Basque Immigrant Oral History Interviews (Nevada): Bilingual Summaries (Original Language–English)

  

 

Introduction

Between 2020 and 2025, we conducted an extensive oral history project documenting the experiences of Basque immigrants who emigrated to the United States during the second half of the twentieth century. The project focused primarily on men and women from Bizkaia and Navarre, including both those who settled permanently in the United States and those who eventually returned to the Basque Country.

The interviews with emigrants from Bizkaia were carried out by Zuriñe Goitia and Asier Barandiaran Amarika, while those with emigrants from Navarre were conducted by Asier Barandiaran Amarika together with members of Laia Ikerketa Taldea—Mikel Aranburu, Jaione Inda, and Amaia Iraizoz.

Our aim was to preserve personal life stories while documenting a broad range of topics related to Basque migration: the emigrants' motivations for leaving, their adaptation to American society, shepherding and other occupations, family life, language use, Basque identity, religious practices, community organizations, return migration, and the cultural, social, and economic impact that migration had on both the United States and the Basque Country.

To date, the project has produced more than 120 interviews. For the purposes of the article published in the Nevada Historical Society Quarterly, we selected only those interviews with emigrants whose lives were directly connected to Nevada, including communities such as Reno, Elko, Gardnerville, and other locations throughout the state.

The interviews were conducted using a questionnaire adapted from the ethnographic methodology developed by the renowned Basque anthropologist José Miguel de Barandiaran. While preserving the principles of his approach, the questionnaire was redesigned specifically to explore the migration experience and its historical, cultural, linguistic, and social dimensions.

The texts presented here are not verbatim transcripts. Instead, they are editorial summaries based on complete interviews. Each summary seeks to preserve the essential content of the testimony while, whenever possible, also reflecting the interviewee's narrative voice, oral style, and, in the case of Basque-language interviews, characteristic linguistic features.

Each interview is presented in its original language—Basque or Spanish—followed by an English translation. This bilingual format allows readers unfamiliar with either Basque or Spanish to access these valuable testimonies while also preserving the linguistic authenticity of the original interviews.

This online repository has been prepared as supplementary material to accompany the article published in the Nevada Historical Society Quarterly. Although only selected excerpts and quotations appear in the published study, the bilingual summaries collected here provide broader context for the research and make these oral history sources available to scholars, descendants of Basque immigrants, and anyone interested in the history of the Basque diaspora in the American West.

We hope this repository will contribute not only to the study of Basque migration to Nevada, but also to the preservation of the memories, voices, and experiences of a generation of Basque immigrants whose stories form an essential part of the history of both the American West and the Basque Country.

Bizkaitarrak - From Bizkaia

Ramón Zugazaga Agirrealespeiti

Josu Aldecoaotalora eta Pilar Muniosguren

Iñaki AsuetaJoxe Churruca[1] Laca

Esti Amorrortu Gómez

Ana Mari (Ozamiz) Arbillaga

Maria Jesús (Yturriaga) Narbaiza

Seberiana Erleaga Abaitua

Jose Mari Beristain Bengoetxea 

 

Nafarrak

Jesus Goñi Tellechea, (Oronoz, Baztan, 1947an sortua)

Alfonso Ygoa Michelena (Lesaka, 1941)

Seberiano Lazcano Ustariz (Gaztelu, Nafarroa, 1942)

Isidro Etxeto (Eugi, Esteribar)

Pedro Coscarart Iparrea (Azpilkueta, Baztan)

Jesús Rey Belza (Bizkarreta / Viscarret-Guerendiáin)

Nicolás Huarte Elía (Ardaitz /Ardaiz)

 

 

 

 

 

Ramón Zugazaga Agirrealespeiti

 

Ramón Zugazaga (Gernika, Bizkaia) Ramón Zugazaga 1946an jaio zen Gernikan. Bere aita, Pedro Zugazaga, Ameriketan ibili zen artzain emaztea ezagutu baino lehen. Ramón hamaika neba arreba izan ziren, eta etxean aitagandik beti entzuten zituzten Ameriketako kontuak, aitak oso oroitzapen onak baitzituen. Hamazortzi urte bete zituenean, 1965ean hain zuzen, Ameriketara joatea erabaki zuen Ramonek, aitak egindakoa berak egitera. Anaia zaharra ere bertara joanda zuen eta, horrez gain, Espainiako egoera politikoak eta etxean horrenbeste pertsona bizitzeak ere erabaki hori hartzera bultzatu zituen. Elkora abiatu zen, aita eta anaia ibili ziren ardi konpainia berdinean lan egitera: Goikoetxeatarren Hollan konpainian. Hasiera batean hiru urteko kontratua zeukan baina, azkenean, bost urtera luzatu zioten. Ondoren, lanbidez aldatzea erabaki zuen. Ramonek sukalderako zaletasun handia zuen, bere amagandik jasoa. Horrela, Star Hotelean sukaldari moduan ibili zen hamar urtez, eta gero, bere taberna propioa zabaltzea erabaki zuen. Ramonek berak fundatu zuen , baina gero emaztearekin batera eraman zuen negozioa. Bera sukaldean ibiltzen zen eta emazteak bulegoko kontuak eramaten zituen. Tabernak “Biltoki” zuen izena. Elkon eta inguruan Euskal janaria eskaintzen zuten jatetxe bakarra zela dio.  Taberna saldu egin behar izan du jubilatu ahal izateko, eta orain Ameriketako, bertako batzuek daramate eta ez dute Euskal jatekorik eskaintzen. Elkoko Euskal Etxea 1978an fundatu zuten, eta Ramon horren parte izan zen. Bertan batu izan dira ordutik, orain bostgarren belaunaldiko euskaldunak be handik dabiltzala dio. Bertan jaiak, jatorduak, mus lehiaketak, euskal dantzak eta aizkolariak izaten dituzte. Berarentzat bertako lagunak bere familia dira, betikoak. Inoiz ez du Euskal Herrira bueltatzea pentsatu, bertan ezkondu eta familia izatean bertakotu egin dela dio, hala ere lau urterik behin Euskal Herrira bidaiatzen dute bisitatxoa egitera.

Ramón Zugazaga (Gernika, Bizkaia) The following account is based on Ramón Zugazaga’s life story as a Basque immigrant in Elko, Nevada. Ramón Zugazaga was born in 1946 in Gernika, Bizkaia. His father, Pedro Zugazaga, had worked as a sheepherder in the United States before meeting his future wife. Ramón was one of eleven siblings, and throughout his childhood he frequently listened to his father's stories about America. His father always remembered those years with great affection, and those memories left a lasting impression on Ramón. When he turned eighteen, in 1965, Ramón decided to follow in his father's footsteps and emigrate to the United States. His older brother was already living there, and the political situation in Spain, together with the economic pressures of supporting such a large family, also influenced his decision. He traveled to Elko, Nevada, where he joined the same sheep company that had employed both his father and his brother: the Hollan Sheep Company, owned by the Goikoetxea family. Initially, he signed a three-year contract, but it was eventually extended to five years. After completing his years as a sheepherder, Ramón decided to pursue a different career. He had always enjoyed cooking, a passion inherited from his mother. He worked as a cook at the Star Hotel for approximately ten years before deciding to open his own business. He founded a restaurant and bar that he later operated together with his wife. Ramón was responsible for the kitchen, while his wife managed the administrative and financial aspects of the business. The establishment was called Biltoki. According to Ramón, it was the only restaurant in Elko and the surrounding area serving traditional Basque cuisine. In order to retire, however, he eventually had to sell the business. Today it is operated by new owners, who no longer serve Basque food. Ramón was also one of the founders of the Elko Basque Club, established in 1978. Since then, the club has served as an important meeting place for Basques and their descendants. He notes with satisfaction that members of the fifth generation of Basque Americans now participate actively in the club's activities. The organization hosts festivals, communal meals, mus tournaments, Basque dancing, and demonstrations of traditional wood-chopping (aizkolaritza). For Ramón, the friends he has made through the Basque community have become his extended family. He has never seriously considered returning permanently to the Basque Country. After marrying and raising a family in the United States, he feels that America has become his home. Nevertheless, he and his family travel back to the Basque Country approximately every four years to visit relatives and maintain their connection with their place of origin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Josu Aldecoaotalora eta Pilar Muniosguren

 

Josu Aldecoaotalora and Pilar Muniosguren

Josu Aldecoaotalora and Pilar Muniosguren

Elkarrizketa nagusiki gaztelaniaz izan da Pilar-ek ez dakielako euskaraz.   Josu Iurretan jaio zen, 1947ko maiatzaren 8an, Bargunia baserrian. Zortzi neba-arreba izan ziren, baina 7 daude bizirik. Bat oso txikitan hil zen. Herriko eskola publikora joaten zen. Txikitan herrian txapekin (iturriekin) ibiltzen zen plazan, edo “Baturros” jokoan (poxpolo kutxak erabilita). Arkupeetan esku-pilotan ibiltzen ziren, etxean pilotak eginda. Futbolean ere bai, euria egiten zuenean pilotak “ehun kilotik gora” pisatzen zuen. Etxean euskaraz bai, baina etxetik kanpo, batez ere eskolan gaztelaniaz soilik. Herriko abadearekin konfesatzen zen euskaraz, lagunekin ere bai, baina hortik kanpora dena erdaraz. Gero Durangora, “hermanos maristas-era” joan zen. 1960an Sevillara joateko beka eman zioten: universidad Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera. Urtebete eman zuen han. Gero etxera itzuli, beharrean egon zen baserrian, eta gero Durangoko frontoian hasi zen. Durangora “Txino Bengoa”, “Orbea”… Markinatik etortzen ziren, kotxe “amerikanuekin” eta pixka bat liluratuta ibiltzen ziren: “oh, beitu zelako kotxeak, eskuak atzean gero! ukuturik be ez!”. Gaur egun seme-alabei esaten die baserrietan normalean “four wheel drive car”, 4x4 autoak izan dituztela, negurako, elurrerako eta mendirako, bestelakorik ez: ez bizikletarik ez motorrik. Amarekin zapatuetan plazara “astuaz”: “gure modukuek auzokuek, jente asko, danak! Esne apur bat eruen, berdurak, porruak…”.           Gero handik Mallorkara soldaduska “boluntario” egitera, pilotari askok egin izan zuten moduan. Soldaduskatik lizentziatu eta Manilara joan zen 20 urterekin (1967). Filipinasetik Indonesiara (artean herrialde musulmana) joan zen eta bi urte eman zuten han.   Pilar Muniosguren Manilan jaio zen 1952ko uztailaren 2an. Ama Pilar Boquer deitzen zen, aita katalana eta ama madrildarra. Aitak euskaraz kontatzen irakatsi zion, askoz gehiagorik ez. Urtero San Inazio eguna ospatzen zuten Manilan eta aita, pelotaria izateaz gain, dnatzaria zen. Aitak ikurriña etxean zuen eta berarentzat zein garrantzitsua zen irakasten zien. “Por lo menos vosotros no habéis nacido en un país dictador, yo no he podido en mi país “volar” mi bandera ni hablar mi lengua, y aquí (Manilan) sí lo puedo hacer”. Aitak aitona-amonen berri ematen zien, argazkiak erakutsiz eta abar, nahiz eta Euskadira orduk hilak ziren. Inguruan hara joandako pelotariak bizi ziren. Apezak, fraileak eta moja euskaldunak ere baziren. Tabakalera enpresak ekarrita eta azukrearen industriak erakarrita euskaldun asko zeuden han bizi zenean. “Casino español” delakoan beste euskaldunekin batzen ziren. Han, adibidez, Gabonetan errege magoen festa ospatzen zuten.             Soldaduska 1967an bukatu zuen. Urte bereko azaroan Filipinetara joateko aukera eman zioten eta baietz esan zuen. Urtean 1500 dolar irabaziko zituela esan zioten: “hubiese comprado medio Durango”. Han Sabino Azkarate eta bere emazte Izaskunekin bizi izan zen.   Filipinetan 6 urtez jokatu zuen, bere emaztea izango zena batxiler egiten zegoela ezagutu zuen, 15 urte edo zituela. Beraren aitarekin askotan jokatu zuen, Filipinetan. “Aberatsa” bezala bizi izan zen Filipinetan.   Pilarren osaba, Eugenio Muniosguren Cubatik Filipinetara joan zen bertako frontoia inauguratzera, 1940 aldean. 1949an Pilarren aita joan zen Filipinetara (anaiak “ekarrita”). Pilarren aita, Gerra Zibilean, 9 urterekin Soraluzetik Bilbora eta handik Southampomera joan zen (“Gerrako haurra”? “Niño de la guerra”?) eta han 3 urtez bizi izan zen.     Gurasoak (Josurenak) Ameriketara Josuk ekarri zituen. Sasoi hartan Las Vegasen bizi ziren eta emazteari esan zion gurasoak ekarri nahi zituela. Hegazkina Sondikan hartu zuten, eta tinko-tinko emazteari (Josuren amari) esan zion: “Ama, aurrera begitu!”. Sondikatik Madrilera egin zuten. Madrilen 7x4x7 hegazkin handia hartu zuten, Ameriketara joateko. Aitari esan zion: “Aite, hauxe abioia hartubiu Ameriketara jueteko”. Aitak erantzun: “Etxera jueteko gogue daket!”. Sekula horren hegazkin handirik ikusi barik zegoen eta ez zuen uste horrek gora igotzeko gaitasuna zuenik. Momentu hartan aitari esan izan baliote norbait dagoela etxera, baserrira eroateko, agur, hortxe gauza guztiak utzi eta baserrira joango zen. Las Vegasera etorri eta eurena zen etxean neguan berogailu “zentrala” zuten, etxe osoan tenperatura berberarekin. “Aite, kalifaziño zentrala dau, etxe guztixen iguala” esan zion Josuk. Aitak ezin zuen sinetsi. Aitak Levis batzuk, panazkoak erosi zituen. Horiek jantzi eta ez zituen kendu hamabost egunetan. Siloian jezarri, hankan mahaiaren gainean ipini eta hortxe egoten zen. Erosketak egiteko esaten ziotenean, “zu juen!”, ez zuen nahi.                Ezkontzara itzulita, Manilan egin zen, goizeko zortzi eta erdietan. Eliza kanposantu baten barruan zegoen (Filipinetako heroi nazionala lurperatua zegoen lekuan, Francisco Rizal). Hasiera batean beste eliza handiago batean ezkontzera zihoazen, baina prentsa konturatu zen, jakin zuen non izango zen eta ezetz, Pilarren aitak esan zuen ez zuela nahi bere alabaren ezkontza “zirko” bat izatea eta eliza “xumeago” horretan ezkondu ziren. Hala eta guztiz ere argazkilari eta kazetari batzuk izan ziren.     Michael Jordan bezalako fama zeukan Josuk Filipinetan, jai-alai zela-eta. 1975eko abenduan Las Vegasera joan ziren. Lehenengo aldia zen AEBetan zeudena. Behetik hasi behar izan zuten. Aireportuan bertan “tragaperra-makinak” zeuden eta horrek harritu zituen. Pilar hizkuntzekin (tartean ingelesarekin) ondo konpontzen zen. Pilarrek interpretazio lanak egiten zizkien pelotariei, ingelesez zekielako eta frantsesez (Iparraldekoei) ere bazekielako. Josurentzat aldaketa handia izan zen.   Emaztea haurdun zegoen gero Arkaitz deituko zenaz. Josuri eta Pilarri esaten zieten Patrick deitu behar zela (Saint Patrick egunean jaio baitzen), baina Josuk, “ezta pentsau bez”,  Arkaitz deituko da. Sasoi hartan Euskal Herrian ere ez zegoen erraz euskal izenak umeei jartzea.     Euskaraz Euskal Herriko ilobekin bizkaieraz (edo etxeko euskaraz) hitz egiten du, baina Josu kontzientea da haiek hango “eskola” dutela, euskara batua erabiltzen dutela, eta batua ez duela bat ere ulertzen esaten du. Anaia batek Arantzazuko “kalendarixua” bidaltzen dio, euskaraz. Arantzazuko orriak irakurtzea kostatzen zaio, hiru-lau biderrez irakurtzen du eta harrapatzen hasten da. Interesatzen zaiona gordetzen du. Josuri dena handi iruditzen zitzaion hasieran: kotxe handiak, etxeak ortuarekin, kasino eta hotel handiak, dena “diru-kontua”, jokua… Orain ingelesa ondo egiten duela esaten diote, baina ez ingelesarekin ez euskararekin (euskaraz irakurtzea asko kostatzen zaiolako) ez da zeharo trebe sentitzen. Semeetako batek euskal ikasketen irakasgai batzuk egin zituen. Josuk dio Egunkaria-ko kazetari batek egin ziola elkarrizketa bat. Urte batean Karmelo Etxenagusia gotzaina (Iurretakoa bera) izan zuten etxean. Las Vegasera doazen bakoitzean, Pilarren lehengusua bisitatzeko (Elizburu Muñazguren), Josuk dio ez duela ezagutzen, kotxean galduta bezala ibiltzen da. Eurak ailegatzean eraikuntzarik handiena MGM hotela zen, 2000 logelekin. Orain MGM hotel berriak 5000tik gorako gela baditu. “Lagun onak” delako euskal zentroa sortu zuten. Pilar idazkaria zen, eta presidentea Jose Mari Beristain (Josuk Ondarroakoa dela dio). San Inazio egunean euskal festa antolatzen zuten. 80 hamarkadaren hasieran hasi zen. Argazkiak ba omen dituzte. Txorizoak saltzen ziren, dantzariak Elkotik, Kaliforniatik eta etortzen ziren. Gero txikiak ere hasi ziren dantza-taldeekin. Jose Mari Beristainen alaba (Amaia) euskal dantzak ikasten hasi zen. Janariak leku handia du: patata-tortilak, txorizoak, eta ardaua. Errioxakoa baloratzen dute. Euskal meza izaten zuten: Kaliforniatik fraile euskaldun bat etortzen zen. Festa irekiak izaten ziren (amerikarrek ere parte hartzen zuten), komeni zitzaielako jendeak kontsumitzea gero euskal klubaren gastuei aurre egiteko. Amerikarrek festa hori ikustean (musika, txistua, janariak, dantzak…) gustatuta geratzen ziren. Amerikarrei txorizoak gustatzen zitzaizkien eta ea “hot dogs” ote ziren galdetzen zuten. Ketchup ere eskatzen zuten eta euskaldunek ezetz, txorizoak dena daukala barruan, ez zaiola ezer gehitu behar esaten zieten. Frontoia 1983an itxi zen Las Vegasen, baina 1984ra arte egon ziren han bizitzen. Ordurako Renoko frontoia itxita zegoen (1981era arte). Pilarren aita Renora joan zen 1977an, intendente lanak egiera. Josuk pilota 1984an utzi zuen, ez zuen Floridara joan nahi: 36 urte zituen sasoi hartan. Zesta hormako untzean zintzilikatu eta “a otra cosa”. “Empezar de nuevo”, berriro hasi egin behar izan zuen. Kondadoan hasi zen lanean. Elkarrizketa egin zioten hasieran, hiru pertsoneko tribunal baten aurrean. Bere ingelesa orduan eskasarekin hasi zen elkarrizketa. Tribunalekoei esan ei zien: “polizia batek gelditzen banau eta eskatzen badit paperean zerbait betetzeko, ez dut jakingo. Baina nire eskuetan ipintzen baduzu erreminta bat maneiatzeko orduan nik lan egingo dut”. Orduan, baietz, “noiz hasi nahi duzu lanean?” eta elkarrizketa egin zenetik bi egunetara hasi zen lanean. Garajeak batu, autobus geltokiak garbitu, zaztarrak bildu, lorategiak zaindu-txukundu… gauza asko egiten zituzten. Baloratu egiten du uniforme osoa ematen zietela eta azkeneko urteetan ondo-eroso ibili zela aitortzen du. Jose Francisco Churruca (Berriatuakoa) izeneko batek eraikuntzan egiten zuen lan eta lanpostu berean “aplikatu” zuen. Nahiz eta onartua izan, ezetz esan zuen eraikuntzan gehiago irabazten zuelako. Baina Kondadokoek galdetu zioten “Jesus-Miguel Aldecoaotaloraz” eta J. Fco horrek erantzun ei zien: “hari lana emanez gero, harek lan egingo du, ziur”. Etxera ailegatu zitzaion abisua onartua izan zela esanez eta mesedez joateko lantokira. Gaixotasunagatik sekula ez du hutsik egin lantokian, eta harrotasunez eta “ixilik”: ez zeukan aitzakiarik kexatzeko. Berak izandako nagusiak (amerikarrak denak) denak onak izan omen dira. Elkar errespetatzen jakin izan dute azkeneko urteetan, “hasta la muerte, eh?”. Seme alabei esaten die: “se bueno y trabajador y no saques la mierda de nadie. Tu haz lo tuyo, y te apreciarán”. Ingelesa gehien Renon ikasi du, lantokian, lankideak amerikarrak direlako. Etxean “erderaz” ibiltzen da, emaztearekin, seme-alabekin, eta abar. Anaia nagusiak filipineraz ere badaki. Seme alabek lotura kulturala daukate Euskal Herriarekin. Ikurriña bezalako sinbolo batzuk badituzte etxean. Euren lagunetako asko euskal jatorrikoak dira.

The interview was conducted mainly in Spanish because Pilar does not know Basque.   Josu was born in Iurreta on 8 May 1947, at the Bargunia farmhouse. There were eight siblings, but seven are still alive; one died very young. He attended the local public school. As a child, he used to play with taps/fountain fixtures in the village square, or play “Baturros” (using matchboxes). They also played handball in the arcades, making their own balls at home. They played football too, though when it rained the ball would weigh “more than a hundred kilos.” At home they spoke Basque, but outside the home, especially at school, only Spanish. He confessed in Basque to the local priest, and spoke Basque with friends too, but beyond that everything was in Spanish. Later he went to the Marist brothers’ school in Durango. In 1960 he was awarded a scholarship to go to Seville, to the Universidad José Antonio Primo de Rivera. He spent a year there. Then he returned home, worked on the farm, and later began playing at the fronton in Durango. In Durango, people such as “Txino Bengoa” and “Orbea” came from Markina in American cars, and they were somewhat dazzled: “oh, look at those cars, with the hands behind them! not even a steering wheel!” Today he tells his children that farms normally had “four-wheel-drive cars,” 4x4s, for winter, snow, and the mountains; nothing else: not bicycles, not motorbikes. On Saturdays, he would go to the square with his mother, “astuaz” [by donkey]: “people like us, neighbours, lots of people, everyone! A little milk, vegetables, leeks…” Then, from there, he went to Mallorca to do his voluntary military service, as many pelotaris had done. After being discharged from military service, he went to Manila at the age of twenty (1967). From the Philippines he went to Indonesia, then still a Muslim country, and they spent two years there. Pilar Muniosguren was born in Manila on 2 July 1952. Her mother was called Pilar Boquer; her father was Catalan and her mother from Madrid. Her father taught her to count in Basque, and not much more. Every year they celebrated St. Ignatius Day in Manila, and her father, besides being a pelotari, was also a dancer. Her father had the ikurriña at home and taught them how important it was to him. “At least you have not been born in a dictatorship; I have not been able in my country to fly my flag or speak my language, and here (in Manila) I can do that.” Her father told them about her grandparents, showing photographs and so on, even though by then they had already died in the Basque Country. Around them there were pelotaris who had gone there to live. There were also Basque priests, friars, and nuns. Many Basques were living there when she was there, brought by the Tabakalera company and attracted by the sugar industry. They met with other Basques at the so-called “Casino Español.” There, for example, they celebrated the Feast of the Three Kings at Christmas. He finished military service in 1967. That same November they gave him the opportunity to go to the Philippines, and he said yes. They told him he would earn 1,500 dollars a year: “I would have bought half of Durango.” There he lived with Sabino Azkarate and his wife Izaskun. In the Philippines he played for six years; he met the woman who would become his wife when she was still in high school, when she was about fifteen. He often played with her father in the Philippines. He lived “like a rich man” in the Philippines. Pilar’s uncle, Eugenio Muniosguren, went from Cuba to the Philippines to inaugurate the local fronton, around 1940. In 1949 Pilar’s father went to the Philippines, brought there by his brothers. During the Civil War, Pilar’s father, at the age of nine, went from Soraluze to Bilbao and from there to Southampton (“war child”? “niño de la guerra”?) and lived there for three years. Josu brought his parents to America. At that time they were living in Las Vegas, and he told his wife that he wanted to bring his parents over. They took the plane in Sondika, and he firmly told Josu’s mother: “Ama, aurrera begitu!” [Mother, look ahead!]. They flew from Sondika to Madrid. In Madrid they boarded a large 7x4x7 aircraft to go to America. He told his father: “Aite, hauxe abioia hartubiu Ameriketara jueteko” [Father, we have to take this plane to go to America]. His father replied: “Etxera jueteko gogue daket!” [I feel like going home!]. He had never seen such a large plane and did not believe it could actually get off the ground. At that moment, if someone had told his father that there was somebody waiting to take him home, back to the farmhouse, he would have left everything there and gone back to the farm. When they arrived in Las Vegas, the house that was theirs had central heating in winter, with the same temperature throughout the whole house. “Aite, kalifaziño zentrala dau, etxe guztixen iguala” [Father, there is central heating, the same all through the house], Josu told him. His father could not believe it. He bought some Levi’s trousers, made of corduroy. He wore them and did not take them off for fifteen days. He would sit in the silo, put his leg up on the table, and stay there. When they told him to do the shopping, “you go!” he did not want to. Returning to the wedding, it took place in Manila at half past eight in the morning. The church was inside a cemetery, in the place where the Filipino national hero Francisco Rizal was buried. At first they were going to get married in another, larger church, but the press found out and discovered where it would be held. Pilar’s father said he did not want his daughter’s wedding to become a circus, so they got married in that more modest church. Even so, there were some photographers and journalists present.   Josu had the kind of fame in the Philippines that Michael Jordan would have, because of jai alai. They went to Las Vegas in December 1975. It was the first time they had been in the United States. They had to start from the bottom. There were slot machines right there at the airport, and that surprised them. Pilar managed languages very well, including English. She interpreted for the pelotaris because she knew English and also French, for the people from Iparralde. For Josu, it was a major change. His wife was then expecting the child who would later be named Arkaitz. People told Josu and Pilar that he should be called Patrick, because he was born on St. Patrick’s Day, but Josu said, “Not a chance — he will be called Arkaitz.” At that time it was not easy in the Basque Country either to give children Basque names. He speaks to his nephews and nieces in the Basque Country in Bizkaian, or in the home variety of Basque, but Josu is aware that they have their own “school” there, that they use Batua (standard version), and he says he does not understand standard Basque at all. One brother sends him the Arantzazu calendar in Basque. He finds it hard to read the Arantzazu pages; he has to read them three or four times before he starts to understand them. He keeps whatever interests him. At first, everything seemed huge to Josu: big cars, houses with gardens, huge casinos and hotels, everything about money, gambling… People now tell him that he speaks English well, but he does not feel completely at ease with either English or Basque, because reading Basque is very difficult for him. One of his sons took some Basque studies courses. Josu says that a journalist from Egunkaria once interviewed him. One year Bishop Karmelo Etxenagusia, who was from Iurreta, stayed in their house. Every time they went to Las Vegas, to visit Pilar’s cousin Elizburu Muñizguren, Josu says he did not know his way around and felt lost in the car. When they arrived, the biggest building was the MGM hotel, with 2,000 rooms. Today the new MGM hotel has more than 5,000 rooms. They founded the Basque center called Lagun Onak. Pilar was the secretary, and the president was Jose Mari Beristain, whom Josu says was from Ondarroa. They organized the Basque festival on St. Ignatius Day. It began in the early 1980s. They apparently have photographs. They sold chorizos, and dancers came from Elko and California, among other places. Later children also began to participate with dance groups. Jose Mari Beristain’s daughter, Amaia, began learning Basque dancing. Food plays a major role: potato omelettes, chorizos, and wine. Rioja wine is especially valued. They had a Basque mass: a Basque friar came from California. These were open festivals, with Americans taking part too, because it was convenient for them that people consume and thus help cover the Basque club’s expenses. When Americans saw that festival —music, txistu, food, dances, and so on— they enjoyed it. Americans liked the chorizos and asked whether they were hot dogs. They also asked for ketchup, and the Basques told them no, that chorizo already has everything it needs and nothing should be added to it. The fronton in Las Vegas closed in 1983, but they continued living there until 1984. By then the Reno fronton had already closed too, in 1981. Pilar’s father went to Reno in 1977 to work as an administrator. Josu left pelota in 1984; he did not want to go to Florida. He was 36 at the time. He hung up his cesta and moved on to something else. He had to start over from scratch. He began working for the County. They interviewed him first, before a three-person panel. His English was still poor at that point. He told the panel: “If a police officer stops me and asks me to fill something out on paper, I will not know how. But if you put a tool in my hands, I will work.” Then they said yes: “When do you want to start?” and he began work two days after the interview. They did all kinds of jobs: fixing garages, cleaning bus stations, picking up litter, looking after and tidying gardens… He values the fact that they gave him a full uniform, and he admits that in his later years he worked in comfortable conditions. A man named Jose Francisco Churruca, from Berriatua, worked in construction and applied for the same position. Although he was accepted, he turned it down because he earned more in construction. But the County people asked about “Jesus-Miguel Aldecoaotalora,” and J. Francisco is said to have replied: “If you give him a job, he will work, for sure.” A notice reached him at home saying he had been accepted and asking him to go to the workplace. He has never missed work because of illness, and he says this with pride and quietly: he had no excuse to complain. The bosses he had, all of them Americans, were good, according to him. They have known how to respect one another in recent years, “until death, eh?” He tells his children: “Be good and hardworking and do not talk badly about anybody. Do your own thing, and people will appreciate you.” He learned most of his English in Reno, at work, because his coworkers were American. At home he speaks in Spanish with his wife, his children, and so on. His eldest brother also knows Filipino. His children maintain a cultural connection with the Basque Country. They have symbols such as the ikurriña at home. Many of their friends are of Basque descent.

 

 

 

Iñaki Asueta (2021-09-07)

 

 

Jaioteguna: 1955eko apirilaren 17a izan zen eta jaiolekua, Durango. Aitaren izeko baten etxean jaio ei zen, Maristen ondoan. Bost anaia eta arreba bat izan ziren. Iñaki hirugarrena zen eta arreba bakarra laugarrena izan zen. Gurasoak Durangotik hurbilekoak ziren. Aita “Salaberri” auzoan jaio zen (Iñaki Azkuna Bilboko alkatea jaiotako auzoan, aita defuntua eta Iñaki lagunak ziren). Ama, Durango eta Orozketa bitarteko auzo batean jaioa, Santa Apolonia auzoan, Amuru atzekoa dauka izena baserriak. Durangotik Orozketara joaten zen eskolara, 12 urte bete arte. Eskolan gehienetan futbolean aritzen zen. Bere izeko pelotari batekin ezkondu zen eta Floridan bizi eta gero, familia (Iñaki Txikia zela) bisitatzera etorri zen. Matadero zaharraren ondoan bizi zen.           Osabak Durangoko pelota-eskolako maisuarekin berba egin zuen eta orduan 12 urterekin sartu zen pelota-eskola hartan.     18 urterekin Bartzelonan debutatu zuen. Han urtebete egin zuen. Han jokatzen zegoela, Floridara joateko kontratua eskaini zioten. 19 urte eginda Floridara joan zen. “Hori zen gure gauzie”, holgetan ibiltzen ziren jokalarien “ilusinoa” edo ametsa hori zen, besteak beste, ondo irabazten zelako.   Anaia-arreben artean bera da bakarra AEBetara joan dena eta bertan bizi dena. Hiru denboraldirako kontratua eman zioten. Baina jokatzen zen 5-6 hilabete, baina Floridan zegoela enpresak berak beste frontoi bat egin zuen Newport-en, Rhode Island. Han bi denboraldi jokatu zituen. Neguan Floridan eta udan New Port-en jokatzen zuten.   Hara joan zen, bai, pelotan jokatzeko asmoz, baina Euskal Herrira itzultzeko asmoarekin. Berarendako Euskal Herria beti izango da bere etxea. Orain ere, hainbeste urte pasata, gusturen hantxe egoten da, Euskal Herrian. Bere gorputza hemen dago, baina bere burua han Euskal Herrian dagoela iruditzen zaio.   Ameriketara heldu eta Floridan arraroa egin zitzaion mendi bat bera ere ez ikustea, “dana lehune da”. Hondartzak onak dituela dio eta neguan klima ere oso ona. Udan, berriz, “sobera bero” eta ez du gustuko udan egoteko. Renoko beroa azkoz “sikuagoa”, lehorragoa omen da eta hobeto jasaten da.   Lehenengo urtean famili batekin (eta beste pelotari batekin). Hurrengo urtean, beste bi pelotarirekin: bata berrituarra eta bestea Mallorkakoa. Gerora, Markina-Etxebarriko batekin bizi izan zen, biak bakarrik.     Newporten 1976an eta 1977an egon zen. Lehenengo urtean soltero guztiak ipini zituzeten “mansino” batean, 22 edo 24 gazte-solteru etxe handi batean. Bazkaltzera, hiruzpalau pertsoneko taldetan “ezkonduen” etxeetara joaten ziren jatera (bazkaltzera edo afaltzera). Andreak prestatzen zuen bazkaria eta pelotariek horrengatik diru bat ematen zuten eta horrela ez zuten kozinan egin behar. Newport-eko bigarren urtean beste birekin soilik bizi zen: Markina-Etxebarriakoak ziren. Newport-en kontraturik gabe geratu zen eta Renon kontratu bat eman zioten, Renon frontoi-ireki berria zegoelako. Renon zegoen intendentea Floridan ezagutu zuen eta, edadekoa zenez, kirola utzi eta intendente izendatu zuten Renon. 1978ko maiatzaren lehenean inauguratu zen Renoko frontoia. Iñaki Renoko frontoian zarratu arte egon zen, baina denbora gutxi iraun zuen, bi urte eta erdi pasatxo gutxi gora-behera. 1980an (azaro partean agian) zarratu zen.   Renon bere andrea izango zena ezgutu zuen: Gina Goñi (aitatxi nafarra zuen). Soldaduska “kontsuladotik” egiten zuen eta gonbidapena jaso zuen Filipinetara bizitzera joan zen bizitzera. Urte eta erdi eman zuen Filipinetan. 1980ko neguan izan zen hori.     1982an ezkondu zen, Filipinetan. Handik Renora itzuli zen, eta kasino bateko tabernan hasi zen lanean, “kantinero” bati laguntzen.     Gero Las Vegasen kontratu bat eman zioten. Horra orduko Euskal Herrira joan ziren andrea eta biok, andreak ezagutu zezan beraren jaioterria. Ginaren gurasoek gaztelaniaz bazekiten, baina Gina eta bere anaia-arrebek oso gutxi zekiten. Ezkondu eta gero, bai Ginak bai bere anaia-arrebek ikasi dute gaztelaniaz polito. Ginak tagaloz ere ondo egiten du. Ginak eta bere ahizpak Josu Aldekoaotaloraren emaztea (Pilar) ezagutzen zuten eta elkarrekin ibiltzen ziren. Iñakik Josuren familia guztia ezagutzen du.   Reno aldean beste durangar bat ezagutzen du: “Manny” Manuel Villanueva (Durangoko San Fausto auzkokoa. Reno aldean Munitibarreko asko daudela dio. Gehienak pastore etorriak. Eguenetan (ostegunetan) Renoko jatetxe batean elkartzen dira afaltzeko, musean egiteko eta kontu-kontari ibiltzeko beste euskaldunekin. Ia urtero joan izan da Euskal Herrira. Durango zeharo aldatuta ikusten du, asko eraiki delako bere herrian (frontoitik bere etxera apenas ez zegoen ezer eta orain dena dira etxeak). Eroskiren egoitza handi bat bere barrioan egin zuten[2].       Emazteak beste leku batzuetara joatea nahiago izaten du, baina bera gusturen Durango bueltan egoten da, hantxe disfrutatzen du gehien: goizetan mendira, gero lagunekin… Bera bakarrik joaten denean ez da urrun joaten.   Las Vegas bera joan eta gero (1982an joan zen), urtebete egin gabe, zarratu zen. Gero Euskal Herrira eta lau hilabete inguru. Renora itzuli eta erabaki zuen pelota utzi behar zuela.   Urrea eta zilarrezko (“urria eta zidarrezkoa”) mina edo meategi batean hasi zen lanean, Renotik 30 mila ingurutara. “Zuluan” bajatzen ziren, 300 metro inguru. Tunelen barruan, kasko bat eta argi batekin egiten zuten “biharra”[3] edo lana. Urtebete inguru egon zen. Hasieran inpresioa ematen zuen. Kaxa moduko batean jaisten ziren urre eta zilarraren bila. Berarekin baziren beste nafar bi, bere lagunak (horreek eiabien berba nagusiakin…). Bata sen Pedro Eizagirre (sunbildarra, hilda) eta bestea Juan Mindegia da.  Ordurako inglesaz polito konpontzen zen. Gehiena ikasi zuen “belarritik”, eskola sekula gustatu ez zaio eta. Telebistan ikasi du asko. Taberna egin zuenean lana (John Ascuaga’s Nugget-en), bartenderrari laguntzen. Kuriosoa da zeren handik urte batzuetara bere andrea Ginak han egin zuen lan, 26 urtez, convention services delakoan, kasino hartan.   Mina edo meategiaren ostean “kontrukzinuen” edo eraikuntzan hasi zen lanean. Gehienetan tuberiak “ipintzen” ibili izen, ura, gasa, elektrizitaterakoak… Hogeita bost urte eman zituen langintza horretan. “Uniñoa” (union, sindikato) zeukan eta baldintza batzuk beteta sindikato horretatik kobratzen du pentsio bat eta gazteago erretiratu zen. Pelota gazte uzteak lagundu zion, lan mundutik erretiratzeko lehenago. “Uniñoen” kontuak ondo esplikatzen badaki. Bere zonaldean “konstruziñoan” euskaldun asko zeuden, joera “naturala” zen horretan aritzeko (euskaldunen artean), nahiz eta lorezaintzan (“jardineru”) ere batzuk baziren (Nevadan). Bera sartu zenean gazteenetarikoa zen eta orain ez du uste geratzen denik euskaldunik ez eraikuntzan ez artzaintzan. Euskaldunek bazuten fama ona, ez zuten “biharra” galtzen (baja hartzen), beste batzuek egiten ohi zuten moduan (asteburuan juerga egin ostean). Ez zen “gatxa” lana topatzea eraikuntzan. Bizkaitarrak, nafarrak eta “euskaldun-frantsesak” baziren. Zaharrenak 84 urte egingo du laster. 76-78 urtekoak ere geratzen dira (eraikuntzan lan egindakoak).  Haiekin biltzen da ostegunero, Louis Basque Cornerrean. Elkartzen direnean, bazkaldu aurretik pare bat trago, bazkarian Euskal herriko kontuak, egunerokoak, “zer etorten dan burutara”, musean ez dute asko jokatzen, dolar bat edo, baina “a cara de perro” ibiltzen dira. Desiatzen egoten da osteguna etortzeko. Sukaldean ikasi du gehien Euskal Herrian, amari begiratua. Bertan, pelotari batzuengandik ikasi du. Familikoek estimatzen dute nola kozinatzen duen. Paella, gisatua, indabak, porru-patatak, edo garbantzuak, haragi piper batzuekin, “gure estilora” egiten ditu eta ingurukoak “kontent” egoten dira. Etxean batzuetan hogeitik gora elkartu izan dira. Urtebetetzeetan ere bat. Etxean egiten du sukaldaritzan.       Ez du seme-alabarik. Txakur bat daukate etxea, eta zahartuta dago eta hura zaintzen izaten dute zeregina.   Skype-tik komunikatzen da Euskal herriko familiarekin. Covid 19 hasi zenetik ostiralero eurak afaltzen, Iñaki eta Gina bazkaltzen… elkartzen dira. Lagunekin ere bai. Baina badu gogoa Euskal Herrira joateko. Orain biak erretiratuta daude eta “egoten ahal”[4] dira denbora gehiago. Euskal Herrian egoten denean, azkenerako pena handia hartzen du zeren azkenean ohitzen da eta gustua hartzen dio han egoteari. Baina Renora ere pozik, gustura daudelako, emaztearen familia guztia bertan dagoelako eta abar.     Gabonak ospatzeko modua “nahasia” da: Euskal herrian egiten den antzera neurri batean eta Ameriketan egiten den antzera beste neurri batean. Oparien kontua antolatzeko (lagun itsua) joko bat egiten dute pertsona bakar bati oparia emateko eta “burua larregi ez nekatzeko”: “asmakizun” hori ontzat jotzen du, praktikoa,  Ameriketan ikasia.     Aste Santuan, Ameriketan festa ez dan lez, ez dute zerbait berezia egiten. Elizara “Eastern time-n” joaten dira. Gardnervillen sasoi hartan bazkari berezia egiten zen. Elizatik irten eta hara joaten ziren. Euskaldun asko joaten ziren, baina amerikanoak ere bai, “besta” handia egiten zuten, “Overland” restaurantean. Elizara Renora joaten ziren. Saint Albert elizara joan izan dira, eurengandik “urrean” dagoelako.     Gehiena euskaraz egiten du bere Renoko lagunekin, zerbait ingelesez egiten duen arren. Pixka bat “nahasi” egiten duelako kontzientzia dauka, gura barik, hainbeste urte pasa eta gero (berrogeitaka urteak), haiekin jardunda.   Ziortza (PhD student) bere garaian, “euki ez dugun moduko alaba bat” dela esaten du.   Gaurko gazteek “eskola” daukatela uste du, bere garaikoek ez bezala, askoz prestatuagoak. Batez ere Renora etortzen eginda, asko doktoratua eginda, (aipatzen ditu batzuk). Baina juergan dabiltzanean (batzuk) eurak baino astoago ibiltzen dira, eskola aldetik prestatuago egon arren. Edanak galdu egiten ditu zenbait gazte, bere iritziz.   Berak uste du Euskal Herritik etorritako gazteak laguntzen ahalegindu dela. Oso gazte jatorrak tokatu zaizkie eta aportazioa edo ekarpena eurek berari egin diotela dio. Lagundu ahal izan duena, gustura egin du.   Saiatu da lehengo zaharren tradizioari eusten, jende ona, behargina eta zentzu horretan ahalegindu da. Amerikarrek gauza onak esan izan dituzte euskaldunei buruz.   Bizkaira egindako bisita batean deskubritu zuten euren lehengusu batzuengandik gertu zegoela Azkoaga abizena zuen okin bat. Deskubritu zuten John Azcoaga (Sparks-eko Nugget kasinoaren jabea) delakoaren lehengusua zela eta Renora etorri zen okin ori, bere lehengusua ezagutzera. Pablo deitzen zen eta harrituta zegoen Nevadan eskaini zioten tratuaz.

