Since I began in the course of the Basque Country, I have had the impression that I used to be an expert speaker and now I am also stuck with the simplest phrases. The truth is that our teacher makes us small amendments with a great deal of pampering and constantly praises our achievements, on the one hand so that we do not despair and on the other so that we can move forward with enthusiasm. But I look more and more comfortably at the rest of the students in the use of language, and yet, despite the efforts, I suspect I've been the victim of another phenomenon: the very day I started the course, I think it opened my mouth and a supposed member of the ruthless academy tucked in my throat. Since then, he has been making misgivings, entangling words. Because my doubt is swimming at ease at sea, I have not yet been able to cast myself out.

All of this started with the presentation we did on the first day. Being an old Basque and literary, I really thought I would have few difficulties in the course. However, that day I was nervous about the class (the children more nervous than the first day of class) and when I introduced myself, four words, I said wrong one: I work in the city hall. That was the phrase. Well, no. I work at CITY HALL. Conchito! The first sentence and the street!

From that moment on, the hypothetical colleague of Euskaltzaindia who has demonized me has not stopped me: problems, knows, capital letters, script, mission, immigration, multiple, ancient, cataphorias, advocation, retreat… Inside I doubt all interesting explanations and I already notice the effect: when the professor asks us about the weekend plan I begin to respond “well”. But I'm still thrilled to go to class, because I'm learning a lot with both the teacher and classmates. But I can't deny the reality: in this learning process, I was jumped out of the Fluidity window when I saw the Euskaltzaindia Unified Basque Manual enter the door and I don't know how to fix it.

So things, I've reminded my friends, because around me I have a lot of Euskaldunberris, and often, speaking in Euskera, they've talked about the insecurity that most people feel, the fear of making mistakes. However, despite their doubts, they have all tried to confront this feeling so that the language occupies a place. If the Basque language is my mother tongue and I use it among friends, I have never felt subjected to that fear. Maybe that's why I've always thought it wasn't that much. So far. Dear Euskaldunberris, I admire you very much, but at this moment you are even more.

Returning to Thursday’s sitting, I started on the train to write this short text by hand, in the form of catharsis, as a demand for linguistic liberation. However, it has become something else.

I am not going to lie to you: the very moment I thought I would like to publish this text, I was tempted to send what I wrote to the teacher to correct it. But, as your friends have done, I also have to start to face fear, to face my box and to release this sturdy throat corpil (you know, this unrepeatable Euskaltzale goblin).

I want to speak in Basque, I want to give it inside the place that corresponds to the Basque, I want to use language with correction and mime… but I am learning: I am learning a living language. This is a long journey. Still (that is, in the time I die, in many years), I know that I will continue to make mistakes and that, if possible, I will know how to learn more from those mistakes.

In addition to the final words of this text, I have made a small cough. I don't know who's come out of my mouth to sit on my shoulder? She wants to see what I've written, but no, I'm going to teach her when she's published, so she also learns that next time she should be left out to help me and not to choke me, hindering the language I love.