But Euskaldunberris have Spanish as their mother tongue. They have introduced the Basque in the Basque Country, in the ikastola or in the street. Simplifying much, those born outside the Basque Country or those who have studied in model A. They are noted in the essay, in the effort and, in many cases, in the overcomplexity. Some have fallen in love with Euskera and often speak more directly than others, others have ended up hating Euskera, because the effort has not borne them any fruit.

In recent years there has been a third species of Basques with their own characteristics and peculiarities that differentiate others: the risen Basque.

Risen Basque

1.- adj/iz. A mother tongue that has had Spanish, that has learned Euskera but has been forgotten in a corner of adolescence and then found again with the language, regaining love for the Basque language.

We are the first generations studied in the modern ikastolas, but at home it was made in Spanish. The father and mother did not learn Basque and believing that it would be important in the future, or that it would open us more doors in the labor world, they enrolled us in model D. In the Basque mornings and in the afternoon in the Castellanoparlantes, learning Euskera but receiving Castilian riñas, early kisses, jokes and insults in Spanish.

However, on the turn of class, we turned on Etb1 to see the cartoons coming out on Super Bat. We knew the songs in memory and in the camaraderie games we repeated the phrases of our favorite characters (although it was a form of tutorial that we didn't understand much), I kill you! I won't give you the chance again!

For the resurrected, Euskera was the language of teachers, textbooks, the educational system. Enemy. During the hours of reunion we spoke in Spanish, far from the cowboys of the teachers, avid of ourselves, who murmured in a low, strong and proud voice. Speaking in Basque outside school was like solving algebra problems in the town festivities, “we’ve had enough in class, shut up!” Euskera was a hegemonic language in our childhood and adolescence, a language of the system that locked us in.

The Euskera, inside the backpack, was getting heavy. In these years, we Basques have developed our own vices. The subject's brand, for example. That dirty “K” didn’t get in our head, Ander is brown or Ander has a ball for us. We knew who Ander was, morphology shouldn't tell us if there was any direct object in the phrase or not.

However, as Super Bat did in his day, to the extent that we built identity, the Basque country continued to go through the loopholes of leisure and identity. In the case of many, music played a very important role in political identity and later in that complicated linguistic personality. We felt the Basque music. Her ta Gar, Berri Txarrak, Betagari, Hemendik At, Kortatu, Urtz, Alaitz eta Maider, Gatibu, Latzen, Itoiz, EH Sukarra and others heated our ears through walkman helmets. Those songs, “I don’t know what’s happened lately that people have started dancing many times,” “because their good news is our bad news,” “hello! how, well, and you, well, why, glass, “to be free you are born, Mari will not be for me,” they are like old scars in our Basque identity, like those made on the knees playing in the patio.

These songs kicked us from childhood, right into adolescence, and all of a sudden, we finished ESO and started to choose the Vocational Training or Baccalaureate cycles.

Things are starting to go wrong at this point. Compulsory Secondary Education and the paths that opened up to us. Some finished high school, still in Euskera, and then we chose the Spanish courses, others also the Bachelor's or Medium courses in Spanish. Those who did not want to study went to our region in search of work.

When summer began, we climbed the loft and as we picked up the old toys, the 3rd ESO textbooks, the ball signed by Athletic players and the preschool paintings in cardboard boxes, we left the Basque there. Let's see if up there, among the old upheavals, humidity oxidized it forever.

We feel free. Leaving behind the responsibility of being Basque and remaining only with identity: I am a Basque and I am proud of that. We had a clear conscience that many would understand the Basque Country and that they would one day cast two sentences.

This is how we spent years, as the Basque Country kept us. When we were at the party we only used to sing songs, to pass messages in front of parents or in front of foreigners, to share a couple of comfortable phrases when we crossed with other Basques. We understood, but it was hard for us to talk or write too much. If we had to be honest, we were embarrassed to have lost the level we had. This point of defeat would forever mark the relationship with the Basque Country.

We also developed our own complexes, as most of the Euskaldunes renacients learned in Basque Batua and when we went to the Euskaldunes the Basque people seemed artificial, unfinished, clumsy and ugly. The dialects were the real Basque, not ours. We started to feel strangers.

We then accused the education system, the Castilian regions in which we live, the Spanish Government and the Franco regime of having come to this situation. But most intimately, we knew that guilt was ours, that ours was the only one.

As well as being complex, we have developed contradictions. By homeland and not by homeland, what it was to be abertzale, what it was to be Basque. Many of us have always been quite clear: We are Basque citizens. The problem was that we lived in Spanish. It is a great privilege to be bilingual, even if it is in internal diglossia, but whoever has the opportunity to speak the language of his homeland and does not do so, can hardly feel part of that homeland, neither willing nor willing.

There has been a great debate among the resurrected Euskaldunes, and the consequence has always been the same: everyone can choose the homeland they want, of course, but there is a point of hypocrisy that sits among a people, that defends the linguistic and historical rights of that people and that, even if they have a clear opportunity, do not speak their language.

I lived in the deep depths of the layer of outrage and excuses, such as hypocrisy, anxiety, insecurity or fear. An emotion was moving back inside. We were impostors.

Suddenly, the years passed and we had to take out EGA in some way, we had children and we wanted to talk to them in Basque, our partner was from Durango and we wanted to talk to her in Basque. We reluctantly started in Euskaltegi and started learning Euskera.

And we revived.

At first it's a slow process that starts with a spark. It is possible that while in class the others look at the verbal tables, we write without thinking the auxiliary verbs, or we discover that the word “hail” comes to us right away after years without speaking. Things start to change.

The bad name of the scammer we had given is gradually erasing us, regaining lost coherence. Along the way we were. We started to feel Euskaldunes (those who have Euskera) and we dedicated ourselves to deepening more and more in the language.

In this process we find incredible words: chimakari, remark, amarikaildu, zuhamuxka, iheszuloa, malurusa, urrumara, zamasakua. It opens up an aesthetic space that we have never addressed outside the political, historical and social spheres of Euskera: how Euskera combines the strongest sounds with the bear, who, with the sweetest music, kilima, bedside table.

The reanimated continue to make mistakes and, unlike some Euskaldunberris, we do not correct others, we have not become a Taliban. We don't care. Just the opposite, the reanimated begin to live in Euskera and look for the other Euskaldunes without shame, now yes.

We look with the eyes of adults at the language of our ancestors and feel part of the protection of what they say is the oldest language in Europe that has suffered so much. At first, having paid off the debts with the teachers and with the parents gave us peace of mind, because we showed them that their efforts had been worth it. That is so, but later you can realize how valuable we have between our teeth and feel responsible for it.

Enjoying the language and language is one of the keys. One of our keys. There are eleven more.

We will never see Euskera again as an obligation. We will not feel guilty again for having had the opportunity to learn Basque from a young age and because we do not make it perfect.

Because the Basque country has always been there, whether or not to. Because a language, even if it's on crutches, is forever, waiting for you with the honesty of dogs until you're ready. As far as you want.

No repentance, no perfection, no obligation, no debts, no lies, no pretensions, no comfortable phrases, no camarotes, no obligations, no backpacks, no studies.

No complexes.

The Basque language is the language of the sisters of the resurrected Basques. Forever.