Iñaki was born on 17 April 1955 in Durango. He was apparently born in his paternal aunt’s house, next to the Marist school. There were five brothers and one sister. Iñaki was the third child, and his only sister was the fourth. His parents were from villages near Durango. His father was born in the Salaberri district (the same district where Iñaki Azkuna, the mayor of Bilbao, was born; his late father and Iñaki were friends). His mother was born in a district between Durango and Orozketa, in Santa Apolonia; the farmhouse is called Amuru atzekoa. He went to school in Orozketa from Durango until he was twelve. At school he mostly played football. He married a pelotari from his aunt’s family, and after living in Florida, he came to visit the family when Iñaki was still a child. He lived near the old slaughterhouse. His uncle spoke to the master of the Durango pelota school, and that was how, at the age of twelve, he entered that school. He made his debut in Barcelona at eighteen. He spent a year there. While he was playing there, he was offered a contract to go to Florida. He went to Florida at nineteen. “That was our thing”; for players who spent their time idling around, that was the dream, among other reasons because the money was good. Among his brothers and sisters, he is the only one who went to the United States and has lived there. He was given a three-season contract. But the playing season lasted only five or six months, and while he was in Florida the company itself built another fronton in Newport, Rhode Island. He played there for two seasons. In winter they played in Florida and in summer in Newport. He went there, yes, with the intention of playing pelota, but with the intention of returning to the Basque Country. For him, the Basque Country will always be home. Even now, after so many years, he feels most comfortable there, in the Basque Country. His body is here, but he feels that his mind is there, in the Basque Country. When he arrived in America and got to Florida, what struck him was not seeing a single mountain: “everything is flat.” He says the beaches are good and that the climate in winter is also very good. In summer, however, it is “too hot,” and he does not like being there in summer. The heat in Reno is apparently much drier and easier to bear.           In his first year he lived with one family and another pelotari. The following year he lived with two others: one from Berritua and one from Mallorca. Later on, he lived with a man from Markina-Etxebarri, just the two of them. He was in Newport in 1976 and 1977. In the first year, all the single men were housed in a “mansino,” a large house for 22 or 24 young bachelors. For lunch, they would go in groups of three or four to the houses of the married couples to eat lunch or dinner. The woman of the house cooked the meal, and the pelotaris paid her a certain amount for it, so they did not have to cook themselves. In Newport in his second year he lived with only two others, both from Markina-Etxebarri. He ended up without a contract in Newport, and they gave him a contract in Reno because the fronton there had just opened. The man who was manager in Reno had met him in Florida and, because he was older, stopped playing sport and was appointed manager in Reno. The Reno fronton was inaugurated on 1 May 1978. Iñaki stayed there until it closed, but it lasted only a short time, a little more than two and a half years. It closed in 1980, perhaps around November. In Reno he met the woman who would become his wife: Gina Goñi (whose grandfather was from Navarre). He was doing his military service through the consulate and received an invitation to go and live in the Philippines. He spent a year and a half there. That was in the winter of 1980. He got married in 1982, in the Philippines. After that he returned to Reno, where he started working in the bar of a casino, helping a bartender. Later he was given a contract in Las Vegas. At that time they went to the Basque Country so that his wife could get to know his birthplace. Gina’s parents knew Spanish, but Gina and her brothers and sisters knew very little. After getting married, both Gina and her siblings learned Spanish quite well. Gina also speaks Tagalog well. Gina and her sister knew Josu Aldekoaotalora’s wife, Pilar, and they used to spend time together. Iñaki knows Josu’s whole family. In the Reno area he knows another man from Durango: “Manny,” Manuel Villanueva, from the San Fausto district of Durango. He says there are many people from Munitibar in the Reno area. Most of them came as shepherds. On Thursdays they meet at a restaurant in Reno for dinner, to play mus, and to chat with other Basques. He has gone back to the Basque Country almost every year. He sees Durango as completely changed, because so much has been built in his town: there was hardly anything between the fronton and his house, and now it is all houses. A large Eroski headquarters was built in his neighbourhood. His wife prefers to go to other places, but he is happiest in Durango; that is where he enjoys himself most: in the mornings he goes to the mountains, then spends time with friends… When he goes alone, he does not go far. After he had gone to Las Vegas, it had not been open for a year before it closed. Then he went back to the Basque Country for about four months. He returned to Reno and decided that he had to leave pelota behind. He started working in a gold and silver mine about 30 miles from Reno. They went down into the shaft, about 300 metres underground. Inside the tunnels they worked with a helmet and a light. He was there for about a year. At first it was intimidating. They descended in a box-like cage in search of gold and silver. With him there were two other Navarrese men, his friends (they said the elder one did most of the talking…). One was Pedro Eizagirre, from Sunbilla, now deceased, and the other was Juan Mindegia. By then he was quite comfortable in English. He learned most of it “by ear,” because he never liked school. He also learned a great deal from television. Later, when he worked in a bar at John Ascuaga’s Nugget, he was helping the bartender. What is curious is that years later Gina, his wife, worked there for 26 years in convention services, in that same casino.       After the mine, he began working in “construction.” He mostly worked on installing pipes for water, gas, and electricity. He spent twenty-five years in that trade. He belonged to the union, and once he had met the required conditions, he began drawing a pension from it, so he retired relatively young. Leaving pelota while still young helped him retire earlier from working life. He knows how to explain union matters very well. There were many Basques in construction in his area; among Basques, it was almost a “natural” line of work, although some also worked in gardening in Nevada. When he entered that field, he was among the youngest, and now he does not think there are any Basques left either in construction or in sheep herding. Basques had a good reputation: they did not miss work, unlike others who might do so after a weekend of drinking. It was not difficult to find work in construction. There were Biscayans, Navarrese, and “Basque-French” men. The oldest of them will soon be 84. There are also some 76- to 78-year-olds still around who worked in construction. He meets with them every Thursday at Louis’ Basque Corner. When they get together, they have a couple of drinks before lunch, then during the meal they talk about things from the Basque Country, everyday matters, whatever comes to mind. They do not play much mus—maybe a dollar or so—but they play hard. He is always eager for Thursday to come. He learned most of his cooking in the Basque Country, by watching his mother. He also learned from some pelotaris there. His family appreciates how he cooks. He makes paella, stews, beans, leek-and-potato dishes, chickpeas with meat and peppers, “in our style,” and people around him are pleased. At home they have sometimes gathered more than twenty people. They also do so for birthdays. He cooks at home. He does not have children. They have a dog at home, and it is old, so caring for it is one of their tasks. He keeps in touch with his family in the Basque Country through Skype. Since COVID-19 began, they have been having dinner together on Fridays, with Iñaki and Gina having lunch together as well… they meet with friends too. But he still feels like going to the Basque Country. Now they are both retired and can spend more time there. When he is in the Basque Country, he eventually feels great sadness because he gets used to it and grows fond of being there. But he is also happy in Reno, because they are comfortable there, and because all of his wife’s family is there, and so on. Their way of celebrating Christmas is “mixed”: partly as it is done in the Basque Country and partly as it is done in America. To organise the gift-giving, they play a game so that only one person has to give a present, and they do not have to “rack their brains” too much: he thinks this “invention” is a good, practical idea learned in America. At Easter, since there is no special holiday in America, they do not do anything out of the ordinary. They go to church on Easter time. In Gardnerville, a special meal was prepared at that time. After church they would go there. Many Basques went, but Americans did too; they made it a big “fiesta” at the Overland restaurant. They went to church in Reno. They have also gone to Saint Albert’s church because it is close to them. He speaks mostly Basque with his friends in Reno, although he does use some English. He is aware that he mixes the two a bit, without meaning to, after so many years—forty-odd years—of being around them. He says that Ziortza, the PhD student, is like “the daughter we never had.” He believes that today’s young people have “school,” unlike people of his own generation; they are much better prepared. Especially those who come to Reno after doing a doctorate, he mentions some of them. But when they are out partying, some of them behave more foolishly than he did, even if they are better prepared academically. In his view, drink can undo some young people. He thinks he has tried to help young people who came from the Basque Country. They have met very good young people, and he says that in a sense they have made their contribution to him. Whenever he has been able to help, he has done so gladly. He has tried to preserve the tradition of the old generation: good people, hardworking people, and in that sense he has made an effort. Americans have often said good things about Basques. During a trip to Bizkaia, they discovered that they were related to some people through a baker surnamed Azkoaga. They found out that he was a cousin of John Azcoaga, the owner of the Nugget casino in Sparks, and that this baker named Pablo came to Reno to meet his cousin. Pablo was astonished by the treatment he had been given in Nevada.

 

 

 

 

 

Patxi eta Begoña Churruca (2021-11-22)

 

 

 

Patxi Churruca Berriattuan jaio zen eta berari buruzko datu bat ezagutu dugu Joxe Mallearen liburu bati esker: Shooting from the Lip (2003:53-54): Patxi Txurruka, born in Berrittu, is the only Bizkaian of the current poets residing in the United States. He arrived here in 1971 as a sheepherder, and some years later he moved to Reno, where he lives with his wife Begoña, also from Bizkaia, and a son. Txurruka, like Goñi, worked in construction and was employed by several Reno companies until retirement. Txurruka sang bertsoak at least in two public events that I know of —the 1986 Aberri Eguna Celebration in Reno’s Rancho San Rafael, which was not recorded, and the 1988 competition in Gardnerville, Nevada. Txurruka says that his bertsolari days aren't over.     Bazeramatzaten zenbait urte ezkongai eta 1972an ezkondu (Bizkaian) eta AEBetara etorri ziren. Ezkontzan Ameriketatik etorritako senar-emazte batzuk etorri ziren, eta Begoñari “baimena” emateko, egin zuten lan eskaintza bat (AEBetarako baimena izateko), haien etxera lan egitera joango balitz moduan.     Aireportura heldu eta bihotz-ikara izan zuen Begoñak, pentsatuta ingelesarik gabe edozein arrazoigaitik itzuli behar bazuen ea nola konponduko zen itzultzeko etxera.   Lehenengoz San Franciscora etorri ziren, lana bilatzera. Gero Kaliforniako arrantxo batean lan egin zuten, gizonak (Patxi) ardiekin eta berak arrantxoko sukaldean eta garbiketa kontuetan. Telebista ez zuen ulertzen, telefonoa hartzera ez zen ausartzen ez ulertzeko beldurrez. Baina San Franciscon irrati-kasette bat erosi zuen eta ardian zegoen lekura joan, musika jarri eta jota dantzatzen hasten zen.           Aldameneko arrantxotik Imanol izeneko batek (katalejuak zeuzkan eta Begoña ikusten zuen urrutitik) galdetu zion arrantxoko nagusiari: “¿Todas las vascas son así de locas?”, erantzuna, “¿Pues? Pues mira a esa loma todos los días de una y media a dos y verás a esa vasca bailar”.  Bederatzi hilabetez egon zen horretan. Behientzako belarra ureztatzen zuen, botak jantzita.       Gero senarra Patxik lanpostu bat lortu zuen eraikuntzan. Eskaintza euskal pic-nic batean egin zion ezagun euskaldun batek.   1977an, beraz, trailer-house batean bizitzen hasi ziren (eraikuntza enpresako nagusiak haientzako eskainia). Renora joan ziren bizitzera, Patxik erretiroa hartu zuen arte.   Reno aldean krisi ekonomiko bat zen urtean eraikuntza gelditu zen zeharo eta arrantxo batera joan ziren lan egitera urte betez (1981-1982). Baina gero berriro itzuli ziren eraikuntzan lan egitera.   Seme bat izan zuten eta Franki jarri zioten izena. Sparks-eko Josu Aldekoaotalora eta beraren emaztea Pilarren lagun minak egin ziren eta matrimonio bien seme-alabak ere oso lagun minak izan ziren. Euren artean euskaraz hitz egiten dute. Semeak ere polito ikasi zuen euskaraz, nahiz eta azkenaldian asko ez duen praktikatu.

Patxi Churruka was born in Berriatua, and we learned one important fact about him thanks to Joxe Mallea’s book Shooting from the Lip (2003: 53–54): Patxi Txurruka, born in Berrittu, is the only Bizkaian of the current poets residing in the United States. He arrived here in 1971 as a sheepherder, and some years later he moved to Reno, where he lives with his wife Begoña, also from Bizkaia, and a son. Txurruka, like Goñi, worked in construction and was employed by several Reno companies until retirement. Txurruka sang bertsoak at least in two public events that I know of—the 1986 Aberri Eguna Celebration in Reno’s Rancho San Rafael, which was not recorded, and the 1988 competition in Gardnerville, Nevada. Txurruka says that his bertsolari days aren’t over.   Patxi and Begoña had been engaged for several years before marrying in Bizkaia in 1972 and then moving to the United States. Several Basque couples who had come from America attended their wedding. In order for Begoña to obtain permission to enter the United States, one of those couples formally offered her a job as if she were going to work in their home, allowing her to obtain the necessary visa. When they arrived at the airport, Begoña was terrified. She worried that, if for any reason she were sent back because she did not speak English, she would not even know how to manage the journey back home. They first went to San Francisco in search of work. Later they found employment on a ranch in California. Patxi worked with the sheep, while Begoña worked in the ranch kitchen and took care of the cleaning. She could not understand television, and she was afraid to answer the telephone because she feared she would not understand what people were saying. However, while in San Francisco she bought a portable radio-cassette player. She would take it out to where the sheep were grazing, turn on the music, and start dancing the jota. A man named Imanol, who worked on a neighbouring ranch and used binoculars to watch Begoña from a distance, once asked the ranch owner, “Are all Basque women this crazy?” The owner replied, “Why don't you look at that hill every day from half past one until two? You'll see that Basque woman dancing.” She spent nine months living that way. She also irrigated the fields where hay for the cattle was grown, wearing rubber boots as she worked. Later, Patxi found a job in the construction industry. A Basque acquaintance offered him the position during a Basque picnic. In 1977 they moved into a trailer home that Patxi’s employer provided for them. They settled in Reno, where they remained until Patxi retired. During one particularly difficult year, the construction industry around Reno came to a complete standstill because of the economic crisis. As a result, they spent about a year (1981–1982) working on a ranch before Patxi was able to return to construction. They had a son, whom they named Franki. They became very close friends with Josu Aldekoaotalora, from Sparks, and his wife Pilar. Their children also grew up as close friends. Patxi and Begoña have always spoken Basque to each other. Their son also learned to speak Basque quite well, although in recent years he has had few opportunities to practise it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joxe Churruca[5] (Berriatua, 1940)

 

  

Joxe Churruca 2023ko otsailaren 25ean egin genion lehenengo elkarrizketa, baina ordutik beste batzuk egin dizkiogu, apurka-apurka datuak eta anekdotak jasoaz. Azken elkarrizketa 2024ko urtarrilaren 2an egin genion. Bere etxean, Sparks-en egin genuen hitzordua. Emaztea filipinarra da, baia haren gurasoak euskal jatorrikoak. Emaztearen aita Muniosguren pelotaria, zesta-puntakoa izan zen. Euskaraz egin dugu elkarrizketa, nahiz eta gaztelaniaz edota ingelesez tarteka ere hitz egiten duen. 1940ko abuztuaren 22an Aitzola baserrian jaio zen (Berriatua herrian, Aztarrika auzoan, baina eleizaz Ondarroakoa izan zen). Bataiatu Ondarroan egin zen. Lau anaia-arreba dira. Baserrian lau/bost behi, txahalak… eta baserritik itsasoa ikusten zen (bigarren pisuko lehiotik, Joxe jaio zeneko leihotik). Joxe zaharrena da. Bigarrena Ondarroan bizi da. Hirugarren anaia, Patxi, Renon bizi da (Begoñarekin ezkonduta). Laugarrena Berriatuan bizi da eta 70 urte dauzka. Guraso bian Berriatuakoak izan ziren. Ama, Laka familiakoa. Bere aitite (amaren partetik), argina zen, Bilboko udaletxean baditu lanak eginak. Amaren familian baziren hamaika neba-arreba, eta gazteena hil zen laurogeita hamazortzi urterekin, duela urte gutxi. Bere aitite Markinatik Aztarrikara mugitu zen familiarekin, baserrian (Aitzola) bizitzera. Aita 68 urterekin hil zen, ama 91 urterekin. Bere amama (amaren partetik) Andresa Uriarte Bereikua deitzen zen, eta 100 urterekin hil zen. Eskolan 14 urtera arte egon zen. Gero lanean aritu zen: baserriak 17 urtera arte. Gero Ondarruko autobus konpainian (“Compañía de autobuses La Esperanza”), bertako garajean lan egin zuen, 18 urte bete arte. 18 urte bete zituen egunean karneta atera zuen (“de segunda”), eta GMC kamioiak gidatzen hasi zen. Bazuen osaba bat Berriatuan “Bar Central” zeukana eta Jose María Plaza deitzen zen. Osaba hark Berriatuako sekretarioarekin batera (Jose Manuel Arriola) serreria bat zeukaten. Han hasi zen lanean, kamioiarekin atzera eta aurrera, soldaduskara joan arte (bi urte pasatxo). Bere osabak gutun edo idazki bat egin zion Joxeri autoritateei erakusteko. Behin batean Larruskain auzoan lexarra bat (leizar bat) hartuta bazihoan Zarautz-Zumaia aldera (barkoaren killa edo gila egiteko). Poliziak altoa bota, Joxek idazki hori erakutsi eta poliziak paso eman zion: “ya puede seguir con mucho cuidado”. Jainkoak bera zaindu duela iruditzen zaio momentu horretan. Soldaduska “marinan” egin zuen, nahiz eta baserritarrak gehien batean lehorrera joaten ziren. Bi urte eman zituen bertan eta hasieran Ferrolera[8] joan zen “cualtel de instrucciones-era”. Bandera “juratu” ostean, gizon bat Canarias kruzerotik[9] etorri zitzaion. Tartean esaten du Crucero Baleares izan zela Canariaseko aurrekoa, baina hondoratua izan zela (bere osaba bat bertan hil zen). Gizon hura koartelera joan zitzaion eta berarendako bazeukala lana esan zion. Gizon hark eraman zuen Joxe Crucero Canariaseko komandantearengana.  Entrebista egin zion eta ondo irten zuen eta bertan 18 hilabete eman zituen. Emaztea Señora Remedios deitzen zen eta hamaika seme-alaba zituen. Goizean komandantearen etxera joaten zen (El Sol kalea, El Ferrolen), kotxez eramaten zuen barkura eta zerbait enkargatzen zion egiteko. Zereginik egon ezean itxaroten zuen bitartean zerbait egiten zuen. Gogoratzen du sasoi hartako istorio bat. “Crucero Santa Maria” aipatzen du, bidaiari zibilendako. Gero Portugalgo kostan piratak bazirela ere gogora ekartzen du. Kontua da badirudi sekuestratu edo bahitu egin zutela “Crucero” hura eta, kontatzen du Joxek, Frankok agindu zien marinako militarrei barku hura zegoen tokira joateko eta, ahal bazuten, libre ekartzeko. Hara joan ziren eta barkua ikustean “bi pepinazo” bota zituzten barku haren “puente de mandora”: barkua kotrol gabe geratu zen. Cruzero Canarias-ek jaso zuen deia kontu horretan laguntzeko (Joxe Churruka barruan egonda), baina hara ailegatu orduko beste militarrek kontrolatua zuten Crucero Santa Maria-ren egoera eta, beraz, bertan behera geratu zen “misio” hura. Baina han zeudela, Joxek ez daki zergatik baina Afrikarantza abiatu ziren (“Crucero Canarias-ekoak”). Guinea Espainola (horrela deitzen zen orduan) izan ei zen singladura haren destinoa eta han beltzak ikusi zituen lehendabiziko aldiz. Gero Afrikako beste irla bat bisitatu zuten eta azkenean Ferrolera itzuli ziren.   Bi urteren ondoren soldaduska bukatu eta “Bilbora” itzuli zen. ( Ondarrutar bat ezagutzen zuen lehendik, Paco, Bilbon almazen bat zeukana: patatak banatzen zituen hainbat lekutan eta bera eta biok elkartu ziren Ferrolen halako egun batean eta Pacok esan omen zion ez zalantzarik izateko: soldaduska bukatutakoan berarengana joateko eta lan horretan hasteko. Joxe oso eskertuta sentitzen da eta gogoratzen du hamaika aldiz eman zizkiola eskerrak. Horren jarraian “carnet de primera” atera ei zuen eta Eibarren “Construcciones Amaña” delakoan egin zuen lan, bertan “kontratista” bat bere osaba zelako (José María Laka): han 1966 arte egon zen (hiru urte inguru), Ameriketara etorri arte, hain zuzen. Eibarren zegoela izan zituen bi lagun ETAn zeudenak. Egun batean atxilotu (Joxe barne), koartelera eraman, galderak egin eta biharamunean bidali zituzten etxera. Gerora jakin zuen lagun horietako bat Poliziak “garbitu” zuela eta pentsatu zuen onena izango zela alde egitea egoera horretatik. Ameriketara etortzeko ideia orduantxe sortu zitzaion, “txarragoa” ezin izango zelakoan. Ordurako harriak altxatzen ibiltzen zen (hamabi arroakoak, kubikoak). Urtain boxeolariaren lagun-mina ere bazen (Jose Ramon Ibar), boxeolaria izan baino lehenago hura harrijasotzailea izan zen eta Joxek ere indarra zeukan lez, ba “zeregin” berean ibiltzeagatik lagun egin ziren. Akordura ekartzen du Eibarren bizi omen zela Gallastegi izeneko harrijasotzaile beterano bat (sasoi hartako pelotari[10] baten anaia zen Gallastegi hura), 53 urterako 11 eta erdiko arroako harri kubikoa altxatzen zuena. Horren “preparadore” edo entrenatzailea ere bazen Joxe. Arraten ba ei zen “desafio” bat Gallastegiren eta Urtainen artean. 13 arroa Gallastegik eta Urtainek 18 kilo gehiago altxatu behar zituzten. Joxe laguntzen ari zen bitartean eta entrenamenduetan Joxe kapaz zen 11 arroako kubikoa altxatzeko. Berak dio berak nahi izan balu erraz irabaziko zuela harriak jasotzen. Bera ikusita, argala izanik, inork ez zuen esango horretarako kapaz izango zela. Ez zen plazara atera, Arraten izan ezik. Saiatu gara elkarrizketa berbideratzen Ameriketarako etorrera. Berriatuako lagun bat Kalifornia iparraldean zegoen, Ramón Celaya, Willows-en, lanean. Lagun horrek jakin zuen Joxek etorri nahi zuela eta gutun bat bidali zuen nora etorri behar zuen esanez. Ameriketara heldu eta biharamunean “armortzua” jatera joan ziren. Maiordomoa zen Goihenetxe (“frantsez-euskalduna” bere esanetan), eta jaten ari zirela etorri zen euren nagusia “Colly French”, 82 urte zeuzkan orduan eta Kaliforniako familien artea 4. postuan zegoen negozio onenak zituenen artean. Berak kalkulatzen du Espainia dela 500 mila akre handiagoan Kalifornia baino: datu hori buruz esaten digu, besteak beste, adierazteko Espainia ez dela askoz handiagoa.   Ameriketara etorri zenean arrantxoko nagusiak laurogei urte zeuzkan Colly French deitzen zen nagusi hura. 1966ko irailaren 14an heldu zen Ameriketara Joxe: ordurako 26 urte zituen bete berriak (abuztuan). Aztarrika auzoan berrogei bat etxe zeuden, Ondarrotik Lekeitiorako bidean lau kilometrotara. Chicon 1966tik 1983ra arte egon ei zen eta bertan 22.000 ardi ei zeuden. Argazki batzuekin hasi gara. Chico[11] herrian (Kalifornia) ateratakoak dira. 80 hamarkada. Bera egondako arrantxoko langile mexikar baten argazkia ere erakusten dit: Miguel Romo deitzen da, estimu handia dio. Erakusten dit argazki bat, artalde bat bertan ageri dela, eta galdetzen dit ea kalkulatzen dudan zenbat buru dauden. Nik mila esaten dut eta berak hiru mila eta bostehun.  Berak zaindutako edo “gobernatutako” artaldea zen hura. Saldua izatera zihoan artalde hura eta aurreko egunean ateratako argazkia da. Biharamunean bildotsak “aparta” eta kamioian sartzen zen artalde hura. 1976 urtean izango zen argazkia ateratako urtea. Kamioien argazkiak ere erakusten dizkit. Erraz etorri zela iruditzen zaio, lana zuelako Kalifornian, bazuelako nora etorri. Baina orain AEBetara jendea errazegi datorrela iruditzen zaio, mugak edo fronterak edozeinentzat zabalegi daudela deritzo eta hori ez du ondo ikusten. Gainera, pentsatzen du jende asko sartzen ari dela “txarra”, herrialde honi kaltea egiteko asmotan. Izango balitz soilik jendea sartzen dena ogia irabazteko, “jateko”, bera ez legoke horren kontra. Modu grafikoan esaten du norbaitek esan izan bazion duela hamar urte edo AEBetan mugak edo fronterak “zabalik” daudela ez zuen sinistuko. Kritikoa da oraingo egoera politikoarekiko: “unthinkable” dela uste du. Dibagazio honen ostean, berak gogoratzen du hegaldi hartan bera bakarrik etorri zela, baina denbora gutxi pasatuta, bere auzoko Manuel Loza: bera baino bi urte zaharragoa eta aspaldi hilda dagoela diosku.  “Kazan” edo ehizan ari zela (basa ahuntzak harrapatzen edo) atake bat emanda joan ei zen. Hegazkina San Franciscora heldu zen eta handik Sacramentora joan omen ziren. Sacramentora bere nagusiaren maiordomoa (“euskaldun-frantsesa”, Goihenetche) joan zen bere bila. Zeharka esaten digu haien euskara (Iparraldekoa) zeharo ulertzera ailegatu zela eta eurekin mintzatzen zela normaltasun handiz (euskaraz). Ameriketara etorri eta lehenengo inpresioa izan zen hau “ikusgarria” zela.  Etxera deitu eta hunkituta egiten zuen negar esanez etxekoei lasai egoteko, oso herrialde onean zegoela. Sacramento-tik San Franciscora joan eta “hiri garbia” zela esaten du Joxek, “lurretik jan” zenezakeen, hain garbi zegoen-eta. “Joan orain San Francisco-ra” esaten du; izan ere, ez da aspaldi joan eta ez du joan nahi, giroa gaiztotu delako edo. Bere familia bezela Louis Elu[12] zuten, Broadway-en jatetxe bat zutenak. Hara askotan joandakoak dira. Hunkitu egiten da gaur egungo Amerikan zein egoeran dagoen eta ideia “komunistak” nola sartu diren.   Willows herria, Colly “French” zen nagusia. Arrantxo hartan ez zegoen jende asko. Irlandar bat zegoen lanean eta bera ailegatu zenean ez zegoen mexikarrik (nagusiak ez zituen mexikarrak hartu nahi). Gernikar bat ere bazegoen, Foruko bat eta Bolibarko beste bat. Ailegatu eta bigarren egunean, nagusiak esan zion etortzeko (eskuko hatz erakuslearekin keinu eginda): ingelesez ez zekin orduan Joxek, baina jarraitu zion.  “Potreroan” lan egiteko esan zion (korralak edo antzekoak zirela ulertu diot) eta lan “erraza” zen: ardiak leku batetik bestera eramatea. 30.000 akre zeuzkan. Arrantxo hura hainbat zatitan zegoen banatuta eta kontua zen ardiak mugitzea “sekzio” batetik bestera janaria amaitzen zenean. Bildotsak koskortzen zirenean saldu egiten zituzten (amatik kenduta), kamioi batzuetan sartuta. “Amak” (ardiak) beeka gelditzen ziren euren umeak kenduta. Nagusiarekin pick-upean askotan joaten zen eta nagusiak beti gidatzen zuen: Joxek laguntzen zion harresietako ateak edo langak irekitzen eta gero ixten. Zereginetako bat zen gatza ardiei ematea eta horretarako almazen batera joaten ziren. Egun batean nagusiak esan zion hiru sako gatz hartzeko (bakoitzak 100 libra ingurukoa zen, 45 kilo). Hiruak batera hartu zituen, beso banatan eta sorbaldan. Hirurak pick-upean deskargatu (soinu kolpe batez). Nagusiak esan zion “no, no, no, I want three!”, eta Joxek “you got three there!”. Nagusia harrituta geratu zen Joxeren indarra ikusita, ez zuen horrelakorik sekula ikusi.  “Ez zuen sinesten ahal”[13], esaten du momentu batean. Ordutik aurrera nagusi horrek bere lagunei esaten zien Joxek egindakoa “three bags!”, eta besoaren bizepsa erakusten zien indartsua zelako keinu eginez, “Joe” izena aipatuta. Gizon hark asko maite zuen Joxe. Gogoratzen du 1968ko martxoaren bukaeran bere nagusia, hospitalean zegoelarik, hil zela. Biharamunean jakin zuen Ameriketako presidentea izandakoa, D. David Eisenhower ere hil zela[14]. Pentsatzen du nagusi hark zerbait utziko ziola berari, hainbeste aberastasun izanda. Baina ez zuen pentsatzen hain azkar hiltzea. Herrian banku bat zeukan, Colly French National Bank. Baptista[15] omen zen sinismenez eta harekin batera elizara joaten zen noizean behin Joxe. Haren emaztea ere “santatzat” hartzen du Joxek. French nagusi horren kapritxoetako bat zen Levis prakak erostea: txikia zen eta gerrian ondo geratuz gero, luzeran asko sobratzen zen. Ez zituen prakak mozten: barrenera tolestu eta altxatu egiten zuen eta erositako Levis horiek “usteldu” edo gastatu arte erabiltzen zituen. Joxe Churruca Ameriketara etorri eta arropa erosi behar izan zuen. Baina horretarako herriko bankuan (nagusiaren bankuan) bazituzten 15 mila dolar horrelako gastuetarako. Craick Owens izeneko batek errentatu egin zuen arrantxoa (French hilda gero): behiekin ibili zen beti eta harendako lanean hasi zen Joxe. Gizon ona dela ere esaten du, eta oso altua: Sei “pie” (feet) eta hiru pulgada (inch) (Metro eta 90 zentimetro inguru) eta pisuan 350 libra inguru (153 kilogramo inguru). Gizon hura hil zen eta antza denez bankuak hartu zuen arrantxo hori. Nahiko luke jakin zer geratu zen arrantxo horrekin hil baino lehen. Handik alde egin eta gero bizpahiru urtez joan da ikustera eta negargura sartu zaio, “fenza” denak behean. Zaldientzako lekua ere botata, eta abar. Egun bakar batean “ez duzu rantxoa ikusten ahal”[16] esaten du. Gero Chico[17] herrira joan zen lan egitera. Arrantxo hartan Jimmy “Burres” zen nagusia. Erregadiako terrenoa zen nagusiki (alfalfa, besteak beste). 5000 ardi inguru zituen: Joxe 20.000 ardiekin lan egin zuen eta Chicokoa askoz errazagoa iruditu zitzaion.  Hiru bat urte eman zituen han. Horren ostean lan hori utzi egin zuen: orduan anaia Patxi Renon zegoen eta esan zion lana topatuko zuela eta halaxe egin zuen: “kontrukzinoan” edo eraikuntzan topatu zen lana, eta 1986 urtea izango zen, gutxi gora-behera. Lan horretan zegoela, urte betea baino lehen Joxe jarri zuten besteei erakusteko postuan. “You can do it!” esaten zioten eta onartzen du orduan burua oso ondo zeukala. Indarra erakustaldiak ere egin zituen lanbide hartan. Patxi anaia 1969an edo joan zen Ameriketara, Joxek gogoratzen duenez. Anaia gazteena ere (Felix) Ameriketan egondakoa da (17 urterekin etorri zen), lau urtez edo bizi izan zen, baina Euskal Herrira itzuli zen han bizitzen jarraitzeko: hura ere indartsua zen. Joxe Maguregui gogoratzen du, hainbat urtetan Ameriketan bizi izandakoa eta orain Ondarroako zahar-etxe batean bizi da. Berarekin Argentinako soccer (futbola) txapelketara joan zen. Urte batean, Kalifornian ardiekin lanean zegoela, Virginiako arrantxo batera joateko gonbitea jaso zuen: hara eraman zuten eta arrantxoko nagusia mila akre inguru zeuzkan. Ardi berezi batzuk haztea zuten helburu, produkzioa handitzeko. Bederatzi egunen buruan esan zien ustiapen edo esplotazio horri ez ziola etorkizunik ikusten, ez zegoela ondo antolatuta, eta halaxe geratu zen kontua. Joxe itzuli zen beren lantokira eta gerora ez zuen Virginiako ustiapen horren berririk izan. Helikoptero bat zegoen (errentatzen zuten) bera egondako arrantxoan eta koioteak hiltzeko erabiltzen zituzten: koiote asko garbitu zituela dio, errifle batekin, helikopterotik. Hasierako urteetan hiru urterik batean joaten zen “etxera”, Euskal Herrira. Kartaz eta telefonoz komunikatzen zen familiekoekin. Gaur egun ia astero telefonoz hitz egiten du.   “Frantses-euskaldunekin” asko ibilitakoa da eta haien euskara ondo ulertzen du. Bere azalpena da Joxe txikitan eta gaztetan “giputzekin” asko ibiltzen zela, asko mintzatzen zela eta asko gustatzen zitzaiola hango euskara, bera bizkaitarra den arren. Beraz, beste euskalkiak ezagutzeko joera izan du beti. Agustin Garde, ta Telesforo Garde ezagutu zituen (Willows-en) hasieran egondako arrantxoan. Granit Constructicon Company-n hasieran eta gero beste batera joan zen. Bigarren konpainia horretako nagusia eta haren emaztea gogoratzen ditu, gutxira hil zirenak. Lurpeko lana egiten zuten, “saneamientos, electricidad, agua…” esaten dit gaztelaniaz. Konstrukzinoko lan horretan baziren beste euskaldun gazte batzuk: Joxe Arriaga, Juan… (Munitibarkoa), Jose Eguen…   Emaztea Renon ezagutu zuen, anaiaren etxean. Muniosguren bere aitaginarrebaren datu batzuk ematen dizkit segituan, zesta-puntan pilotaria izan zena. Ezagutu egin zuen eta gizon ona zela esaten du: pelota laga eta gero, juez ibili zen (“juez de línea”, zehazten du); alegia, frontoietan egiten zuen lan. “Plasencia de las armas”-en sortua, Plazentzin. 1978an etorri zen Renora bere alabekin: alaba horietako batekin, Rosariorekin ezkondu zen. 55 urterekin ezkondu zen Rosariorekin, eta berak 38 edo 39 urte izango zituen. Uste du ezkondu zela 1995ean. Emazteak esan zion 29 urte beteko zirela laster ezkondu zirenetik: denbora oso azkar pasatzen dela uste du. MGM kasinoan (gaur geun Gran Sierra Resort edo deitzen da) ezkondu ziren: antza denez horkoa ezkontza zibila izan zen eta gero “elizan ezkondu” ziren. Bere aita nola libratu zen Gernikako bonbardaketan kontatzen du. Gaztelaniaz kontatzen du, hortik gertu dagoelako familiako bat, gaia atera duena eta euskaraz ez dakiena. Ingresatuta omen zegoen Gernikan eta erizaina batek esan ei zion ahal bazuen ibili Gernikatik alde egiteko. Gernikatik Lekeitiora bazihoan kamioi bat, behiak eramateko, “steam”ezkoa zen (baporezkoa). Kamioi hura gelditu zen: hiruzpalau pertsona zeuden kabinan eta atzeko kajoian igotzeko esan zioten. Egin zuen ahalegina kutxara igotzeko baina ezin zuen (operazioa izan zuen hanka batean): aldamenean bazegoen emakumezko baserritar bat ortuan lan egiten. Emakume gazte hark ikusi zuen ezin zuela eta harengana joan, ipurditik bultzatu eta kamioiaren “kutxara” bota egin zuen. Kamioiez Lekeitiora joan zen eta han taxi bat hartuta etxera joan zen. Joxek esaten du bonbardeoaren egun berean izan zen. “Something was gonna happen”. Durangokoa lehenagoa izan zen. Josu Aldekoaotalorak esaten du astebete lehenago izan zela bonbardaketa: hirurehun pertsona inguru hil zirela esaten du. Luis Elu gogoratzen du, San Franciscoko Broadway kalean restaurante bat omen zuen eta hotela. Luis Elu zesta-puntako pelotaria izan zen 60ko hamarkadan eta Markinan hazi zen. Egun Floridan bizi da. 1975-1980 tarte horretan izan zuen tratua. Euskal Herrian ezagutu zuen, baina tratua Ameriketan izan zuen. Urtain boxeolariarekin Ameriketara etorri baino lehen izan zuen tratua, lehenago harriak jasotzen ibili zelako eta gero boxeo kontuekin. Joxek Urtainek (98 kg) baino gutxixeago pisatzen zuen, baina Urtainek esaten zion, Joxek zeukan pisurako (88 kg), ez zuela ikusi bera baino indartsuagorik. Gogoratzen du Urtain Ameriketara etorri zela (1972an edo 1973an), bere managerrekin, nahi zuen Pedro Carrasco ikusi: Madrilen elkarrekin bizi ziren (Calle Victor de la Serna kalean dela pentsatzen du, baina ez dago seguru). Carrasco-ren borroka bat ikustera joan ziren Los Angelesera eta orduako LAko alkatea eta emaztea Joxeren ondoan egon ziren borroka (boxeokoa) ikusten. Urtainek, nahi zuen arren, ez zuen borrokarik egin Ameriketan. Joe Frezier-ek (1944-2011, orduan Ameriketan “itzala” egiten ziona Urtaini) ez zuen nahi. Urtainek behin esan zion, borroka baten aurretik Joxeri “Hi atera behar nauk borroka irabaztean hire sorbaldan zezen plazatik, irabaziko diat borroka”: Bilboko Vista Alegre zezen plazan zeukan borroka hura. Urtainez gogoratzean negarra irteten zaio: bere ustez sekula ez zuen gauza txarrik egin, izugarri indartsua zen. Inguruan jende susmagarria zuen eta proposamen gehienei baietz esaten zien. Urtainen aita difuntua ezagutu zuen (46 urterekin hil omen zen), eta izugarri indartsua ei zen. 16 arroako harria altxatzen zuen (harrien pisua arroekin neurtzera ohituta dago Joxe). Urtainen arrebarekin (orduan “ikusgarria” ei zen) laguntasuna zeukan: Elvira deitzen ei zen eta aizkolari batekin ezkondu zen (ez da gogoratzen). Pedro Carrascorekin harremanetan Urtainen bitartez izan zuen. “Mafia” ere bere inguruan zuela uste du. Zaila egiten zaio dena “aditzea” (ulertzea): boxeolariek beste “hizkuntza” zerabilten, Joxek ulertzen ez zuena, “mafia” kontuak aipatzen zituztelako. Baina bai Urtainek bai Carrascok lortu zuten mafian gehiegi ez sartzea. Garai hartan Carrascok borroka batean (irabazita) hirurehun mila dolar irabaztera heltzen zen.  Tipo elegantea, liraina zela iruditzen zaio, peso “ligero”, arina zen arren. “Konstrukzinoan” edo eraikuntzan bi urte eskaz egin zuela lan dio, nahiz eta ez den gogoratzen zehatz-mehatz noiz hasi zen. Gero onartzen du agian hiru urtez egin zuela lan. Erretiratu 61 edo 62 urterekin egin zen (2001ean, gure kalkuluen arabera). Erretiratu orduko (eraikuntzan zebilela), jada ibiltzen zen pultso txapelketetan (arm-wrestling) parte hartzen, lagun batek berotuta. 50 urtetik gorako mailan aritzen zen eta hainbat txapelketetan parte hartu izan du, Ameriketan eta Europoan: Manchesterrera egin zuen bidaia gogoratzen du, 66 urte zeuzkan orduan, kontrarioak gazteagoak ziren bitartean, baina 50 urte baino zaharragoak. Ameriketako federazioko batek deitu zion eta proposatu zion parte hartzea, eta bidaiak eta bestelakoak euren esku gelditzen zirela. Gogoratzen ditu beste “arm-wrestling-ekoak”. West coast-en ibili da AEBari dagokionez. Manchesterrekoa izan (agian 2006) eta beste sei urtez jarraitu zuen (2012ra arte agian). “Tio” bat bazeukan, Juan Laca, Ontarion (Oregon estatuan). 93 urte zituen bera eta anaia bat bisitatzera joan zirenean (14 edo 15 urterekin etorri zen).   Kepa Bilbao Laca bere lehengusu bat ekartzen du gogora. Bere ustez Berriatuako gizon famatu edo handiena. 18 urterekin Txilera joan omen zen “fraile” estudiatzera. Gero abade egin zen. Hara joan eta 15 urtera edo galdetu ei zien bere nagusiei ea berak, fraile izanda, “korritzen”[18] ahal zuen negozio bat, behartsuei laguntzeko. Fraileek ez zioten uzten, baina esan zioten “kanbiatzen” bazen apaiz izatera berak nahi zuena egin zezakeela Txilen.  Zaharrentzako etxeak egin zituen, kolejioak eta bestelako lan asistentzial asko jarri zituen martxan: “herejiak”[19] egin zituela dio. Behin kontratista batek (euskal jatorrikoa) Txilen porrot egin zuen bere enpresan eta laguntza eske joan zen Kepa Bilbaorengana: honek lagundu zioen eta urteen buruan kontrastisa horrek, esker onez, hiru apartamentu eman zizkion Kepari, beraren karitatezko zereginetarako. Joxe gogoratzen da Kepa hiltzear zegoela esan ziola bere familiari Txilera etortzeko berak ordainduko ziela bidaia eta dena. Familiakoak etorri zirenean Kepa zegoen gelatik pasatu ziren eta, nahiz eta heriotza hurbil izan, pozik zegoelako edo familiako guztiei irribarre egin zien. Joxek santutzat dauka bere lehengusu hori. Bi aldiz joan zen emaztearekin Txilera Kepa Bilbao hura bisitatzera. “Berarekin hizketan zeundela, aditzen zenuen Jaungoikoa bertan zela, ez dago besterik” eta horrelako sententzia botatzen ditu Joxek. Ezkondu (55 urtekin) eta gutxira erretiroa hartu zuen. Gero asko bidaiatu du, Txilera, bi aldiz, Argentinara, Europara (Ingalaterra, Irlanda, Italian, Servian), Lur Santuan, Isaelen, Jodan-en, Egipton… Lagunekin eta, batez ere, emaztearekin. Emaztea, Rosarito Muniosguren[20], alarguna zen eta bi seme-alaba zituen ezkondu aurreko senarrarekin. Gizona 46 urterekin hil zitzaion. Bilbo bisitatzea gustatzen zaio, “otsoa” jarrita dagoen leku hori (Guggenheim museoa). Ezkondu ezkero bi urterik baten Euskal Herrira joan dira, Lekeitio, Bilbo, Markina, Bolibar… Asterrikako baserria (familiarena) salduta daukate, harakin edo karnizero batek erosi zuen.   Renon zeukaten beste etxea erakusten dit argazkian: batez ere teilatuko argazkiak ditu erakusteko eta esaten dit teilatua osorik berak egin zuela, inongo langileren laguntzarik gabe. Erretiratu ostean holako lanak egiten ibili da, bera bakarrik (“inork mailua leku batetik bestera mugitu barik”, ezta hori ere). San Rafael parkean, alde horretan zeukaten etxe hura. 1700 foot edo zeuzkan. Orain bizi den etxean ere teilatua konpontzen aritu zen duela bi urteko abuztuaren 18an. Euria ari zuen orduan, eta trumoiak. Igotzeko eskaileratik gora zegoela pentsatu zuen: “txo! go back!”, baina ez zuen kasurik egin eta handik jausi zen, altura handi batetik. Lurrean ahoz gora geratu zen eta besoak zabalik (“Jesukristo gurutzean bezala”, berak esaten duenez). Buruak kolpea jaso zuen (odol ixuria izan zuen burmuinean) eta koxis hezurra ere puskatu zen. Odolduta egon zen. Konortea galduta tarteka, bestetan esna… “Dotorrak”[21] joaten zitzaizkion (emazteak kontatzen zien gertatutakoa): medikuek ez zuten sinesten Joxe bizirik egotea, pentsatzen zuten hilko zela altura horretatik erorita. Ingresatuta astebetez egon zen “zaintza berezietan”, bizirik ateratzeko eta beste hilabete gutxieneko mobilitatea errekuperatu arte. Tarte horretan burua “joanda” zeukala esaten du. Medikuen ez zuten sinesten ahal[22]. Joxek dio “listo” zegoela hiltzeko, eta uste zuen hilko zela (aurreneko aste gogor hartan, beharbada): hori kontatzean hunkitzen da berriz eta “prayer-chain” bat egon zelako bere parrokian (Immaculate Conception Parish) esaten du bizirik dagoela, Jainkoan “beste” aukera eman diola. Joxek emazteari esaten zion ez diskutitzeko medikuekin. Hondarrerako[23] lagun egin zen medikuekin. Gero kontatzen dit duela hiruzpalau aste gertatutako beste “jausaldi” bat: kalean paseoan zihoala jausi edo erori egin zen. Auzoan zebilen emakume bat joan zitzaion laguntzera eta esan ei zion: “ez beldurtu, ni enfermera naiz”. Emakume onbera horrek esan ei zion “gaur goizean miscarriage[24] izan dut”. Joxe hunkitu egiten da jakitean tragedia  hori izan ostean emakume horrek lagundu ziola: eta halaxe egin. Puntu batzuk eman zizkion buruan, etxera eraman eta ondo zaindu zuen (nahiz eta egoera triste batekin abiatu). Emazteak galdetu zion emakume hari: zer egin dezakegu zure alde? Eta berak erantzun zion: “pray” (otoitz egin).

