Angela Arbulu Bilbao…

Yes, it's my name. I am ninety-eight years old and, therefore, you tell me when I was born, because I have already lost accounts long ago… I was born in Santurtzi, in the Balparda neighborhood, in the hamlet. At least when I was born, it was a farmhouse. We had five siblings at home, three girls and two boys, and the parents and grandmother, our father's mother. Florentine the Sun. This grandmother knew Basque. Or if you prefer, I did not know Spanish, but Basque! It was from Arrazola, next to Elorrio, from Anbotopa, and there was no more than Basque! When she came to Santurtzi she studied a little in Spanish. Our mother's mother was also Basque, Josefa Landaluze, from Gatika. Neither of them knew Spanish and spoke in Basque. Our mother also knew Euskera, but my father didn't know it, and we didn't learn it either.

You didn’t learn Basque…

No. When we went to school, they were no longer allowed. Of course, yes! There it was useless to know Euskera! It was a normal school, not school, not school. They just treated us well. The teacher was also demanding and there was no choice but to walk straight to her. We were about forty children in school, divided into two departments, one for boys and one for girls. Apart. In one of them, the teacher was Don Julián, Julián Irigoien, from Navarra. In the other, in ours, Mrs. Carmen Casan, from Asturias. We were in school until the age of fourteen. Then we took care of the cows.

It would be fun.

The child just wants to have fun. He always wants to have fun. We were walking around in marbles, in the dibolus… You know, throw it up and pick it up when it comes down: throw and pick up, throw and pick it up, the dibolus. But it wasn't all recess. We had cows in the farmhouse and we had to take care of them too. But I was the smallest of the house and I didn't need to do anything. At least, no! The parents did, the two of them needed it in the farmhouse of our house, taking care of and taking care of the cows in the orchard and whenever they had to.

And you?

I didn't have to do any job in the field until I was fourteen. Until I finished the class. Until then, I did nothing but go to the mill. I would go to the mill with my donkey, and I would come with me all the crew of guys and girls in the neighborhood. We went to the mill to grind the wheat, we brought it home, we made it a stake and we ate the stalk. My mother made the stalk by mixing the two flours, wheat and corn. On the fire we ate the sweet roasted stalk on the plate.

The school ended at the age of fourteen and the world started.

It's possible. First I had to take care of the cows and I learned how to sew. Her older sister, Trini, learned the seamstress and took the young girls home to teach them. And I also studied here. We were Trini, Felix, Bitoria and I. The fifth patient died ill at eight years of age.

Felix, a young man, also died…

Yes. Felix went to war and didn't come back. Felix took me all over the place and into the hallows. I was little and I couldn't walk anywhere else. But my father let me go to all the places where Felix was going. And so I went with Felix. My brother was very nationalist. I also had a friend, Tere, who was going with my uncle to rallies and parties. The two girls were small, very small, but they took us to the mittens, and we were everywhere. And when they played the Txistu at the mitin, we danced, on the street, following the Txistularis and learning. Then there were also abertzales in Santurtzi. Obviously, in the mittens it was political. Agirre was also lehendakari here. José Antonio Agirre. Do you know what it is?

Yes, too!

We attended their burial. There was another mitinist, Santurtzi's. And [Telesforo] Monzón, and many more. We were going to all the mittens.

You told us that Felix did not come back after the war.

Yes. In Santurtzi a battalion was formed and he was the first to come. But it didn't come back. One morning, his friends came to the farm. No Felix! Abelino Basagoiti, Lorenzo, Tomás… were five or six people and only Félix was missing. All but Felix left the war. They told us that Felix had died. In Elgoibar. We have always known that he died there, only in San Miguel de Elgoibar, without any particular place. We could never bring her to Santurtzi. Meanwhile, parents are wrong. My mother took the drink very badly. Her father held her a little better. I was also wrong, because I had a close relationship with my brother. It took me everywhere.

Now you've known something else.

We were told that he was killed in San Miguel de Elgoibar, who had disappeared there, but we only learned until recently. Felix's battalion went to my brother's mass, with no body. These are two deaths, one of them Félix, neighbour of Santurtzi, and another of Portugalete, who has died. I remember the Félix battalion being called Garaizabal because a young man named Garaizabal was killed in Santurtzi. They danced, boys and girls, and although I don't know what it was, that young Garaizabal was stabbed and died in it. And they named the Santurtzi battalion. It was ANV.

You told us that Felix was killed in San Miguel de Elgoibar, but until recently you don't know where.

Now we've heard something else, but they've never brought their bones to Santurtzi. Felix hasn't appeared. I would love to bring Felix to Santurtzi… [Joseba Felix, son of Angela, has taken the floor, giving details] In Ziardamendi of Elgoibar there is a family called Agote, and the son there has told us how little we know. Agote's father told him as a child that, at that time of war, the mayor had ordered the peasants of the area to bury all the corpses that were there because he was stabbing. Kalaberamendi was also called a mountainous site, because it was populated with skulls. Now Agote's father knew where ten were buried. No doubt because he had contributed to his burial.

Ten people…

In a hole, one. On the other, four. Third, five. [José María] Txintxertu's wolf fought here, hurt and knew where the soldiers fell. What did he do? One day he goes to Ziardamendi, finds the bodies of six soldiers, takes them out and takes them to the cemetery of Derio. It's a joyful thing, if you like, but they did. Txintxertuu's wolf spoke to the old Agote, who told him that there were more bodies buried there. Then, when the Society of Sciences Aranzadi turned to work, Pako Etxeberria spoke to Agote, and when the old Agote died with his son. He also knew where the three tombs were and went there.

Was Felix the one in her house?

I'll tell you. In one of them, it was a militia, and there was no more to it than the cartridge. In the other, five people were buried in the pit, there was nothing. According to Pako Etxeberria, there were several options: the place was a pine tree and you could have eaten the corpses; a pine tree, for example, was pulled out and reworked… We did two or three excavations, and nothing. Perhaps those five corpses were ten meters from here or there, or ten meters from there, who knows!

And when did you try to reach the third burial?

Well, Etxeberria had no hope. “There’s nothing to do!” he said. The son of Agote was with us, and before I began digging, I said to him, “Bitorio, you quiet. We are very pleased with the work we have done so far. We have come here because of the work that your father and yourself have done, and these corpses you have explained them, you have not explained them, you have cared very well for them all these years, and that is the important thing.” And he began to sink in, like a branch of pine. And Etxeberria, on the dot: “Femur!” “What are you doing, femur?” we are amazing, but Etxeberria: “Yes, yes, the femur!” And keep digging and four corpses! It's only been possible to get the DNA from two of the four. Our mother Angela got a sample of DNA, but it doesn't match anybody else. The corpse of Felix can therefore be that of one of those who could not be identified or that of one of the five who lay in the second grave. Or, better still, that of one of the six that Otsoa got out of Txintxertuk! You have to run DNA tests and we're waiting for you. We talked to the PNV parliamentarian in Madrid, Aitor Esteban, and he promised us that yes, the tests will be done. Waiting.

Waiting for your brother to identify, Angela.

Yes. That's where we are. We have the family pantheon in Santurtzi, Arbulu Bilbao, and it is our illusion to bring Felix to our pantheon. But if we can't bring it back, it has no responsibility, because it's been many years. We had a bad time then, when we were told that Felix had died at war with the soldiers, when we did not collect his body. It's been many years.

The story is long. We started in 1936, and in 2015, we're still talking about that.

History of life. It has been a burden that will not appear, that you have always wanted to get in. If his body had appeared, if we had buried him in the pantheon of the house, the thing would have ended, I would be quiet. But like that, nothing.