained any religious thoughts himself. He bowed his head, whispering the word this time. \u201cBarkatu.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man extended a hand all gnarled and twisted from years of manual labor. His knuckles were almost the size of walnuts and his fingers bent at angles that were not quite normal. Kepa took the old man\u2019s hand, and was surprised by the strength he felt as the man pulled him up, perhaps a bit gruffly. He was much more gentle with Maite, though no less insistent that she immediately rise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man looked back at the door. \u201cAnd my window?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Again, Kepa hung his head in shame. \u201cWe needed shelter. Barkatu,\u201d was all he could muster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man sighed. \u201cI imagine you are hungry. Follow me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man led them out of the sacristy and toward a small room that abutted the church, seemingly an afterthought to the magestic edifice that was the church itself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have much, especially since the French have been here, but what is mine is yours,\u201d said the old man as he waved them to sit at his small table. He pulled some bags from a cupboard and poured something into the pot that was already on his small stove. Moments later, he placed two steaming bowls on the table. Kepa didn\u2019t recognize what it was – some kind of boiled grains – but he eagerly took a bite. It was more bitter than he expected, but he wasn\u2019t about to complain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man sat down opposite them and watched them for a moment before speaking. \u201cWhat are your names?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Kepa looked over at Maite, who shrugged. She didn\u2019t see any reason not to be honest with the old man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Returning his gaze to the old man, Kepa said \u201cI\u2019m Kepa, and this is Maite.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man smiled. \u201cMaite. I always loved that name. That\u2019s what we called my sister when we were young children.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd you are\u2026?\u201d began Maite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJose Angel is my given name, but I am known by Josean.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEskerrik asko,\u201d said Kepa, nodding toward the food in front of him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEz, ez,\u201d replied Josean. \u201cThese are desparate times, breeding desparate people. I do what little I can to help.\u201d He paused a moment. \u201cI just wish you had found something else besides my blessed garments for your bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This time, it was Maite who answered. \u201cBarkatu, Aita Josean.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old man smiled. \u201cLet\u2019s forget about that. It looks like you had a rough night, judging by your clothes. Let\u2019s see what we can do about that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n