Joxe Churruca We conducted our first interview with Joxe Churruca on February 25, 2023, and several follow-up interviews over the following months, gradually collecting additional information and anecdotes. The final interview took place on January 2, 2024. We met him at his home in Sparks, Nevada. His wife is Filipino, although her parents were of Basque descent. Her father, Muniosguren, had been a professional cesta punta player. The interview was conducted primarily in Basque, although Joxe occasionally switched to Spanish or English. Joxe was born on August 22, 1940, at the Aitzola farmhouse in the Aztarrika neighborhood of Berriatua. Although the farmhouse belonged administratively to Berriatua, it was ecclesiastically part of Ondarroa, and he was baptized there. He is the eldest of four siblings. One brother lives in Ondarroa, another, Patxi, lives in Reno with his wife Begoña, and the youngest still lives in Berriatua. Both of his parents were from Berriatua. His mother belonged to the Laka family. His maternal grandfather was a stonemason who worked on projects for Bilbao City Hall. His mother's family included eleven brothers and sisters, the youngest of whom died only a few years ago at the age of ninety-eight. His maternal grandfather had moved with his family from Markina to the Aitzola farmhouse in Aztarrika. Joxe's father died at the age of sixty-eight, while his mother lived to be ninety-one. His maternal grandmother, Andresa Uriarte Bereikua, reached the age of one hundred. He attended school until he was fourteen years old. Afterwards, he worked on the family farm until he was seventeen. He then found employment at the garage of the La Esperanza bus company in Ondarroa. On the day he turned eighteen, he obtained his commercial driver's license ("second-class") and began driving GMC trucks. One of his uncles, José María Plaza, owned the Bar Central in Berriatua. Together with José Manuel Arriola, the town secretary, his uncle also operated a sawmill. Joxe began working there, transporting timber by truck until he left for military service, a little more than two years later. His uncle provided him with an official letter to present to the authorities whenever necessary. On one occasion, while transporting an ash tree from the Larruskain district toward Zarautz and Zumaia to be used as the keel of a ship, the police stopped him. Joxe showed them the document, and after examining it they allowed him to continue, telling him, "You may proceed, but drive carefully." Looking back, he believes God was watching over him at that moment. Although young men from farming families were generally assigned to the army, Joxe completed his military service in the Spanish Navy. He spent two years there. Initially, he was sent to the naval training barracks in Ferrol. After taking the military oath, a man from the cruiser Canarias came looking for him. During the interview, Joxe explains that the Crucero Baleares had preceded the Canarias, but had been sunk during the Spanish Civil War, and that one of his uncles had died aboard that ship. The man took Joxe to meet the commander of the Canarias. Following an interview, he was accepted and spent the next eighteen months assigned to the commander's service. Every morning he went to the commander's residence on Calle del Sol in Ferrol, drove him to the cruiser, and carried out whatever tasks he was assigned. Whenever there was no work to do, he simply waited or kept himself occupied with small jobs. Joxe vividly recalls an episode from those years involving the Portuguese passenger liner Santa Maria, which had been hijacked in 1961. According to his recollection, General Franco ordered several naval vessels to locate the ship and, if possible, recover it. Two warning shells were fired at the bridge, leaving the vessel unable to maneuver. The cruiser Canarias, on which Joxe was serving, received orders to assist in the operation, but by the time they arrived the situation had already been brought under control by other naval forces, and their mission was cancelled. Instead, the Canarias was ordered south toward Africa. Their destination was Spanish Guinea, as Equatorial Guinea was then known. It was there, Joxe recalls, that he saw Black Africans for the first time in his life. After visiting another African island, the ship eventually returned to Ferrol. After completing his military service, Joxe returned to the Basque Country. While stationed in Ferrol he had met an acquaintance from Ondarroa named Paco, who owned a warehouse in Bilbao distributing potatoes to various businesses. Paco had encouraged him not to worry about finding work after the military and invited him to join his company. Joxe still speaks with great gratitude about that offer and remembers thanking him many times. Soon afterward he obtained his first-class commercial driver's license and began working for Construcciones Amaña in Eibar, where one of the contractors, José María Laka, was his uncle. He remained there until 1966, when he emigrated to the United States. During his time in Eibar, two of his close friends were members of ETA. One day they were all arrested—including Joxe—and taken to a police barracks for questioning. They were released the following day. Later he learned that one of those friends had been killed by the police. That experience convinced him that the safest option was to leave. The idea of emigrating to America was born at that time; he felt that things could hardly be worse elsewhere. By then he was already known for his remarkable physical strength, regularly lifting massive cubic stones weighing up to twelve arrobas. Through stone lifting he became close friends with the famous Basque boxer José Ramón Ibar, better known as Urtain. Before turning to professional boxing, Urtain had also been a stone lifter, and the two men developed a friendship through their shared passion for feats of strength. Joxe also recalls Gallastegi, a veteran stone lifter living in Eibar who, at fifty-three years of age, was still capable of lifting an eleven-and-a-half-arroba cubic stone. Joxe even served as one of his trainers. A well-known challenge was organized at Arrate between Gallastegi and Urtain. Gallastegi would attempt a thirteen-arroba stone, while Urtain was expected to lift a stone eighteen kilograms heavier. During the training sessions, Joxe himself was capable of lifting an eleven-arroba cubic stone. Looking back, he believes that, had he wanted to compete seriously, he could easily have become a successful stone lifter. Because of his slender build, few people imagined he possessed such extraordinary strength. Apart from the exhibition at Arrate, however, he never competed publicly. Returning to the story of his emigration, Joxe explains that a friend from Berriatua, Ramón Celaya, was then working near Willows, in northern California. Upon learning that Joxe wished to come to America, Celaya sent him a letter explaining where he should go. The day after arriving in the United States, Joxe was invited to breakfast. The foreman, Goihenetche—a French Basque, as Joxe describes him—was present. While they were eating, the ranch owner, Colly French, joined them. He was eighty-two years old and ranked among the wealthiest ranchers in California. Joxe remarks from memory that California is only about half a million acres smaller than Spain, mentioning the comparison simply to illustrate that Spain is not much larger. Joxe arrived in the United States on September 14, 1966. He had just turned twenty-six the previous month. At that time, his home neighborhood of Aztarrika consisted of about forty houses located roughly four kilometres from Ondarroa on the road to Lekeitio. He worked on the Chico ranch from 1966 until 1983, where approximately 22,000 sheep were raised.   (2nd part) (Part 2) Joxe begins by showing us a series of photographs taken near Chico, California, mostly during the 1980s. Among them is a picture of Miguel Romo, a Mexican employee who worked on the same ranch and for whom Joxe still has great affection and respect. He then points to a photograph of one of the flocks he managed and asks us to estimate how many sheep appear in the image. We guess around one thousand. Smiling, he replies that there were actually about three thousand five hundred. It was the flock under his care, photographed the day before the lambs were separated from their mothers and loaded onto trucks for sale. The picture was probably taken around 1976. He also shows us photographs of the trucks used on the ranch. Looking back, he feels that his arrival in America had been relatively easy because he already had a guaranteed job waiting for him in California. From there, however, the conversation shifts unexpectedly to the present. Joxe expresses concern about current immigration policies in the United States. In his opinion, the country's borders have become too open, allowing too many people to enter without sufficient controls. He believes that some of those arriving intend to harm the country rather than simply seek honest work. Had immigration been limited to people trying to earn a living, he says, he would have had no objection. Speaking quite graphically, he remarks that if someone had told him ten years earlier that America's borders would one day be so open, he would never have believed it. He is openly critical of the current political situation, describing it as "unthinkable." Returning to his own story, Joxe recalls that he travelled to America alone, although not long afterwards another young man from his neighborhood, Manuel Loza, followed him. Manuel was two years older than Joxe and has since passed away after suffering a heart attack while hunting wild goats. Joxe's flight landed first in San Francisco before continuing to Sacramento, where Goihenetche, the French Basque foreman from the ranch, came to meet him. He explains that, after spending time with French Basques, he eventually learned to understand their dialect perfectly and was able to converse with them naturally in Basque. His first impression of America was one of amazement. Whenever he telephoned home, he became emotional and sometimes cried, reassuring his family that they should not worry because he was living in a wonderful country. He remembers San Francisco as an extraordinarily clean city. "You could have eaten off the streets," he says. Today, however, he no longer wishes to visit because, in his opinion, the city has deteriorated considerably. Among the Basque families who welcomed him were Louis Elu and his relatives, who owned a hotel and restaurant on Broadway in San Francisco. Joxe visited them frequently and still remembers them with great affection. Speaking about today's America, he again becomes emotional, lamenting what he sees as profound political and social changes and the spread of ideas that he describes as communist. The owner of the ranch where Joxe first worked was Colly French. There were only a handful of employees. One was Irish, while the others included Basques from Gernika, Forua, and Bolíbar. At that time Colly French refused to hire Mexican workers. On his second day at the ranch, the owner simply motioned for him to follow with his index finger. Joxe knew no English whatsoever, yet he understood that he should go with him. French assigned him to work in one of the potreros, or fenced grazing areas, where his main responsibility was moving sheep from one pasture to another. The ranch covered approximately 30,000 acres and was divided into numerous grazing sections. Whenever the grass in one section had been consumed, the flock was moved to another. Once the lambs were weaned, they were loaded onto trucks and sold, while the ewes remained behind, bleating loudly after being separated from their young. Joxe frequently accompanied the owner in his pickup truck. French always drove, while Joxe opened and closed the ranch gates as they crossed from one section to another. One of their regular tasks was distributing salt to the sheep, which required collecting heavy sacks from a warehouse. One day Colly French asked him to load three sacks of salt, each weighing about one hundred pounds (roughly forty-five kilograms). Without thinking, Joxe picked up all three at once—one under each arm and the third resting on his shoulder—and threw them into the back of the pickup in a single movement. The astonished owner exclaimed, "No, no, no! I wanted three!" Joxe immediately replied, "You've got three there!" French simply stood staring at him. He later told everyone he knew about the extraordinary feat, repeatedly describing how "Joe" had carried "three bags!" at once while flexing his arm to imitate Joxe's enormous strength. According to Joxe, the old rancher became genuinely fond of him from that day onward. He recalls that Colly French died in hospital toward the end of March 1968. The following day, Joxe learned that former U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower had also died. Given the affection French had always shown him, Joxe sometimes wondered whether the rancher might have intended to leave him something in his will. Instead, French died unexpectedly, before anything of the sort could happen. Besides owning the ranch, he also owned the Colly French National Bank. French was a Baptist, and Joxe occasionally accompanied him to church. He remembers both Colly and his wife as exceptionally kind and generous people. He laughs while recalling one of French's peculiar habits. Whenever he bought Levi's jeans, he refused to shorten the legs, even though they were much too long for him. Instead, he simply folded the excess fabric inside the trousers and continued wearing them until they were completely worn out. When Joxe first arrived in America, he needed to purchase clothes and other necessities. For that purpose, the local bank—also owned by French—made about fifteen thousand dollars available for new employees' initial expenses. After French's death, the ranch was leased by Craick Owens, a cattle rancher. Joxe continued working there. He remembers Owens as a remarkably good man and an imposing physical figure, standing approximately six feet three inches tall and weighing around 350 pounds (about 159 kilograms). Owens eventually died as well, and Joxe believes the ranch later passed into the hands of the bank, although he never learned exactly what became of it. Years later he returned to visit the property two or three times and found it almost unrecognizable. The fences had collapsed, the horse facilities had disappeared, and the ranch itself seemed abandoned. Looking back, he says sadly, "Today you can hardly recognize the place." Eventually he accepted another position near Chico, California, where Jimmy Burres owned a ranch consisting mainly of irrigated land used to grow alfalfa and other forage crops. The ranch had around five thousand sheep. Having previously worked with more than twenty thousand animals, Joxe considered this operation comparatively easy. He remained there for about three years. After leaving that ranch, his brother Patxi, who by then was living in Reno, encouraged him to move to Nevada, assuring him that he would easily find work. Patxi was right. Around 1986, Joxe began working in the construction industry. Within less than a year, his supervisors promoted him to train newly hired workers. They repeatedly told him, "You can do it!" Looking back, he says that at the time he was in excellent physical condition. Even on construction sites, he occasionally impressed his co-workers with demonstrations of his remarkable strength. Patxi, he recalls, had emigrated to America around 1969. Their youngest brother, Félix, also lived in the United States for approximately four years after arriving at the age of seventeen, although he eventually returned permanently to the Basque Country. Like Joxe and Patxi, Félix was exceptionally strong. Joxe also remembers his friend Joxe Maguregi, who spent many years in America before eventually returning to the Basque Country, where he now lives in a nursing home in Ondarroa. Together they once travelled to Argentina to attend a soccer championship. Another memorable episode took place while Joxe was still working with sheep in California. He was invited to visit a ranch in Virginia that was experimenting with breeding new sheep varieties to increase productivity. After spending nine days observing the operation, he concluded that it had no future because it was poorly organized. He returned to California convinced the project would fail, and he never heard anything further about it. The California ranch where he worked also hired helicopters to control the coyote population. Equipped with a rifle, Joxe joined these operations and recalls shooting many coyotes from the helicopter. During his early years in America, he returned to the Basque Country approximately every three years. Communication with his family depended on letters and occasional telephone calls. Today, by contrast, he speaks with relatives almost every week. Because he spent so much time among French Basques, he became thoroughly familiar with their dialect. He believes this ability was helped by the fact that, even as a young man in Bizkaia, he enjoyed speaking with people from Gipuzkoa and had always been curious about the different varieties of the Basque language. He also remembers Agustin Garde and Telesforo Garde, whom he met while working near Willows. When he entered the construction industry, he first worked for Granite Construction Company before joining another firm specializing in underground infrastructure, including sewer systems, electrical installations, and water pipelines. He remembers both the owner of that second company and his wife with great affection, noting that both passed away not long afterwards. Among his fellow construction workers were several young Basques, including Joxe Arriaga, Juan from Munitibar, José Eguen, and others. (Part 3) Joxe met his wife, Rosario Muniosguren, in Reno at the home of his brother Patxi. Rosario's father, Muniosguren, had been a well-known cesta punta player. Joxe remembers him as an exceptionally good man. After retiring from professional jai alai, he worked as a line judge in Basque pelota frontons. He had been born in Soraluze (Placencia de las Armas) and came to Reno in 1978 with his daughters. Joxe eventually married one of them, Rosario. He was fifty-five years old when they married, while she was around thirty-eight or thirty-nine. He believes the wedding took place in 1995. During our interview, Rosario remarked that they would soon celebrate twenty-nine years of marriage, prompting Joxe to reflect on how quickly time had passed. They were married in a civil ceremony at the MGM Casino—today the Grand Sierra Resort—and later celebrated a religious wedding in church. The conversation then turns to his father's experience during the bombing of Gernika. Joxe recounts the story in Spanish because one of his relatives present during the interview does not speak Basque. His father happened to be hospitalized in Gernika when a nurse advised him to leave the town immediately if he was physically able. A truck transporting cattle toward Lekeitio stopped nearby. Although several passengers were already seated in the cab, the driver invited him to climb into the back. Having recently undergone surgery on one leg, he was unable to climb aboard by himself. A young farm woman working nearby saw his difficulty, walked over, lifted him from behind, and pushed him into the truck. Thanks to her help, he reached Lekeitio safely before making his way home by taxi. According to Joxe, all of this happened on the very day of the bombing. He recalls the atmosphere of foreboding, saying that "something was going to happen." During the conversation, Josu Aldekoaotalora points out that the bombing of Durango had taken place about a week earlier and that approximately three hundred people were killed there. Joxe also remembers Luis Elu, a former cesta punta player who owned a hotel and restaurant on Broadway in San Francisco. Although Elu had grown up in Markina, Joxe became much better acquainted with him after emigrating to America. Their friendship was strongest during the second half of the 1970s. Today, Elu lives in Florida. His memories soon return to Urtain, the legendary Basque heavyweight boxer with whom he had become friends before emigrating. Their friendship had begun through Basque stone lifting, long before Urtain entered professional boxing. Joxe weighed slightly less than Urtain—about eighty-eight kilograms compared to Urtain's ninety-eight—but he recalls Urtain telling him that, pound for pound, he had never met anyone stronger than Joxe. He remembers Urtain visiting the United States around 1972 or 1973 with his manager because he hoped to meet the Spanish boxer Pedro Carrasco, with whom he had previously lived in Madrid. Joxe accompanied them to Los Angeles to watch one of Carrasco's championship bouts. During the match, the mayor of Los Angeles and his wife happened to be seated beside Joxe. Although Urtain had hoped to fight professionally in the United States, the opportunity never materialized. Joxe believes that Joe Frazier, then one of the dominant figures in American heavyweight boxing, had no interest in facing him. One memory remains especially vivid. Before an important bout at Bilbao's Vista Alegre arena, Urtain told him in Basque: "When I win, you have to carry me out of the bullring on your shoulders." Joxe becomes visibly emotional whenever he speaks about his friend. In his opinion, Urtain was a fundamentally good man who never intentionally harmed anyone. He believes, however, that he surrounded himself with questionable people and tended to accept almost every proposal placed before him. Joxe also knew Urtain's father, who died at only forty-six years of age and was himself an extraordinarily powerful stone lifter capable of raising a sixteen-arroba stone. He also remembers Urtain's sister Elvira, whom he recalls as a remarkably attractive young woman who later married an aizkolari (woodchopper), although he no longer remembers his name. Through Urtain he also came to know Pedro Carrasco. Joxe believes that organized crime exerted considerable influence over the world of professional boxing during those years. He admits that much of what was discussed remained difficult for him to understand because the boxers often spoke indirectly about "mafia business." Nevertheless, he believes that both Urtain and Carrasco managed to avoid becoming deeply involved in those circles. At the height of his career, Carrasco could reportedly earn as much as three hundred thousand dollars for a single successful fight. Joxe remembers him as an elegant, refined man despite competing in the lightweight division. Reflecting on his years in construction, Joxe is uncertain whether he worked in the industry for two or three decades before retiring. By our calculations, he retired around 2001, at approximately sixty-one or sixty-two years of age. Even before retiring, a friend encouraged him to begin competing in arm wrestling. He entered the over-fifty category and went on to participate in numerous tournaments throughout the United States and Europe. One of his fondest memories is travelling to Manchester, England, when he was sixty-six years old. Although all of his opponents were younger than he was, they still belonged to the same age category. A representative of the American federation personally invited him to compete and covered all of his travel expenses. He continued competing for another six years, mainly in tournaments along the West Coast of the United States. Joxe also recalls an uncle, Juan Laka, who settled in Ontario, Oregon, after emigrating as a teenager. When Joxe and one of his brothers visited him, the old man was already ninety-three years old. Among the members of his extended family, Joxe speaks with particular admiration of his cousin Kepa Bilbao Laka, whom he considers the most remarkable person ever to come from Berriatua. At the age of eighteen, Kepa travelled to Chile to begin his religious formation. He was first a Franciscan friar and later became a diocesan priest after receiving permission to devote himself more freely to charitable work. In Chile he founded homes for the elderly, schools, and numerous social assistance projects. Joxe says, half jokingly, that he committed "heresies" because he constantly sought unconventional ways of helping those most in need. He remembers one Basque contractor who had suffered financial ruin in Chile. Kepa helped him recover, and years later, out of gratitude, the contractor donated three apartment buildings to support Kepa's charitable work. When Kepa was close to death, he invited members of the family to Chile at his own expense. Joxe remembers that although his cousin was dying, he smiled warmly at each relative as they entered his room. Speaking with deep emotion, Joxe describes Kepa as a saint. He and Rosario travelled to Chile twice to visit him. Reflecting on those encounters, Joxe quietly says: "When you spoke with him, you felt that God was present." Shortly after his marriage, Joxe retired from construction. Retirement allowed him to travel extensively with his wife and friends. Together they visited Chile twice, Argentina, England, Ireland, Italy, Serbia, the Holy Land, Israel, Jordan, Egypt, and many other places. Rosario had been widowed before their marriage and had two children from her first husband, who had died at the age of forty-six. Whenever they return to the Basque Country—usually every two years—they enjoy visiting Bilbao, especially the area around the Guggenheim Museum, as well as Lekeitio, Markina, and Bolíbar. The family's farmhouse in Aztarrika has since been sold to a local butcher. Joxe also shows us photographs of another house he once owned in Reno. He is especially proud of the roof, which he built entirely by himself after retiring, without the help of any workers. He jokes that "no one even had to hand me the hammer." The house stood near San Rafael Park and measured approximately 1,700 square feet. Even in his eighties he continued carrying out repairs himself. On August 18, 2022, while replacing part of the roof on his current home during a rainstorm accompanied by thunder, he briefly thought to himself, "Go back." Ignoring the warning, he continued climbing and soon fell from a considerable height. He landed flat on his back with his arms outstretched, "like Jesus Christ on the cross," as he describes it. He suffered a serious head injury that caused a brain hemorrhage and fractured his coccyx. He drifted in and out of consciousness while lying in a pool of blood. His wife later explained that the doctors were astonished he had survived such a fall and believed he was unlikely to recover. He spent a week in intensive care fighting for his life, followed by another month gradually recovering basic mobility. During those first weeks, he says, his mind often wandered and he remained confused. The doctors could scarcely believe his progress. Joxe himself was convinced that he was about to die. As he recalls those days, he becomes visibly emotional. He attributes his survival to the prayer chain organized by his parish, Immaculate Conception Parish. God, he believes, granted him another opportunity to continue living. Throughout his hospitalization he repeatedly asked Rosario not to argue with the doctors. In the end, he says, they all became friends. Near the end of our conversation he recalls another fall that had occurred only a few weeks earlier. While walking through the neighborhood, he stumbled and struck his head. A woman immediately came to help him and introduced herself by saying, "Don't worry. I'm a nurse." Moments later she quietly added that she herself had suffered a miscarriage earlier that very morning. Joxe is deeply moved by the memory. Despite her own grief, the woman stayed with him, took him for medical treatment, where he received several stitches, drove him home, and made sure he was properly cared for. Later, Rosario asked her whether there was anything they could do in return. The nurse simply replied, "Pray."

 

 Esti Amorrortu Gómez

 

 

 

Estibaliz Amorrortu Estibaliz Amorrortu Gomez 1969an jaio zen Bilbon. Euskal Filologiako lizentziatura egin zuen Deustuko unibertsitatean. Esti ez zegoen guztiz pozik orduko Deustuko unibertsitateko sistemarekin, beste zerbait ezagutu nahi zuen eta buruan kanpora joatea zuen. 3. Mailan zegoela Eusko Jaurlaritza luzatzen zuen beka bat zegoen Renoko unibertsitatera joateko baina ez zioten eman. 5.mailan zegoenean berriro eskatu zuen eta orduan eman zioten, euskara eskolak ematen laguntzeko Renoko Unibertsitatean. Beste neska euskaldun batekin joan zen, Ataungo kazetaria zen hura. Bertan zegoela erabaki zuen masterra egin nahi zuela Center for Basque Studies-en. Linda White doktorego tesia egiten zegoen eta eszedentzia eskatu zuen, horrela Estibaliz kontratatu zuen bere ordezko moduan. Beraz, Eusko Jaurlaritzaren beka bukatuta, beste urte bitan lanean egon zen  bertan eskolak ematen eta masterra egiten era berean. Masterra bukatzean, erabaki zuen doktoretza egin nahi zuela soziolinguistika arloan eta Renon aukera gutxi zegoela konturatu zen. Unibertsitate ezberdinak aztertu eta, azkenerako, Los Angelesera joan zen. Eusko Jaurlaritzan doktoretza egiteko beka eskatu zuen eta hori ere eman zioten, horrekin ordaindu zuen doktoretza beraz. Horrela egon zen beste lau urtez eta bosgarren urtean beka berri batekin bukatu zuen doktoretzaren azken pausuak ematen. Uda batean Elkon ere egon zen bertako euskararen azterketatxo bat egiten. Urtebeterako planarekin joan zen, beraz, eta zortzi urtez luzatu zen bere egonaldia Ameriketako Estatu Batuetan. 1992an joan eta 2000.urtean bueltatu zen. Zortzi urte horietan urtero behin edo birritan bueltatzen zen bere jaioterrira bisitatxoak egitera. Renon eta Los Angelesen bizimodua oso ezberdina dela dio. Renon giroa oso babestua da eta komunitate euskalduna dago bertan; horrek erraztu egin zion bertako egonaldia. Los Angeles, ostera, hiri gogorra da, latza, tentsio sozial handikoa, kontuz ibiltzeko lekua. Bere esperientziek batean eta bestean ez daukate zerikusirik. Berarentzat ikasketa arloan aldaketa handiena izan zen han ez zirela klase magistralak egiten, askoz parte-hartzaileagoa zen. Unibertsitatea Estirentzat “aire freskoa” izan zela dio eta han Deustun aurkitu ez zituen erraztasunak zituela. Renon dantza talde bat zegoen, dantza talde serioa (Lisa Korkostegi Urbeltzen dizipulua zen zuzendaria bere gizonarekin) “Zenbat gara dantza taldea”. Esti bertan ibili zen. Euskal komunitatearekin harremana zuen, batez ere akademia mundukoekin. Argi zeukan doktoretza egin eta jaioterrira bueltatuko zela. Ikasleak doktoregoa bukatu eta lan bila hasten ziren, Esti ez zen ahalegindu ere, buruan argi zeukan Euskal Herrira bueltatuko zela, nahiz eta lan baldintzak han hobeak izan. Bueltatzean kontrastea aurkitu zuen Unibertsitateko metodologian, baina argi dauka ordutik asko aldatu dela Deustuko Unibertsitatea. Ameriketara joan izan ez balitz mundua beste modu batera ikusiko lukeela dio eta ez du uste emakume izateagatik zailtasun gehiago izan dituenik, emakumeen presentzia bere sasoian nabaria zela gogoratzen du.

Estibaliz Amorrortu Estibaliz Amorrortu Gómez was born in Bilbao in 1969. She earned a degree in Basque Philology from the University of Deusto. During her undergraduate studies, however, she was not entirely satisfied with the university's academic approach. She wanted to experience a different educational environment and had already set her sights on studying abroad. While in her third year, she applied for a scholarship offered by the Basque Government to study at the University of Nevada, Reno, but her application was unsuccessful. She applied again during her fifth year and was awarded the scholarship, which enabled her to travel to Reno to assist with teaching Basque language courses at the university. She traveled to Reno together with another young Basque woman, a journalist from Ataun. While there, Estibaliz decided that she wanted to pursue a master's degree at the Center for Basque Studies. At the time, Linda White was working on her doctoral dissertation and took a leave of absence, allowing Estibaliz to be hired as her replacement. Consequently, after her Basque Government scholarship ended, she remained at the university for two additional years, teaching Basque while simultaneously completing her master's degree. After finishing her master's, she decided to pursue a doctorate in sociolinguistics. She soon realized that Reno offered only limited opportunities in that field. After exploring several universities, she eventually chose to continue her studies in Los Angeles. She successfully applied for another Basque Government scholarship to fund her doctoral studies, which covered the cost of her Ph.D. She remained there for four years, and during a fifth year, supported by an additional fellowship, completed the final stages of her dissertation. During one summer, she also spent time in Elko carrying out a small-scale study of the local variety of Basque spoken there. What had originally been planned as a one-year stay eventually became an eight-year experience in the United States. She arrived in 1992 and returned to the Basque Country in 2000. Throughout those eight years, she returned home once or twice each year to visit family and friends. According to Estibaliz, life in Reno and Los Angeles could not have been more different. Reno offered a close-knit environment with a well-established Basque community, making it easy to feel supported and integrated. Los Angeles, by contrast, was a much harsher city, characterized by significant social tensions and requiring far greater caution in everyday life. As she explains, her experiences in the two places were completely different. From an academic perspective, the greatest difference she encountered was the teaching methodology. Unlike the lecture-based instruction she had experienced in the Basque Country, classes in the United States were far more participatory and interactive. She describes her years at the university as "a breath of fresh air," offering academic opportunities and intellectual freedom that she had not found at the University of Deusto. While living in Reno, she joined Zenbat Gara Dantza Taldea, a well-established Basque dance group directed by a disciple of Lisa Korkostegi Urbeltz together with her husband. She also maintained close ties with the local Basque community, particularly with people connected to the academic world. From the very beginning, she was determined to return to the Basque Country after completing her doctorate. While many of her fellow doctoral students remained in the United States to look for academic positions, she never seriously considered staying. Although professional opportunities and working conditions may have been better in the United States, she had always intended to return home. Upon her return, she noticed a marked contrast in university teaching methods, although she believes that the University of Deusto has changed considerably since then. Looking back, Estibaliz believes that had she not lived in the United States, she would view the world very differently. She does not feel that being a woman created additional obstacles during her academic career, recalling that women already had a strong presence in the university environment during those years.

 

Ana Mari (Ozamiz) Arbillaga

 

 

 

 

 

Ana Mari Arbillaga stood with her back to us, arms raised, fingers snapping. During her workday, she cooked at the Nevada Dinner House, one of the three Basque restaurants in Elko, and then on weekends she turned into the patron saint of Elko’s Basque heritage —dance instructor, seamstress, Basque-to-English translator, and letter writer. If the Basque had a matriarch in Elko, Ana Mari qualified. She talked like Dad, conveying more meaning with inflection, volume, and hand gestures than with words. (Juaristi 2011:90)     Arbillaga, jakina, bere senarra defuntuaren abizena zen. Amak Alberdi zuen abizena. Agarre baserrian jaio zen, Gautegiz-Arteaga herrian, 1935eko martxoaren 17an. (Aurrerago “nineteen thirty five” esaten du berak). Bere osaba abadea izan zen, eta Frankoren gaian abade hura Bilbon zegoen eta bera txikia zela amarekin batera Bilbora joan zen bizitzera. Gerra garaian “bombardeoak” egon ziren eta bonba bat Agarre ondoko baserrian jausi zen. Gero abioiak Bilbon ere bota zituzten eta bonba bat euren etxetik gertu jausi zen eta fatxada “arrakalatu” egin zen. Bilbotik Natxitura joan ziren gero. Bere neba gazteena Natxituan jaioa izan zen. Gero ez daki zergatik atzera ere joan ziren Arteagara. Errentatutako baserri batean bizi izan ziren. Baserri horren “usabak” New Yorken bizi ziren eta errentatu egiten zuten: noizean behin “kasu” egiten zioten baserriari. Berak 18 urte eukazala aita hil zen, eta ama, bi neba eta bera geratu ziren. Eskolan 14 urte bete arte egon zen, gero josten ikasten joan zen. Bere lehengusina Bilbon egon zen beharrean eta harek esan zion Jose Felix Lequerica[1] (Espainiako enbajadorea edo) etxeko langileen beharrean zegoela, eta haren etxean egin zuen lan. Hiru hilabete Washingtonen, eta beste hiru hilabete Espainian (txandaka edo), horrela ibiltzen ei zen. Ez zeukan umerik. Hiru neska zeuden haren etxean lanean: bata zen “kozinerie”, sukaldaria, bestea zen “ama de llaves”, eta Ana Mari. Beste txofer bi ere bazeuzkan. Hiru hilabete Bilbon (Las Arenas-en, zehazki, Areetan, uda partean), beste hiru hilabete Madrilen. Bi urte eta erdi egin zuen lan berarentzat. Halako batean bere izeko, bere “tía” (bere aitaren arrea, Ameriketan bizi omen zen) etorri zen Euskal Herrira bisitan, familia ikusten-eta. Egun haietan ama hil zitzaion eta izekok proposatu zion Ameriketara joatea. Lequericak esan omen zion interesa bazeukan Ameriketara joateko berak “arreglatuko” zizkiola paperak-eta, joan zedin. Pasaporteko “visa” eta kontu guztiak egun bitan egin zizkion eta horrela etorri zen bere “tíarekin” Ameriketara, Santa Rosara, Kaliforniara (“nineteen sixty” esaten du). Berak esaten du San Franciscotik “forty miles-era”[2] dagoela. San Francisco hiri handia ikusi eta, bai, harritu zen. Urtebete eman zuen han, tiari laguntzen, bere lehengusinarekin batera. Gero San Franciscora joan zen: han zegoen matrimonio bat (gizona nafarra eta emaztea bizkaitarra). Haien etxean aritu zen lanean josten. 25 urte zituen orduan. Urtebetegarrenean Elkora etorri zen, Arostegui familiarengana, “emakumearentzako[3]” gauzak josten ibili zen. Nineteen sisty one urtean izan zen. Matrimonio hura San Franciscotik pasatu zen eta proposatu zioten Elkora etortzeko. Besterik gabe Ana Marik baietz, badoala esan eta Elkora etorri zen. Nevadako desertua ikusi eta triste iruditu zitzaion. Lauzurikak Nevada hotela zeukaten eta saldu ei zuen eta alabaren izenean jarri. Alaba hura bilakatu zen koinata (nebaren “andrea”). Galdetu zioten ea nahi zuen eurekin lan egiteko, eta “ok” esan zien Ana Marik, haiekin geratu zen kozinan laguntzen. Hura izango zen ninetee sixty one. Borregeroak etortzen zirenean han goian “camarak” edo kuartoak egoten ziren eta han geratzen ziren (Nevada hotel-i buruz ari gara), “between 12 or 15 men”, hori zen zeukaten “kapazitatea”. Haientzako janariak prestatu eta kanpoko jendearentzat ere bai. Emakume hark ez zekien asko kozinan eta berak ere ez asko (barre egiten du). “Horregaz emakumeagaz” hogeita bi urte egon zen guztira (1983ra arte?). Gero restaurantea italiano batzuei saldu zien. Gizona italianoa zen eta enbra[4] frantsez-euskalduna. Haiekin (nagusi edo ugazaba berri haiekin, senar-emazteak ei ziren) beste hogei urte egon zen lanean. Arbillaga gizonaren arreba zen “euskaldun-frantsez” emakume hura. 1961an ezkondu zen, bere gizona Osses (Orzaitze) herrikoa zen, José Manuel Arbillaga: sheep camp-ean egiten zuen lan, ardiekin, jakina. Ana Mari 26 urterekin ezkodu eta gizonak 52 urte zituen ezkondu zelarik. Antza denez, senarraren benetako abiziena Arribillaga ei zen, baina Argentinan bizi izan zen eta abizena ez zuten ondo “eskribidu”. 1963an “Espainara” joan zen, senarra eta seme batekin. Sasoi hartan koinatak, umea euki ostean, itzuli egin behar izan zuen klinikara (hamar egunetara) eta “apendizia” apurtuta zeukala antzeman zuten (hori Euskal Herrian gertatu omen zen). Senarrak eta biok erabaki zuten han geratzea, Euskal Herrian harik eta[5] koinata ondo topatu arte. Bitartean han (EHan) jaio zen euren bigarren semea. Han apartamentu bat erosi eta umea (loba, koinataren semea) hartu zuten zaintzeko (koinata sendatzen zen bitartean). Umea (loba) hazi egin zuten urtebetez. Gero etorri ziren atzera Elkora. Lehenengoz gizona (Joxe A.) eta gero bera, “nineteen sixty seven” urtean izan zen. Ramon Zugazaga aipatzen du eta bere “Biltoki” delako errestaurantea. 1967an Biltoki delakoan hasi zen lanean, seventy nine-n hasi zen eta erretiratu arte: mahaiak altzatu, mahaiak imini, neskatxari ordezkapenak egiten. Restaurante saldu zuenean erabaki zuen ez gehiago jarraitzea (nagusi berriekin). 1969an bertan hasi zen umeei “jantzak” erakusten. Ehun ume eukitzeraino heldu zen. Lehenengo ikaslean Anita Franzoi (Anakabe) eta belaunaldi hartakoak izan ziren. Liz Moiola (Elkon jaiotakoa), Leon Bilbaoren andrea ere izan zen, eta hiru-lau andra izan ziren “jantza” irakasleak hasiera hartan. Hemezortzi urtez jarraian egon zen horretaz arduratzen, bera izan zen “jarraitu” zuen bakarra.  Bere tio abadearengandik (Guillermo Alberdi) ikasi zuen dantzan. Harek dantzak, pelotan… “harek eukiban “trobela”[6] Frankogaz…” (barre egiten du). Arteagan zegoen abade, baina Arteagako parrokoa “frankisti” zen, “ez zan arreglaten harekin”: gerra hasi zenean Bilbora alde egin zuen eskapo, (eskuaz eta atzamarraz tiroa botateko keinua dagi) beste batzuk hil zuten moduan bera ere hil egin zezaketelakoan. Bilbon bizi izandako bi urteak gogoratuz, aipatzen du bere semea, Bilbon jaio zelako, etxean daukana: Fermín deitzen da eta duela urte bi auto-istripu izan zuen eta “brain damage” izan duela dio, memora joan “dakon”; izan ere, istripua izan eta bera bakarrik egon zen ia 24 orduz norbait laguntzera etorri arte eta odol-isuria izan zuen burmuinean. Tiorekin ikasi zuen dantzan, atzera “parata”, “halantxik”. Guillermo osaba Arteagara gutxitan etortzen zen bisitan, eta parrokia ez zuen zapaltzen. Arteaga eta Kanal artean “ermitta” bat zegoen eta han ematen zuen bere Meza. 1962an hil zen bilbon. Arteagako abade frankistak, bera elizara joan zen baten, eskuaren atzamarraz esan zion etortzeko, eta etxera bidali zuen blusa aldatzeko. Negarrez joan zen etxera, eta ama joan zen gero abade horrekin hitz egitera. Antza, blusa zuria zen eta lore gorri batzuk, eta orri berde batzuk brodatuta zeuzkan (ikurrinaren koloreak) eta horregatik bidali zuen etxera abade hark. Komunioa batzuei eman bai baina beste batzuei ez. Bilbon josten egondako etxeko gizona ere fusilatu egin ei zuten. Amari entzuten zizkion errepresioaren gauzak, baina berak ez zituen hilketa eta indarkeria horiek zuzenean ikusi. “Halantxe hazinikuak, bakixu[7]”. Eskolan ere egoera gogorrak pasatu zituen: 6 urterekin hasi zen eta ez zekien gaztelerarik. Baitaioz “Ane Miren” da, baina udaletxean “Ana Maria” zen, galazota zeudelako euskarazko izenak. Lagun batzuk zituen, ahizpak zirenak: Ikerne eta Aintzane. Eskolan Visitación eta Gloria deitzen zieten. “Ez gendun euskera egiten ahal eskolan”[8]. Elizan dotrina euskaraz ikasten zuen, eta bitartean eskolan, dotrina baita ikasi baina “españolez”. Otoitzak hizkuntza bietan ikasi zituen. Gosea ere bazeukaten, dena “razonamendua” eta tristea, “bakixu?”. Gizona (Joxe Arbilaga) gaztelaniaz (txikitan, gurasoekin, Argentinan bizi izan zen), euskaraz eta ingelesez mintzo zen.  Seme bietatik zaharrenak egiten du euskaraz polito, bigarrenak gutxiago. “Espainolez” ere moldatzen dira. Kontzientea da bere senarraren euskara eta berea “diferenteak” zirela. Umeak hasi zirenean eskolan, agian euskaraz hitz egin eta eurek gaztelaniaz erantzun, edo espainolez hitz egin eta eurek ingelesez erantzun egiten zuten. Berak uste du bere euskara “nahastauta” dagoela, eskolan ere, txikitan derrigortuta egon zelako gaztelaniaz hitz egitera: “halakoxe euskera dekú”. Amoma ezagutu zuen eta harek gaztelaniaz berba bat ere ez. Bere gizon difuntua Argentinan jaio eta hamar urterekin itzuli ziren “Frantziara” (Iparraldera) eta Donibane Garazin fraileekin ikasi zuen. Gero, anaia bat Nevadan zuela-eta, Ameriketara etorri zen sano gazte. Atzenengoz joan zela Euskal Herrira duela urte bi izan zen (2019an edo), Zakarias bilobarekin. Tabita da beste biloba bat eta harekin lehenago joan zen, hiru hilabeterako. Tabitak aprobetxatu zuen Deustun gaztelania ikastaro bat egiteko. Tabita Ana Marik hazitakoa da: aita gaixorik egon da istripua izan zuenetik. Semeak 1962an eta 1963an jaiotakoak dira, edade bat daukate jada. “Zerak”[9] iminita dauzka, “ez daiten urten kanpora”. “Ez dau urtetan ahal”[10] (ezin da irten). “Zeozelako” txip edo “I donow”, dauka buruan. “Nik ahal dodan arte egingo dot, I donow”, horrela esaten du bere semearen zaintzari buruz. Dantzan eta pelotan ondo egiten zuen, baina orain gabetuta dabil, “oin ez dau egiten ahal”[11]. “Strock-arekin” euskaldun asko hil berri dira Elko inguruan (urte batean hiru), “nik eztaitt ze pasetan dan”. Semeak ere euki ei du strock-a eta ezkerreko alderdian “balantza” egiten du (88 urterekin semearen osasunaren ardura berak darama). “Cheap” ez da inon. Trailerra, pickupa, eta etxea badauzka. Ana Marik dio haiek saldu eta ahal den bitartean horrekin “konpontzeko”. “Social security” ere baduela dio. Berak daukan kristau fedeari buruzko galdera bat ez du ulertu eta bere joskintza kontuei buruz hasi da berbetan. High school-eko neskendako arropak josten dituela dino, baina neska haiek unibertsitatean berehala hasten dira eta arropa horiek “galdu” egiten dira askotan. Elkon ez dagoela beste jostunik kontzientea da. Lau “grupo” dituela dio. Txikienak, zazpi urte gorakoak, middle school-ekoak, high school-ekoak… Badira neska batzuk “diferente” eskatzen dutenak, “bakixu”, “I wanna do this, I wanna do that…”, ez Boisen bezala, han denak berdin janzten dira.         High school-eko dantzarien jantziak erakusten dizkit. Berak lana ez du kobratzen, baina materiala (oihalak, eta abar) eurek ordaintzen dute. Jantzi gehienak Basque Club-en gordetzen dira, baina erabiliak diren batzuk berak garbitu, “siketu”, plantxau (lisatu) eta bere etxeko beheko kaurtoan (basement) berak gordetzen ditu. Neska bakar batek laupabost jantzi desberdin (kolore eta itxura desberdinetakoak) izan ditzake. Berak erakutsi dizkidanak Tabitarenak dira. Urte osoan egoten da jantziok egiten. Txikiek ez dute “horrenbeste” eskatzen. Amantala, paineluak (soinean jartzekoak), txalekoak (zaharrek erabiltzen dituztenak). Egunean bat egin dezake. Zortzi egin behar baditu zortzi egun beharko ditu. Penny-n eta Walmart-en erosi izan ditu aurreko urteetan, baina horrelako lekuetan edo dendetan gero eta gutxiago dago (oihalak eta). Orain, “computerretik” eskatzen ditu horreek gauzok. Norbaitek eskatuz gero, “bai, ekarri materixala ta neuk egingotzudaz” esaten du sarritan. Gehien erabiltzen direnak, “azula” eta gorria dira. “Urteen urtean” badatoz berriak eta egin behar zaizkie jantziak eta horretan aritzen da. Tabitak “would you teache me how to do it, so I can do it?” esaten dio. Esaten du ez zaiola gehiegi kostatzen orain beste zeregin askorik ez duelako. Boisen denek daukate “iguala”, “you know what I mean?”, baina Elkokoek esaten diote “I saw this in Spain, I saw this in France” eta berak egin behar izaten ditu. Middle group-eraino Basque Club-ek ordaintzen ditu jantziak, hurrengoek beste batzuenak erabiltzeko. Mallearen andreak egiten zituen, baina hark kobratu egiten zuen lana. Txikien gona bakoitzari zenbaki, “numero” bat jartzen dio (papertxo baten idatzita), “klasifikatzeko” eta jakiteko ume bakoitzari zer eman dion. Txikientzat hamazortzi “joku” egin ei ditu. Orratzekin galtzerdiak eta umeentzako jertseiak ere egiten ditu. Txikientzako arropatxoak “rafle” egiten ditu (zozketa), 30 dollars a pair, eta horrela. Gonen azpikoak ere egiten ditu. Neskek buruan ipintzeko painueluak ere egiten ditu. Txalekoak ere bai. Txalekoekin alde batetik kolore bat eta bestetik beste bat: gorria-berdea, “azula” eta “baltza”; horrela, buelta ematean “beste” txaleko balitz lez geratzen da. Koloreen konbinazio posibleak erakusten dizkit: amantala zuria – gona azula; amantala berdea – gona marroia; gona “purple”, zinta belrtzak edota zuriak… “Ez dotan lez inon biharrik eitten, I don’t care”, esaten du. Materialean bakarrik, gona bakoitzean (zip, zintak, oihala…) 25 dollar bai, behar izaten dira. Gona batzuen muturreko “puntila” hiru dolar izaten da (materiala bakarrik). Eurek jota, aurresku eta horrelako dantzak egiten zituzten. Orain “computadorretik” hainbat dantza klase ikusten dituzte gazteek eta haiek nahi dituzte dantzatu eta horretarako jantziak prestatu. Mutilentzat bakarrik garrikoak egiten ditu, gainontzekoak (txapelak barne) erosi egiten dituzte. Lobei buruz ari da. Lau ei ditu eta Gernikan bizi dira. Mutiko bat Lezaman bizi da. Euskal Herrira joaten denean zaharrenaren etxera joaten da, “besoetakoa” dela-eta. Loba bat, hirugarrena, Mari Pili, “community college-en” ikasten zegoela izan zuen etxean urte betez. Gero haien alabetako bat high schoolean egon zen, baita Elkon. Zaharrena “Ana Mari” ei da eta haren etxean geratzen da, baserri batean bizi dira, Gernikatik “urtekeran”. Harritu egiten da orain bere lobak eskolan ingelesa ikasten dutela ikusita eta maila ona daukatela. Oso aldatuta ikusten du Euskal Herria eta bertako jendea, batez ere. Franko ezagutu ez zutenei berriro erakutsiko lieke, zer den gogorra ikas dezaten. Orain jada sei-zazpi urtekoek badaukaten telefonoa (smart phone). Bere garaian telefonorik etxean ez zegoen, eta auzoan bakarra zeukaten hainbatendako. Gero loba batek bukatu zuenean bere karrera (ingeniaria edo), ez zeukan “plazarik” eta esan ei zion: “joan horra eta hasi zaitez platerak garbitzen, harik eta plaza lortu arte!” Baina ez zuen nahi, beheko gauzatzat hartu zuen, ikasi dutena besterik ez dute egin / ikasi nahi. Bere denboran ez zegoen horrelakorik (alegia, ahal zena hartu eta lanean hasi). Orain zenbat eta gehiago izan, hainbat eta gehiago euki gura. Bere denboran ez kotxerik ez ezer. Bizikleta akaso, baina hori ere guztiek ez zuten. “Franco biziko bazen, harek erakutsiko zizun zelan bizitzen”, esaten omen dio lobaren bati (esaten du irribarrez). Gero, bere garaian herrian erdaldunik apenas ez zegoen. Berak 14 urte zituela trenaren bideak egiten galegoak eta andaluzak etorri ziren. Herrira bi etorri ziren eta bertako neskekin ezkondu. Ordura arte ez zituzten ezagutzen erdaldunak. Bere neba zaharra karpinteroa da eta Arteagan bizi ziren urtean bere neba langile “erdaldun” batzuekin egon zen bazkaltzen. Haietako batek esan zuen bere semeak “euskaldunak” direla eta Ana Mariren nebak esan zion ezetz, “zure umeak galegoak dira baina Euskal Herrian jaioak”, eta hor eztabaida sortu zen. Konparatu egiten du egoera hori mexikarrekin eta “American” delakoekin: hor identitate issue bat dago. Harritu egiten da Euskal Herrian kalean saltzen ibiltzen diren baltzak ederto mintzo euskaraz. “Geu be ez gara amerikanuk, baia hementxe gauz” esaten du irribarrez.

Ana Mari Arbillaga (Part 1) Juaristi describes Ana Mari Arbillaga as follows: Ana Mari Arbillaga stood with her back to us, arms raised, fingers snapping. During her workday, she cooked at the Nevada Dinner House, one of the three Basque restaurants in Elko, and then on weekends she turned into the patron saint of Elko’s Basque heritage—dance instructor, seamstress, Basque-to-English translator, and letter writer. If the Basques had a matriarch in Elko, Ana Mari qualified. She talked like Dad, conveying more meaning with inflection, volume, and hand gestures than with words. (Juaristi 2011: 90) Arbillaga, she explains, was the surname of her late husband. Her maiden name was Alberdi. Ana Mari was born at the Agarre farmhouse in Gautegiz-Arteaga on March 17, 1935. During the interview, she herself emphasizes the date by saying, "nineteen thirty-five." One of her uncles was a Catholic priest. During the Spanish Civil War he was living in Bilbao, and while Ana Mari was still very young, she and her mother moved there to live with him. During the war, bombings affected both the countryside and the city. One bomb fell on a farmhouse next to Agarre, and later, in Bilbao, another exploded close to the house where they were living, cracking the building's façade. Afterwards the family moved to Natxitua, where her youngest brother was born. She does not remember exactly why they later returned to Arteaga. They lived in a rented farmhouse whose owners had emigrated to New York and leased the property, returning only occasionally to look after it. When Ana Mari was eighteen, her father died, leaving her mother, her two brothers, and herself to carry on alone. She remained in school until the age of fourteen and then began learning dressmaking. A cousin who was working in Bilbao told her that José Félix de Lequerica—Spain's ambassador to the United States at the time—was looking for domestic staff. Ana Mari entered his household and worked for him for two and a half years. His schedule was divided between the United States and Spain. He spent three months in Washington, D.C., followed by three months in Spain, alternating between the two countries. During the summer he lived in Las Arenas (Getxo), while the rest of the year he resided in Madrid. Lequerica had no children. His household employed three women: a cook, a housekeeper, and Ana Mari herself, in addition to two chauffeurs. A turning point came when one of her aunts—her father's sister, who lived in the United States—returned to the Basque Country to visit the family. During that visit Ana Mari's mother passed away. Her aunt suggested that she accompany her back to America. Lequerica encouraged the idea. He told her that if she wished to emigrate, he would personally arrange all the necessary paperwork. Within only two days he had obtained her passport, visa, and all the required documents. Thus, in 1960, Ana Mari travelled to California with her aunt, settling first in Santa Rosa, about forty miles north of San Francisco. Seeing San Francisco for the first time made a deep impression on her. She spent a year in Santa Rosa helping her aunt and one of her cousins. After that year she moved to San Francisco, where she worked as a seamstress for a Basque couple—the husband from Navarre and the wife from Bizkaia. She was twenty-five years old at the time. One year later, in 1961, she moved to Elko. A Basque family from San Francisco suggested that she might find better opportunities there, and without much hesitation she accepted. The Nevada desert struck her as bleak and desolate when she first saw it. She initially worked for the Lauzurika family, who owned the Nevada Hotel. They had recently transferred ownership of the business to their daughter, who later became Ana Mari's sister-in-law through marriage. They asked whether she would like to stay and work with them, helping in the kitchen, and she gladly accepted. At that time the Nevada Hotel regularly accommodated Basque sheepherders. Between twelve and fifteen men could stay there at once. Ana Mari helped prepare meals both for the shepherds lodging upstairs and for the restaurant's regular customers. Laughing as she remembers those early days, she remarks that neither she nor the woman in charge knew very much about cooking. She remained working alongside that woman for twenty-two years, until approximately 1983, when the restaurant was sold to an Italian couple. The husband was Italian, while the wife was a French Basque and the sister of her future husband. Ana Mari continued working for the new owners for another twenty years. She married José Manuel Arbillaga in 1961. He was originally from Ossès (Ortzaize), in the French Basque Country, and worked as a sheepherder. Ana Mari was twenty-six years old when they married, whereas José Manuel was already fifty-two. She explains that his original surname had actually been Arribillaga, but because he had lived in Argentina, the family name had been incorrectly recorded there and remained misspelled thereafter.  (Part 2) In 1963, Ana Mari returned to the Basque Country with her husband and their first son. Shortly after arriving, her sister-in-law gave birth but was forced to return to the hospital about ten days later, when doctors discovered that she was suffering from a ruptured appendix. Faced with the situation, Ana Mari and her husband decided to remain in the Basque Country until her sister-in-law had fully recovered. During that extended stay, their second son was born. They purchased an apartment and also took responsibility for caring for their infant nephew while his mother recuperated. They raised the child for approximately a year before eventually returning to Elko. Her husband returned first, and Ana Mari followed later in 1967. She then recalls Ramón Zugazaga and his Basque restaurant, Biltoki. After returning to Elko, she began working there, helping prepare the dining room, setting tables, and filling in for waitresses whenever necessary. She remained there until her retirement. When the restaurant was eventually sold, she decided not to continue working for the new owners. In 1969, she also began teaching Basque dancing to children, an activity that would become one of the defining contributions of her life to the Basque community in Elko. At its height, nearly one hundred children participated in her classes. Among her earliest students were Anita Franzoi (Anakabe), Liz Moiola—who was born in Elko and later married Leon Bilbao—and several other young women who eventually became dance instructors themselves. Although three or four women were involved in teaching during those early years, Ana Mari was the only one who continued year after year. She remained responsible for the dance program for eighteen consecutive years. She learned Basque dancing from her uncle Guillermo Alberdi, the priest she had mentioned earlier. Besides teaching dance, he also promoted Basque pelota and many other aspects of Basque culture. Laughing, she comments that her uncle "was always getting into trouble with Franco." Although assigned to the parish of Arteaga, Guillermo did not get along with the parish priest there, whom Ana Mari describes as a committed supporter of Franco. When the Civil War broke out, Guillermo fled to Bilbao because he feared he might otherwise be executed, as had happened to other priests who were considered politically suspect. Recalling the two years she later spent living in Bilbao, Ana Mari begins speaking about her eldest son, Fermín, who had been born there. Two years before the interview he had suffered a serious automobile accident that left him with a traumatic brain injury. Because he remained undiscovered for nearly twenty-four hours after the crash, bleeding internally, he sustained permanent neurological damage and severe memory loss. Her uncle Guillermo continued to teach her traditional dances whenever he returned to Arteaga. He rarely visited the village itself, however, and never entered the parish church. Instead, he celebrated Mass in a small hermitage located between Arteaga and Kortezubi. He died in Bilbao in 1962. The conversation then turns once again to the difficult years of Franco's dictatorship. Ana Mari recalls one particularly painful childhood memory. On one occasion she attended church wearing a white blouse embroidered with small red flowers and green leaves. The parish priest summoned her with a gesture and ordered her to return home and change her clothes because, in his view, the colors resembled those of the Basque flag. She remembers going home in tears, after which her mother confronted the priest about his treatment of her daughter. She also recalls that the same priest sometimes refused Holy Communion to certain parishioners while allowing others to receive it. The political repression touched many people around her. The man for whom she had later worked in Bilbao, she says, had himself been executed by firing squad. Although Ana Mari never personally witnessed killings or acts of violence, she grew up listening to her mother recount stories of repression and fear. "That's the way we were raised," she says quietly. School itself was also a difficult experience. She entered at the age of six without knowing any Spanish. Her baptismal name was Ane Miren, but official records registered her as Ana María because Basque names were prohibited under Franco's regime. She remembers two childhood friends named Ikerne and Aintzane. At school, however, they were forced to use the Spanish names Visitación and Gloria. "We weren't allowed to speak Basque at school," she recalls. Ironically, she learned Christian doctrine in Basque at church while studying exactly the same catechism in Spanish at school. As a result, she memorized all of the prayers in both languages. Those years were also marked by hardship and scarcity. "There was hunger," she says. "Everything was rationed. Life was sad—you know?" Her husband, José Arbillaga, spoke Spanish, Basque, and English. As a child he had lived in Argentina with his parents before the family returned to the French Basque Country. Their two sons also learned Basque, although the older became considerably more fluent than the younger. Both were also able to communicate in Spanish. Ana Mari is fully aware that her own Basque differed significantly from her husband's. When their children were young, the family often shifted naturally between three languages. Sometimes the parents spoke Basque while the children answered in Spanish; at other times the parents used Spanish and the children responded in English. She believes that her own Basque became somewhat mixed over the years because, from childhood onward, she had been repeatedly forced to switch between Basque and Spanish. "That's the kind of Basque I speak," she remarks with a smile. She remembers that her grandmother never learned a single word of Spanish. Her late husband had been born in Argentina. When he was about ten years old, the family returned to the French Basque Country, where he studied with the monks at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Later, because one of his brothers had already settled in Nevada, he emigrated to the United States while still a young man. (Part 3) The last time Ana Mari visited the Basque Country was about two years before the interview, around 2019, when she traveled with her grandson Zakarias. On an earlier trip she had been accompanied by another grandchild, Tabita, who stayed for three months while taking a Spanish language course at the University of Deusto. Tabita occupies a special place in Ana Mari's life. Since her father suffered a devastating automobile accident, Ana Mari has played a major role in raising her. Her two sons, born in 1962 and 1963, are now elderly themselves. Speaking of her injured son, she explains that doctors implanted a medical device in his head to prevent further complications. He is no longer able to live independently. "As long as I can, I'll take care of him," she says simply. Before the accident, he had been an excellent dancer and pelota player. Now, however, he is no longer able to participate in either activity. Reflecting on the Basque community in Elko, Ana Mari remarks that several Basques had recently died of strokes. During one particular year alone, she recalls, three members of the community passed away in this way. Her own son has also suffered a stroke, leaving him with balance problems affecting the left side of his body. Even at eighty-eight years of age, Ana Mari remains his principal caregiver. She explains that her family owns a trailer, a pickup truck, and their home, but she believes the sensible course of action will eventually be to sell these possessions and live on the proceeds together with their Social Security benefits. At one point during the interview, a question about her Christian faith is misunderstood, and she instead begins talking enthusiastically about sewing. She continues to make dresses for high school girls participating in Basque dance groups. Many of the young women leave for college soon afterward, and the dresses are often used only briefly before being stored away. Ana Mari believes she is now the only seamstress in Elko who still specializes in traditional Basque costumes. She explains that she currently works with four different dance groups, ranging from children as young as seven years old to middle school and high school students. Some of the older girls ask for individualized costumes. "They'll say, 'I want to do this,' or 'I want to do that,'" she laughs. She points out that this differs from Boise, where everyone generally wears identical costumes. Ana Mari proudly shows us several of the costumes she has made for the high school dancers. She never charges for her labor; the families pay only for the materials. Most of the costumes are stored at the Basque Club, although those that have recently been used are taken home, where she washes, dries, irons, and carefully stores them in the basement of her house. A single dancer may own four or five different costumes, each with its own combination of colors and styles. The examples she shows us belong to her granddaughter Tabita. Making these costumes occupies her throughout the year. The younger children's outfits are simpler, but older dancers require aprons, shawls, waistcoats, and increasingly elaborate garments. Under normal circumstances she can complete one costume per day; if she has eight to make, she expects the work to require eight full days. For many years she purchased fabric from stores such as JCPenney and Walmart, but suitable materials have become increasingly difficult to find. Today she orders most of her supplies online. Whenever someone asks her to make a costume, her response is always the same: "Bring me the material, and I'll make it." The colors most frequently requested are blue and red. Every year new children join the dance groups, requiring an entirely new set of costumes. Her granddaughter Tabita often tells her, "Would you teach me how to do it, so I can do it?" Ana Mari replies that sewing no longer feels like a burden because she has few other responsibilities besides caring for her family. She again compares Elko with Boise. In Boise, she explains, everyone wears essentially the same costume, whereas dancers in Elko often arrive with photographs taken in Spain or the French Basque Country and ask her to reproduce what they have seen. For the younger dance groups, the Basque Club covers the cost of the costumes. Older dancers generally inherit garments previously worn by earlier generations. Another local seamstress, the wife of a man named Mallea, used to make costumes as well, but unlike Ana Mari, she charged for her work. To keep everything organized, Ana Mari assigns a number to each young child's skirt so she always knows which garment belongs to which dancer. She estimates that she has sewn eighteen complete sets of costumes for the youngest group alone. Besides dance costumes, she also knits socks and sweaters for children. From time to time she raffles handmade baby clothes to raise money, charging about thirty dollars per set. She makes virtually every component of the traditional women's costume: underskirts, aprons, headscarves, and waistcoats. Many of the waistcoats are reversible, featuring different colors on each side—for example, red and green on one side, blue and black on the other—allowing dancers to create what appears to be an entirely different costume simply by turning the garment inside out. She enthusiastically describes the many color combinations she has designed over the years: white aprons with blue skirts, green aprons with brown skirts, purple skirts with black or white ribbons, and many others. Because she no longer has outside employment, she says with a smile, "I don't care." Only the materials represent a significant expense. Even a simple skirt requires about twenty-five dollars' worth of fabric, ribbons, zippers, and trim. Decorative lace alone can cost several dollars per garment. When she first began teaching, the repertoire centered on traditional dances such as the jota and the aurresku. Today, however, young dancers discover new choreographies online and ask her to create costumes matching the styles they have seen on the internet. For boys she generally makes only the gerriko (traditional sash); the remaining garments, including the berets, are usually purchased elsewhere. Towards the end of the interview, Ana Mari speaks warmly about her grandchildren in the Basque Country. She has four grandchildren living around Gernika and another grandson in Lezama. Whenever she visits, she usually stays with her eldest granddaughter, Ana Mari, who lives on a farmhouse outside Gernika. She is amazed by how well her grandchildren now speak English, something that was unimaginable during her own childhood. Looking back, she believes that both the Basque Country and its people have changed profoundly. Sometimes she says, only half jokingly, that those who never experienced Franco's dictatorship should have lived through those years in order to understand what genuine hardship meant. Today's children receive smartphones at six or seven years of age, whereas during her youth even having a telephone in the neighborhood was a rarity. She recalls advising one of her granddaughters, who had completed an engineering degree but was unable to find employment: "Go there and start washing dishes until you find a position in your profession." The young woman refused because she considered such work beneath her qualifications. Ana Mari sees this as one of the major differences between generations. In her youth, people accepted whatever work was available. There were no cars, few bicycles, and little material comfort. Today, she says, people always seem to want more. With a smile she occasionally teases her grandchildren: "If Franco were still alive, he'd teach you how to live." The remark is clearly intended less as praise for the dictatorship than as a comment on how much more austere life had been during her youth. She also remembers how homogeneous her village once was. Until she was about fourteen years old, almost everyone in the area spoke Basque. Only when railway construction brought workers from Galicia and Andalusia did local people begin encountering Spanish speakers on a regular basis. Her older brother, a carpenter, once had lunch with several Galician workers. One of them proudly declared that his children were Basque. Ana Mari's brother replied, "No, your children are Galician—they were simply born in the Basque Country." The discussion that followed, she says, reflected the same kinds of questions about identity that arise today in conversations about Mexicans and Americans in the United States. She finds it remarkable that many African immigrants she now sees selling goods on the streets of the Basque Country speak excellent Basque. Smiling, she concludes with a comparison to her own life: "We're not Americans either—but this is where we live."

 

 

 

 

 

Maria Jesus (Yturriaga) Narbaiza

 

María Jesús Narbaiza (Part 1)   Battle Mountain (Nevada) herrian egindako elkarrizketa, 2023ko azaroan. 1943ko abuztuaren 1ean jaio zen Ereñon, Mendiaundikoa baserrian. Ama Josefina Alcibar zen, jatorriz nafarra, baina Mariak ez daki zehazki zein herritakoa. Aita Francisco Yturriaga, Ereñokoa, ingelesa ondotxo zekien ze hamalau urtez egon zen “nabegetan”. Aita saiatzen zen Ereñoko familiari ingelesez egiten, gero Ameriketara joaten zirenerako ondo konpontzeko. Maria Jesusek ez zion kasu handirik egin, baina Nevadara etorri zenean aitak erakutsitako gauza askorekin gogoratu zen. Hiru neba-arreba ziren eta Maria Jesús “erdikoa”, bigarrena, neska bakarra. María Jesus Ereñon bizi izan zen 20 urte bete arte: orduan ezkondu (1963an?)  eta Ermura joan zen bizitzera. Eskolan 15 urtera arte egon zen, eta maisu maistrak izan zituen, Dª Carmen, Faustina eta “Kisket” esaten zioten beste maisu bat, agian klaseko atea beti zarratuta nahi zuelako euki. Maisu horrek umeak jotzen zituen Eugenio izeneko mutil batek ekarritako urretxa adarrekin. Behin Eugeniori galditu zioten: “Eugenio, horrenbesteko lerdoa zelan zara? Ze maisuak horrek adarrokaz burue apurtukotsu lehelengo.” Baina Eugeniok ez zuen uste hori gertatuko zenik. Hala ta guztiz hari eman zion lehenengo paliza Kisketek. Eskolan hamabost urtera arte egon zen. Gero baserrian laguntzen zuen: behiak, ahuntzak, ardiak, oiloak eta untxiak… denetarik zeukaten. Anaiarena izatera pasatu zen. Anaia duela bi urte hil zen: “estegorria” aipatzen du eta gero odolustu ei zen. Jose Maria Narbaiza Zelaia-rekin ezkondu zen, Ereñon. Urkiolako txirrindulari karrera batean ezagutu zuen. Ikustera joan zen Jose Mari lagun batekin eta han topatu ziren. Ermukoa zen senarra eta ezkondu ostean Ermura joan ziren bizitzera. Gaztetan pulidore lanetan ibili zen, baina gaixotu egin zen (agian hainbeste hautsa “irenstearren”) eta hortik kanpora ibiltzeko gomendatu zioten. Urkomendi baserrikoa zen bera eta Kalamua pean dago. Gerra denboran bonbardaketak eta borrokak egon ziren eta 10 urte inguru izango zituen sasoi hartan. Bertan zegoen koba batean izkutatu egiten zen familiakoekin. Behiak ere horra sartzen zituzten bonben ihesi.   1968an senarra Ameriketara joan zen. Winnemuccara joan zen borregero eta bertan Pet Echart izan ardi-nagusia edo usaba[12] izan zen. Andrea (María Jesús) eta hiru seme-alabak Ermuan geratu ziren: ez zuten apenas aita ezagutzen. Kartaz komunikatzen ziren eta karta zein argazki haiek guztiak maleta batean sartuta zeuden Ereñoko baserrian. Maleta hura, baina, desagertu egin zen. Asko mugitzen ziren (Mª Jesus eta seme-alabak) Ermuko pisutik Mendiaundikua baserrira. Alaba nagusiak han ikasi zuen euskara, amomarekin eta beste ume euskaldunekin hitz eginez (euskaldun hutsa zela dio Maria Jesusek).  Beste neba-arreba gazteagoak (Aitor barne) makalago ibili dira euskararekin. 1975ean gizonak erreklamatu egin zituen eta Ameriketa joan ziren, Battle Mountainera. Izan ere, Aitor semeak problema bat zeukan buru-hezurrean eta medikamenduak Ameriketatik bidaltzen zizkioten. Senarrak erreklamatu eta errazago konponduko zen hori. Ordurako Mariak bazuen neba bat, Cecilio Yturriaga Idahon zegoena (1974an joana). Hegazkinez etorri ziren Ameriketara, lau ume eta bera bost. Maiatzaren 25a zen eta heldu eta edurtza handia zegoen. Taxia eskatu eta Elko hotelera joan zen segiduan, seme-alabekin. Cecilio joan zitzaion bila gero Battle Mountain-era joateko. Gauez heldu ziren, dena elurtuta zegoen eta etxe bi baino ez zituen ikusi. Hurrengo egunean, goizean goizik jaikita, kalera atera eta “enbra eder bi ikusi zituen”. Nebari esan zion ea bueltatxo bat emango zion ingurua ikusteko. Halaxe egin eta orduan konturatu zen “bere” lekua topatu zuela Battle Mountain-en.   Umeek segituan ikasi zuten ingelesa, baina gaztelania edo euskara galtzen joan ziren. Battle Mountainen euskaldun asko zeuden orduan. Iturritarrak, eta abar. Hasierako 5 urteak BM-eko hotel batean egiten zuen lan: nagusia ziren Bush eta Carmen, bizkaitarra. Oheak egin, garbiketa kontuak… Gero Ikastetxe batera lan egitera joan zen, “Gobernuarentzat” egin zuen lan, ikastetxea publikoa zelako. Aldaketa izan zen “erretiroan” pentsatzen hasi zelako. Hoteleko lanak ez zuen “kontizatzen” eta eskolako lanak bai: orain eskolak emandako erretiroari esker ederto bizi da. Senarrak eta biok ondo irabazten zuten, “Jainkoari eskerrak”, baina gizon defuntuaren erretiroa ez zaio behar bezala ailegatzen. Bere erretiroarekin ostera ondo bizi da. “Aplikaziñoa” egin behar izan zuen. Hogeita hamar urte bete zituen eskola horretan lanean (1978-2008?). Eskolan erraztasuna eman zioten eguerdian gizonarentzat bazkaria prestatzeko edo afaria prestatzeko: goizean betetzen ez zuena arratsaldean betetzen zuen (eskola etxetik hurbil zegoen). 2008an erretiratu zen, gizonak animatuta, bakarrik ez egoteko “bizi guztixan bakarrik” egoten zirelako sentsazioa zuten eta (bakoitza bere lanean egonda). Gustura hartu zuen erretiroa baina hiru urteren buruan gizona hil zitzaion. Euskal herrira urte birik baten edo hirurik baten joaten zen senarrarekin. Baina ama eta neba hil ziran lez, “gitxitxuago” joaten hasi ziren. Azkenerako nekatu egiten zela aitortzen digu. Ermura eta koinatuaren baserrira, “Urkora” joaten ziren koinatuak “behartuta”: “hauxe dozue zuen etxea” esaten zien. Koinatua hil zenean Lekeition hartzen zuten pisu bat eta bi kotxe alokairuan, mugitzeko eta senideak bisitatzeko. Ereñora ere joaten ziren, familiaren baserria (eta bertakoak) bisitatzera. Euskal Herrian giroa ez zuen oso polito ikusten (tentsio politikoari buruz ari da): “hemendik gerreak urten behar dau” esaten zuen. Bere buruari galdetzen dio, “zelan bizi da hemen jendie?”; alegia, lanpostu bakar batekin familiak ateratzen ahalegintzen dira, baina hori gutxi da bere ustez, euskal familiak, “txikiak” izan arren (seme-alaba gutxikoak, gaur egun), behar izan ekonomikoak dituzte. Lagunak dituzte (pelukerak eta) Euskal Herrian nahiko “justu” bizi ei direnak. Bi lanpostu batera ezin izatea edo galazota izatean kaltegarria dela iruditzen zaio.  Eurorako aldaketa ere txarrerako izan zela begitantzen zaio. Ameriketako egoera politikoa ere itsusi dagoela dio, eta kritikoa da egungo presidentearekin (“inuxente, kalamidadea” esaten du, eta epiteto barregarriak iruditu zaizkit). Nevadako eta Idahoko beste euskal etxe eta euskal klubekin izan dute harremana. Herri kirolak ikusi, giroaz gozatu eta, batez ere, musean aritzea gustatzen zitzaien. Beti “trofeoren” bat ekartzen zuen mus txapelketatik (senarrarekin egiten zuen bikotea). Winnemucca-koekin gaizki-ulerturen bat egon zen eta bera “sentidue” edo sentibera den lez, erabaki zuen Elkora joaten hastea (eta Winnemucca saihestu). San Franciscoko euskaldunekin edo haien kontra saiatu da askotan, eta ondo, baina batzuetan “tranpa” egiten dutela dio, puntuen zenbaketan “lapurrerako listo” ibiltzen direla, baina bera hor firme egoten da. Mus bikotea bere senarra eta Alfonso izan zen (alargun gelditu zenean). Baina Alfonso ere Battle Mountainen gazte hil zen, sute baten ondorioz, bera eta bere 7 urteko “txotxoa” (umea), kea harnastuta. Festetan aita, bere senarra, harriak altzatzen ibili zen, eta gero bere semea, Aitor Narbaiza hasi zen. Orain Elkoko sherifa da. Gabonak “euskaldunen moduan” ospatzen dituztela dio: txipiroiak, mihia, kalluak, txarri hankak eta horrelako janariak, prestatzen dituzte. Inguruko euskaldunak, bakarrik bizi zirenak barne, bere etxera etortzen ziren Gabon gaua ospatzera. Jendeak gustura jaten zuen afari hori. Gero sobratzen zena (“larregi” prestatzen baitzuen), “errepartidu” edo banatu egiten zen afaltiarren artean. Urte barriak ere ospatzen zituzten, “danak”. Orain faltan botatzen ditu horietako asko, “joan” egin direlako, hil direlako Battle Mountain eta inguruan. Urte berriko kanta euskalduna etxe bakoitzaren mahaian kantatzen zen: “Urte barri, ekarri txarri belarri, dekonak ez dekonari, Lehengo urtie sarri-sarri, nik ez dekot eta zuk emon niri, zuk emoten ezpozu, urte guztixen ni larri-larri”. Bestelako kantu askorik ez zuen ikasi inguruko herriko jaietan gaztetan Ereñoko baserrian hainbeste “patarixekin”[13], ezin zen ardura hori utzi. Nebak, ostera, bizikleta hartuta joaten ziren gehiago jaietara. Gizona bitartean minan egiten zuen lan. Gizona 2011an hil zen, bihotzekoak jota (elkarrizketa egin genuenean hamabi urte pasata zeuden), gauez gelan bakarrik zegoela jausi zen “seko” lurrera. Odola “lodixa” ei zuen, operaziñoak izan zituen bihotzekoak arriskua gutxitzeko. Gogoratzen da aita urtetan egon zela gaizo (leuzemia ei zeukan), eta gazte hil zen, berrogeita hamabost urterekin. Ama bakarrik geratu, ganadua edo patariak kendu eta herrira jaitsi ziren, Ermura. “Weekend-ean” baserrira itzultzen ziren beharretan laguntzeko. Battle Mountainera itzulita, euskaldunen artean laguntza zegoela gogoratzen du. Tramite administratiboetarako “interprete” lanak egin dituzte, Gabonetan etxera gonbidatu, norbait hiltzen zenean gorpua edo “errautsak” “Espainara” bidali… hainbat gauza egin dituzte eta egiten jarraitzen dute, “dan-danak” laguntzeko prest. Bizkiara, Nafarroara, Gipuzkoara… bidali dituzte zenbait hildakoen gorpuak edota errautsak: eurak arduratu dira zeregin horretaz, Battle Mountain-eko euskal cluba arduratuta. Orain Bizkaira joatekotan, Busturian bizi den lehengusu bat, zenbait loba, bisitatzea izango zen kontuan, baina gehiegi mugitu barik, ze han trafiko handia dago eta beti dago arazoa kotxea non uztea. Arduratuta dago familiako baserriarekin zer egingo ote duten: orain bere loba bat arduratzen da horretaz eta Maria Jesusi begitantzen zaio loba horrek ez dakiela ondo zer egin baserri horrekin, nahiz eta terrenoetan pinu asko dauden eta horregatik bakarrik produktiboa izan. “Hemengoagoa” sentitzen da hangoa baino. Itzultzeko “sasoia” denean, etxera, Battle Mountain-era etortzeko gogoz egoten da, hemen bizi baita “trankil”, “pozik” eta hau delako bere egoteko lekua, “hauxe da neure etxé”, dio. Euskal Herrian “departamenduak” (pisuak) txikiak dira eta eurak ezin “kabidu”: jada ez daude ohituta horrela bizitzera, Ameriketan ere bizitokia zabalagoa delako. Bisitan bai, gustora joaten da, baina gustora itzuli ere bai. Maite alabaren gizonari ere gustatzen zaio eta urtero edo urte birik baten joaten dira. Euskal Herritik lobak etorri izan dira eta duela gutxi bi hilabete egin zituzten bere loba bik. Jotateko orduan “negar” egiten dutela dio, gustatzen zaiela Battle Mountain eta inguruan ibiltzea eta hemen egotea. Koinatu bi bizi ziren Battle Mountain-en (Faustino eta beste bat) eta haien lobak etortzen ziren. Orain hilak dira haiek, batek “stroka”[14] emanda. Euskaditik beti galdetzen diote, “noz etorri berdozu?”, baina berari biajeak edo bidaiak beldurra ematen dio, luze egiten zaiolako. Batzuek lo egiten dute bidaian, baina berak ez: norbait lotan ikusten duenean, brometan esaten du, “musturrean jotekogo gogoa” datorkiola dio. Gainera, orain familiako batzuk “joan dira” (hil dira), gurasoak, nebak… lobak duela berrogeita hamar urte oso txiki utzi zituzten eta orain pertsona helduak dira, beste bizimodu bat daukatenak. Euskal Herrian geratu direnek mentalidade “zerraua” (itxia) dutela iruditzen zaio. Beren ikuspuntutik ateratzea oso gaitz ikusten du. Askok Frankoren denborako kontuak gordetzen dituzte, baina berari bost axola zaio. “Politikiek ez deusku emoten geuri ezebe. Drogie, jaleue ta heriotzak”: hori da bere ebazpena. Apaizen artean ere desberdintasuna ikusten du: bera txikia zelako garaian apaizak zuzenki edo jokatzen zuten eta orain “saladefiestas-en” ikusten direla, apaiz itxurarik (edo janzkerarik) gabe. Ameriketan ere antzera. Horrela galtzen ei da “erlijiñue” bere ustez. Aita Santuaren zenbait gauzetan (bere ustez) norabide falta ikusten du, “dena libre” uzten duelako. Bere ustez, “legie legie da”, eta zenbait gauza betetzen jarraitu behar dute. Ameriketan 9 hilabeterekin ere abortatu litekeela dio (zenbait estatutan) eta gogoratzen du ume horiek (adin horrekin) bizitzeko eta ibiltzeko listo daudela. Berak hori ez du “topetan ondo, hori da krimena”. Hemengo telebista eta Euskadiko telebista ikusteko parada dute, eta “ez dago alde makala, ez”, bion artean; alegia, alde handia dagoela (ikuspuntuetan, eta abar). Euskadin abade batzuek exenplo txarra eman zioten eta horrek kaltea egin zion bere “erlijiñoan”. Abade batengandik hurbil pasatzea saihesten zuen eta gaztetxotan bera zaldiz ibiltzen zen, Ereñotik beste lekuetara eta buelta, eta zaldiz bueltak ematen zituen zenbait lekutatik ez pasatzeko. Don Pedro izeneko abade bat ezagutu zuen, hura abade “berdaderoa”. Baina besteak “enbrekin”[15] ibiltzen ziren: bere ustez abadeak jendea laguntzeko daude eta ez “bidean urteteko” (emakumeak pertsegitzeko), errespetua utzita. Dotrina euskaraz izaten zuten herrian. Etxean zegoen presio gehiena mezatara joateko edo dotrina kontuetan (ez horrenbeste gizartean): etxeko bakeagatik “bete” egiten zen erlijio kontuekin. Euskal Herrira joaten denean Lekeitioko elizara joatea gustatzen zaio, ederra delako. Euskadin galduta ikusten du elizkizunekiko errespetua, batez ere akordeoiak eta musika mota batzuk (pasodobleak) elizkizunean sartzen direnean. Seme alabak (tartean Aitor, Elkoko sherifa) mezatara joaten dira (eta bilobak) domekero eta pozik dago horregatik. Anekdota bat kontatu digu horren haritik. Battle Mountainen alabak txikiak zirela mormoien eliz baten paretik pasatu ziren. Maria Jesusek ez zuen nahi horretan sartzea eta bromeneta esan zien “hori deabruen eliza da, denak adarrekin daude”. Orduan alabak beldurtu ziren, eta bata besteari tiraka ibili ziren inor sartu ez zedin eliza hartan. Ameriketan sinismena askatasun gehiagorekin bizitzen da eta mezatara joateagatik edo ez joateagatik ez diete ezer esaten. Apaizak hemen laguntzeko prest daude eta eurak ere (bere familiakoak) laguntzeko prest, parrokian eta karitatezko ekimenetan. Eurak euren errezu  eta otoitzak egiten jarraitzen dituzte: gogoratzen da gaztetxotan baserrian artoa zuritzen zeudela errosarioa errezatzen zutela egunero-egunero. Ameriketara Euskal Herrian zeukan zaldizaletasuna ekarri du. Zaldi batzuk badituzte eta Maria Jesus sasoi batean ibiltzen zen, “fenzak”[16] eta guzti saltatu egiten zituen. Umeak berarekin igotzen ziren zaldira eta bera pozik joaten zen noiz edo noiz seme edo alabaren bat hartuta. Euskal Herritik Battle Mountain-era goadaña (sega), zorroztarria eta pikamailua ekarri zituen. “Bedarra ebateko” (belarra ebakitzeko edo mozteko). Han ohituta zegoelako eta Ameriketan zaldiei jaten emateko eta lagungarritzat ikusten zuen. Arrastrillko edo eskuarea ere ekarri zuen, egurrezkoa. Buztarri edo uztarri txiki bat ekartzeko asmoa zuen, baina beldur zen kenduko ziotelakoan. Urte batzuetan “Palamonten” (Battle Mountain-en) Ereñon zegoela begitatzen zitzaion, horrenbeste euskaldun eta horrenbeste euskara entzuten zen kaleetan. Behin batean Alberto-rekin Winnemucca-ra joan zen errekadu bat egiten, bera “manejetan” (Maria Jesus gidatzen zihoan). Herri hartara heldu eta gizon bat ikusi zuten artaburuak kalean saltzen. Albertok esan zuen, “harek behien moduen gura dau horreik artaburuok gizonak jatea, ze horreik behiak be jango leukez!”; aldamenean zegoen gizon batek (bertakoa), “baita neuk be!” esan zuen euskaraz. Euskaldun asko zeuden eta dendetan euskaldun “ezezagun” bat topatzea erraza zen. Gerora jakin zuen “tranperua” zela. Harrez geroztik lagunak egin ziren. Winnemucca-ko Isidro Etxeto (nafarra) ezagutzen du, eta bere familia. Telefonorako lineak (kableak?) jartzen ibili zen inguruan. Nafarren euskara, “euskal-frantsesen” euskara… klase guztiak ulertzen zituen, baina “batua” dio ez duela ulertzen.             María Jesús (Yturriaga): ondorioak Ikusten da ekimen handiko emakumea dela. Txikitan edo gaztetxotan, nebak ez bezala, baserrian geratzeko erabakia hartu zuen bere gurasoak laguntzearren. Zaldiz ibiltzen zen asko eta horrek lagundu zion zenbait arazo “saihestea”, batez ere gaztetxo ganberro batzuen erasoak. Ezkondu eta gero senarra joan zitzaion Ameriketara eta urte batzuez bakarrik atera behar izan zuen seme-alabak harik eta Ameriketara joan arte. Ameriketan zegoela familia aurrera ateratzeaz gain, zenbait lanbidetan aritu zen, erretiro ona izango zuela modu inteligentean planifikatuz. Battle Mountain-eko eta Nevadako beste lekuetako euskaldunekin harreman onak izan ditu eta, ahal zuen neurrian laguntzen saiatu da. Euskara oso adierazkor eta aberatsa mantendu du eta ontzat ikusten du Ameriketan, aukera duten bitartean euskal ohiturei eustea. Esanguratsua da bere gaztetako baserri girotik zenbait tramankulu ekarri dituela: sega, zorroztarria, pikamailua eta eskuarea, nolabaiteko mentalitatea handik ere ekarri duela irudikatuz edo sinbolizatuz.

María Jesús Narbaiza (Part 1) Interview conducted in Battle Mountain, Nevada, in November 2023. María Jesús Narbaiza was born on August 1, 1943, at the Mendiaundikoa farmhouse in the town of Ereño, Bizkaia. Her mother, Josefina Alcibar, was originally from Navarre, although María Jesús is unsure from which village. Her father, Francisco Yturriaga, was a native of Ereño. He spoke English remarkably well, having spent fourteen years working aboard merchant ships. He often tried to speak English with members of the family back in Ereño so that they would be better prepared if they ever emigrated to the United States. María Jesús admits that she paid little attention at the time, but after arriving in Nevada she frequently found herself remembering many of the things her father had tried to teach her. She was the middle child of three siblings and the family's only daughter. María Jesús lived in Ereño until she was twenty years old. Around 1963 she married and moved to the nearby industrial town of Ermua. She attended school until the age of fifteen. She remembers several of her teachers, including Doña Carmen, Faustina, and another teacher whom everyone nicknamed "Kisket." She believes the nickname may have come from his habit of always wanting the classroom door kept shut. Kisket was feared because he regularly beat his pupils with hazel branches brought to school by a boy named Eugenio. One day the children teased Eugenio, telling him: "Eugenio, how can you be so foolish? One of these days the teacher is going to crack your head open with those branches." Eugenio dismissed the warning, convinced that nothing like that would ever happen. Ironically, he was the very first student Kisket beat with the branches he himself had brought. After leaving school, María Jesús devoted herself to helping on the family farm. They raised cows, goats, sheep, chickens, rabbits, and virtually every kind of livestock needed to sustain a traditional Basque farmhouse. Eventually the property passed to her brother, who died two years before the interview. She recalls that he suffered from stomach cancer and later experienced severe internal bleeding. She married José María Narbaiza Zelaia in Ereño. They first met while watching a cycling race near Urkiola. José María had attended the event with a friend, and the two happened to meet there. José María was from Ermua, specifically from the Urkomendi farmhouse beneath Mount Kalamua. As a young man he had worked polishing metal, but the constant exposure to dust damaged his health, and doctors advised him to find employment outdoors instead. He often spoke about his childhood memories of the Spanish Civil War. Heavy fighting and aerial bombardments took place around Kalamua, and as a boy of about ten years old he and his family frequently hid inside a nearby cave. They even brought their cattle into the cave to protect them from the bombing. In 1968 José María emigrated to the United States, where he became a sheepherder near Winnemucca, Nevada. His foreman was Pete Echart. Meanwhile, María Jesús remained in Ermua with their three young children. Because of the long separation, the children scarcely knew their father. Communication depended almost entirely on letters, and the family carefully preserved both the correspondence and photographs in a suitcase kept at the farmhouse in Ereño. Sadly, the suitcase later disappeared, and with it an irreplaceable record of those years apart. During this period María Jesús and the children divided their time between their apartment in Ermua and the family farmhouse in Ereño. Her eldest daughter learned Basque there by speaking with her grandmother and other local children. María Jesús proudly describes her as a native Basque speaker. The younger children—including her son Aitor—never acquired the language quite as fluently. In 1975 José María arranged for his family to join him in Nevada. One reason for the move was that their son Aitor suffered from a serious condition affecting the bones of his skull. The medication he required was already being sent from the United States, and bringing the family to America promised easier access to his medical treatment. By then María Jesús also had a brother living in Idaho. Cecilio Yturriaga had emigrated there in 1974. María Jesús flew to the United States with her four children. They arrived on May 25. To her surprise, a heavy snowfall greeted them. After landing they took a taxi directly to the Elko Hotel, where they waited until her brother arrived to drive them to Battle Mountain. They reached the town late at night. Everything was covered in snow, and María Jesús remembers seeing only two houses. The following morning she woke early and stepped outside. The first thing she noticed was "two beautiful women." Curious to see more of her new surroundings, she asked her brother to drive her around the area. As they toured Battle Mountain, something unexpected happened. Almost immediately she felt an extraordinary sense of belonging. "That," she recalls, "was when I realized I had found my place." Her children quickly learned English, although as the years passed they gradually lost much of their Spanish and Basque. At the time, Battle Mountain had a thriving Basque population. Families such as the Iturris and many others had already established themselves there, making the newcomers feel welcome from the very beginning. For her first five years in Battle Mountain, María Jesús worked in one of the local hotels owned by Bush and his wife Carmen, who was from Bizkaia. Her responsibilities included making beds, cleaning rooms, and other housekeeping duties. Later she accepted a position at the local public school, becoming a government employee. The change proved to be one of the most important decisions of her life because the school position qualified her for a public pension, whereas her hotel employment had not. Looking back, she says that both she and her husband earned a good living, "thank God." Nevertheless, after her husband's death his pension proved to be relatively modest. Her own retirement benefits from the school system, however, have allowed her to live comfortably ever since.   (Part 2) Before accepting her position at the public school, María Jesús had to submit a formal application. She ultimately spent thirty years working there, remaining until her retirement in 2008. The school administration was very accommodating. Because the building was close to her home, she was allowed to leave during her lunch break to prepare meals for her husband. Any hours she missed at midday she simply made up later in the afternoon. In 2008, encouraged by her husband, she decided to retire. Looking back, she explains that throughout most of their married life they had each been absorbed in their own work, often feeling as though they lived separate daily routines despite sharing the same home. Retirement finally allowed them to spend more time together. She enjoyed those years enormously. Tragically, however, only three years later her husband passed away. For many years the couple returned to the Basque Country every two or three years. As her mother and brother passed away, those visits gradually became less frequent. Eventually, she admits, the long journeys became increasingly tiring. Whenever they returned, they spent time in Ermua and at her brother-in-law's farmhouse near Urko. Her brother-in-law always insisted: "This is your home." After he died, they began renting an apartment in Lekeitio instead. They would hire two cars so they could travel independently and visit relatives throughout the region. They also continued visiting the family farmhouse in Ereño whenever possible. Reflecting on the Basque Country today, María Jesús expresses concern about the political climate she has observed during recent visits. "It feels as though another war could break out," she remarks. She also wonders how ordinary families are able to make ends meet. In her opinion, living on a single salary has become increasingly difficult, even for relatively small families. She mentions several friends—including hairdressers—who, despite working hard, struggle financially. She believes restrictions that make it difficult for people to hold multiple jobs only worsen the situation. She also feels that the introduction of the euro made everyday life more expensive. Nor is she particularly optimistic about politics in the United States. Speaking candidly, she criticizes the country's current president, describing him with a series of colorful and humorous expressions that reflect her frustration with contemporary political leadership. Throughout the years, she and her husband maintained close ties with Basque clubs throughout Nevada and Idaho. They enjoyed attending festivals, watching demonstrations of Basque rural sports, socializing with friends, and, above all, playing mus, the traditional Basque card game. The couple frequently returned home with trophies from mus tournaments. At one point, however, a misunderstanding with members of the Winnemucca Basque community left María Jesús hurt. Sensitive by nature, she decided thereafter to attend tournaments in Elko instead. She also competed regularly against players from San Francisco. Although she generally enjoyed those matches, she jokes that some opponents were remarkably creative when keeping score. "They're quick enough to steal a few points," she laughs. Whenever that happened, she made sure to stand her ground. Her regular mus partner was first her husband and, after she was widowed, a man named Alfonso. Sadly, Alfonso also died young in Battle Mountain. A fire broke out in his home, and both he and his seven-year-old son died from smoke inhalation. Basque festivals were an important part of family life. Her husband participated in stone-lifting competitions, and years later their son Aitor Narbaiza followed in his footsteps. Today Aitor serves as the sheriff of Elko County. Christmas was always celebrated "the Basque way." She prepared traditional dishes such as squid, beef tongue, tripe, pig's feet, and many other familiar Basque specialties. Basques from the surrounding area—including those who lived alone—were always invited to celebrate Christmas Eve at their home. Everyone enjoyed the meal, and because María Jesús invariably cooked far more food than necessary, the leftovers were distributed among the guests before they returned home. New Year's celebrations were equally important. Many of those friends have since passed away, and she admits that she misses them deeply. Every New Year's Eve they sang an old Basque verse around the dinner table: Urte barri, ekarri txarri belarri, dekonak ez dekonari. Lehengo urtie sarri-sarri, nik ez dekot eta zuk emon niri; zuk emoten ez badozu, urte guztian ni larri-larri. She explains that she never learned many other traditional songs because, during her childhood on the family farm in Ereño, there was always too much work to attend local festivals. Her brothers, however, often rode their bicycles to nearby celebrations. Meanwhile, her husband eventually left sheep ranching and found employment in the mining industry. He died in 2011 after suffering a heart attack. She remembers waking during the night to find that he had suddenly collapsed onto the bedroom floor. Doctors had long been concerned about his heart because of unusually thick blood, and he had undergone several operations intended to reduce the risk of a fatal cardiac event. Despite those efforts, they were ultimately unable to save him. The conversation then turns back to her own parents. Her father suffered from leukemia for many years before dying at only fifty-five years of age. After his death, her mother could no longer manage the farm alone. The livestock was gradually sold, and the family moved down to Ermua. Even so, they returned to the farmhouse on weekends to help with whatever work still needed to be done. Back in Battle Mountain, María Jesús remembers the remarkable solidarity that characterized the Basque community. Whenever newcomers needed help with official paperwork, someone volunteered as an interpreter. Families invited people who were alone to share Christmas dinner. If a Basque immigrant died, community members organized the transportation of the body—or later the ashes—back to Spain. She herself participated in many of these efforts. Working through the Battle Mountain Basque Club, members of the community arranged for deceased Basques to be returned to Bizkaia, Navarre, Gipuzkoa, and other parts of the Basque Country. "We've always tried to help everyone," she says. (Part 3) If she were to return to Bizkaia today, María Jesús says that her priorities would be visiting a cousin who lives in Busturia and spending time with several of her grandchildren. She would prefer, however, not to travel around too much, since traffic has become so heavy that simply finding a place to park is often a challenge. She is also concerned about the future of the family farmhouse in Ereño. One of her granddaughters is now responsible for the property, but María Jesús is not convinced that she knows what to do with it. Although the surrounding land is covered with pine trees that still generate income, she worries about what will ultimately become of the farmhouse. After nearly half a century in Nevada, she now feels more at home there than in the Basque Country. Whenever the time comes to return from a visit to Spain, she finds herself looking forward to going back to Battle Mountain. "I live peacefully here," she says. "I'm happy here. This is my home." She explains that apartments in the Basque Country now seem far too small after becoming accustomed to the spacious homes and open landscapes of the American West. She still enjoys visiting family, but she is equally happy to return to Nevada. Her son-in-law also enjoys traveling there, and together with her daughter they usually visit every year or two. Several of her grandchildren have also traveled to Battle Mountain. Two of them recently spent two months there. María Jesús says they always cry when it is time to leave because they enjoy life in Battle Mountain and the surrounding area so much. Two of her brothers-in-law also lived in Battle Mountain for many years, and their children visited regularly as well. Both brothers-in-law have since passed away, one of them after suffering a stroke. Family members in the Basque Country constantly ask her when she plans to visit again. She admits, however, that she has become reluctant to travel because the journey now feels exhausting. "Some people sleep on the plane," she laughs. "I can't. When I see someone sleeping, I feel like giving them a punch!" Much of her family has also changed over the years. Her parents and brothers have passed away, and the grandchildren she left behind fifty years ago as small children are now adults with lives of their own. She believes that many people who remained in the Basque Country have developed what she calls a "closed mentality." In her opinion, many find it difficult to see beyond their own perspective. Some continue to dwell on political conflicts dating back to Franco's dictatorship, but she no longer wishes to concern herself with those issues. "Politicians don't give ordinary people anything," she says. "What we get is drugs, crime, and death." The conversation then turns to religion. María Jesús believes that priests have changed greatly over the years. When she was young, she says, priests behaved with dignity and inspired respect. Today, however, she often sees them dressed casually, "looking like ordinary people," and believes that this has contributed to a decline in religious commitment. She feels that similar changes have occurred in the United States. She also expresses concern that the Church has become too permissive. Referring to Pope Francis without naming him directly, she says that he sometimes allows too much freedom in matters where, in her opinion, established rules should continue to be observed. She is especially critical of abortion, remarking that in some American states pregnancies can legally be terminated very late. In her view, a child at that stage is already capable of living outside the womb. "I don't think that's right," she says firmly. "That's a crime." Because they watch both American and Basque television, she believes she can clearly see the differences in values and public attitudes between the two societies. She also recalls that not every priest she encountered in the Basque Country served as a positive example. Some clergy, she believes, damaged her confidence in the Church. As a young woman riding horseback between villages, she deliberately altered her routes to avoid passing certain priests whom she regarded as inappropriate in their behavior toward women. By contrast, she remembers one priest in particular, Don Pedro, as "a true priest." According to María Jesús, priests should devote themselves to helping people rather than pursuing romantic relationships or behaving in ways that undermine the respect traditionally associated with their vocation. As a child, all religious instruction in her village was conducted in Basque. The strongest pressure to attend Mass and catechism came not from society but from within the family itself. For the sake of harmony at home, everyone fulfilled their religious obligations. Whenever she returns to the Basque Country, she especially enjoys attending Mass in the church of Lekeitio, which she considers one of the most beautiful churches she knows. She is less enthusiastic about some changes she has observed in modern liturgy. In her opinion, the introduction of accordions and certain popular musical styles into religious services has diminished the sense of reverence that once characterized Catholic worship. Her children—including her son Aitor, now the sheriff of Elko County—and her grandchildren all continue to attend Mass every Sunday, something that gives her great satisfaction. She recalls one amusing family story from their early years in Battle Mountain. While driving with her daughters, they passed a Mormon church. Wanting to tease the children, María Jesús jokingly told them, "That's the devil's church. Everyone in there has horns." The girls immediately became frightened and began pulling one another away, determined that none of them should accidentally enter the building. Laughing as she remembers the incident, María Jesús adds that religious life in America is generally lived with much greater freedom than in the Basque Country. People are not criticized for attending—or failing to attend—church. She also praises the willingness of local priests to help those in need and says that her own family remains actively involved in parish life and charitable activities. They continue to pray together regularly. One of her strongest childhood memories is shelling corn at the family farmhouse while praying the rosary every evening. Her lifelong love of horses also accompanied her across the Atlantic. The family has owned horses in Nevada for many years. María Jesús herself rode frequently when she was younger and even jumped fences on horseback. She often took one of her children with her, remembering those rides as some of the happiest moments of family life. When she emigrated from the Basque Country, she also brought several traditional farming tools with her: a scythe, a whetstone, a pickaxe, and a wooden rake. Having grown up using them, she found them useful for cutting hay and feeding horses in Nevada. She had even hoped to bring a traditional wooden yoke but worried that customs officials might confiscate it. Those objects, she explains, represented more than simple tools—they were a way of preserving something of the farming life she had left behind. For many years, Battle Mountain reminded her of Ereño. There were so many Basques and so much Basque spoken in the streets that it often felt as though she had never left home. She recalls one memorable occasion when she and a friend named Alberto drove to Winnemucca. A man was selling ears of corn beside the road, and Alberto jokingly remarked, "Those are fit only for cattle!" To their surprise, another man standing nearby immediately replied in Basque, "I'd eat them myself!" Only later did they discover that he was another Basque sheepherder. Encounters like that were common in those days. One could easily walk into a store and unexpectedly meet another Basque speaker. She also knows Isidro Etxeto, originally from Navarre, and his family in Winnemucca. He worked installing telephone lines throughout the region. María Jesús says she has always understood every variety of Basque she encountered—Navarrese, French Basque, Bizkaian, and others. The only variety she still struggles to understand, she admits with a smile, is Standard Basque (Euskara Batua). Reflections María Jesús emerges from her life story as a woman of remarkable initiative, resilience, and generosity. As a young woman she chose to remain on the family farm to help her parents while her brothers pursued other paths. Her lifelong love of horseback riding gave her both confidence and independence, even helping her avoid difficult situations during her youth. After her husband emigrated to the United States, she spent several years raising their children alone before eventually joining him in Nevada. Once in America, she not only built a stable family life but also pursued employment that would provide long-term financial security, carefully planning for retirement through public-sector work. Throughout her years in Battle Mountain she became deeply involved in the Basque community, offering practical assistance whenever it was needed—from interpreting official documents to organizing support for newly arrived immigrants and helping repatriate the bodies or ashes of deceased Basques to their families in the Basque Country. She has preserved a vivid and expressive variety of Bizkaian Basque and strongly believes that Basque traditions should continue to be maintained in the American West for as long as possible. Perhaps most symbolically, she brought with her from the family farmhouse not only practical farming tools—a scythe, whetstone, pickaxe, and wooden rake—but also the rural values and outlook that shaped her identity. Those humble objects became tangible reminders of the world she left behind and of the cultural heritage she has continued to preserve throughout her life in Nevada.

 

 

Seberiana Erleaga Abaitua

 

 

Seberiana Munitibarren jaio zen Goikoetxebarri baserrian 1953an, nahiz eta 1959 inguruan Mendatara joan ziren bizitzera. 19 urterekin emigratu zuen Ameriketara. Senarra, Antonio Basterretxea Munitibartarra, Euskal Herrian ezagutu, harekin ezkondu eta emigratu egin zuen berarekin. Gizonak lehenagotik hamar urte zeramatzan Ameriketan lanean. Antonio, 1943an jaioa, 16 urterekin joan zen bere aitarekin eta beste hiru anaiekin artzain moduan lan egitera Idahora. Antonioren aita oso goiz joan zen Ameriketara artzain moduan, 1910.hamarkadan. Bueltatu zenean ezkondu egin zen eta gerraostean berriro joan zen Ameriketara lau semeak eramanda. Han 3 urte egon ostean bueltan etorri zen Euskal Herrira andrea eta alabarengana lau semeak han itxita. Seberiana Ameriketara joan zenean lehenengo bere aita bisitatu zuen (hiru urte egin zituen han) eta gero handik Renora joan ziren bizitzera, bere gizona eraikuntzara dedikatzen zen eta han zegoelako lana. Handik ez da gehiagotan mugitu. Bertan etxea erosi eta bere etxean auzoko umeak zaintzeko haurtzaindegi bat sortu zuen. Hango emakumeek etxetik kanpora egiten zuten lan, bakoitzak bere ofizioan, eta umeak zaintzeko norbait behar zuten. Ingelesik ez zekien Ameriketara ailegatzean, baina  praktikarekin eta telebistarekin ikasi zuen, gerora ingeles eskola batzuk ere jaso zituen. 1981ean Munitibarren baserri bat erosi zuten han irabazitako diruarekin, sarritan etortzen ziren bisitan jaioterrira eta. Hasieran arrotza egin zitzaion, baina arin egokitu zen hango euskaldunekin eta “Zazpiak bat”en batzen baitzen. Musean, euskal musika tresnak jotzen, euskal dantzak, euskal jakien postuak jarriz, jaiak ospatzen zituzten. Etxean ere Euskal Herriko ohiturak jarraitzen zituen (bazkariak, hizkuntza, erlijiotasuna...). Euskal Herrikoekin kartaz edo telefonoz komunikatzen zen. Bost seme-alaba eduki zituen han, lau alaba eta azkena mutila. Gizonak 1998an 55 urte bete eta jubilatzeko zegoela hil egin zen auto istripu batean, bere aita ere gaixotu eta handik gutxira hil zen. Horrela, jaioterrira bueltatu zen aitaren hiletara eta familiarekin egotera hiru hilabetez eta bere bigarren senarra izango zenarekin hasi zen (bere betiko herriko laguna). Hori izan zen berriro Euskal Herrira bueltatzeko arrazoia. Bere esanetan, “gizon batek eraman zuen hara eta beste gizon batek ekarri zuen bueltan”. Lau alabak Ameriketan bizi dira oraindik, adina zuten euren kabuz bizitzeko eta hango etxean jarraitu zuten. Seme gaztea (5 urte zituen aita hil zitzaionean), berriz, Munitibarrera etorri zen ikastera, eta ondoren, batxilergoa egitera Ameriketara bueltatu zen, han bizi da gaur egun semea ere.   Bueltatu zenean, Seberianak dionetik berdin-berdina izaten jarraitzen zuen herrikoek bera Amerikanatzat zuten arren. Berarentzat herriak berdin jarraitzen zuen. Herrian galdetu izan diote hango jai edo tradizioen gainean hemen han egindakotik ikasteko asmoz. Ingelesa irakasteko oportunitatea ere eduki zuen herrira bueltatzean baina berak nahiago zuen denbora librea bere semea zaintzeko. Berarentzat bere etxea Renokoa da, han ditu familiakoak gaur egun eta han ditu oroimen asko, gainera asko estimatzen du han jaso zuen tratua, hango lagun eta auzokoak beti tratatu zutelako oso ondo.

The following account is based on Seberiana Erleaga’s life story as a Basque immigrant in Reno, Nevada. Seberiana was born in 1953 at the Goikoetxebarri farmhouse in Munitibar, Bizkaia. Around 1959, however, her family moved to Mendata, where she spent much of her childhood. She emigrated to the United States at the age of nineteen. She had met her future husband, Antonio Basterretxea, also from Munitibar, in the Basque Country. After marrying him, she emigrated with him to America. Antonio had already spent ten years working in the United States by that time. Born in 1943, he had gone to Idaho at the age of sixteen with his father and three of his brothers to work as a sheepherder. Antonio’s father had first emigrated to America as a shepherd at a very young age, sometime during the 1910s. After returning to the Basque Country, he married. During the postwar period, however, he went back to America, taking his four sons with him. After spending three years there, the father returned to the Basque Country to rejoin his wife and daughter, leaving the four boys behind in the United States. When Seberiana first arrived in America, she visited her own father, who had spent three years there. Afterwards, she and Antonio moved to Reno, where they settled permanently. Antonio worked in construction, and Reno offered steady employment in that sector. They eventually purchased a home there, and Seberiana established a small childcare business in the house, looking after neighborhood children. Many local women worked outside the home in a variety of occupations and needed someone to care for their children during the day. Seberiana’s home therefore became an important source of practical support for families in the neighborhood. She spoke no English when she arrived in the United States. She learned gradually through daily practice and by watching television. Later, she also attended several English-language classes. In 1981, using money they had earned in America, Seberiana and Antonio purchased a farmhouse in Munitibar. They returned frequently to visit their native village and maintain their ties with the Basque Country. At first, life in America felt unfamiliar to her, but she adapted quickly. One important reason was the presence of the local Basque community and her participation in the Zazpiak Bat Basque Club. There, Basques gathered to play mus, perform traditional music, dance, prepare stalls offering Basque food, and celebrate community festivals. Seberiana also preserved Basque customs within her own home through food, language, religious practices, and everyday family traditions. She remained in contact with relatives and friends in the Basque Country by letter and telephone. Seberiana had five children in the United States: four daughters, followed by a son. In 1998, just as Antonio was approaching retirement at the age of fifty-five, he was killed in a car accident. At almost the same time, Seberiana’s father became seriously ill and died shortly afterwards. She therefore returned to her native village for her father’s funeral and remained there for three months to be with her family. During that period, she began a relationship with the man who would become her second husband, a lifelong friend from the village. That relationship ultimately became the reason she returned permanently to the Basque Country. As she expresses it: “One man took me there, and another man brought me back.” Her four daughters remained in the United States. They were already old enough to live independently and continued living in the family home. Her youngest son, however, was only five years old when his father died. He moved with Seberiana to Munitibar and attended school there. Later, he returned to the United States to complete high school and continues to live there today. After returning to Munitibar, Seberiana felt that she herself had remained essentially unchanged, even though people in the village regarded her as “the American.” From her perspective, the village also seemed much the same as before. Local residents sometimes asked her about celebrations and traditions in Nevada, hoping to learn from activities organized by the Basque community there. She was also offered the opportunity to teach English after returning to the village. She declined, however, because she preferred to devote her free time to caring for her son. Despite having returned to Bizkaia, Seberiana considers Reno her true home. Her children and other relatives continue to live there, and many of her most important memories are connected to the city. She is especially grateful for the way she was treated in Nevada. Her friends and neighbors, she says, always treated her with great kindness. For that reason, Reno remains not simply the place where she lived, but the place where she built her family, found community, and experienced a deep sense of belonging.

 

 

Jose Mari Beristain Bengoetxea[1]

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[1] Jose Mari Beristain ere elkarrizketa egin eta hilabete batzuetara zendu zen. Goian bego. Bere lekukotza jasotzeko aukeragatik oso eskertuta gaude. 

 

José Mari Beristain (Markina, Bizkaia)   Jose Mari Beristain 1945ean jaio zen Markinan. Jose Marik urte bi zituenean aita (Juan Beristain) Ameriketara joan zen Idahora artzain modura lan egitera Astorkian. Bere aitak 6 urte egin ostean Green card lortu zuen eta familia erreklamatu zituen Ameriketara beragana joan zitezen. Jose Marik 12 urte zituela emigratu zuen Ameriketara neba arrebekin eta amarekin, 1957an. Gogoratzen du pozik eta ilusioarekin abiatu zirela Ameriketara, Gooding-era (Idaho). Ingelesa eskolan oso azkar ikasi zuten hirurek eta lagunak ere erraz egin zituzten. Goodinetik Elkora (Nevada) mugitu ziren, aita hotel baten hasi zen lanean eta ama euskaldunen restaurantean (Nevada hotel). Soldadutza egiten boluntario hasi zen Jose Mari. Hiru urte egin zituen marinan eta urte bete Vietnamen bertako gerrara bidali zuten. Bere amak egunero errezatzen zeuen beragatik eta horri eskerrak bueltatu zela onik dio. Oso gogorra izan zen Vietnamen. Enboskadatatik irtetzen zenean trankil sentitzen zen. “Pago de convates” ematen zioten, eta soldadutzatik irten zenean, irabazitako diruarekin, Markina eta Ondarrura joan zen sei hilabeterako: “los seis mejores meses de mi vida” izan zirela dio. 10 urte igaro ziren bere jaioterria utzi zuela eta berarentzat oso berezia izan zen gerratik bueltatutzean urte luze horien ondoren berriro ere Euskal Herrian egotea. Ameriketako suhiltzaileek deitu egiten zioten bertara lanera joan zedin, aurretiaz, eskolan zebilenean, bertan basoko suteak itzaltzen ibili baitzen. Horrela bueltatu zen eta Renoko unibertsitatera hasi zen. Renon zegoela bertako emakume batekin ezkondu zen. Lana eskaini zioten Las Vegasen eta bertara mugitu ziren elkarrekin eta hiru seme alaba izan zituzten bertan.. Las Vegasen Igerilekuen eraikuntzan egin zuen lan eta 44 urte eman ditu horretan. Komentatzen du Las Vegas hiria asko handitu eta aldatu dela bera bertan bizi izan den denboran. Gurasoak Ondarrura bueltatu ziren, amak beti nahi izan zuen Euskal Herrira bueltatu.  Anaia Ameriketan gelditu zen eta bertan zendu ere. Arreba, ordea, Ondarrura bueltatu zen gurasoekin eta bertan ezkondu.

José Mari Beristain (Markina, Bizkaia) The following account is based on José Mari Beristain’s life story as a Basque immigrant in the United States. José Mari Beristain was born in 1945 in Markina, Bizkaia. When he was only two years old, his father, Juan Beristain, emigrated to the United States to work as a sheepherder near Gooding, Idaho. After spending six years there, Juan obtained a Green Card and petitioned for his family to join him in America. As a result, José Mari emigrated to the United States in 1957, at the age of twelve, together with his mother and siblings. He remembers leaving for America full of excitement and optimism. The family settled in Gooding, Idaho, where the three children quickly learned English at school and had little difficulty making friends. Some time later, the family moved to Elko, Nevada. There, his father found work in a hotel, while his mother was employed at the Nevada Hotel, one of the Basque boardinghouses and restaurants that served the local Basque community. As a young man, José Mari volunteered for military service. He spent three years in the United States Navy, including one year in Vietnam during the Vietnam War. His memories of the conflict remain vivid. He recalls that his mother prayed for him every day and believes that those prayers helped him return home safely. Vietnam, he says, was an extremely harsh experience. Whenever he managed to survive an ambush, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Because he served in a combat zone, he received combat pay, an additional allowance granted to military personnel serving under dangerous conditions. When he completed his military service, he used the money he had earned to spend six months in Markina and Ondarroa. Looking back, he describes that visit as “the six best months of my life.” Ten years had passed since he had left his homeland. Returning to the Basque Country after surviving the war made the experience especially meaningful and emotional. Before entering the Navy, José Mari had worked as a firefighter while still attending school, helping to extinguish forest fires. Because of that previous experience, American fire departments encouraged him to return to firefighting after completing his military service. Instead, however, he decided to enroll at the University of Nevada, Reno. While living in Reno, he married an American woman. Later, he was offered employment in Las Vegas, where the couple settled and raised three children. José Mari spent the next forty-four years working in the swimming pool construction industry. During those decades he witnessed the extraordinary transformation of Las Vegas. The city, he explains, grew enormously and changed beyond recognition during the years he lived there. Eventually, his parents returned permanently to Ondarroa. His mother had always wished to go back to the Basque Country. His brother remained in the United States, where he later passed away. His sister, on the other hand, returned to Ondarroa with their parents, married there, and settled permanently in the Basque Country.

 NAFARRAK

 

 

Jesus Goñi Tellechea, (Oronoz, Baztan, 1947an sortua)

(Zoe Bray-k egindako erretratua. Zoe Bray akademiko eta artista euskalduna da, Nafarroa Beherean hazitakoa eta gaur egun Renon, Nevadan, bizi da) // Portrait of Jesús Goñi by Zoe Bray, a Basque scholar and artist raised in Lower Navarre and currently based in Reno, Nevada.

 

Jesús Goñi (Part 1)   Renon egin genion elkarrizketa, euskaraz, 2021eko azaroaren 20an. Barbereneko bordan, 1947an, sortu zen. Hiru anaia izan ziren, bi anaia eta arreba bat. Aitatxi artzaina zen eta mutikotan Jesus tematuta zegoen artzaintzan segitzeko. Bi urtetatik aitatxik eskutan hartuta errestan eramaten zuen arditara, gogoratzen duenez. Aita ere bertsotan aritzen zen, herrian eta tabernetan, bertso zaharrak kantatzen, batez ere. Handik sortu zitzaion bertsolari izateko zaletasuna.             10-12 urte zituelarik ezagutu zituen auzoko batzuk Kubara joanak: Bernardo, Agustin izenak gogoratzen ditu. Ikusten zituen gaban handi batekin eta puruak erretzen zebiltzala (puru erdiak botatzen zituzten, oparotasunaren seinale). Horietako batek bost pezetako zilarrezko txanpon bat eman zion Jesus Goñiri, eta asko harritu zen adin eta sasoi hartan. Abioia edo hegazkina Baztan gainean pasatzen zelarik berak eta beste haur batzuek “adios, Bernardo, adios, Bernardo” aritzen ziren esaten. Orduantxe sartu zitzaion “Ameriketara” delako ideia. Amatxik ere esaten zion, “bai, ari haiz gogor lan egiten, baina badakik zer egin behar duen?: Segitzak Ameriketara hemendik, han duk dolarra, ta horrekin hobeki biziko haiz!”                     Gaztetxotan etxeko ardiekin ibiltzen zen, bazka ematen eta jezten. Gero 15 urterekin kontrabandoan hasi zen beste bati laguntzen eta paketeak pasatzeagatik 50 duro edo hogerleko ematen zizkioten (lanposturik onenean 20 duro irabazten zuen egunean). Gero gehixeago eta denboraren buruan 100 duro irabazteraino heldu zen (gaueko lanean). Hiru urte egin zituen “langintza” horretan, nahiz eta amak esaten zion: “Harrapatuko ditek!”. Gero bere kontura hasi zen gaueko lanean eta egunez bi mila pezeta irabazteraino heldu zen (hirurogeiko hamarkadan, soldaduskara joan aitzin). Urte gutxi batzuk igarota, hamazazpi urte zituelarik “gaueko lanaren” etekinak hasi ziren apaltzen eta, ikusirik Baztanen “garra” handi bat zegoela Ameriketara joateko, Ameriketara etortzea[1] (edo joatea) erabaki zuen Arizonara, hiru-lau urterako, 1970era arte. Gero Idahon 10 urte eman zituen, Rupert[2] aldean neguan eta eta Wyoming-go mugan uda partean. Bertsotan nola hasi zen ere kontatzen du hasieran. Afarietan (berak 14 urte zituelarik) ikusten zuen jendeak bertsoak kantatzen zituela eta lagun batek zirikaturik hasi zen lehenengo bertsoak botatzen. Elizondoko plazan ikusitako lehenengo bertsolariak zirela-eta,  bertso bat egin zuen. Amari esan zion, “badakit bertsoa egiten”, amak “nola jakingo duk?”, baietz eta bat bota zuen. Harrez geroztik afaritan eta festetan hasi zen kantatzen. Gero Mariano Izeta (1915-2001), kultura eragilea eta euskaltzalea, San Pedro jaietan bertso saioak antolatzen hasi zen (Erratzun). Mixel Aire (Xalbadorren semea) eta Alkat zena ekarri zituen eta Jesusek haiekin kantatu zuen, lehenengo plaza egiten. Ameriketara “etorrita”, Miguel Ibarra (sunbildarra, bertsozalea) hasten zen Txirritaren bertsoak kantatzen eta bertso haiei buelta ematen zien, “berritan” (bat-bateko bertsoak asmatuta). Washingtonen egon ostean erabaki zuen Idahora joatea. Han bizkaitar askorekin izan zen. Jesus Urkidi izan zuen bertsolagun eta entzule euskaldun asko izaten zituen bere saioetan. Harrezkero Euskal Herrira bisitan joaten zen bakoitzean hilabete pare bat pasatzen zuen eta han ere bertsotan ibiltzen zen. Elkon “Kaxiano” apeza ezagutu zuen eta han, “euskal” meza ospatzen zuelarik bi bertso edo botatzen zituen. Mezetan bertsoak botatzen hasi eta Johny Kurutxet eta Martin Goikoetxea ezagutu zituen. Pic-nic-etan hasi ziren bertsotan aritzeko eta horrela hasi zen mugitzen eta kantatzen hainbat lekutan. Esan bezala, udetan Euskal Herrian Azpillaga, Lazkao Txiki eta hainbat bertsolarirekin aritu zen bertsotan. Ameriketara Egaña, Arzallus, Maialen, Julio Soto eta bertze asko (atzendu zaizkio) etorri izan dira. Gero Elkon “Cow Boy Poetry” besta handia egiten da eta, nahiz eta bakeroak eta artzainak ez ziren ongi konpontzen, bertso eta poesiaren bidez zenbait saiotan “elkartu” edo “berradiskidetu” egin ziren, duela urte gutxiko saio batean (Maialen Lujanbio ere etorri zen). Bestela Martin eta bera hiru urtez aritu dira “Cow Boy Poetry-n” ekitaldian Elkon. Urte batean (2004 urtea izan zitekeen) Washington-era joateko gonbitea jaso zuten. Beste urte batean “United Nations-en”, New York-en aritu zen bera eta beste hiru “Basque-American” bertsotan kantatzen. Mundu osoko “herri-poeten” bilkura izan zen, Ameriketara inmigrante etorritakoak izaten ziren protagonistak. Idahoko Sun Valley-n ere beste artzain askorekin batera (Errusiarrak, Txiletarrak, eta abar) kantatu zuten. Txiletarrek, adibidez, musika instrumentuekin kantazen zuten (gitarrekin eta). Martinek eta berak, hori ikusirik (eta modu “idorrean” kantatzea ez zela komeni oharturik), Boisen zeuden trikitilari eta pandero jotzaile bati esan zieten jotzeko trikiti doinu batzuk bertsotan egiteko, eta halaxe agin zuten. Arrakastatsua izan zen saio hura. Kontua da Jesus ez dela geldi egon eta ez zuen pentsatzen Ameriketan hainbestetan bertsotan ibiliko zenik. Euskal bilkuretan poza pixka bat jartzen ahalegindu da. Gardnervillen txapelketa bat izan zen eta bera “jarri” zuten txapeldun. Bertsoari esker, bere ustez bere bizia ederra izan da, jende asko ezagutu du eta ez zuen hori espero (Ameriketara joan orduko). Arizonan (bertako unibertsitatean) ere (indioen erreserban) kantatu izan du: lehendabiziko bertsolaria izan da indioen erreserba horretan kantatu duena. Indioek ba omen zekiten “koplak” egiten (euren hizkuntzan) eta haiekin kopletan ibili izan da. Joxe Mallea interprete (itzultzaile) lanetan ibili da askotan (entzuleak euskaldunak ez ziren ekitaldietan). Gustora ikusten du bere ibilbidea, batez ere, “hemengo” euskaldunendako utzi dutelako testigantza bat bertsotan. Euskal Herrian nortzuk izan ziren bertsolariak (Pello Errota, Txirrita eta Xenpelar…) askotan jakin nahi duten bezala, Ameriketan ere nortzuk izan ziren bertsolariak ere garbi geratuko da gerorako, etorkizunerako. Orain, covid dela-eta, “gitxi”[3] edo kasik batez, ez dira ibiltzen, baina beti dago zerbait: duela gutxi Nevadako Unibertsiatean, euskal artzainari eskainitako estatua bat jarri dutela-eta, bertso batzuk bota zituen. Ameriketara 1965eko abuztuan etorri zen. Herriko bestak ziren eta Ameriketara joateko punttu-punttu zegoelarik Goardia Zibilen pareja bat etorri zitzaion baserrira. Ezagunak zituen Jesusek eta irriz hasi ziren baserrira heldu baino lehen: “¡Eh, chico! ¡Las fiestas tuyas ya se jodieron!”. “¿Qué pasa?”. “Pasado mañana te vas para América”. Eta hiru besta-egun galdu zituen. Paperak Ana-Mari Marinekin egin zituen. Etorri ziren zenbat irabaziko zuten eta deus jakin gabe. Penik ez du izan, arditan hasieran pixka bat gogorra izan zen arren, zenbait lekutan. Ardiak maite zituen eta horregatik ez zitzaion hain gogorra egin. Lanbide onak izan ditu Estatu Batuetan, bere aburuz. Euskal Herrian, berriz, fabrika batean sartzeko langile bat hil behar zen (lanpostu “libre” bat sortzeko): horrek ez zuen gustuko; alegia, lanpostu bat izateko pertsona batek hil behar izatea ez zuen ontzat ematen. Hala eta guztiz, urte batean esperoan egon zen gogaitu zen arte. Ameriketara joan eta aste baten buruan Lesakako fabrikan sartzeko gonbitea jaso zuen, baina ez zuen onartu. Ohartu zen “Euskal Herria” ez zela beretako. Ameriketan aberastu ez, baina sakelerako dirua egin eta bankurako ere egin du, eroso bizitzeko lain. Ameriketan hainbat aukera daudela konturatzen da. “Bakero” (behiekin) ere ibili zen hiru urtez (Rock Springs-en), lazoak botatzen, eta abar. Lazatzen oso “polito”[4] ikasi zuen. Makinaria manejatzen han ikasi zuen arrantxotan. Arrantxo horretan “karrerako” zaldiak zituzten eta atzera eta aurrera eramaten ibili zen eta mundu hura polita izan zela iruditzen zaio. Gero “konstrukzionean” edo eraikuntzan sartu zen eta hogeita sei urte eman zituen han, “unionean”[5]. Renon, Nevadan. Ondo ordainduta omen zegoen eta orain “union-eko” erretiroa gehi laneko “erretiroa”, biak, omen ditu eta ongi bizi da. Hamazazpi urte pasatu dira erretiratu zela. Erretiro hartuta jeep moduko bat erosi zuen eta, Idahon, Montanan, Wyoming, eta hainbat lekutan ibili da, arrantzan eta anitz lekutan. Zorteduntzat du bere burua eta Euskal Herrian izan ez duen “zortea” izan du Ameriketan, bere ustez. Antonio Aguilar kantariarekin konparatzen du bere burua. Lagun batek esan omen zion “kantu españolak” uzteko eta “rancherekin” hasteko. Kasu egin zion eta arrakastatsu bilakatu zen. Bere ustez, euskaldunek euskal diasporaren berri izateko onena dute Ameriketara etortzea. Ez da berdin entzun eta bertan ikustea bezala. Euskal Herria oso txikia da terrenotan, eta malda asko ditu, eta baserriko lana oso egoera zailean omen dago. Labrantzako lanetan ez dago etorkizunik, bere ustetan. Baserrian bazuten lan pilaka (artojorra, behiak jeitzi, ohatzeak egin…, beti lana, jateko lain bai, baina askoz gehiagorik ez), baina ez zuten sosik egiten ahal. Hemen, berriz, leku zelaia da, makinaria eta animaliak sartzeko eta erraz egiteko lanak. “Baserriko lanak konparaziorik ez, ez du irauten ahal”. Gero Euskal Herrian jarrera kritikoagoa somatzen du besteekiko: besteen bizitzan sartzeko joera dago eta hori ez du ikusten AEBetan. Euskal Herrian utziko bazuten libre etortzea AEBetara asko etorriko ziren eta ez ziren itzuliko, aukera asko daudelako lanbideetan sartzeko. Beste euskaldunekiko izan dituen harremanak direla-eta, “bizkaitarrekin beurek bezala mintzatzen” dela esaten du. Bertsotan ere Iparraldeko hitzak (eta esalmoldeak), Nafarroakoak, bizkaitarrenak… biltzen eta erabiltzen jakin behar da, ulertua izateko. “Aritzen bazara Baztango euskara hutsekin bizkainoek ez dute ulertuko […] Dena nahasiak ikasibiozu gero denak konplazitzeko”. Esan izan diote bizkaitarrek bere euskara erraz konprenitzen dutela. Jonhy Kurutxeten euskara, berriz, ez dute horren erraz ulertzen, ezbaitu “apurtu” Esterenzubiko euskara; alegia, euskara-aldaera horretatik kanpora ez dela aritzen. Gaur egungo batuan, berriz, ez da eroso sentitzen, hitz asko ez baititu ulertzen. Berak “euskara zaharra” darabilelako inpresioa dauka. Bat-batean ibiltzeaz gain, bertsoak jartzen ibiltzen da (grabazioak egiten ditu, idatziz ez). Gaur egungo gaiak (covid-a, adibidez), edo enkarguz (ospakizunen bat dela-eta), edo Mari Trini izena zuen prostituta bati (Nevadan garai batean ezaguna)… Idaztea ez zaio gustatzen ez baita sekula konforme egoten paratu duenarekin (beti dauka zerbait zuzendu edo aldatu beharra), beti bat-batean aritzen da, horretara dauka prest bere burua. Doinuak direla-eta, entzundako grabazioak (Mattin, Xalbador, Uztapide, Azpillaga…) eta eurek erabilitako doinuak, hori zen euren eskola. “Berezkoa” behar omen duzu izan afizionea eta arreta jarri nola egiten zituzten errimak eta horrela. Doinuak zortzikoak izaten dira gehienak berak erabilitakoak. Bederatzitakoak agurretan bakarrik. Oraingo txapelketetan hain bertso luzeak burutan hatzeko zailak direla deritzo. Gaztetan entzundako bertsoak (Azpillaga edo Xalbadorri) burutan geratzen zitzaizkion, baina gaur egun hain bertso luzeak ez zaizkio buruan geratzen. Gaiak ere ematen omen dituzte “arront arraroak” (arrunt raruak), politika gehiago, historia kontuak ere bai… Lehenagoko gaiak politagoak zirela uste du, herrikoiagoak zirelako: ezkondu berriei, amona zahar bati, edo baserriaren gainean… gaiak “naturalagoak” ziren, bere ustetan, eta bertsoak ederrak izaten ziren, herriko usaina zutelakoz. Irri egiteko bertsoak ere egiten saiatzen da. AEBetan dagoen “publikoak”, bertsolaritzarenak, gustukoak ditu artzaintzari lotutako gaiak: “zu ardi nagusia zara eta zu artzaina” eta elkarri sekulakoak botatzeko gaia izaten da ongi etorria. Edo ezkontzaren gainean, adibidez, zu india batekin ezkondu zara eta horrelakoak. Gai politikoak “hemengo” jendea ez ditu maite. Elkar zirikatzea: hori du jendeak maite. Bere arma beti izan da bertsotan txiste pixka bat jartzea, jendeari irri eragiteko, beti serio ibiliz gero jendeak ez du gozatzen. Johny eta biak ari dira beti “ttaka-ttaka” eta jendea irriz paratzen da. Hiletetan ere tokatu izan zaio kantatzea. Ez da gogoratzen Ameriketan noiz edo non sortu zen ohitura hori (bertsotan egitearena hileta batean). Hasieran pixka bat gogorra egiten zitzaion, baina bertsolari izanda, burua prestatzen du, bizi zelarik pertsona horren historia kontatuz eta orain errazago egiten zaio. Zailagoa egin zitzaion bere lehengusuaren hiletan kantatzea tokatu zitzaionean. Urteen poderioz distantziekin aritzea kostatzen zaiola ohartzen da. Inoiz Chinon kantatu, hegazkina goizeko 8etan hartu (gau pasa eginda?), Renora heldu, arropa aldatu eta segituan lanera joan izan da. Izan du tentazioa ezetz esaten hasteko (norbaitek proposatzen dionean bertsotan aritzeko), baina “afizionea” barrutik duenez gero, askotan baietz esaten du azkenean: “ez duzu ezetz erraten ahal”. Behin sartuz gero “mundu” horretan ez dago ateratzerik. Afari arrunt batean, euskaldunik bada eskatuko diote pare bat bertso botatzeko, baina pare bat bota ordez hamabi edo gehiago botako ditu. Euskaldunei bertsoaren gozamena eskaintzen saiatu da, baina ez da erraza izan, euskaldunekin egoteko distantzia handiak korritu behar izan dituelako. Batzuetan entzuleen artean “amerikanoak”[6] egoten dira entzuten eta bukaeran esaten diote “ez dugu ulertu zer kantatu duzun baina “aire” politak erabili dituzu” eta esku zartak jotzen dituzte. Ameriketan bizi naiz eta ni’re nahiz euskalduna Euskal Herrian nik utzi nitun nik ere hainbat laguna Ene bizian ere askontan izaten dut galde modu dena nola gu hemen bizi geraden askok jakin nahi dutena onena izain da euskalduna bertara etorrita dana. Jesusek dio  bera egunero aritzen dela bertsotan, bere buruarekin. Txori bat ikusi eta bertso bat botako dio. Bidean, kotxean ere hasiko da bertsoak kantatzen eta hamar-hamabi segituan botako ditu. Puntuak ere bere buruari paratzen dizkio. Beti prest dago: dela lagun baten puntuari erantzuteko, jatetxe batean (Renoko Santa Fe jatetxea aipatzen du) dagoelarik bertsotan aritzeko. Duela gutxira arte Reno aldean eta Garnevillen ere elkartzen ziren euskaldun mordoak. Orain zahartuta askoz gutxiago. Haien ondorengoak, hemen jaiotako euskal jatorriko amerikar gehienek ez dakite euskaraz (nahiz eta euskal pic-nicetan biltzen diren): gazte horiek ezezagunak egiten zaizkio, urtean behin gehienez ikusten dituelako. Ingles egiten dute gehiago euskara baino. Bertsolariak “ateratzeko” edo bertsozalea izateko behar da euskara ondo jakin. Berak uste du Ameriketatik ez dela bertsolaririk sortuko, “handik” (Euskal Herritik) etorri behar da norbait. Kantatzen, berriz, asko aritzen dira (2. belaunaldikoak) euskaraz kantu zaharrak kantatzen, eta oso ongi, gainera, Chinon eta Boise-n, adibidez. Aipatzen du bere lagun euskaldun baten alaba aizkoran (eta motozerran) lehiaketa asko irabazitakoa dela. Bera (Jesus) ibili da neska hori entrenatzen. “Marka” hori ere historikotzat hartzen du. Txingak eramaten (herri-kirol bat) ere ibiltzen dira Nevadako batzuk. Dantza-taldeak ere badira asko. Zentzu horretan, Jesusek uste du gauza horiei eutsiko dietela bolada batez, baina bertsoen munduari ez, entzule gero eta gutxiago direlako. Ameriketan bertsolari berririk ez da izango, Euskal Herritik etorri ezean. San Franciscotik etorri zitzaion gazte bat esanez bertsolariak atera nahi zituela eta haiei eskola eman: aholku eske etorri zitzaion, ingelesez. Jesusek galdetu zion ea euskararik ba ote zekien eta ezetz. Orduan nola aterako “duzu” bertsolaririk? “I am gonna try” erantzun zion, baina euskaraz jakin ezean ezinezkotzat jotzen du Jesusek. Euskaldunak gertuago (bata bestearengandik) biziko balira akaso aterako litzateke bertsolariren bat, baina distantziak tarteko, oztopo handia da. Teknologia berriei esker gaur egungo bertsolarien “boza” eta irudia ikusteko aukera izaten da eta horrek laguntzen du bertso-mundua gertuagotik jarraitzeko. Berak ere grabatzen ditu bertsoak eta bidali lagunei. Aita eta ama etorri zitzaizkion eta berrogei egun egon ziren segituan (1986an edo 87an, ez du ongi gogoratzen). Harritu omen ziren alor handiak eta alfalfa zelaiak ikusita. Elkarrizketan Jesus Goñik erakutsi du bere berbaldiaren jarioa oparoa dela eta hainbat konturi buruz eginak dituela bere gogoetak. Gogoeta asko (gehienak akaso) euskaraz egiteko ohitura gorde du, neurri handi batean bertsolaritza landu duelako bere bizitzan, eta hori islatzen da. Hori bai, ahoskotasun edo oralitatean bizi du dena Jesus Goñik: berarengana heldu den (euskal) kultura ahoz etorri zaio, eta berak berrelaboratu du hori guztia eta transmititu egin beti ahoz. Bere bertsogintzak hori bera islatzen du, ez baitzaio ezagutzen bertso bat bera ere berak idatzia: denak ahoz botatakoak izan dira. Artzaintza, abeltzaintza, eraikuntza… bera ibilitako lanbideetan jakin izan du aldez aurretik zekiena bere langintza berrian aplikatzen, erabiltzen eta ongi joan zaio bere alorretan. Ekonomikoki ere emaitza oparoa lortu du, nahiz eta milionarioa ez izan, bi penstio oparorekin bizi delako egun. Ameriketako Estatu Batutetan bertsolari izatea pribilegiotzat ikusten du, nahiz eta erraza ez dela ohartzen den. Ameriketan, bestalde, bere muga bitalak zabaldu egin direla erakusten du eta hori positibotzat ikusten du: Euskal Herrian geratu izan balitz ez zatekeen horrelakorik gertatuko bere bizitzan.

Jesús Goñi (Part 1) Interview conducted in Reno, Nevada, in Basque on November 20, 2021. Jesús Goñi was born in 1947 at Barbereneko Borda, a farmhouse in the Baztan Valley of Navarre. He grew up with two brothers and one sister. His grandfather was a shepherd, and from the time he was barely two years old, Jesús accompanied him to the sheep. He recalls being carried in his grandfather's arms as they walked to the flock. From those earliest memories he became determined to follow the same way of life. His father also loved bertsolaritza, the Basque tradition of improvised verse. He often sang old bertsoak in village gatherings and local taverns, and it was from listening to him that Jesús first developed a fascination for becoming a bertsolari himself. When he was about ten or twelve years old, several men from the neighborhood returned after spending years in Cuba. He remembers two of them particularly well: Bernardo and Agustín. They wore elegant overcoats, smoked expensive cigars, and, to the amazement of local children, casually threw away half-smoked cigars as though they were of little value—a clear symbol of prosperity. One of these emigrants handed young Jesús a five-peseta silver coin. At that age, the gift left a lasting impression. Whenever an airplane flew over the Baztan Valley, Jesús and the other children would wave toward the sky shouting, "Goodbye, Bernardo! Goodbye, Bernardo!" It was during those childhood years that the idea of America first took root in his imagination. His mother encouraged the dream as well. "You're working hard," she would tell him, "but do you know what you should do? Go to America. That's where the dollars are, and you'll live much better there." As a boy, Jesús helped care for the family's sheep, feeding them and milking them every day. At the age of fifteen he began working as a smuggler's assistant along the Pyrenean border. His job consisted of carrying contraband packages across the mountains at night. For each trip he earned fifty duros—far more than the twenty duros a day's labor brought in the best local jobs. His earnings gradually increased. Eventually he was making one hundred duros for a night's work. He remained in the smuggling trade for three years despite his mother's repeated warnings. "They're going to catch you." Later he began working independently at night while holding a daytime job as well. Before leaving for military service he recalls earning as much as two thousand pesetas a day—a considerable income in Spain during the 1960s. By the time he was seventeen, however, profits from smuggling had begun to decline. At the same time, a wave of emigration was sweeping through the Baztan Valley. Seeing so many neighbors leaving for America, Jesús decided to do the same. His original plan was to spend only three or four years in Arizona before returning home around 1970. Life, however, unfolded differently. After Arizona he spent approximately ten years in Idaho, living near Rupert during the winters and working near the Wyoming border during the summer months. Jesús then recalls how he himself became a bertsolari. When he was about fourteen years old, he noticed that adults often sang bertsoak during community dinners. Encouraged by one of his friends, he decided to try improvising a few verses himself. After seeing several famous bertsolaris perform in the square at Elizondo, he composed a verse inspired by the experience. Returning home, he proudly announced to his mother, "I know how to make bertsoak." His mother laughed. "How could you possibly know that?" Jesús immediately improvised a verse for her. From that moment onward, he began singing regularly at family meals, local celebrations, and village festivals. Some years later, Mariano Izeta (1915–2001)—a well-known cultural promoter and Basque language activist—began organizing bertsolaritza performances during the San Pedro festivities in Erratzu. Izeta invited renowned bertsolaris such as Mixel Aire, better known as Xalbador's son, and Alkhat. Jesús was given the opportunity to perform alongside them, marking his first appearance on an official bertsolaritza stage. After emigrating to the United States, he discovered that the tradition continued among Basque immigrants. One of the people who most influenced him there was Miguel Ibarra, originally from Sunbilla. Ibarra loved singing the classic verses of Txirrita and often encouraged Jesús to improvise new responses built upon those traditional compositions. Following a period in Washington State, Jesús moved to Idaho. There he lived among many Basques from Bizkaia. One of his closest bertsolaritza companions was Jesús Urkidi, and he regularly performed before enthusiastic Basque-speaking audiences. Whenever he returned to the Basque Country for visits, he typically stayed for several months and continued singing bertsoak there as well. In Elko he met Father Kaxiano, who celebrated Mass in Basque. During those services Jesús would often improvise two or three bertsoak. It was through these church performances that he became acquainted with Johnny Kurutxet and Martin Goikoetxea. Soon afterward they began singing together at Basque picnics throughout the American West, gradually expanding their performances to festivals and community gatherings across the region. During his summer visits to the Basque Country, Jesús also had opportunities to sing alongside celebrated bertsolaris such as Azpillaga and Lazkao Txiki. Over the years many leading bertsolaris—including Andoni Egaña, Jon Lopategi Arzallus, Maialen Lujanbio, Julio Soto, and numerous others—also traveled to the United States, where Jesús shared the stage with them on various occasions. (Part 2) As the years passed, Jesús became one of the best-known bertsolaris in the Basque-American community. One of the highlights of his career came when he and several fellow bertsolaris were invited to perform in Washington, D.C. A few years later he also participated in an event at the United Nations in New York City, where he joined three other Basque-American bertsolaris in a gathering of folk poets from immigrant communities around the world. He also performed in Sun Valley, Idaho, together with shepherds and poets from many different backgrounds, including Russian and Chilean immigrants. The Chilean performers accompanied their verses with guitars and other musical instruments. Observing how effective this was, Jesús and Martin Goikoetxea realized that simply singing bertsoak without instrumental accompaniment might seem rather austere to non-Basque audiences. They therefore asked musicians from Boise who played the trikitixa (Basque diatonic accordion) and tambourine to accompany some of their performances. The experiment proved highly successful. Looking back, Jesús says he never imagined that bertsolaritza would become such an important part of his life in America. Through bertsoak he tried to bring joy to Basque gatherings wherever he performed. At a festival in Gardnerville he was declared the winner of a bertsolaritza competition. More importantly, he believes that bertsolaritza enriched his life beyond anything he could have imagined before emigrating. It introduced him to countless people and opened doors that otherwise would never have existed. He also had the opportunity to perform at the University of Arizona, including an event held on a Native American reservation. To his knowledge, he was the first bertsolari ever to perform there. The Native Americans already had their own tradition of composing improvised verses in their own language, and Jesús recalls exchanging poetic improvisations with them during the event. Many of these performances required interpretation for audiences unfamiliar with Basque. Joxe Mallea frequently served as translator, making Jesús's improvised verses accessible to English-speaking listeners. When he reflects on his career, Jesús says he feels deeply satisfied. Above all, he believes that he and his fellow bertsolaris have left an important testimony for future generations of Basques in America. Just as people in the Basque Country remember earlier masters such as Pello Errota, Txirrita, and Xenpelar, he hopes that future generations will also know who the bertsolaris of the American diaspora were. The COVID-19 pandemic temporarily brought many activities to a halt, but performances never disappeared entirely. Not long before the interview, for example, he improvised several bertsoak during the dedication of a monument honoring Basque sheepherders at the University of Nevada. Jesús emigrated to the United States in August 1965. His departure coincided with the village festivals. Just as preparations were reaching their height, two members of the Civil Guard unexpectedly arrived at his family's farmhouse. They knew Jesús personally and were laughing before they even reached the house. "Hey, kid! Your fiestas are over!" "What do you mean?" Jesús asked. "The day after tomorrow you're leaving for America." As a result, he missed the final three days of the festivities. His immigration paperwork had been arranged through Ana Mari Marín. Neither he nor the other emigrants had any clear idea of what they would earn once they reached America. Even so, he has never regretted the decision. Life as a shepherd was demanding during the first years, particularly in certain isolated camps, but because he genuinely loved sheep, the work never felt unbearable. Looking back, he believes he enjoyed excellent occupations throughout his working life in the United States. In the Basque Country, by contrast, he remembers that obtaining a position in a factory often depended upon someone else retiring—or even dying—before a vacancy became available. He found that reality deeply discouraging. He waited for an opportunity for nearly a year before finally giving up. Ironically, only one week after arriving in America, he received an offer to work at a factory in Lesaka. By then, however, he had already decided not to return. "I realized," he says, "that the Basque Country wasn't for me." He never became wealthy, but he earned enough to live comfortably and even save money. America, he believes, offered opportunities that simply did not exist at home. For three years he also worked as a cowboy near Rock Springs, Wyoming. He learned to throw a lasso with considerable skill and became proficient at operating ranch machinery. The ranch specialized in breeding racehorses, and Jesús remembers transporting them from place to place. Looking back, he recalls those years with great affection. Later he entered the construction industry. He spent twenty-six years working in unionized construction in Reno, Nevada. The wages were excellent, and today he receives both his union pension and his regular retirement pension. By the time of the interview he had already been retired for seventeen years. Retirement allowed him to pursue another lifelong passion. He purchased a Jeep and traveled extensively throughout Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and many other parts of the American West, spending much of his time fishing and exploring places he had always wanted to visit. He considers himself fortunate. In his opinion, the opportunities he found in America far exceeded anything he could have expected had he remained in the Basque Country. To explain his own experience, he compares himself to the Mexican singer Antonio Aguilar. A friend once advised Aguilar to abandon Spanish popular songs and devote himself to ranchera music instead. He followed the advice and became enormously successful. Jesús believes something similar happened in his own life. Had he remained in Navarre, his path would likely have been very different. For anyone wishing to understand the Basque diaspora, he believes there is only one real solution: "Come to America." Reading about it or hearing stories, he says, can never compare with experiencing it firsthand. He contrasts the geography of the Basque Country with that of the American West. The Basque homeland is small, mountainous, and difficult to farm. Growing up, there was endless work on the family farm—hoeing cornfields, milking cows, making hay—but despite all that labor there was almost no opportunity to earn real money. The American West, by contrast, offered vast open landscapes where machinery and livestock could be managed much more efficiently. "In the Basque Country," he says, "that kind of farming simply can't survive." He also feels that people in the Basque Country tend to concern themselves too much with the lives of others, whereas Americans generally allow individuals greater personal freedom. Indeed, he believes that if people in the Basque Country had been free to emigrate without restrictions, many more would have done so—and few would have chosen to return. (Part 3) Reflecting on the Basque community in the United States, Jesús explains that one of the keys to communicating successfully through bertsolaritza has been adapting his language to a diverse audience. He jokes that he can speak to Basques from Bizkaia "as though he were one of them." A bertsolari in America, he argues, cannot rely exclusively on the dialect of his own valley. Instead, he has learned to combine vocabulary and expressions from Navarre, Bizkaia, the French Basque Country, and other regions so that everyone can understand. "If you sing only in the Basque of Baztan," he says, "people from Bizkaia won't understand you. You have to mix everything together so everyone feels included." Many Bizkaians have told him that they find his Basque easy to understand. By contrast, he remarks that Johnny Kurutxet has always remained faithful to the Basque spoken in his native village of Esterenzubi, making his language more difficult for many listeners outside the Northern Basque Country. Jesús also admits that he does not feel entirely comfortable using Standard Basque (Euskara Batua) because many of its words are unfamiliar to him. "I speak the old Basque," he says with a smile. Besides improvising, Jesús also composes bertsoak for specific occasions. Rather than writing them down, however, he records them orally. Some deal with current events, such as the COVID-19 pandemic; others are commissioned for celebrations or tributes. At one point he even composed verses about a well-known Nevada prostitute named Mari Trini. He dislikes writing because he is never satisfied with what he has put on paper. "There is always something I'd want to change." Improvisation, he explains, has always been his natural medium. His musical education came almost entirely through listening. Recordings of legendary bertsolaris such as Mattin, Xalbador, Uztapide, and Azpillaga became his true school. From them he learned melodies, rhyme schemes, and the subtle techniques of improvisation. Above all, he believes that becoming a bertsolari requires an innate passion. One must pay close attention to how the great masters built their rhymes and developed their ideas. Most of the melodies he uses belong to the traditional zortziko meter. Longer melodies are reserved almost exclusively for farewell verses. Watching today's bertsolaritza championships, however, he sometimes feels that performances have become too long and intellectually demanding. When he was young, he could easily remember entire performances by Azpillaga or Xalbador. Today's bertsoak, he says, are so long that they are difficult even to remember afterward. He also feels that modern topics have changed considerably. Politics, history, and highly abstract themes now dominate many competitions. In his opinion, earlier subjects were more appealing because they emerged naturally from everyday rural life. Newly married couples, elderly grandmothers, life on the farm—those were the kinds of themes that produced memorable bertsoak. "They smelled of the village," he says. Humor has always occupied an important place in his own performances. Among Basque audiences in the American West, he has found that themes connected with shepherding are especially popular. One performer may be assigned the role of the shepherd and the other that of the lead ewe, giving both an opportunity to exchange playful insults. Similarly, audiences enjoy comic situations involving marriage—for example, pretending that one bertsolari has married a Native American woman. Political subjects, by contrast, rarely appeal to Basque-American audiences. People prefer good-natured teasing. "My greatest weapon," Jesús explains, "has always been a little bit of humor." If a performance remains serious from beginning to end, he believes audiences eventually lose interest. When he and Johnny Kurutxet perform together, they constantly provoke one another, much to the delight of the audience. Over the years Jesús has also sung at funerals. He cannot remember exactly when that custom first became established among Basque-Americans, but today it has become relatively common. At first he found such performances emotionally difficult. With experience, however, he learned to prepare himself by reflecting on the life of the deceased and expressing that person's story through improvised verse. The most difficult funeral he ever sang at was that of one of his own cousins. As he has grown older, extensive travel has become increasingly tiring. There were occasions when he flew to Chino, California, for a performance, caught an early-morning flight back to Reno after spending the entire night awake, changed clothes upon arrival, and went directly to work. Many times he has considered refusing invitations to perform. Yet his passion for bertsolaritza always prevails. "You simply can't say no." Once someone becomes part of that world, he says, it is almost impossible to leave it behind. Even during an ordinary dinner with Basque friends, someone inevitably asks him to sing "just a couple of bertsoak." Two verses quickly become twelve. Throughout his life he has simply tried to share the joy of bertsolaritza with fellow Basques scattered across the vast distances of the American West. Doing so has never been easy, since reaching Basque communities often required driving hundreds of miles. Occasionally non-Basque Americans attend his performances. Afterward they sometimes tell him, "We didn't understand a word you sang—but the melodies were beautiful." They applaud enthusiastically nonetheless. At one point during the interview Jesús recites an improvised bertsoa reflecting on his life as a Basque immigrant: I live here in America, though I remain a Basque. Back in the Basque Country I left behind so many friends. Throughout my life I have often been asked how it is that we have come to live here, something many people wish to understand. The best answer, perhaps, is simply to come here and see it for yourself. Jesús explains that bertsolaritza is part of his everyday life. He improvises constantly, even when he is alone. Seeing a bird may inspire a verse. While driving, he often composes ten or twelve bertsoak in succession, inventing both the rhymes and the themes himself. He is always ready. Whether responding to another bertsolari, sitting in Reno's Santa Fe Restaurant, or meeting friends unexpectedly, he can begin singing at a moment's notice. Until only a few years ago, large numbers of Basques still gathered regularly around Reno and Gardnerville. Today those communities have grown much older. Most younger Basque Americans, although they continue attending Basque picnics and festivals, no longer speak Basque. Instead, English has become their dominant language. For that reason Jesús believes it will be extremely difficult for new bertsolaris to emerge in the United States. Without a solid command of Basque, improvisational verse is simply impossible. He does not expect a new generation of American-born bertsolaris to appear unless someone first comes from the Basque Country. Traditional Basque songs, however, continue to thrive. Second-generation Basque Americans still sing them beautifully at gatherings in places such as Chino and Boise. Jesús also proudly mentions that he trained the daughter of one of his Basque friends, who went on to win numerous competitions in wood chopping and chainsaw events. He considers that achievement another important milestone in the history of Basque culture in America. Other traditional Basque rural sports, such as carrying heavy txingak, also remain active in Nevada. Dance groups continue to flourish as well. Bertsolaritza, however, faces a far more uncertain future. One young man from San Francisco once approached Jesús with the ambitious idea of training new bertsolaris. The conversation took place entirely in English. Jesús asked him one simple question: "Do you speak Basque?" "No," the young man admitted. "I'm going to try." Jesús smiled. Without Basque, he insists, one cannot become a bertsolari. If Basques lived closer together, perhaps a new generation might emerge. But the vast distances separating Basque communities throughout the American West make that prospect increasingly unlikely. Modern technology, however, has helped bridge some of those distances. Today Jesús can watch recordings of contemporary bertsolaris, listen to their voices, and remain connected with developments in the Basque Country. He also records his own bertsoak and shares them with friends. In 1986 or 1987—he no longer remembers the exact year—his parents visited him in America for about forty days. They were astonished by the immense fields of alfalfa and the vast open landscapes of the American West. Reflections Throughout the interview, Jesús Goñi reveals himself to be an exceptionally articulate storyteller whose reflections extend well beyond the events of his own life. Much of his thinking continues to take place in Basque, largely because bertsolaritza has shaped the way he understands and interprets the world. His entire cultural formation has been fundamentally oral. The Basque traditions he inherited reached him through spoken language, songs, and improvised verse rather than through writing. In turn, he has reinterpreted and transmitted that heritage almost exclusively through oral performance. Significantly, although he has composed hundreds of bertsoak during his lifetime, virtually none exist in written form; they have lived through memory, performance, and recording. Throughout his varied occupations—as a shepherd, cowboy, ranch worker, construction worker, and bertsolari—he consistently adapted earlier knowledge to new circumstances, demonstrating remarkable versatility. Economically, he considers himself fortunate. Although he never became wealthy, he enjoys financial security through two generous pensions. Above all, Jesús regards becoming a bertsolari in the United States as one of the great privileges of his life. It has not been an easy path, but it has expanded his personal horizons far beyond anything he believes would have been possible had he remained in the Basque Country. In that sense, America did not diminish his Basque identity; rather, it gave it a broader stage on which to flourish.

^[1] “Etortzea”: aditz hauek informanteak proposatutakoak dira (AEBetan egindako elkarrizketa izanik) eta testu honetan hobesten da informantearen ikuspuntua islatzea.

^[2] https://eu.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rupert_(Idaho).

^[3] Gitxi: gutxi. Hemen “bizkaitarren” erara ahoskatzen du. / El término gitxi (poco) es la variante “vizcaína” o del dialecto occidental del euskera (de la más central gutxi), quizá “incorporada” por el amplio trato que ha tenido con los vizcaínos.

^[4] Polito: Mendebaldeko euskarak kutsatutako hitzak, esamoldeak eta aldaera fonetikoak erabiltzen ditu Jesus Goñik, Idahon bizkaitar-euskaldunekin emandako hamar urteen ondorioz / Polito (en lugar de poliki) es una variante más occidental también quizá incorporada tras sus años en Idaho, en donde hay muchos vizcaínos. / Jesús Goñi occasionally uses words, expressions, and phonetic variants characteristic of Western Basque. For example, he uses polito instead of poliki (“slowly”), a feature he likely adopted during the ten years he spent in Idaho, where he lived and worked with many Basque speakers from Bizkaia.

^[5] Union: sindikatua.

^[6] Ingelesa baizik ez dakitenak.

 

---

[1] Lequerica y Erquicia, José Félix de. Bilbao (Vizcaya), 30.I.1890 – Guecho (Vizcaya), 9.VI.1963. Político, ministro, embajador, representante español ante la Organización de las Naciones Unidas (ONU) […], in: https://dbe.rah.es/biografias/12004/jose-felix-de-lequerica-y-erquicia

[2] “San Franciscotik forty miles”, dio. Bistan da distantziak ingelesez esaten ohituta dagoela eta ez du oztoporik hori bere euskarazko berbaldian “txertatzeko”.

[3] “Emakumea” esaten du berak, Bizkaian gehien batean “andra” edo “enbra” esaten den arren. Ikusten da bere bizitzan zehar beste euskara mota batzuk ezagutu dituela eta zenbait ezaugarri linguistiko berenganatu ditu.

[4]“Enbra”, orain bai, Bizkaiko leku askotan erabiltzen den hitza darabil hemen, “emakumea” esateko.

[5] “Harik eta … arte” deborazko lokailua dotore erabilita.

[6] Trobela:  ingelesezko troublea azkeneko a- artikuluarekin.

[7] “Bakixu”, badakizu hitzaren ebakera berea. Ingelesez askotan esaten den “you know”-ren funtzio berbera harrapatu duelakoan gaude.

[8] “Ez gendun euskera egiten ahal eskolan”: Egitura aldetik hau nafar-lapurtera edo Nafarroa Behereko euskararen egitura bat da, ahalerazkoa ezezkoan. “Ezin” partikula ez darabil, ezezkoa adierazteko (Mendebaldeko euskalkian erabiltzen dena).

[9] “Zera” hori kisketa delakoan gaude.

[10] “Ez dau urtetan ahal”: berriro ere ahalerazko-ezezko “berezia”, senarraren eraginez ziurrenera berenganatu zuena. “Ezin da irten” horren parekoa lizateke, (“ezin dau urten” edo horrelako zerbait bere euskalkian).

[11] “Oin ez dau egiten ahal”: “orain ezin du egin” horren parekoa.

[12] Usaba: Ugazaba, euskara normatiboan, nahiz eta bizkaitarrek “usaba” ahoskatzen duten sistematikoki.

[13] Patari: (B) fiera, bestia (salvaje); alimaña.

[14] Strocke: ictusa.

[15] Bizkaiko Mendebalean “enbra” emakumea adierazteko erabiltzen da (Busturialdean eta Txorierrin, batez ere).

[16] “Fenzak”: “fence” ingelesezko hitza (harresi), euskaratuta edo. 

 

Alfonso Ygoa Michelena (Lesaka, 1941)

 

 

Alfonso Ygoa Michelena Elkon (Nevada) bizi da egun eta 2021eko azaroaren 30ean egin genion elkarrizketa elkarrizketa, euskaraz, Elkoko Star Hoteleko gela txiki batean. Bertako nagusia izan zen eta elkarrizketa eginiko urtean bere semea Scotty ari zen lokala kudeatzen. Alfonso Ygoa Michelena (Irigoyen Ayarza ) 1941eko urriaren 19an jaio zen, Lesaka herrian. Txomineko bordan (baserrian) sortua da, zortzi neba-arreben artean (bat hil zen txikitxoa zelarik). Gainontzeko zazpi neba-arrebak nagusiak izan arte bizi izan dira, baina duela gutxi hiru hil dira hiru hilabeteren buruan. Momentu txar bat pasa du galera horiekin. Bera anaietan gazteena da eta bakarra Ameriketara etorrita. Guraso biak lesakarrak. Baserrian laupabost behi eta zaldiak ere bai: zaletasuna zeukaten etxean zaldiekiko, hamarren bat zeuzkaten, “ayuntamentun terrenun”, udalaren terrenoetan bazkatzen zirenak. Bestalde, hogeita hamar bat ardi ere bazituzten. Eskolara “apezekin” joan zen. Sasoi hartan neskak monjekin joaten ziren eta mutikoak apezekin. Beste maestroren bat ere bazen, baina familian horixe zen ohitura: mutikoak apezekin eta neskak (bere arrebak) monjekin. Hamabi urtetan utzi zuen eskola: bidali nahi zuten fraile ikasteko, baina anaia nagusiak gomendatu zion ez joateko. Jarraian gizon bati lagunduz pinuak botatzen hasi zen, mutil koxkorra zelarik. Mendian txabola “txar” batean kozinatzen zituen “frijolak”  edo ilarrak eta urdaia. Hamabost urte bete arte horrelaxe ibili zen. Gero, Lesakako “serreria” batean hasi zen: konpainiak  Irigoyen zuen izena (nagusia Narciso Irigoyen zen). Ordurako aita eta beste bi anaia ere baziren hor lanean. Hamabost urtetik hogei urte bete arte han aritu zen. Hogei urterekin Ameriketara etortzea erabaki zuen. John Carpenter izena zeukan nagusi bat zen Elkon eta lesakar bat ere bai: David Aranburu. Anaia nagusia David horrekin zegoen lanean eta anaiak animatuta erabaki zuen. Hilean berrehun eta hamabost dolar irabazten zuen. Hamasei urte eman zituen jarraian. Lehenik artzain, hiru urtez. Gero arrantxoan, gero “mayordomo” jarri zuten, beti ganaduarekin: hogeita hamabi mila ardirekin ibili zen eta “bertze”  sei bat mila behi ere baziren. Nagusia, esan bezala, John Carpenter izan zen eta bazituen zazpi seme-alaba: horietarik hiru mutil. “Deustako” ez omen zuten balio hiru seme horiek, edaria eta “tranpa” izaten zen nagusi eta horrek gogaitu egin zuen Alfonso. Sukaldean ere aritu zen: goizeko bostetatik iluntzera arte, hiru otordu nagusi prestatzen zituen. Emaztea izango zena ere sukaldean aritzen zen. Artzain eta langileen “probisioneen” kalkulua berak egiten zuen. Hogeita bi “partida” baziren mendian barreiatuta eta haiendako janaria Alfonsoren “andreak”  egiten zuen, eta antolatu: gero kanperoak hori hartu eta artzainei eramaten zien. Hogeita hamar bat langile izango ziren hor arrantxoan lanean eta horietarik hamaika lesakarrak ziren. Hamabi urte eman zituen maiordomo, baina “aspertu omen zen ederki”. Ameriketara etorri orduko ideia era batekoa zen, baina etorrita beste bat aurkitu zuen. “Solasin” edo hizketan ez jakiteak ere oztopatzen zuen Amerika hobeto ezagutzen. Hemen  zeuden zaharrek gazteei laguntzen zieten. Terreno izugarri handiak iruditu zitzaizkion Alfonsori, Nevadakoak. “Akaburik gabe”. Berak dio Lesakatik atera eta Bilbora joateko (beste “mundu” batera joateko) ehun kilometro inguru behar dira ibili. Ameriketan, Nevadan ehun kilometro ibilita ere ez zara inora ailegatzen. Nagusiak, J. Carpenterrek bazituen terrenoak hainbat lekutan Nevadan barrena eta Utah-n  eta Alfonso horiek “artatzeko” pick-upa erabiltzen zuen hainbat milia eginda urtean. Bizkaitar asko badira Elkon. Izan ere, Alfonsoren andrea bizkaitar jatorrikoa da (Gabika familiarekin dago harremanetuta), aita Ereñokoa zuen. Hirurogeita seian (1966) ezkondu zen emaztearekin eta bi seme-alaba izan zituzten. Seme-alaba biak arrantxoan jaio ziren (Barbara eta Scotty). Bizkaitarren euskara  hasieran ez zuen harrapatzen eta “erdarara” jotzen zuen (“ezin aditu ere, ezta pentsatu ere”) edo zeinuen hizkuntzara (keinuak eta abar). Azkenean ikasi zuten euren “modua” eta haiek (bizkaitarren) eurena ikasi zuten. Gaur egun ere musean beste hiru bizkaitarrekin egiten du eta elkar ulertzen dute  Bere sasoiko jendea langilea omen zen. Ondorengo urteetan, gazteagoak oro-har lan egiteko gogo gutxiagorekin aritzen ziren. Gero Perutik eta horrelako lekuetatik gazteak ekartzen edo etortzen hasi ziren. Mexikarrak ere badira, baina Alfonsoren ustez ez dira peruarrak bezain onak (artzain lanetan). Txiletarrak ere ez dira heltzen peruarren mailaraino: gutxi daude gaur egun. Artzain lana egiteak aukera ematen du egunaren parte batean “siesta ematen” egoteko. Goizean goiz artaldea gobernatu eta arratsalde partean ere artatu behar da, agian beste mendi-bizkar batera eramanez bazka jaten jarrai dezan. Seme-alabekin euskaraz aritzen zen. Seme nagusiak ez zuen ingelesa erabiltzen hamabi urte bete arte: ordura arte gehiena euskaraz. “Tonight” eta “Last night” eta horrelakoak bakoitzak bere modura erabiltzen zituen. Andreak (emazteak) lagundu zion asko. Andreak laguntzen zion “zelan” esan behar ziren gauzak eta hemengo “berbak”  ikasi zituen azkenean, nahiz eta eskola aski ez izan. Ingelesezko idazkera “dena aldresbes” izaten da Alfonsoren ustetan eta ahoskatu edo “pronunziatu” erdia baizik ez dute egiten. Hasierako hamasei urte haietan oso opor gutxi izan zituen. Aprobetxatzen zuen Elkoko pic-nic-era etortzeko eta gozatzeko. Dantzarako “afizionea” zeukan, Lesakan dantzatzen zuelako. Arreba batek urte oso bat eman zuen Elkon eta euskal dantzak erakusten aritu zen. Alfonso ere dantza-zaletu zen dexente. Dantza taldekoekin eta lehiaketa edo “konkurtsoetan” ere aritu zen. Ameriketara etorri eta Euskal Herrira ez zen itzuli lehenengo kontrata bukatu arte, hiru urteren buruan . , Ardian “barrandatzen”  eta desertuan ibiltzen zirelarik, emigrazioneko bi gizon trajedun etorri zitzaizkion esanez sei egunen buruan New Yorketik etxera bueltatu behar zuela. Euskal Herrira itzuli zela frogatzeko zigilua jarri pasaportean eta etor zitekeela atzera ere AEBetara. Proposamen hori ez zitzaion gustatu, baina afera konpondu zen: irailean joan eta abenduan AEBetara itzuli zen. 1967an “green card” eman zioten. 1962ko otsailaren 24an etorri zen. Gero (hamabi urte pasata, 1974an) aspertu zen lan horretaz eta nagusiak berak eskaini zion lana “County-an” , hauteskundeetan bere nagusia hautagaia zelako sasoi hartan. Hark esan omen zion: “Nik emanen dizut lan ona”. Elko County-rako lanean hasi eta hogeita hamaika urte eman zituen bertan, bideak konpontzen “grave-gaz”. 2008an erretiratu zen, 1977an sartu zenez geroztik jarraian lanean. Erretiratu eta gero, deitu omen zioten udan lan egiteko eta horrela, uda partean beste hamar urtez aritu da lanean (2018ra arte edo). “Surrean”  edo Hegoaldean hogeita hamar milatara joaten zen eta bidea konpontzen hasten zen. Idahorako bidea ere konpontzen aritzen zen. Irailean zaldien lasterketarako eta errodeoa egiteko lekua ere konpontzen aritzen zen, Elkotik gertu. Aria pasatzen zuen lurra biguntzeko eta 2021eko udan ere gauza bera egin du, erretiratuta egon arre. Lanpostu horretan baziren beste euskaldun batzuk, baina azpimarratzen du euskaldun asko “minetan” edo meategietan aritu zirela lanean, Nevadan, Elkotik gertu bada mina edo meategi bat zazpi mila lagunekin lanean.  Orain erretiroa kobratzen du ona, lau mila eta berrehun dolar hilabetean. “Sozial security-tik” beste mila dolar irabazten du aparte. Etxea ordainduta dauka, semeak Star Hotela du ere ordainduta… bizimodu onean dagoela uste du berak. Berrehun eta hogeita bost dolar kobratzetik (artzaina zelarik) bost mila eta berrehun kobratzera pasatu da erretiroa hartuta: ez da progresio makala. Ameriketara zentimorik gabe heldu zen eta bazuen zorra nagusiarekin: “kabaña” erosi zuen lo egiteko, arropa, botak eta abar erosi behar izan zituen eta 800 dolarreko gastua izan zen (ia lau hilabeteko soldata). Lehenengo kontrata burutua bost mila dolar irabazi zituen eta sasoi hartan hiru mila dolarrekin pisu bat eros zitekeen Euskal Herrian: beraz bazen dirua, nahiz eta horretan ez zuen erabili. Hasierako urteetan “amari” bidaltzen zion dirua, Gabonetan, adibidez berrehun dolar. Oraindik, gaur egun ere jarraitzen du bere koinatari dirua igortzen. Elkon euskaraz eta gaztelaniaz egiten du, eta jakina, ingelesez. Semeak etxean euskaraz soilik egiten zuen eta ingelesa eskolan ikasi zuen. Emaztearen ama Eakoa zen (aita Natxitukoa, bizkaitarra baita), eta emaztearekin ere euskaraz egiten zuen. Amaren lehengusuetarik lau baziren lau Nevadan eta Idahon. Euskal Herrira joaten delarik lehenengoz familiakoak bisitatzen ditu, baina gurasoak hil direnetik galdu egin du hara joateko “ilusioa” edo “kariñoa”. Gabonak ospatzen ditu familia giroan eta Thanksgiving eguna ere familian. Gogoratzen da txikitako baserrian Gabonetan txerria hil, mortzillak egin, ospatu eta kantatu egiten zuten. Bazeukaten “gramola” zahar bat, manibelari eman behar zitzaiona (amak egiten zuen hori) eta musiko hori entzuten zuten eta kantatzen zuten. Hemen  gutxiago kantatzen da, baita euskaldun gutxi geratzen direlako. Gazteek (euskaldunen ondorengoei buruz ari da) beste “plan batzuekin” aritzen dira eta agian Elkon ez dira antolatzen euskal zentroaren inguruan, eta abar. “Konputadora” seinalatzen du adieraziz gazteak tresna horren inguruan dabiltzala, eta,  gainera, hori gabe ezin baita deus egin. Gaineratzen du bere gurasoek ziotela Alfonsoren belaunaldikoak ari zirela mundua aldatzen, baina, bere ustez, aldaketa askoz handiagoa izan da bera gazte zenetik gaur arte.  Gaur egun arrebarekin telefonoz komunikatzen da, astero astero. Gabonetarako ere turroiak eta bidaltzen dizkiote Leskatik. Euskal pilota ere jarraitzen du zerbait: periodikoetan ikusi du Aimar Olaizola goizuetarra erretiratu berri dela. Gogoratzen du Elkoko frontoia lesakar batek egin zuela, Nicolás Fagoagak. Lehen afizio gehiago zegoen. Orain San Franciscotik etortzen dira batzuk jokatzera, “frantsesak” . “Euskaldunak bakantzen ari gara”, horrela dio Elkoko egoera dela-eta. Jon Lopategiren anaia bat dagoela Elkon adierazten du eta musean aritzea da euskaldunak biltzeko aitzakia Elkon.  Etxekoak etorri izan dira bisitan Elkora, baina ez zaie hemengo bizimodua gustatzen. Hango “txikitekoa” uzteko ez daude prest. Elkon badago “txikitekoa”, baina amerikanoek egiten dute, ez euskaldunek, ez baitute “xantzarik” izan, beti tokatu izan zaie lan egitea, ez dute astirik horretarako. Anaiak gehienak Lesakako fabrikan daude. Bera etortzekotan zegoelarik hasi zen “buila”, eginen zela, ez zela eginen, eta azkenean egin zen fabrika . Seme alabak ere oso langiletsuak dira. Alabak hogeita hamar urte eman ditu irakasle. Orain eretiratuta bi mila eta hirurehun dolar jasotzen ditu erretirotik. Hala ere, jarraitzen du lanean Star Hotelean (semea da nagusia) eta beste horrenbeste irabazten du lan horretatik (familia negozioa da). Alabaren gizonak ere bere soldata dauka, estadoarendako egiten du lan, ureztatze kontuetan. Alfonsoren emaztea ere, arrantxoaren egonaldia edo lanaldia bukatuta banku batean sartu zen lanean, eta hogeita hamar urte eman ditu bertan. Hiru biloba ditu eta karrera ari dira bukatzen. Euskal Herriarekin badute kontaktua: san Ferminetan (Lesakan eta Iruñean) izan dira behin baino gehiagotan, han badituzte lagunak, eta egin izan dituzte egonaldiak. Nicolas Elia (Erroibarrekoa) gogoratzen du. Etorri zelarik bera zegoen maiordomo Carpenterren . Gero hori utzi eta ostatuan egon zen “kantinero”, Rafael Fagoagarendako . “Kordionea jotzen zun polliki”, esaten du Alfonsok. Jendea laguntzeko prest egoten zen, berari ere lagundu zion etorri berria zelarik. Egona dago beraren etxean Burlatan, zazpi seme-alaba omen ditu eta Alfonso harritzen da horrekin. Handik ekarri dute kristautasuna eta “segitzen dutela” dio. Mezetara joan, hileta elizkizun erlijiosoak, seme alaba Elizatik ezkonduak, eta horrela. Hemen “erlijione” anitz da: mormoiak eta abar aipatzen ditu. Seme-alabak txikitan “dotrina” ikastera bidaltzen zituen eta ikasten duten horretatik beti gelditzen omen da zerbait buruan.

(Part 1) Interview conducted in Elko, Nevada, in Basque on November 30, 2021. Alfonso Ygoa Michelena was interviewed in a small room at the Star Hotel in Elko, Nevada. He had once managed the historic hotel himself, and at the time of the interview it was being operated by his son, Scotty. Alfonso was born on October 19, 1941, in Lesaka, Navarre, at the farmhouse known as Txomineko Borda. He was the youngest of eight children, although one sibling died in infancy. The remaining seven reached adulthood, but shortly before the interview three of them passed away within the space of only three months, a series of losses that deeply affected him. He is the youngest of the siblings and the only one who emigrated to the United States. Both of his parents were natives of Lesaka. The family farm was modest but productive. They owned four or five cows, about thirty sheep, and around ten horses, which grazed on communal land owned by the municipality. Horses were especially important to the family, and Alfonso grew up surrounded by them. He attended school run by Catholic priests. At that time boys were educated by the priests while girls—including his sisters—attended schools operated by nuns. Although other teachers were available, this was the custom followed by his family. Alfonso left school at the age of twelve. His parents hoped that he would enter the religious life and study to become a friar, but his eldest brother advised him against it. Instead, while still a young boy, he began working with a man who felled pine trees in the mountains. The living conditions were extremely basic. He cooked beans and bacon in a rough mountain hut and continued this work until he was about fifteen years old. He then found employment at a sawmill in Lesaka owned by the Irigoyen Company, whose proprietor was Narciso Irigoyen. By then his father and two of his brothers were also employed there. He remained at the sawmill from the age of fifteen until he turned twenty. At twenty, Alfonso decided to emigrate to the United States. A ranch owner in Elko named John Carpenter employed another man from Lesaka, David Aranburu. Alfonso's eldest brother was already working with David, and encouraged him to make the journey. His starting salary was 215 dollars per month. He would remain on the Carpenter ranch for sixteen consecutive years. During the first three years he worked as a sheepherder. Afterwards he became a ranch hand and was eventually promoted to foreman, always working with livestock. At one point he was responsible for approximately 32,000 sheep and another 6,000 head of cattle. John Carpenter remained his employer throughout those years. Carpenter had seven children, including three sons. According to Alfonso, however, those three sons had little interest in ranch work. Drinking and irresponsible behavior occupied much of their time, a situation that increasingly frustrated him. Besides supervising livestock, Alfonso also spent time working in the ranch kitchen. His day often began at five o'clock in the morning and continued until evening as he prepared the three main meals served each day. The woman who would later become his wife also worked in the kitchen. She was responsible for calculating and organizing food supplies for the ranch. There were twenty-two sheep camps scattered throughout the mountains, and she prepared provisions for each of them before the camp tenders delivered the food to the shepherds. Around thirty people worked on the ranch altogether, eleven of whom were from Lesaka. Alfonso served as foreman for twelve years before finally growing tired of the responsibility. When he first arrived in America, he admits that reality differed greatly from what he had imagined. One of the greatest obstacles was language. Not being able to communicate made it difficult to understand American society or fully participate in it. Fortunately, older Basque immigrants already established in the region helped the younger newcomers adjust to their new lives. The vastness of Nevada made a profound impression on him. "The land seemed endless," he recalls. He compares it with his native Lesaka. Traveling one hundred kilometers from Lesaka to Bilbao meant reaching a completely different world. In Nevada, by contrast, one could drive one hundred kilometers and still feel as though one had not arrived anywhere. John Carpenter owned ranches throughout Nevada as well as in neighboring Utah. As foreman, Alfonso spent countless hours driving a pickup truck between these distant properties, covering thousands of miles every year. Elko was home to many Basques, particularly immigrants from Bizkaia. His own wife was of Bizkaian descent through the Gabika family, although her father had originally come from Ereño. They married in 1966 and eventually had two children, Barbara and Scotty, both of whom were born on the ranch. At first Alfonso struggled to understand the Bizkaian dialect of Basque. He often switched to Spanish—or simply relied on gestures—because, as he puts it, "I couldn't understand a word of it." Eventually, however, both sides adapted. He learned their variety of Basque, and they learned his. Even today he regularly plays mus with three friends from Bizkaia, and they communicate without difficulty. Looking back on his generation, Alfonso believes that people were far more willing to work than many younger workers who arrived later. Over time increasing numbers of immigrants came from Peru, Mexico, Chile, and elsewhere. In his opinion, Peruvian shepherds generally proved to be the best workers. He considers Mexican shepherds somewhat less reliable, while Chileans, although hardworking, never quite reached the same standard as the Peruvians. Life as a shepherd, he explains, followed a particular rhythm. Early each morning the flock had to be gathered and moved. During the middle of the day there was often time to rest before returning to the sheep in the afternoon and leading them to fresh grazing areas. Basque remained the language of the home. He and his wife always spoke Basque with their children. Their son scarcely spoke any English until he was twelve years old. Only after beginning school did English gradually become his dominant language. Alfonso remembers struggling with expressions such as tonight and last night, often confusing their meanings. His wife patiently helped him learn English vocabulary and everyday expressions. Although he never received much formal schooling, he eventually mastered the language through daily use. He still laughs about English spelling. "They write everything backwards," he jokes, adding that people pronounce only half the letters anyway. During his first sixteen years in America he had very little vacation time. Whenever possible, however, he made sure to attend the annual Basque picnic in Elko. He had always loved dancing, having danced frequently while growing up in Lesaka. One of his sisters spent a full year in Elko teaching traditional Basque dances, and Alfonso himself became deeply involved in the local dance group, even participating in competitions. After arriving in America, he did not return to the Basque Country until the completion of his first three-year employment contract. At one point, while he was tending sheep in the desert, two immigration officers wearing suits unexpectedly arrived. They informed him that within six days he would have to return to New York and then travel back to Spain in order to receive the passport stamp proving that he had officially left the United States before re-entering legally. He disliked the requirement but complied. He traveled to Spain in September and returned to the United States that December. In 1967 he finally received his Green Card, allowing him to remain permanently. (Part 2) Alfonso arrived in the United States on February 24, 1962. After sixteen years on the Carpenter ranch, he decided he had had enough of ranch life. Fortunately, his employer—who at the time was running for county office—offered him a new position. "I'll get you a good job," he told Alfonso. He subsequently joined the Elko County Road Department, where he spent the next thirty-one years maintaining county roads with gravel and heavy equipment. He retired in 2008 after more than three decades of public service. Even retirement did not entirely end his working life. Every summer the county invited him back, and for another ten years—until about 2018—he continued working seasonally. His responsibilities included repairing roads as far as thirty miles south of Elko, maintaining highways leading toward Idaho, and preparing the grounds for Elko's annual horse races and rodeo. He recalls operating heavy machinery to loosen and level the soil. Even during the summer of 2021, despite being officially retired, he had once again helped prepare the rodeo grounds. Several other Basques also worked in the county road department. Even so, Alfonso points out that many Basques in northeastern Nevada eventually found employment in the mining industry. Near Elko, one mine alone employed around seven thousand workers. Financially, Alfonso considers himself very fortunate. At the time of the interview he was receiving a monthly county pension of approximately $4,200, together with an additional $1,000 in Social Security benefits. His house had long since been paid off. His son had also fully paid for the historic Star Hotel. He believes the family enjoys a comfortable and secure life. Looking back, he is struck by the extraordinary transformation. He arrived in America earning only $225 per month as a shepherd. In retirement, his monthly income exceeded $5,200. "It hasn't been a bad progression," he says with satisfaction. When he first reached America he possessed virtually nothing. In fact, he immediately found himself in debt to his employer. He had to purchase a small cabin in which to sleep, together with clothing, boots, and other necessities. The initial expenses totaled around $800, nearly four months' salary. By the end of his first employment contract he had saved approximately $5,000. At that time, he notes, an apartment in the Basque Country could have been purchased for around $3,000, illustrating just how significant those savings were. Rather than investing in property back home, however, he regularly sent money to his mother. At Christmas, for example, he often mailed her two hundred dollars. Even today, he continues sending financial assistance to one of his sisters-in-law in the Basque Country. Daily life in Elko now moves naturally between three languages. He speaks Basque, Spanish, and English. His son grew up speaking only Basque at home before learning English in school. His wife's mother came from Ea in Bizkaia, while her father was originally from Natxitua, and Basque remained the family's common language. Several of his mother's cousins had also settled in Nevada and Idaho. Whenever Alfonso travels back to the Basque Country, his first priority is always visiting relatives. Since the deaths of his parents, however, he admits that he no longer feels the same emotional pull to return. Family traditions continue to occupy an important place in his life. Christmas is celebrated with the family, as is Thanksgiving. He fondly remembers Christmases at the farmhouse in Lesaka, when the family slaughtered a pig, prepared blood sausages, sang together, and celebrated around an old gramophone that had to be wound by hand. His mother always turned the crank while everyone else gathered to listen and sing. Life in Elko is quieter today. There is less singing, partly because fewer Basque speakers remain. The younger generations, he says, have different interests. Many no longer organize their lives around the Basque community center. Instead, computers occupy much of their attention. Pointing toward a computer, he remarks that nowadays nothing can be done without one. His parents once believed that Alfonso's generation was transforming the world. He disagrees. In his view, the changes that have occurred since his own youth have been far greater than anything his parents could have imagined.   He still telephones his sister in Lesaka every week.   At Christmas his relatives continue sending him traditional Basque sweets, including turrón.   He also follows Basque pelota from afar.   Reading the newspapers, he learned of the retirement of the celebrated pelotari Aimar Olaizola.   He proudly recalls that Elko's fronton had originally been built by another man from Lesaka, Nicolás Fagoaga.   Pelota once enjoyed much greater popularity than it does today. Now a few players—many of them from San Francisco and the French Basque Country—still travel to Elko to compete. "We Basques are gradually disappearing," Alfonso observes sadly. One of the brothers of the famous bertsolari Jon Lopategi also lives in Elko. These days, games of mus have become one of the main occasions for Basques to gather socially. Members of Alfonso's family have visited him in Elko on several occasions. Although they enjoy the visit, they never become particularly attached to life in Nevada. They miss the txikiteo—the Basque custom of moving from one bar to another while enjoying small drinks with friends. There is something similar in Elko, he says, but it is mostly Americans who participate. Basques have rarely had the opportunity. They have always been working too hard. Most of Alfonso's brothers eventually found employment in the factory at Lesaka. The factory was still under discussion when Alfonso emigrated. People debated whether it would ever be built. Eventually it was, providing stable employment for many who remained behind. His own children inherited the family's work ethic. His daughter spent thirty years as a schoolteacher. After retiring she began receiving a pension of approximately $2,300 per month. Even so, she continues working at the Star Hotel, now managed by her brother Scotty, earning roughly the same amount again. Her husband also works for the State of Nevada in irrigation management. After leaving ranch life, Alfonso's wife spent thirty years employed at a bank. The couple now have three grandchildren, all completing university degrees. The younger generation also maintains close ties with the Basque Country. They have visited Lesaka and Pamplona several times during the San Fermín festivities, developed friendships there, and spent extended periods with relatives. Toward the end of the interview Alfonso remembers another Navarrese immigrant, Nicolás Elía, originally from the Erro Valley. When Nicolás first arrived, Alfonso was serving as foreman on the Carpenter ranch. Later Nicolás left ranch work and became bartender for Rafael Fagoaga. "He played the accordion beautifully," Alfonso recalls. Nicolás was always willing to help newly arrived immigrants, just as he had helped Alfonso during his own early days in America. Alfonso has visited Nicolás at his home in Burlada, near Pamplona, and still marvels that he successfully raised seven children. Faith has also remained an important part of Alfonso's life. He believes that Basque immigrants brought their Catholic traditions with them to America and have largely remained faithful to them. The family continues attending Mass, celebrates religious funeral services, and both of his children were married in the Catholic Church. Although many different religions exist in America—including the Mormon faith, which he specifically mentions—he always made sure that his children attended catechism classes. "What they learn there," he concludes, "always stays with them in one way or another."

 

 

Seberiano Lazcano Ustariz (Gaztelu, Nafarroa, 1942)

 

 

 

Seberiano Lazcano (Part 1) Minden herrian (Nevada), bere etxean egindako elkarrizketaren emaitza da honako hau, 2021eko azaroaren 17an egina, hain zuzen. Lehenengoz bere kapela erakusten dit. Ikurrina eta AEBetako bandera ditu bekoki partean eta alboan idatzita “herri bi eta bihotz bat”. Lazcano “c-rekin” idazten du, nahiz eta jakin euskaraz “k-z” idazten dela. Malerrekan sortua, Gaztelu herrian. Bera etorri “zelaikan”[1] hemeretzi etxe baziren. 1942an Komizko bordan, sortua dugu Seberiano. Aita Aranazkoa zen, eta ama Santesteban edo Doneztebekoa. Bederatzi anaia-arreba izan ziren. Herriko eskolara joateko ez zegoen karreterarik. Mendiz bidexka txar-txar bat zegoen. Maistra Doneztebetik Gaztelura etortzen zen “menditikan”. Hagitz gutti egon zen eskolan, hamar-hamaika urtera arte. Ardiak zaintzen eta idi-aitzinean ibiltzen zen eta ezin eskolara joan. Leitzen (irakurtzen), “eskribitzen”, gehiketak eta kenketan eta apenas deus gehiago. Arrebak bazuen eskola gehiago eta Seberiano etorri zelarik Ameriketara arrebaren gutunak jasotzen zituen eta haiek leituz eta behatuz ikasi zuen polliki.  Anaia Frantzia aldera joan zen basomutil eta arreba bat Parisa. Beraz, etxean lagundu beharra zegoen. Anaietan gazteena zen Seberiano eta arreba bat zuen bera baino gazteagoa. Etxean behiak, zerriak, oiloak eta bizpahiru behor mendian ibiltzen zirenak. Etxea herritik bi kilometro aparte zegoen eta anaiei ez zieten zuten joatera herrira pilotan aritzera. “Gaueko lanean” ere aritzen zen gauez. Behorra hartuta Ultzamaraino joaten zen mendiz eta horrela sos puska bat lortzen zuen. Goardiak agertzen baziren paketeak kentzen zituzten eta ez zuten deus irabazten, hori zen arazo bakarra. Behorraz gain bazuen zakur bat, apezari eta karabineruei “sainga diferente” egiten ziena. Zakurra aitzinetik joaten zen eta karabinero bat ikustean (urrutitik ikusten zituen, erretzen baitzuten) sainga egiten zuen zakurrak. Orduan Seberianok bazekien han zeudela eta beste alderdi batetik joaten zen (karabineroak saihesteko). Entzuten zuen jendea Ameriketara etortzen zela eta sos gehiago egiten zuela. Melchor Graciarena aipatzen dit, Bakersfield-en dagoena. Seberianoren adinekoa da, eskola berean aritu ziren. Hura 1961ean etorri zen eta Seberiano 1962an (AEBetara betiere). Anaia bat Seberianoren ostean etorri zen, bi hilabete geroago, baina ez zitzaion gustatu hemen egotea, “ez zuen laket”. Hiru urte baino ez zituen egin, kontrata bat,  Lorentzo Lazcano (Beran bizi da).  Seberiano Fresnora joan zen, nagusiak Urepelekoak ziren: Rey eta Mixen Sagardia. Seberianoren arreba zaharrena (Jesús) Reyrekin ezkondu zen (baina Garnevillen bizi den Jesus Rey hark ez dauka zerikusirik Fresnoko Rey (urepeldar) horrekin. Ameriketara etorri eta arrantxoan suertea izan zuen. Han bazen etxe bat Baigorriko gizon bat bere emaztearekin bizi zena. Hara joan zen bizitzera. Haiek kozinatzen zuten nagusiendako eta hara joan zen bizitzera laguntzera. Bildotsei jatera ematen ere aritzen zen. Jateko ziren bildotsak, hil, larrutu eta arbola batetik (poleaz) zintzilikatzen zituen (otsoek eta koioteek ez jateko) gero artzainei emateko. Bi uda haiekin eman zituen eta “ontsa”[2] ibili zen.   Bakarrik ere ibili zen. Hemeretzi urterekin etorri zen eta adin “goiztiar” haietan bakarrik ibiltzea bereziki gogorra iruditzen zaio. Zazpi urte eman zituen ardiekin. Hori beteta green card eman zioten. Los Angeles bazuen lagun bat harategian edo “karnizerian” lan egiten zuena. Hara joan zen, haragia mozten, hezurra kentzen eta horrelako lanak egitera. 1969 urtea zen, Midwest harategiaren izena. Ingelesik bat ere ez zekien eta nagusiak esaten ziolarik izterra edo solomoak ekartzeko (ingelesez) ez zuen ulertzen, eta okerreko haragi-zatia ekartzen zion batzuetan, baina ahalegina egiten zuela ikusirik nagusiak ongi hartu zuen. Leongo mutiko bat ere bazen han eta haragien izenak, kajen (kutxen) izenak erakusten zizkion eta konpondu zen. Bost urte eta erdi eman zituen han. Bazen matrimonio bat gizona Isabakoa zena (Fernando Baraze) eta emaztea bizkaitarra (Begoña): haien apartamentuan bizi izan zen, bi koarto edo logela libre zituztelako. Emakume hark kozinatzen zuenarekin bizi zen. Senar-emazte horiek Iruñera bizitzera joan ziren: jakin du gizona hila dela, baina emazteaz ez daki. Ongi irabazten zuen han, baina ordutegi txarra zeukan: “arratseko” hamarretan hasten zen lanean, denak lotara joaten ziren momentuan. Beste gauza “txar” bat zen, haragia mozten zuten lekua beroa zela, baina kutxetan sartzen zen lekua oso hotza, paretak hormatu egiten ziren. Katarro asko harrapatu zituen. 1973an ezkondu zen euskal jatorria zuen txiletar batekin, euskal festa batean ezagutu eta gero. Seme bi izan zituzten.  1974an edo hura utzi eta jardinetan lanean hasi zen. Langintza hartan hamabost urte eta erdi eman zituen. Arcadia[3], Pasadena, San Marino, Holywood-en… horrelako lekuetan lan egin zuen lorategiak zaintzen. Bizkaitar batzuk baziren lanean zonalde hartan, Holywood-en eta haiek Renora joan ziren eta “baratze” horien ardura Seberianori eman zioten, hasi berria zelako eta ez zuen aski. Bere kasa ibili zen. Gero, bere emaztea izango zenak animaturik, Los Angeles-eko beste alde batera joan zen, Westlake[4] herritik gertu. Bazituen hiru-lau langile berarendako lanean. Doktoreak, abogatuak, kontratistak… izaten ziren bere bezeroak. Nahiago zuen kanpo-lana egin, eta horregatik aritu zen hamabost urtez. Gero Agoura Hills-era[5] joan zen bizitzera bere emaztearekin (Txilen sortua, baina aitatxi bizkaitarra zuen, Ibarra), 1984an dibortziatu zen bere emaztearengandik. 1989ra arte aritu zen “baratzean”. Negozioa saldu eta Star Hotel erosi zuen. Negozioa hiru pertsoneko talde bati saldu zion: euskaldun bat zegoen tartean (eta mexikar zein salvadoreño bana). Sozio euskaldun batekin (partner) erosi zuten Star Hotela Elkon (Nevadan), Miguel Leoniz: ez zen berarekin ongi konpondu. Esplikatzen du zergatik ez zen oso harreman profesional ona izan (24:50-25:30). Elkon hamabost urte pasatu zituen. Hoteleko goikaldean baziren gelak eta han paratu ziren bizitzera (lehen artzainak bizi ziren tokietan). Diru xahuketa handia egin zuten hasieran hotela erosteko eta horregatik itxaron zuten zerbait etxea erosi arte. Elkon bakarrik bizi zen, baita etxe bat erosi ostean, baina semea Elkora lan egitera joan zenez, bere etxean hartzen zuen. Semeak bere emaztea Elkon ezagutu zuen eta bolada batez Seberianoren etxean bizi izan ziren. Ez du astirik izan beste emazte bat bilatzeko, buru belarri lanean ari zelako, ez zuen astirik “jeustako”. Gero hotela saldu zuenean “zaharregi”. 2005ean saldu zuen hotel-restaurantea. Elko-ko euskal besta gogora ekartzen du. Ez ziren anitz juntatzen elkarrekin euskaldunak. Euskaldunen artean agian ez zegoen giro onegia, eta horregatik ez zuen gehiegi maite giro hura. Nevadan, berriz, astero juntatzen dira, astean behin. Lehen euskal jatetxe batean: Overland, Gardnervillen dago. Argazki bateak erakusten dizkit nortzuk elkartzen ziren: Almandoz, Erroibar (Demetrio eta Martin Huarte), Baigorri[6] (Jean Pierre Izoko),  Sunbila (Jose Rivera)… zenbait herrietakoak dira. Jesus Rey-ren amaginarrebaren etxea biltzen dira. Euskal pelota jarraitzen du telebistatik (Laso eta Altuna). “Mus tournament” egiten dute herri bakoitzean eta horrek ematen dio aukera social life izateko: Reno, Winnemucca, Gardnerville eta hainbat lekutan aritzen da kartetan eta gustatzen zaio ikustea lagunak. Erretiratu denetik badu denbora soberan. Arrantzan ere joaten da, ihizean ere joaten da, Jesus Rey-rekin batera. Anaia-arrebekin kontaktuan dago (bizi dira): bata Beran bizi da eta bestea Irunen. Etorri ziren bisitan lau lagun familiakoak. Anaia-arrebekin eta hango ilobekin kontaktu handia dauka. Ongi konpontzen da “pais” hontan, bi seme on dituelako eta suhiak ere emakume onak dira. “Hagitz ongi” esaten du. Euskal Herriaz oroitzen den arren, ez hara joateko bezainbeste. Hona etorri, hori bai, eta lehendabiziko urteetan beti zeukan buruan herria eta hara joateko (itzulitzeko) gogoa. Urteen buruan gero eta gehiago integratu da “pais hontan” eta “hemen gara”, esaten du. Hemen egondako batzuk hara joanda gero herri txikietan haserretzen dira erraz (“herri txiki infernu handi” esaera gogora ekartzen du). Euskal Herritik hona lan egiteko gogoa, diru egiteko gogoa eta beste errealitate batzuk ezagutzeko gogoa. Orain Nafarroa oso “kanbiatuta” ikusten du, gauza batzuk hobetu dira. Bera etorri “zelarikan” gauza pobre zen. 1962an etorri eta 1966an Nafarrora joan zen hemendik 8000 $ eraman zituen: diru horrekin Bera Bidasoan pisu bat erosi zuen, oraindik egiten ari zirena. Eta kotxe erabilitako bat (Renault 10), eta erraz bizi zen, hango festetan, neskak ezagutzen, eta abar. Soldaduska egiteko pendiente zeukan eta han geldintzen bazen beste sei hilabetez egitera behartuta egongo zen, eta ez zuen hori nahi. Bigarren “etorrera” hartan (1966an) negar egin zuen, zeren irabazitako diruarekin bazeuzkan bizitzeko gauzak (pisua, kotxea) eta lanpostu bat erraz topatzeko aukera (Lesakako “Laminaciones-en”, adibidez). Kantatzea gustatzen zaio, beste euskaldunekin batera, nahiz eta bere burua ez duen ikusten abeslari on bat bezala. San Franciscoko Miguel Ibarra sunbildarra aipatzen du, abeslari ona bezala, mexikarrak, euskaldun abesti zaharrak... miresten du. “Ikusten duzu goizean, argia hasten denean/ menditto baten gainean”[7] abestia, adibidez, badaki kantatzen. Gogoratzen du koiote franko hil zituela artzaina zelarik. Berarekin erabiltzen zuen errifle bat: nagusiak botila bat whysky ematen zien koioteak hilez gero. Elurra izanez gero, gauez ere ikusten ziren koioteak (ilargi onarekin) eta hura zen aukera bat koiotea hiltzeko, baina koioteak usaimen ona zuten eta arriskua somatuz gero ez ziren hurbiltzen.  Katu basak ere akabatu ditu. Suge kaskabelak ere arriskutsuak, eta bolada batez haien buztanak gorde zituen gero erakusteko. Etxean ardo-zahato bat dauka eta “zapela” ere asko ibiltzen du (orain baseball kapela duen arren). Gogoratzen da 1966an Bilbon erositako armonika bat, eta jotzen du ederki: Gardnervillen bizi den Iparraldeko beste batekin ere aritzen da armonika jotzen (beste hark bikain jotzen du). Elkon bazen jatetxe bat, Silver Dollar izena zeukana. Nagusia lesakarra zen. Ramon Zugazaga bizkaitarra ere gogoratzen du, Elkon jatetxetan lan egindakoa, orain haur talde bat eramaten du ia urtero Euskal Herrira soccer edo futbolean aritzera. Biltoki jatetxean aritu zen, besteak beste. Lau lan klase egin ditu: artzain, harategian, lorezain eta jatetxean. Jatetxean negozioa egiteko, bere ustez, Elko leku ona da. Mineria edo Meategiak daude eta langile asko: beraz, demanda handia. Pikon edaria ere oso erakargarria. Germán Lasarte (Lekunberrikoa, edo Etxarrikoa, ez da gogoratzen) gogoratzen du. 1967an itzuli zen Nafarroara eta han harategi bat jarri zuen. Duela gutxi Lekunberrin egin zen artzain-besta bat eta hainbeste urteren ondoren berarekin elkartu zen berriro besta hartan, eta bertako egunkarietan atera ziren biak. Gogoratzen du mutil altua zela eta pultsuan irabazten ziola. Baina Germanek esan zuen: nik gauza batean irabazten dut: saltoan. Halaxe zen, langa bat jarrita salto egiten zuen, baina lurra gogorra zenez, biharamunean minez ibiltzen zen. Sunbildarrak ere ezagutzen ditu itzuli direnak eta hara bi urtetan behin joaten saiatzen da eta gustatzen zaio ikustea.

Seberiano Lazcano (Part 1) The following account is based on an interview conducted at Seberiano Lazcano's home in Minden, Nevada, on November 17, 2021. The first thing Seberiano shows is his cap. On the front it bears both the Basque flag (Ikurriña) and the flag of the United States, together with the words: "Two homelands, one heart." Although he knows that his surname is written Lazkano in Basque, he continues to spell it Lazcano, preserving the traditional Spanish spelling. Seberiano was born in 1942 at Komizko Borda, a farmhouse in the small village of Gaztelu, in the Malerreka region of Navarre. At the time there were only nineteen houses in the village. His father came from Aranaz (Arantza), while his mother was from Santesteban (Doneztebe). There were nine children in the family. Reaching school was far from easy. No road connected the farmhouse to the village, only a narrow mountain footpath. Their teacher walked every day from Doneztebe across the mountains to reach Gaztelu. Seberiano attended school only until he was about ten or eleven years old. Farm work always came first. He spent his childhood tending sheep, working with oxen, and helping his family, leaving little opportunity for formal education. At school he learned to read and write, together with basic arithmetic, but little beyond that. His sister received more schooling than he did. When Seberiano later emigrated to America, the letters she sent became an unexpected source of education. By carefully reading and rereading them, he gradually improved his reading skills. One of his brothers left to work in the forests of France, while one of his sisters moved to Paris. Their departure increased the amount of work that remained for those still at home. Seberiano was the youngest of the brothers and had only one younger sister. The family kept cows, pigs, chickens, and two or three mares that grazed freely in the mountains. Because the farmhouse stood nearly two kilometers from the village, the brothers were rarely allowed to go into town to play pelota with the other children. Like many young men in the region during those years, Seberiano also became involved in cross-border smuggling. Working at night, he rode a mare through the mountains as far as the Ultzama Valley, earning valuable extra income. The greatest danger came from the Civil Guard. If they intercepted the smugglers, they confiscated the goods, leaving them with nothing. Fortunately, Seberiano had an unusually valuable companion. His dog had learned to distinguish between ordinary passersby, priests, and Civil Guard patrols. Whenever the dog detected policemen—often by spotting the glow of their cigarettes in the darkness—it barked in a distinctive way. Hearing that warning, Seberiano immediately changed direction and avoided the patrol. Stories of successful emigrants also reached Gaztelu. He remembers hearing about people who had gone to America and earned good money. Among them was Melchor Graciarena, now living in Bakersfield. Melchor was the same age as Seberiano, and they had attended the same school together. Melchor emigrated in 1961. Seberiano followed one year later, in 1962. Another brother also traveled to America two months after Seberiano. Unlike him, however, the experience proved disappointing. After completing a single three-year contract, his brother returned permanently to Navarre. Seberiano's first destination was Fresno, California. His employers were Rey and Mixen Sagardia, Basques originally from Urepel in the French Basque Country. An interesting family connection also existed. Seberiano's eldest sister, Jesús, married another man named Rey, although he stresses that this family was unrelated to the Jesús Rey who later settled in Gardnerville, Nevada. From the beginning Seberiano considers himself fortunate. On the ranch there lived a married couple from Baigorri who prepared meals for the owners. He moved into their house and helped them with daily work. Among his responsibilities was feeding lambs destined for slaughter. After butchering them, he skinned the carcasses and hoisted them into trees using a pulley system so that wolves and coyotes could not reach them before the meat was delivered to the shepherds. He spent two summers working alongside that family and remembers those years with great satisfaction. At other times he worked entirely alone. Looking back, he believes that arriving in America at the age of only nineteen made solitary shepherding especially difficult. Nevertheless, he remained with the sheep for seven years. At the end of that period he received his Green Card, giving him permanent legal status in the United States. His next move took him to Los Angeles. A friend was employed in a butcher shop there and helped him obtain work. Beginning in 1969, Seberiano worked at Midwest Meat Company, cutting meat, removing bones, and preparing orders. He spoke virtually no English. When his supervisor asked him to bring a particular cut of meat, he frequently misunderstood and returned with the wrong one. Fortunately, his employer appreciated his willingness to learn and remained patient. Another employee from León gradually taught him the English names for different cuts of meat and the labels used throughout the warehouse. Little by little, Seberiano adapted. He remained there for five and a half years. During this period he lived with another Basque couple. The husband, Fernando Baraze, came from Isaba in Navarre, while his wife, Begoña, was from Bizkaia. They had two spare bedrooms in their apartment and welcomed Seberiano into their home. He speaks warmly of the excellent meals Begoña prepared. Years later the couple returned to live near Pamplona. He knows Fernando has since passed away but no longer knows what became of Begoña. Although the wages were good, the schedule was exhausting. His shift began at ten o'clock every evening—just as everyone else was going to bed. The working conditions were also difficult. The room where the meat was cut remained warm, while the storage area was kept at extremely low temperatures. The constant movement between heat and cold caused him to suffer frequent colds. In 1973, after meeting her at a Basque festival, Seberiano married a woman from Chile of Basque ancestry. Her grandfather had emigrated from Ibarra, in Bizkaia. The couple eventually had two sons. Around 1974, Seberiano left the meat industry and entered the landscaping business. Over the next fifteen and a half years he maintained gardens throughout affluent communities such as Arcadia, Pasadena, San Marino, and Hollywood. Several Bizkaian Basques already worked in that field. When they later moved to Reno, responsibility for many of their clients was transferred to Seberiano. Although he had only recently entered the profession, he soon began working independently. Encouraged by his wife, he eventually relocated to another area near Westlake Village, where his business continued to grow. At its peak he employed three or four workers. His clients included physicians, lawyers, contractors, and other professionals. He preferred working outdoors and remembers those years with particular satisfaction.   (Part 2) After establishing his landscaping business, Seberiano and his wife moved to Agoura Hills, California. Their marriage eventually ended in divorce in 1984. He continued operating the business until 1989, when he decided to sell it. The buyers were a group of three partners—one Basque, one Mexican, and one Salvadoran. With the proceeds from the sale, Seberiano and another Basque partner, Miguel Leoniz, purchased the historic Star Hotel in Elko, Nevada. The partnership, however, proved less successful than he had hoped. Without dwelling on details, Seberiano explains that he and his business partner never worked particularly well together, making the experience professionally difficult. He remained in Elko for fifteen years. At first he lived upstairs in the hotel, in rooms that had once housed Basque sheepherders. Buying the hotel required an enormous financial investment, so purchasing a separate home had to wait. Eventually he did buy a house in Elko, where he lived alone for many years. Later, when one of his sons moved to Elko for work, he welcomed him into the house. His son eventually met his future wife there, and for a time the young couple also lived with Seberiano. When asked whether he had ever considered remarrying, he simply laughs. Work consumed every hour of his life. "I never had time for anything else." By the time he sold the hotel in 2005, he felt he had become too old to begin a new chapter of that kind. Reflecting on the Basque community in Elko, Seberiano remembers the annual Basque festival with mixed feelings. In his opinion, Basques there did not always enjoy the warmest relationships with one another. Perhaps for that reason he never felt especially attached to that particular social atmosphere. Elsewhere in Nevada, however, things were different. Today Basque friends continue to meet every week. For many years they gathered at the Overland Hotel in Gardnerville. Showing photographs during the interview, Seberiano points out friends from many different parts of the Basque Country: Almandoz, the Erro Valley, Baigorri, Sunbilla, and other villages. Nowadays they often meet at the home of the mother-in-law of Jesús Rey. Basque pelota remains one of his favorite pastimes. He regularly follows matches on television and particularly enjoys watching players such as Unai Laso and Jokin Altuna. He is also an enthusiastic mus player. Mus tournaments held throughout Nevada—in Reno, Winnemucca, Gardnerville, and elsewhere—provide an excellent excuse to visit old friends. Since retiring, he has more free time than ever before. He enjoys fishing and hunting, often accompanied by his close friend Jesús Rey. Family remains central to his life. One sibling now lives in Bera and another in Irún. Several relatives have visited him in Nevada, and he remains in frequent contact with both his brothers and sisters and with nieces and nephews in the Basque Country. He says he has adapted very well to life in America. Much of that satisfaction comes from his family. He speaks proudly of his two sons and warmly of his daughters-in-law. "I'm very happy," he says. Although he still remembers the Basque Country fondly, he no longer feels the same desire to return permanently. During his first years in America he constantly thought about home and dreamed of going back. With time, however, he became increasingly integrated into American life. "Now," he says simply, "this is where we are." He also observes that some immigrants who eventually returned to small villages in the Basque Country found it surprisingly difficult to readjust. Quoting a familiar Basque proverb, he remarks: "A small village can be a great hell." His own reasons for emigrating were straightforward. He wanted to work hard, earn money, and experience another reality. Looking at Navarre today, he believes it has changed enormously. When he left in 1962, it was still a poor country. By the time he returned for a visit in 1966, after saving about $8,000, the contrast was striking. With those savings he purchased an apartment in Bera while it was still under construction, bought a used Renault 10, enjoyed local festivals, met young women, and generally lived comfortably. He had still not completed his compulsory military service. Remaining in Spain would have required another six months in the army, something he had no desire to do. Even so, leaving the Basque Country for the second time proved emotional. He remembers crying before returning to America. By then he already possessed many of the things needed for a comfortable life—a car, an apartment, and the possibility of securing stable employment at the Laminaciones factory in Lesaka. Even so, he chose to continue building his future in the United States. Seberiano has always enjoyed singing. Although he modestly insists that he is not a particularly gifted singer, he loves joining other Basques in traditional songs. He especially admires Miguel Ibarra of Sunbilla, who lives in San Francisco and whom he considers an outstanding singer of old Basque songs. Without hesitation, Seberiano begins singing one himself during the interview: "When you see the dawn breaking upon the top of a little mountain..." His memories of shepherding also include many encounters with wildlife. Coyotes were constant enemies. His employer rewarded every coyote he killed with a bottle of whiskey. During snowy nights, especially under a bright moon, coyotes could sometimes be seen at considerable distances. Even then they remained extremely cautious. Their keen sense of smell warned them whenever danger approached. Besides coyotes, Seberiano also hunted wildcats and occasionally killed rattlesnakes, whose tails he sometimes kept as trophies. At home he still owns a traditional Basque wineskin and frequently wears his txapela, although on the day of the interview he happens to be wearing a baseball cap. He also treasures a harmonica that he bought in Bilbao in 1966. He plays it well and occasionally performs together with another Basque from the French Basque Country who lives in Gardnerville and whom he considers an exceptional harmonica player. Seberiano fondly remembers another Basque-owned establishment in Elko: the Silver Dollar Restaurant, whose owner also came from Lesaka. He also recalls Ramón Zugazaga, originally from Bizkaia, who worked in several Basque restaurants in Elko before later organizing youth soccer trips to the Basque Country almost every year. Looking back over his working life, Seberiano smiles as he counts the occupations he pursued. "I've had four different professions," he says. "Shepherd, butcher, landscaper, and restaurant owner." In his opinion, Elko remains an excellent place to operate a restaurant because of the nearby mining industry, which provides a large and steady customer base. He especially remembers the popularity of Picon Punch, the traditional Basque cocktail that remains a hallmark of Basque hotels throughout Nevada. Toward the end of the interview he recalls another Navarrese immigrant, Germán Lasarte, originally from either Lekunberri or Etxarri-Aranatz—he is no longer certain which. Germán returned permanently to Navarre in 1967 and opened a butcher shop there. Many years later the two unexpectedly met again at a shepherds' festival in Lekunberri, where local newspapers even published a photograph of their reunion. Seberiano laughs as he remembers that Germán was a tall, powerful young man who usually beat him in arm wrestling. "But I could always beat him at one thing," Germán used to reply. "High jumping." He could indeed leap over a raised bar with remarkable ease, although Seberiano jokes that he always paid for it with sore legs the following day. Every two years Seberiano still tries to return to the Basque Country. He especially enjoys seeing old friends from Sunbilla and the surrounding villages who, like him, once left in search of a better future.

 

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[1] “Zelaikan”: zelarikan, zelarik. Bere Malerrekako hizkera agertu nahian, kakotxen artean zenbait hitz eta esamolde sartzea aberasgarria izan daitekeelakoan gaude.

[2] “Ontsa” eta “ongi” biak esaten ditu, baina badirudi lehenengoa nafar-lapurteraren eraginez dela, baxenafar askorekin ibilia delako.

[3] https://www.arcadiaca.gov/

[4] https://www.wlv.org/

[5] https://www.agourahillscity.org/

[6] Bidarraikoa izan daiteke.

[7] https://www.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/eu/dokumentu-fondoa/euskal-kantutegia/ab-5044/

 

Isidro Etxeto (Eugi, Esteribar)

Isidro Etxeto bere Winnemuccako etxe atarian, 2019ko udan. / Isidro Etxeto en el porche de su casa de Winnemucca, verano de 2019 

 

Isidro Etxeto 1935an Eugin jaio zen, Elixaga etxean. 1963ra Eugitik Ameriketako Estatu Batuetara joan zen, itsasoa hegazkinez zeharkatu zuen Renoraino eta handik Star Ranch-era joan zen (Winnamuccatik 40 bat miliatara), hiru urteko kontratuarekin, bere osaba zen bertan nagusi: Teodoro Belzarena.     Bere aita Francisco ere zazpi urtez egon zen AEBetan.   1963an heldu zen Ameriketako Estatu Batuetara: hegazkinak eginiko azkeneko hegaldia Renon bukatu zen. Handik, osabarekin batera Elko aldera jo zuten. Eugiko bere osaba, Teodoro Belzarena (amaren partetik) han zegoen eta lortu zuen Isidrorentzat hiru urteko kontratua, Star Ranch delakoan. Winnemuccatik 40 miliatara zegoen arrantxo hori.  Guztira bost urtez egon zen bildotsak hazten. Mendi aldean udan eta neguan arrantxora etortzen ziren erditzera (parición). Udaberrian bildotsekin ateratzen ziren arrantxotik. Mendian zeudelarik kanpadendekin egoten ziren eta astoaz baliatzen ziren oihal etxolak lekuz aldatzeko. Lan horretan emandako bost urtetan denbora gehienean kanpadendan bizi izan zen, arrantxoan egun batzuk ematen zituen arren. Zenbait zuhaitzen enborretan mezuak utzi zituen baina ez omen dio inork ohartarazi beraren mezuak aurkitu izana. Artzain igarotako bost urteak burutu eta gero, Winnemuccako Hotelean bizi izan zen bi urtez. Hotel historiko hori (hainbat euskalduni ostatua eman ziona), 1919an sortua (Echeverria, 1999, p. 243) orain[1] botatzen ari dira. Bertan nagusi bizkaitarrak zeuden: Mike Olano eta Margaret, bere emaztea, alde batetik; bestetik (hoteleko nagusiak baita) Claudio Yzaguirre eta bere emaztea Jesusa. Bertako egoiliar baten (Joxe Mallea) arreba, Jesusa, zen Claudio Yzaguirre bizkaitarren emaztea. Giro euskalduna zegoen hotel hartan. Hara Jeronima Echeverria-ren erreferentzia (1999, p. 145), bat datorrena Isidrok esandakoarekin: From 1946 through 1965, the Winnemucca was owned and operated by Angel and Eugenia Mendiola, who then sold to Miguel and Margaret Olano and Claudio and Jesusa Yzaguirre. Finally, the Olanos and Claudio and Jesusa Yzaguirre. Finally, the Olanos boutht out their partners int 1971 and today they run the business with their son Michael. Gerora eraikuntzan lan egiten hasi zen. 1980an eskabadora erosi eta 1981en lizentziak lortu zituen traktorea erabiltzeko. Bere kabuz lan egiten aritu zen (autonomo edo entrepeneur) baina bere zerbitzuak bertako telefono konpainiarentzat lan eginez, hogeita sei urtez. Kableak lur azpian jarri, zementuzko kutxak eta, azkeneko urteetan, fiber, telefonorako fibra jartzen ere aritu zen. Satorrek batzuetan etxeetara doazen kableak jaten zituzten eta eskuz konpondu behar izaten ziren. Muriel izeneko emakume amerikar batekin (agian arbasoak Iparraldekoak zituen) ezkondu zen eta 2013an hil zen. Harrez geroztik alargun jarraitu du. Winnemuccako Basque Club delakoan 1978an sartu zen bazkide eta, guztira hamar urtez izan da bertako arduraduna, ez jarraian, baina bai urte guztiak gehituta. 2018 “Bizitza emankorra” saria eman zioten bertako klubekoek. Seme alabak klubean egon dira inplikaturik. Alabak (Tina Maria) bertako dantza taldean ikasi zituen euskal dantzak eta orain club-eko zuzendaritza taldean dago.     Isidro Etxetok euskara etxean jaso zuen, baina eskolan ez zuen euskara lantzeko aukerarik izan, dena gaztelaniaz egiten zelako. AEBetara joan zenez geroztik Iparraldekoekin mintzatu da asko euskaraz, haiek gaztelaniaz ez zekitelako eta Isidrok frantsesez ez dakielako: beraz euskaraz hitz egin du Iparraldetik (bereziki Nafarroa Beheretik) hara joandakoekin azkeneko urteetan. Bere lexikoan badira zenbait hitz eta esamolde baxenafarren kutsukoak: potreta (argazkia), lautan hogoita hamar (laurogeita hamar), edo horren itxura daukatenak eta agian baxenafarrekin izandako ahozko komunikazioagatik izan zitekeen. Zoritxarrez, Winnamuccan gero eta gutxiago gelditzen dira euskaraz mintzo direnak, apurka-apurka hiltzen joan direlako (“heiek joan dira, joanak dira”: they are gone, esamoldearen euskarazko kalko “pertsonala”). Nevadako euskaldunak “ongi heldu” dira, “ongi etortzen” dira elkarrekin. Winnemucca-ko euskal club-ean, adibidez, ez dago “zu bizkainoa zara, ni naparra”; alegia, ez dago “argumentuik”, ez eztabaidarik edo bereizketarik jatorria dela-eta. Denak “euskal” edo “basque” izenaren pean ez da bereizketarik egiten. Estimatzen du bereizketa hori gehiago “Espainian” gertatzen dela (Espainiako kontu politiko bat dela). Ongi konpontzen da, esate baterako, Idahoko bizkaitarrekin eta, baita, bere zonaldean izandako gipuzkoar gutxirekin. Euskal Herritik harri-jasotzaileak eta aizkolariak ekartzerakoan, ez diote begiratu ea nafarrak, bizkaitarrak edo gipuzkoarrak ziren.

Isidro Etxeto The following account is based on an interview conducted with Isidro Etxeto in Winnemucca, Nevada. Isidro Etxeto's father, Francisco Etxeto, had also spent seven years in the United States before returning to the Basque Country. Following in his father's footsteps, Isidro arrived in the United States in 1963. His flight ended in Reno, where he was met by his uncle before continuing on to the Elko area. His maternal uncle, Teodoro Belzarena, originally from Eugi, was already living in Nevada and arranged a three-year employment contract for him at Star Ranch, located about forty miles from Winnemucca. For the next five years, Isidro worked raising sheep. During the summer the flocks grazed in the mountains, while in winter they returned to the ranch for lambing season. In the spring the shepherds headed back into the mountains with the newborn lambs. Most of those years were spent living in canvas tents. Pack donkeys were used to transport the tents and equipment whenever the camp had to move from one grazing area to another. Although he occasionally returned to the ranch for a few days, mountain camps remained his home for most of that period. Like many shepherds, Isidro left carved messages on the trunks of trees scattered throughout the range. To his knowledge, however, no one has ever told him that they found any of those messages. After completing five years as a shepherd, he moved to the Winnemucca Hotel, where he lived for the next two years. The hotel, established in 1919, had long served as one of the principal gathering places for Basque immigrants in northern Nevada. By the time of the interview, however, the historic building was in the process of being demolished. The hotel maintained a distinctly Basque atmosphere. Among its owners were Mike Olano and his wife Margaret, together with Claudio Yzaguirre and his wife Jesusa. Jesusa was the sister of Joxe Mallea, another well-known Basque resident of Winnemucca. Isidro's memories closely coincide with the historical account provided by Jeronima Echeverria: "From 1946 through 1965, the Winnemucca was owned and operated by Angel and Eugenia Mendiola, who then sold to Miguel and Margaret Olano and Claudio and Jesusa Yzaguirre. Finally, the Olanos bought out their partners in 1971 and today they run the business with their son Michael." (Echeverria, 1999, p. 145) Later, Isidro left ranching and entered the construction industry. In 1980 he purchased his first excavator, and a year later obtained the licenses necessary to operate heavy equipment professionally. He established himself as an independent contractor and spent the next twenty-six years carrying out excavation work for the local telephone company. His work included burying telephone cables, installing concrete utility boxes, and, during the final years of his career, laying fiber-optic cable. Occasionally moles damaged underground lines leading to customers' homes, requiring crews to repair them manually. Isidro married an American woman named Muriel, who may have had ancestors from the French Basque Country. She passed away in 2013, and he has remained a widower ever since. Community involvement became another important part of his life. In 1978 he joined the Winnemucca Basque Club, where he would eventually serve as president for a total of ten years, although not consecutively. In 2018 the club recognized his long service by presenting him with its "Fruitful Life" Award. His children have also remained actively involved in the organization. His daughter, Tina Maria, learned traditional Basque dances through the club's dance group and now serves on its board of directors. Isidro grew up speaking Basque at home. School, however, was conducted entirely in Spanish, leaving him no opportunity to study or develop Basque in a formal educational setting. After emigrating to the United States, he found himself speaking Basque primarily with immigrants from the French Basque Country. Most of them spoke little or no Spanish, while Isidro knew no French, making Basque their only common language. Over the years, this constant interaction—especially with immigrants from Lower Navarre—left a noticeable mark on his own speech. His vocabulary now includes a number of expressions characteristic of the Northern Basque dialects, such as potreta for "photograph" and lautan hogei eta hamar ("four twenties and ten") for ninety. He believes these expressions entered his speech naturally through decades of oral communication with Lower Navarrese Basques. Sadly, he observes that very few Basque speakers remain in Winnemucca today. Little by little, they have passed away. Using a characteristic expression influenced by English, he remarks in Basque: "They have gone—they are gone." Reflecting on the Basque community in Nevada, Isidro emphasizes the remarkable sense of unity that exists among Basque immigrants. Basques, he says, "get along well." Within organizations such as the Winnemucca Basque Club, distinctions of regional origin carry little importance. Nobody says, "You're from Bizkaia and I'm from Navarre." There are no arguments based on provincial identity. Everyone simply belongs to the Basque community. In his opinion, those kinds of divisions are far more common in Spain, where they often reflect political debates rather than everyday relationships. He points out that he has always enjoyed close friendships with Basques from Bizkaia living in Idaho, as well as with the relatively small number of Gipuzkoans who settled in his own area. Likewise, whenever the club invited Basque rural sports competitors from the Basque Country—whether stone lifters (harrijasotzaileak) or wood choppers (aizkolariak)—their province of origin was never considered. What mattered was simply that they were Basque.

 

 

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^[1] Elkarrizketa egin zeneko urtean, 2021ean. / En el año en que se hizo esta entrevista, 2021. 

Jesús Rey Belza (Bizkarreta / Viscarret-Guerendiáin)

 

Jesús Rey Belza (Bizkarreta / Viscarret-Guerendiáin)     Jesús Rey nació el 18 de junio de 1947 en Bizkarreta (valle de Erro). Sus padres también eran de allí: José Rey Úriz y María Belza Erro. Cuando se le pregunta por la edad de los padres, hay un malentendido, que aclara diciendo que «no, no, no, eso no trabaja»[1]. No tiene el euskera como lengua materna, aunque en algunos pueblos del valle de Erro se utilizó hasta el siglo XX. A la edad de dieciocho años voló a Estados Unidos, en 1965, y se convirtió en pastor por primera vez. Empezó a trabajar para dos rancheros asociados: Joaquín Azparren (de Bizkarreta también) y Carlos Zalba. Ambos habían fallecido para 2019, año de la entrevista. Jesús dice que los que vinieron en los cincuenta ya «están todos idos»[2]2 y los que vinieron en los sesenta van a «buena velocidad». Años después fue allí también su hermana Isabel, nacida en 1966, meses después de que Jesús llegara a EUA. En la actualidad Isabel vive en Gardnerville, aunque visita a menudo Bizkarreta. Es viuda desde 2017. En 1970 Jesús obtuvo una «tarjeta de residencia» y se mudó a Los Ángeles con su primo. Le ofrecieron un puesto en Farmer John Packing House[3], donde se mantuvo desde mayo de 1970 hasta junio de 1974. Dice que se ganaba la vida trabajando duro. Pudo comprarse un coche y así acudir a los bailes vascos que se celebraban los fines de semana. Según su testimonio, los bailes vascos son el elemento que une las raíces de los vascos y/o navarros de cualquier lugar, y él acepta naturalmente esta «vasquidad». En 1974 su amigo Carlos Iribarren (de Santesteban, que llegó en el año 1964 a EUA) le propuso comprar un restaurante en Gardnerville. Se llamaba Carson Valley Country Club, y llevaron el negocio juntos durante veintinueve años. Carlos, recientemente fallecido, acabó casándose con la hermana de Jesús, Isabel, en segundas nupcias. Vino como pastor, para trabajar con su patrón Etxebeste, que era a la vez su tío. Luego trabajó en el matadero de Los Ángeles y después como «cantinero» en Chino (California). Aunque era de Santesteban aprendió el «vasco» o el euskera «aquí»[4], porque tenía familiares en Fresno con los que practicaba la lengua.     En el restaurante iban a tener un cocinero, pero en el último momento se «echó para atrás» y Jesús acabó entrando en la cocina y así estuvo durante veintinueve años. El hecho de tener que hacerse la comida desde los dieciocho años (siendo pastor o cuando trabajaba en el matadero de Los Ángeles) le sirvió para desenvolverse en el mundo de los fogones. Además, una cocinera que trabajaba en el antiguo negocio lo asesoró las dos primeras semanas en la puesta en marcha del restaurante. El Carson Valley Country Club[5] trataban de ofrecer comida casera por un precio razonable. Los clientes podían encontrar una comida que no iban a hallar en otro lugar, nos dice. Los inmigrantes navarros y, digamos, vizcaínos del valle Carson de Nevada se acostumbraron a trasladarse allí, siendo Gardnerville el hogar de muchos inmigrantes vascos (incluidos los de Navarra, como Angelines Cantero, de Eugi, y su marido, de los cuales se acuerda, que venían desde Fresno, California, al restaurante). Es por esto que había muchos ornamentos vascos en el restaurante de Jesús Rey. En Gardnerville organizaban pícnics vascos y un día al año hacían una celebración con gente y familias que habían ido del valle de Erro a EUA. Se iban turnando entre el restaurante Overland y el Country Club. Empezaron a celebrar esta reunión de erroibartarras –en la que preparaban una buena comida– aproximadamente en 1998. Después había música con baile y partidas de mus. En los últimos años, por defunciones y porque algunos se han hecho muy mayores, dice que lo están dejando de hacer. Aun así, siguen en contacto con los del valle, de los cuales un gran porcentaje vive en la bahía de San Francisco, donde hay bastante gente de Olóndriz y del pueblo de Erro. Son abundantes, apostilla.   a ese país.   Por supuesto, se organizaban en Gardnerville otros pícnics vascos abiertos a todos los que venían, tanto vasco-franceses[6] como de la parte de España. Cordero o pescado era lo principal en esas comidas. Había otros tipos de platos, que recuerda de su infancia, como «menudicos», callos y cosas así. Esos los degustaban más en la «intimidad». También hacían otros platos para un público más amplio que resultaban muy llamativos, como lengua en salsa, que acababan gustando a la mayoría de la gente. Dice que aprendió inglés «a patadas» y a «fuerza de necesidad», porque en los años que trabajó en el restaurante tenían trabajadores que solo sabían inglés. Pero él dice que siempre le gustó la «escuela». Incluso cuando estaba de pastor «agarraba el diccionario» e intentaba aprender palabras: «en un papelico escribía unas tres o cinco palabras y las memorizaba, o lo que sería»[7]7. Cuando vivió en Los Ángeles fue a una «escuela» de inglés y eso fue una buena excusa para conocer chicas, según nos cuenta. Con la clientela también tuvo la oportunidad de practicar mucho el inglés. Se casó con Mary Rivera en 1976. Ella nació en Los Ángeles, hija de José y Emilia. Su padre era de Sunbilla y su madre de Sos del Rey Católico, de Aragón. Tiene un hijo y una hija. La hija (1980) vive en San Francisco y es arquitecta, y el hijo (1978) vive en Las Vegas. Ambos han tenido contacto con la emigración navarra porque se criaron en el restaurante Mendiko Euskaldun Cluba, que es la asociación de Gardnerville a la que ellos acudían a los bailes. Dice que a estos les «tira» su tierra, les gustan los montes verdes de Navarra y que cuando llegan allí «se sienten como en casa». Con su socio solían ir a pescar y a cazar e incluso organizaban en la montaña «buenas fiestas». El andar por la montaña es algo a lo que ha tendido siempre, porque después de años retirado suele ir a menudo a por setas y hongos a las montañas que rodean Gardnerville. Un artículo en la edición de julio-agosto de 1996 de la revista Nevada Magazine presentaba el restaurante de Jesús Rey y otros dos restaurantes vascos en Carson Valley. Se incluyeron dos fotografías de los mismos para ilustrar el artículo, y una de ellas muestra a Jesús Rey con su hija Dioni y su hijo Esteban. Los tres sonríen en la foto y presentan unos platos espectaculares y atractivos que se degustaban en su restaurante. Jesús Rey y sus dos hijos van vestidos con trajes vascos, en línea con el titular del artículo: Tierra de proporciones vascas. El subtítulo también fue significativo: Carson Valley’s trio of Basque restaurants relish the Old World pleasure of eating in a big way.

Jesús Rey Belza (Bizkarreta / Viscarret-Guerendiáin) The following account is based on an interview conducted with Jesús Rey Belza in Gardnerville, Nevada. Jesús Rey Belza was born on June 18, 1947, in Bizkarreta (Viscarret-Guerendiáin), in the Erro Valley of Navarre. Both of his parents, José Rey Úriz and María Belza Erro, were also natives of the village. At one point during the interview, a question about his parents' age causes a humorous misunderstanding. Laughing, he replies, "No, no, no—that doesn't work!" Unlike many other emigrants interviewed for this study, Basque was not his mother tongue, although it continued to be spoken in several villages of the Erro Valley well into the twentieth century. At the age of eighteen, in 1965, Jesús emigrated to the United States, where he became a sheepherder for the first time. He worked for two ranchers who operated together: Joaquín Azparren, who was also from Bizkarreta, and Carlos Zalba. Both men had passed away by the time of the interview in 2019. Reflecting on the passing of his generation, Jesús observes that those who emigrated during the 1950s "are all gone now," while those who arrived during the 1960s are disappearing "at a good pace." Several years later, his sister Isabel also emigrated to the United States. She had been born shortly after Jesús left for America and eventually settled in Gardnerville, although she continues to visit Bizkarreta regularly. She was widowed in 2017. In 1970, after obtaining his permanent resident card, Jesús moved to Los Angeles with one of his cousins. There he accepted a position at Farmer John Packing House, where he worked from May 1970 until June 1974. He recalls those years as a period of hard work. The job allowed him to earn a decent living and eventually purchase a car, making it possible to attend the Basque dances held on weekends throughout southern California. For Jesús, these dances represented far more than simple social gatherings. They were occasions that united Basques and Navarrese from every corner of the diaspora, reinforcing a shared Basque identity that he embraced naturally. In 1974, his friend Carlos Iribarren, originally from Santesteban and himself an immigrant since 1964, suggested purchasing a restaurant together in Gardnerville, Nevada. The establishment was called the Carson Valley Country Club, and the two partners successfully operated it for the next twenty-nine years. Carlos Iribarren, who has since passed away, later married Jesús's sister Isabel after both had previously been widowed. Carlos had also begun his American career as a shepherd, working for his uncle Etxebeste before later finding employment at a Los Angeles meatpacking plant and eventually tending bar in Chino, California. Although Carlos came from Santesteban, Jesús explains that he actually learned to speak Basque in the United States through relatives living in Fresno, with whom he regularly practiced the language. Originally, the new restaurant was supposed to hire an experienced cook. At the last moment, however, the cook withdrew. Faced with no alternative, Jesús entered the kitchen himself. He remained there for the next twenty-nine years. Looking back, he believes his earlier experiences prepared him surprisingly well. As a shepherd, and later while working in Los Angeles, he had always cooked for himself. In addition, one of the cooks from the previous business stayed for the first two weeks after the purchase, teaching him the basics of running the kitchen. The Carson Valley Country Club sought to provide homemade meals at reasonable prices. According to Jesús, customers found dishes there that could not be found anywhere else in the area. The restaurant gradually became a meeting place for Basque immigrants throughout the Carson Valley. Many Navarrese and Bizkaian immigrants made it one of their regular gathering places. Jesús fondly remembers customers such as Angelines Cantero, originally from Eugi, and her husband, who frequently traveled from Fresno simply to eat there. The restaurant reflected this identity through numerous Basque decorations displayed throughout the building. Gardnerville also became an important center for Basque community life. Every year the local community organized Basque picnics open to everyone, regardless of whether they came from the Spanish or the French side of the Pyrenees. In addition, once a year emigrants from the Erro Valley gathered for a special reunion. The location alternated between the historic Overland Hotel and the Carson Valley Country Club. These reunions began around 1998. The participants prepared an elaborate meal, followed by music, dancing, and games of mus. Sadly, Jesús explains, these gatherings have gradually disappeared as many of the participants have passed away or grown too old to attend. Nevertheless, close ties among emigrants from the Erro Valley remain. Many continue to live around the San Francisco Bay Area, particularly people originally from Olóndriz and the village of Erro, creating a remarkably concentrated community. Food naturally occupied a central place in Basque celebrations. The larger public picnics generally featured roast lamb or fish, dishes that appealed to broad audiences. More traditional specialties from his childhood—such as menudicos (lamb offal), tripe, and similar dishes—were usually reserved for smaller gatherings among Basques themselves. Other recipes, including tongue in sauce, often surprised newcomers but eventually became favorites among many non-Basque customers as well. Learning English required determination. Jesús says he learned it "through necessity" and "the hard way." Many of the restaurant employees spoke only English, leaving him no choice but to communicate in their language. He also genuinely enjoyed studying. Even while tending sheep he carried a dictionary with him. He wrote down three or five new words each day on small pieces of paper and memorized them one by one. While living in Los Angeles he attended English classes, which, he jokes, also provided an excellent opportunity to meet young women. Daily conversations with restaurant customers further improved his command of the language. In 1976 he married Mary Rivera. Mary had been born in Los Angeles. Her father, José, came from Sunbilla, while her mother, Emilia, was originally from Sos del Rey Católico, in neighboring Aragón. The couple had two children: a son, born in 1978, who now lives in Las Vegas, and a daughter, born in 1980, who lives in San Francisco and works as an architect. Both children grew up surrounded by Basque culture. They attended dances and activities at Mendiko Euskaldun Cluba, the Basque association in Gardnerville. Jesús believes they have developed a genuine attachment to Navarre. They love its green mountains and, whenever they visit, "feel at home." Outside work, Jesús and his business partner enjoyed spending time fishing and hunting. They often organized gatherings and celebrations in the mountains. Even in retirement, he remains happiest outdoors. He regularly searches the mountains surrounding Gardnerville for mushrooms, continuing a pastime that reminds him of the landscapes of his youth. The importance of the Carson Valley Country Club extended beyond the Basque community itself. An article published in the July–August 1996 issue of Nevada Magazine featured Jesús's restaurant together with two other Basque restaurants in Carson Valley. One photograph showed Jesús alongside his daughter Dioni and his son Esteban, all smiling while presenting an impressive selection of dishes served at the restaurant. The three were dressed in traditional Basque clothing, perfectly illustrating the article's title: "Land of Basque Proportions." The subtitle summarized the spirit of the piece: "Carson Valley's trio of Basque restaurants relish the Old World pleasure of eating in a big way." The article reflected how Basque cuisine had become one of the most visible expressions of Basque identity in western Nevada, attracting both Basque immigrants and the wider American public.

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[1] «Eso no trabaja», parece ser que es un calco sintáctico de la expresión en inglés it does not work (o it doesn’t work) cuando se quiere decir que esa explicación no es válida.

[2] «Están todos idos», es un calco de la expresión en inglés They are all gone, queriendo decir que han fallecido.

[3] No hemos localizado con este nombre esta empresa, pero con un nombre muy parecido (quizás sea ese su verdadero nombre), Farmer John Meatpacking Plant, aparece que en Los Ángeles existe esa empresa: https://commercialobserver.com/2023/07/la-farmer-john-meatpacking-plant-sale-goodman-group// 4

[4] “Aquí” porque la entrevista se realizó en el mismo Gardnerville, Nevada.

[5] https://www.euskalkultura.eus/english/resources/carson-valley-country-club-bar.

[6] En este contexto «franceses» quiere decir los de la zona vasco-francesa, principalmente baxenafarrak o de la Baja Navarra.

[7] «Lo que sería»: queriendo decir «lo que fuera». Condicional por subjuntivo, típicamente una expresión gramaticalmente incorrecta frecuente entre los vasco-navarros.

Nicolás Huarte Elía (Ardaitz /Ardaiz)

 

 

Nicolás Huarte Elía (Ardaitz /Ardaiz)     Se entrevistó a Nicolás Huarte Elía en octubre de 2020. Nacido en marzo de 1932 en la localidad de Ardaitz (valle de Erro), Nicolás era el mayor de seis hermanos. Pasó su infancia y adolescencia ayudando en casa, y no pudo acudir demasiado a la escuela. Su padre tuvo un accidente un invierno –mientras quitaba la nieve acumulada en el techo– y perdió tres dedos. Un granjero con esta deficiencia contaba con algunas limitaciones y por eso, a menudo, Nicolás se quedaba en casa para ayudar con los bueyes en lugar de ir a la escuela. Su decisión de ir a EUA estuvo motivada por la voluntad de apoyar económicamente a la familia. En California tenía un tío llamado Pedro («Pete») Elía, a quien envió una carta explicándole su intención. El tío la recibió y en seguida empezó a mover los hilos para encontrar un trabajo para su sobrino. Aquí hay una referencia extensa sobre Pet Elía: Pete Elia was born in Navarre on April 6, 1897, and came to Nevada wher he married Leoni Etchegoyhen. The two had a daughter, Isabel, born in Winnemucca in 1934. He came to Elko, and for a time he ran some 20,000 sheep, according to papers in North-eastern Nevada Museum’s Family Archives. Somehow, he weathered the Depression of the 1930s; in fact, in 1933 he got 12.5 cents/ pound for wool, the highest price paid in Elke at a time when it was difficult to dispose of wool. In the 1950s, he bought the Felipe Yribar Sheep Company in Pashimeroi, Idaho, and later he sold it to Bolen Uresti (probably Urresti). Elia ran some 10,000  sheep of his own, but with his partner he ran more sheep and cattle. […] When Elia retired, Carpeter bought his sheep. Pete Elia died in 1979” (Mallea-Olaetxe 2025, 56).   En esa época solo existía una sociedad gestora en Pamplona, Gestoría Sagardoy (1952). Hizo la solicitud y regresó al pueblo. Durante las fiestas, su padre lo envió al pueblo de Antxoritz para que estuviera con sus primos. Un 8 de diciembre, mientras estaba allí, un taxista y un gerente se percataron de su presencia, y el de la gestoría le informó que tenía que estar en Pamplona al día siguiente, 9 de diciembre, para hacer los «papeles». El mismo día partiría para EUA. No había hecho el documento de residencia del valle («partida del valle») y era de noche. Le pidió al taxista que lo llevara a Erro. A las nueve en punto de la noche tocó el timbre y salió la secretaria y le proporcionó ese documento. «Hoy es impensable hacer eso», dice. Desde allí caminó una hora en la oscuridad y por caminos embarrados hasta Ardaitz, llegó a casa alrededor de las diez de la noche y comunicó a su familia que debía partir hacia Estados Unidos al día siguiente. Tomó sus cosas y se fue desde su pueblo (Errea, Ilurdoz…) a Huarte de noche, a la casa de su tía. Esta le ayudó a tomar el «trenecito» (en aquella época era un tren que subía la cuesta de Beloso). Su padre, que había tomado el autobús de la Montañesa, estaba ya en Pamplona a las diez de la mañana para recibirlo. Doce jóvenes partieron de Pamplona hacia América. Reconoció a uno de Mezkiritz, de la venta Kixkil, en la posada, y se puso a su lado. Mientras que los otros diez jóvenes se marcharon tristes, incluso algunos llorando, el de Mezkiritz y Nicolás iban cantando jotas en el autobús que los llevaba a Bilbao y luego a Hendaya. En Hendaya, después de cenar, tomaron un tren que salía a las diez de la noche y llegaba a París a las ocho de la mañana. Después de ver la Torre Eiffel tomaron el avión que los llevó a Nueva York. Durante el viaje portaban un pequeño cartel en el pecho que indicaba su destino. En el caso de Nicolás ponía: «Elko-NV Apartado 1073 – Pet Elía». Al aterrizar en Nueva York algunos se lo quitaron mientras esperaban al siguiente avión. Nada más llegar les dieron cinco dólares a cada uno. En el aeropuerto, después del despacho de aduanas, un hombre les preguntó a dónde iban y cuando vio sus letreros, les dijo que habían perdido el avión, que ya había salido hacia Boise. Tuvieron que pasar la noche en Nueva York, en el hotel Eizaguirre. Al día siguiente volaron a San Francisco y al llegar había un hombre esperándolos en el aeropuerto. Este hombre les preguntó de dónde eran. Uno dijo que de Antxoritz. Nicolás mencionó Ardaitz y el hombre le preguntó su nombre completo. Al contestar Nicolás, el hombre dijo: «¡Si somos parientes!». Era Fermín Huarte, dueño del hotel España en San Francisco. En la misma ciudad, el propietario del Hôtel du Midi era de la localidad de Urdíroz: «¡Los vascos lo tenían entonces!», menciona Nicolás. La académica Jerónima Echeverría en su obra Home Away from Home. A History of Basque Boardinghouses confirma los datos aportados por Nicolás Huarte (1999, p. 98): «By the late 1950s and early 1960s as full assortment of hotels had emerged in the Broadway district, including the more well known Hotel España, Hôtel France, Hôtel du Midi, Cosmopolitan, Obrero, Pyrenées, Hôtel des Alpes, and the Basque Hotel. Around 1960, Fermin Huarte and Louis Elu began managing the España, formerly owned by Jose and Miguel Lugea; John Etchevers and Claude Berhouet constructed the Hotel de France restaurant and boardinghouse on 780 Broadway; Jean Pierre Arretche and Lucy Etchamendy were at the Hotel du Midi […]». Después de San Francisco fueron a Elko. Tan solo un año después de haber llegado tenía a su cargo 4500 ovejas. Más tarde trabajó de campero y después de mayordomo, y en Elko también como camarero. En 1964 regresó en barco con un amigo vizcaíno, Fernando Eskibel, de Busturia. Tenía el deseo de volver a Estados Unidos, pero desde 1964 no ha regresado. Durante su estancia en América envió dinero a sus padres, con el que pudieron comprar una casa en Burlada con mil metros cuadrados de terreno para huerta. También a su regreso se compró un coche en Hendaya y, junto a Fernando Eskibel, regresó a Navarra, con su familia, a Burlada. Pasaron un día allí y al siguiente se fueron a Busturia, a casa de Fernando. Sin duda su migración, de ida y vuelta, tuvo un impacto en su familia. Así, se cumplen las palabras de José María Imízcoz (1992, pp. 379-380): «La emigración americana fue una aventura de ida y vuelta. […] Habría que considerar no solamente la incidencia que podían tener las vueltas definitivas, sino también las visitas temporales o simplemente las ayudas que pudieran mandarse desde América. […] La mayor parte fueron con contrato temporal y con la idea de volver al cabo de pocos años. Su vuelta, al igual que la ida, también fue masiva. Volvieron relativamente jóvenes, con un pequeño capital, pero suficiente para comprarse un piso independizándose de “la casa”». Nicolás también nos cuenta que mantuvo muy buenas relaciones con otros emigrantes de Navarra y Bizkaia durante su vida en América. Su mejor amigo era un vizcaíno, Fernando Eskibel, con el que conectaba muy bien por su carácter (trabajador, católico, una persona que sabe disfrutar de las cosas sencillas, su apego a la familia y las costumbres…). Cuando utiliza la palabra «vasco» no distingue el lugar de origen ni diferencia entre el carácter navarro y el vasco. El carácter afín con los «vascos» de otras tierras les facilitó la amistad entre ellos, como fue el caso con dicho Fernando Eskibel.

Nicolás Huarte Elía (Ardaitz / Ardaiz) The following account is based on an interview conducted with Nicolás Huarte Elía in October 2020. Nicolás Huarte Elía was born in March 1932 in the village of Ardaitz, in Navarre's Erro Valley. He was the eldest of six children. Like many boys of his generation, he spent most of his childhood and adolescence helping on the family farm and therefore had only limited opportunities to attend school. His father's accident marked the family's daily life. One winter, while clearing heavy snow from the roof of the farmhouse, his father suffered a serious injury that resulted in the loss of three fingers. For a farmer, such a disability imposed obvious limitations, and Nicolás frequently remained at home to work with the oxen instead of attending school. His decision to emigrate to the United States was driven primarily by a desire to improve his family's economic circumstances. He had an uncle in California named Pedro ("Pete") Elía, to whom he wrote explaining his intention of emigrating. Pete immediately began making arrangements to secure employment for his nephew. Pete Elía himself had followed a remarkable path in the American West. As described by Mallea-Olaetxe: Pete Elia was born in Navarre on April 6, 1897, and came to Nevada where he married Leoni Etchegoyhen. The two had a daughter, Isabel, born in Winnemucca in 1934. He came to Elko, and for a time he ran some 20,000 sheep, according to papers in Northeastern Nevada Museum's Family Archives. Somehow, he weathered the Depression of the 1930s; in fact, in 1933 he received 12.5 cents per pound for wool, the highest price paid in Elko at a time when wool was difficult to sell. In the 1950s, he purchased the Felipe Yribar Sheep Company in Pahsimeroi, Idaho, and later sold it to Bolen Uresti. Elia eventually managed about 10,000 sheep of his own, while operating even larger sheep and cattle enterprises in partnership with others. Upon his retirement, Carpenter purchased his flock. Pete Elia died in 1979. (Mallea-Olaetxe, 2025, p. 56) At that time there was only one immigration agency handling these contracts in Pamplona: Gestoría Sagardoy, established in 1952. After submitting his application, Nicolás returned to Ardaitz. During the village festivities his father sent him to stay with relatives in the nearby village of Antxoritz. On December 8, while he was there, a taxi driver and a representative from the agency happened to find him. The agency representative informed him that he had to be in Pamplona the following morning, December 9, to complete the immigration paperwork—and that he would leave for the United States that very same day. One serious problem remained. He still needed the official residency certificate issued by the Erro Valley authorities. It was already night. He persuaded the taxi driver to take him to Erro, where, at exactly nine o'clock in the evening, he rang the bell of the town office. The secretary answered and provided the necessary document. "Today," Nicolás remarks with a smile, "that would be unthinkable." From there he walked for about an hour through darkness and muddy mountain roads before reaching Ardaitz around ten o'clock that night. He informed his family that he would be leaving for America the very next day. Gathering his few belongings, he immediately left again, walking through villages such as Errea and Ilurdotz before reaching Huarte, where one of his aunts lived. She helped him board the little train that climbed the Beloso hill into Pamplona—a railway now long gone. Meanwhile, his father had already arrived in the city aboard a La Montañesa bus and was waiting for him by ten o'clock the following morning. A group of twelve young emigrants departed together from Pamplona. At the boarding house Nicolás recognized another young man from Mezkiritz, near Venta Kixkil, and decided to stay beside him throughout the journey. While many of the other emigrants left in tears, saddened by their departure, Nicolás and his companion spent the journey singing traditional jotas aboard the bus that carried them first to Bilbao and then to Hendaye. After dinner in Hendaye, they boarded the overnight train to Paris, departing at ten o'clock in the evening and arriving at eight the following morning. Before continuing their journey, they visited the Eiffel Tower. From Paris they flew to New York. Each emigrant wore a small card pinned to his chest indicating his final destination. Nicolás's card read: "Elko, NV – P.O. Box 1073 – Pete Elía." Upon arriving in New York, several members of the group removed their identification cards while waiting for the connecting flight. Each emigrant also received five dollars upon arrival. After passing through customs, an airport employee asked where they were headed. When he saw their destination cards, he informed them that they had missed their connecting flight to Boise. As a result, they spent the night in New York at the Hotel Eizaguirre. The following day they flew to San Francisco. Upon landing, a man waiting at the airport asked each newcomer where he came from. One answered, "Antxoritz." When Nicolás replied, "Ardaitz," the man immediately asked his full name. After hearing it, he exclaimed, "Why, we're relatives!" The man was Fermín Huarte, owner of the Hotel España in San Francisco. Nicolás also remembers that the owner of the nearby Hôtel du Midi came from Urdíroz. "The Basques owned everything back then," he remarks. His recollections coincide closely with the historical record documented by Jeronima Echeverria: By the late 1950s and early 1960s a full assortment of Basque hotels had emerged in San Francisco's Broadway district, including the well-known Hotel España, Hôtel de France, Hôtel du Midi, Cosmopolitan, Obrero, Pyrénées, Hôtel des Alpes, and the Basque Hotel. Around 1960, Fermin Huarte and Louis Elu began managing the España, formerly owned by Jose and Miguel Lugea; John Etchevers and Claude Berhouet established the Hôtel de France restaurant and boardinghouse at 780 Broadway; Jean Pierre Arretche and Lucy Etchamendy operated the Hôtel du Midi... (Echeverria, 1999, p. 98) From San Francisco the group continued to Elko, Nevada. Only one year after arriving, Nicolás was already responsible for approximately 4,500 sheep. Later he worked as a camp tender, then as a foreman, and eventually also found employment as a waiter in Elko. In 1964, after five years in the United States, he returned to Spain by ship together with his close friend, Fernando Eskibel, originally from Busturia in Bizkaia. Although Nicolás fully intended to return to America after his visit, circumstances changed, and he never went back. During his years in the United States he regularly sent money home to his parents. Thanks to those savings, the family was able to purchase a house with approximately one thousand square meters of land for a vegetable garden in Burlada, near Pamplona. When Nicolás returned to Europe, he also purchased a car in Hendaye. Together with Fernando Eskibel, he first traveled to Burlada to reunite with his family before accompanying Fernando to Busturia. His migration—both the departure and the return—had a profound impact on his family's future. His experience closely reflects José María Imízcoz's broader interpretation of Navarrese migration: American migration was an adventure of departure and return. Its impact cannot be understood solely through permanent returns, but also through temporary visits and the money sent home from America. Most emigrants left on temporary contracts with the intention of returning after only a few years. Their return, like their departure, was a mass phenomenon. They generally came back while still relatively young, bringing modest savings that nevertheless allowed them to purchase a home and establish an independent life. (Imízcoz, 1992, pp. 379–380) Looking back on his years in the United States, Nicolás emphasizes the strong friendships he formed with immigrants from both Navarre and Bizkaia. His closest friend was Fernando Eskibel. The two shared similar values: hard work, Catholic faith, appreciation for simple pleasures, devotion to family, and attachment to traditional customs. When Nicolás uses the word "Basque," he makes no distinction between Navarrese and other Basques. For him, provincial origin never determined friendship. Instead, he believes that a common Basque character and shared cultural values naturally created bonds among immigrants from different parts of the Basque Country. His lifelong friendship with Fernando Eskibel stands as one of the clearest examples of that enduring sense of shared identity.

 

 

Esperanza Dufur (Eugi)

 

Lifur era su apellido de soltera. Sin embargo, parece que es el fruto de un error de transcripción del apellido Dufur en la documentación, cuando su familia regresó de Francia tras unos años allí. Curiosamente, la tradición estadounidense le devolvió su apellido original al adoptar el de su marido, Ángel Dufur. Esperanza Dufur nació un 11 de diciembre de 1931 en Eugi. En su familia nacieron trece hermanos, pero las muertes prematuras de tres de ellos hicieron que quedaran diez, tres chicos y siete chicas, hasta 1984 en el que falleció otro de los hermanos. Recuerda su vida en Eugi y nos cuenta que trabajaban en el campo desde pequeños. Las labores agrícolas se intensificaban en marzo con la siembra y duraban así hasta el inicio de las nieves, hacia noviembre. Recuerda que nevaba mucho y que el trabajo en el campo no terminaba con las primeras nevadas, aunque era menos exigente. En este periodo invernal solían arrancar nabos para dar a las vacas y a los cerdos, y ya en verano se segaban las hierbas y se cosechaba patatas, alubias, trigo, cebada…, se hacía todo con la azada: no había maquinaria. Además de estos campos, también tenían una huerta alrededor de la casa que asimismo había que atender. Insiste en que, en los tiempos que rememora nevaba mucho, y no había quitanieves, así que varios hombres del pueblo se juntaban para limpiar las calles y que los habitantes pudieran transitar, porque coches apenas había, a excepción del auto del médico, el del veterinario y algunos vehículos de vendedores ambulantes. La nieve también mojaba sus piernas y ropa de camino a la misa de las seis de la mañana los domingos. Esta humedad les hacía toser durante la misa y el cura solía gritar: «¡Que paren esas toses!». «Pero ¿cómo vas a parar las toses? De ninguna manera», dice Esperanza. Su madre no les dejaba ir al baile la tarde de los domingos si no iban a misa por la mañana. La música para este baile vespertino en la plaza la tocaba un hombre del pueblo con su acordeón. A esa misma plaza daba la pared de una casa que utilizaban para jugar a pelota. Estas eran las principales actividades desenfadadas de las tardes de domingo en Eugi. El cura de entonces no quería que bailaran «agarrados» y cuando la chavalería iba a confesarse los sábados les hacía prometer que no iban a bailar y eso prometían. El domingo en el sermón, el cura decía que el baile «era un abrazo disimulado» o algo así, dice Esperanza. Entonces comulgaban con la promesa hecha, pero cuando llegaba la tarde se olvidaban de lo prometido e iban al baile. Estas cosas las decía el cura joven, pero el mayor, don Ruperto, que andaba con bastón y era un hombre muy bueno y casó a sus padres, le corregía: «Déjales que vayan al baile, que cuando tengan mi edad, ya lo dejarán». Para fiestas de Eugi, que son el 1 de septiembre, por San Gil, «eso no se me olvida», dice, solían montar un quiosco alto en medio de la plaza al que subía una banda de música. A ella le encantaba bailar. Eso sí, bailaban chicas con chicas. Mientras, los chicos estaban en la taberna y las miraban desde allí. Cuando ya empezaba a oscurecer ellos se acercaban al baile, pero para ella y sus hermanas era también el momento de ir a casa. Volvían cuando anochecía: si no lo hacían así, las castigaban. Dice que hacia 2019 volvió a Eugi por fiestas, pero que ya no son como antes, que en aquel entonces se celebraban mucho mejor, que había como un camión donde estaba la música pero que la gente apenas bailaba. Cuando ella era niña todo el mundo bailaba, y los pocos que no lo hacían también estaban allí. La escuela estaba cerca de la plaza. Solo había cursos hasta los catorce años, quien quisiera estudiar más tenía que ir a Pamplona. Doña Circun, «que no era de Eugi porque no hablaba el vasco», dice Esperanza, era la profesora de las sesenta alumnas de entre seis y catorce años que estaban todas juntas en la misma aula. En el recreo jugaban chicas con chicas al corro, a la cuerda, a pelota… Las niñas pequeñas hablaban vasco hasta ir a la escuela, allí se les enseñaba castellano y después ya no querían hablar vasco porque las mayores se reían de ellas. En las casas sí se hablaba vasco. En Eugi se hablaba vasco en la casa, pero la gente de su edad que había pasado por la escuela ya no lo hablaba en la calle. Las Navidades no las celebraban especialmente en casa de Esperanza. Cambiaban algo la comida y eso era lo más extraordinario. Iban a la iglesia a ver el Nacimiento. En la escuela también ponían uno, lo hacían entre todas cogiendo musgo del monte y con un cristal simulaban el río. Hasta que ella no tuvo unos quince años, no tuvieron agua caliente en casa. Fue entonces cuando pusieron un baño completo y una cocina-estufa con arandelas y un tanque de agua –aunque era pequeño–, y para bañarse tenían que calentar agua en un caldero y echarla a la bañera. Hasta entonces tenían un fogón donde cocinaban, pero era complicado porque los pucheros se quemaban con facilidad. En las noches de los días navideños asaban castañas en el «tambolín», las que habían recogido durante dos meses para la gente, para alimentar a los animales y para ellos. Los montes de alrededor tenían muchos castaños. Echaban las castañas al «tambolín» o a la plancha de la cocina de leña y las machacaban un poco con un martillo de madera y se sentaban todos alrededor del fuego a comerlas mientras se pasaban la bota de vino. No recuerda que se contaran historias o se cantaran canciones especialmente durante esos momentos. La madre de Esperanza Dufur era la mayor de nueve hermanos (tres mujeres y seis hombres), y por la tradición del mayorazgo heredó la casa. Así pues, el resto de los hermanos debían «buscarse la vida» y fue la motivación principal para que todos los demás emigraran a EUA. Su madre decía: «Allí, en América, los que hablan el vasco están muy bien vistos». Esperanza todavía tiene primas en Los Ángeles, Fresno y Merced, pero ya no contacta con ellas, y tres de sus tíos con apellidos Dufur Martikorena tuvieron negocio de ovejas. Esperanza permaneció en la casa familiar hasta que conoció a su futuro esposo, Ángel Dufur, oriundo de Lintzoain, de casa Orzankoa, que era una casa-venta a pie de carretera por la que transitaba el autobús que unía Burguete con Pamplona. Las personas de Lintzoain que tomaban ese autobús lo esperaban frente a esta casa, y si hacía frío o llovía los acogían dentro. Esperanza y Ángel se casaron en 1955 en la iglesia de San Lorenzo en Pamplona, ciudad en la que se quedaron a vivir. Tenían una hija de cuatro meses cuando Ángel emigró a EUA. Su estancia primera allí fue de dos años. Si no cumplía con este plazo, perdía los derechos para poder volver después solo o con la familia. Trabajó en una mina cerca de Winnemucca, esta se cerró y fue a trabajar a un rancho. En ese tiempo salió una ley que permitía entrar en EUA a 250 parejas e hijos de los pastores de la expedición de 1958. Este «papeleo» lo hicieron en Bilbao. Comenta que sabía que en Elizondo Ana Mari Marín hacía esas gestiones y también alguien en Erro. Pero para entrar dentro de esta cuota permitida debían hacer los trámites en Bilbao. En el avión a EUA coincidió con gente que ya conocía de antes. La ruta era hasta Nueva York y de allí otro avión hasta San Francisco, donde tomaron un tren hasta Reno. Cuenta que en el tren le impactó ver a un hombre con camisa de color rosa. Cuenta también que quiso ir al servicio, pero no sabía cuál era el de las mujeres, si era men o woman. Dice que «mi primera impresión de aquella tierra fue que me gustó, me hallé enseguida y no pensé en volver atrás». Tenía 27 años cuando llegó y lo que más le agradó fue el cielo tan azul y tanta luz, pues en Eugi y Pamplona siempre había alguna nube. Dice que nada más poner los pies en EUA ya estaba contratada. Atendía la casa del rancho donde ya trabajaba su marido Ángel. Cocinaba, hacía la limpieza, cosía, etc. para un matrimonio y sus hijos, y también para algún pastor que de vez en cuando iba a trabajar al rancho. El patrón de este rancho era de Eugi, de apellido Beltzarena, pero no recuerda el nombre. Se levantaba muy temprano para encender la estufa de leña. Adelantaba este quehacer preparándola por las noches con papel y astillas, pues para las seis o seis y media ya llegaban para almorzar. La mujer del patrón era de Urepel o Alduides y en la casa solía haber primos de ella que también eran vasco-franceses. Esperanza se comunicaba con todos en castellano. Permanecieron allí durante un año. Jon Etxamendi les dijo que si alguna vez querían irse del rancho, en Gardnerville tendrían trabajo: ella en los hoteles vascos y su marido en una lechería. Así fue. Cuando su hijo José Luis contaba con trece meses, Esperanza comenzó a trabajar en el restaurante Overland de Gardnerville, que estaba alquilado a Jean Jaunsaras. Ángel y Esperanza tuvieron dos hijos más en este tiempo, un total de cuatro. Sobre el año 1965 ella y su marido compraron el Overland Holding, perteneciente a cinco propietarios: Jon Etxamendi, Miller, Rancho «Dresla» y no recuerda quien más. Esperanza siempre había querido ir a EUA. Desde que tenía doce años le escribía a su tía, hermana de su madre, que ya vivía en el nuevo continente. También a otro de sus tíos, el hermano más pequeño de su madre, que vivía en Los Ángeles. Estos le contestaban que estaba difícil. Sin embargo, sí que llevaron allí a otros sobrinos por parte de la mujer de este que era oriunda de Jaurrieta. Para evitar la dificultad su hermano Pedro probó otra opción: ir a trabajar a Francia, pues allí les daban una carta de trabajo que les permitía entrar en EUA y Canadá. Él vivió cerca de veinte años en Canadá llevando un negocio de caballos. Se casó con una mujer con la que no tuvo hijos propios. Cuando esta falleció, retornó a Pamplona. En total fueron tres los hermanos que viajaron a EUA, entre ellos su hermana María Jesús, que se casó con Serapio Mindegia, de Irurita.

Esperanza Dufur (née Lifur) (Eugi, Navarre) The following account is based on an interview conducted with Esperanza Dufur. Esperanza's maiden surname was officially recorded as Lifur. However, according to her own account, this spelling resulted from a transcription error when her family returned to Spain after spending several years in France. Ironically, American naming customs eventually restored the original family surname, Dufur, when she married Ángel Dufur. Esperanza Dufur was born on December 11, 1931, in the village of Eugi, in northern Navarre. Thirteen children were born into her family, although three died in infancy, leaving ten siblings—three boys and seven girls. Another brother passed away in 1984. Looking back on her childhood in Eugi, she recalls that work began at an early age. Agricultural labor intensified in March with the spring planting and continued until the first snowfalls in November. She remembers winters with abundant snow. Even after the snow arrived, work did not stop, although it became somewhat less demanding. During the winter months the family pulled turnips to feed their cows and pigs, while summer brought the harvest of hay, potatoes, beans, wheat, and barley. Everything was done by hand with hoes. There was no agricultural machinery. In addition to the surrounding fields, the family maintained a vegetable garden beside the house that also required constant attention. Esperanza repeatedly emphasizes how much snow fell in those years. Since there were no snowplows, several men from the village would gather to clear the streets so that people could move about. There were very few automobiles in Eugi—apart from the doctor's car, the veterinarian's vehicle, and an occasional traveling salesman. The snow also soaked the children's legs and clothing as they walked to the six o'clock Sunday morning Mass. Because they arrived damp and cold, many of them coughed throughout the service. The priest would interrupt the Mass and shout, "Stop that coughing!" Esperanza laughs at the memory. "But how could you stop coughing? There was no way." Her mother would not allow the children to attend the Sunday afternoon dance unless they had first attended Mass that morning. The music for these dances was provided by a local accordion player in the village square. One wall of a nearby house also served as the fronton where the villagers played pelota. These simple activities formed the heart of Sunday afternoons in Eugi. The younger parish priest strongly opposed couples dancing while holding each other. On Saturdays, when young people went to confession, he made them promise they would not dance. They always agreed. Then, during Sunday's sermon, he would preach that dancing was "a disguised embrace," or words to that effect, Esperanza recalls. The young people received Communion having made that promise—but by afternoon they had forgotten all about it and happily went dancing anyway. The older priest, Don Ruperto, who walked with a cane and had officiated at her parents' wedding, was much more understanding. He would gently correct his younger colleague: "Let them go dancing. When they reach my age, they'll stop on their own." The village feast of San Gil, celebrated on September 1, remains one of Esperanza's strongest childhood memories. "A date I'll never forget," she says. For the festivities, workers erected a large bandstand in the middle of the square where the musicians performed. She loved to dance. At first, however, only girls danced together while the young men remained in the tavern watching from a distance. As evening approached, the boys finally joined the dance—but for Esperanza and her sisters, that was precisely the moment they were expected to return home. If they arrived late, they were punished. Around 2019 she returned to Eugi during the festivities but found that the celebrations had changed. There was still music—this time played from a truck—but very few people danced. "When I was young," she says, "everyone danced." Even those who did not dance still gathered in the square to enjoy the celebration. The village school stood close to the square. Education ended at the age of fourteen. Anyone wishing to continue studying had to move to Pamplona. Esperanza's teacher, Doña Circun, was not from Eugi. "As you could tell," Esperanza says, "because she didn't speak Basque." Approximately sixty girls between the ages of six and fourteen shared the same classroom. During recess they played games together—ring games, jump rope, pelota, and many others. Young children generally spoke Basque until they entered school. Once there, however, they were taught exclusively in Spanish. Soon afterwards many stopped speaking Basque because the older girls laughed at those who continued using it. Basque remained the language of the home. Within the village, however, Esperanza's generation gradually abandoned it in public after beginning school. Christmas celebrations in her family were modest. The meals were slightly more festive than usual, but there were few special traditions. The family attended church to see the Nativity scene. The school also built one every year. The children gathered moss from the surrounding forests, and a sheet of glass represented the river. Until she was about fifteen years old, the family had no hot running water. Only then did they install a complete bathroom, together with a wood-burning kitchen stove fitted with cast-iron rings and a small water tank. Even so, bathwater still had to be heated separately in large kettles before being poured into the bathtub. Before then, cooking had been done over an open hearth, where pots frequently burned. During the Christmas season they roasted chestnuts in the tambolín, a metal roasting drum, or directly on the iron plate of the wood stove. The chestnuts had been collected over several months both for the family and for feeding livestock. The surrounding mountains were full of chestnut trees. Once roasted, the chestnuts were lightly cracked with a wooden mallet. The entire family gathered around the fire, eating chestnuts while passing around a wineskin filled with wine. She does not remember anyone telling stories or singing songs during those evenings. Esperanza's mother was the eldest of nine children—three daughters and six sons. Following the traditional custom of primogeniture, she inherited the family house. The remaining siblings therefore had to seek opportunities elsewhere. This became the principal reason why virtually all of them emigrated to the United States. Her mother often used to say: "Over there in America, people who speak Basque are highly valued." Esperanza still has cousins living in Los Angeles, Fresno, and Merced, although they are no longer in contact. Three of her maternal uncles, all bearing the surname Dufur Martikorena, eventually owned sheep ranching businesses in the American West. Esperanza herself remained at the family home until she met her future husband, Ángel Dufur, originally from Lintzoain, where his family owned Casa Orzankoa, a roadside inn situated along the highway between Burguete and Pamplona. Passengers waiting for the bus often sheltered inside the house whenever the weather was cold or rainy. Esperanza and Ángel were married in 1955 at San Lorenzo Church in Pamplona, where they initially settled. Their daughter was only four months old when Ángel emigrated to the United States. His first stay lasted two years. Completing those two years was essential, since leaving earlier would have caused him to lose the right to return later, either alone or with his family. He first worked in a mine near Winnemucca. When the mine closed, he found employment on a ranch. Around that same period, new immigration legislation authorized the admission of 250 wives and children of Basque shepherds who had arrived during the 1958 immigration program. The immigration paperwork was completed in Bilbao. Esperanza remembers that similar arrangements were handled in Elizondo by Ana Mari Marín, and by another representative in the Erro Valley. However, applicants seeking admission under this specific quota were required to process their documentation in Bilbao. During the flight to America she recognized several fellow passengers whom she already knew. The route took them first to New York, then by air to San Francisco, and finally by train to Reno. One detail especially caught her attention during the train journey. She noticed a man wearing a pink shirt, something she had never seen before. She also remembers wanting to use the restroom but not knowing whether "men" or "women" indicated the ladies' room. Laughing, she recalls: "My first impression of that country was that I liked it. I immediately felt at home and never thought about turning back." She was twenty-seven years old when she arrived. What impressed her most was the brilliant blue sky and the extraordinary brightness. "In Eugi and Pamplona," she says, "there always seemed to be clouds." She had employment waiting from the very first day. She managed the household on the ranch where Ángel was already employed. Her duties included cooking, cleaning, sewing, and caring for the home of a married couple and their children, as well as occasionally preparing meals for shepherds who came through the ranch. The ranch owner was originally from Eugi and bore the surname Beltzarena, although she no longer remembers his first name. Every morning she rose before dawn to light the wood-burning stove. Each evening she carefully prepared it with paper and kindling so that breakfast could be ready when everyone arrived around six or six-thirty in the morning. The ranch owner's wife came from Urepel or Aldudes, in the French Basque Country, and relatives from that region frequently visited. Although many of them were French Basques, Esperanza communicated with everyone in Spanish. The family remained on that ranch for approximately one year. Then Jon Etxamendi told them that if they ever wished to leave ranch life, work would be available in Gardnerville—she could work in one of the Basque hotels, while Ángel could find employment at a dairy. That is exactly what happened. When their son José Luis was thirteen months old, Esperanza began working at the Overland Restaurant in Gardnerville, which at the time was leased by Jean Jaunsaras. During those years Ángel and Esperanza had two more children, bringing their family to four. Around 1965, the couple purchased the Overland Holding, which at that time belonged to five different owners, including Jon Etxamendi, Miller, the Dresla Ranch, and others whose names she no longer remembers. Esperanza admits that she had always dreamed of emigrating to America. From the age of twelve she regularly wrote letters to one of her aunts—her mother's sister—who was already living there. She also corresponded with her mother's youngest brother, who lived in Los Angeles. Their replies generally discouraged her, explaining that immigration had become very difficult. Even so, other nephews related through her uncle's wife, who came from Jaurrieta, managed to reach the United States. Her brother Pedro attempted a different strategy. He first went to work in France, where obtaining an employment contract made later immigration to the United States or Canada easier. Pedro eventually settled in Canada, where he spent nearly twenty years operating a horse business. He married but had no children. After his wife's death, he returned to Pamplona. In total, three of Esperanza's siblings emigrated to North America, including her sister María Jesús, who married Serapio Mindegia, originally from Irurita.