For years, in the Garazi and Baigorri area, as in other parts of the continental Basque Country, various organizations such as the cultural institution, or Kanaldude, or in some cases researchers, have carried out memory collection work by recording, either on the occasion of a broadcast, or to organize exhibitions on the subject, or to feed research. These witnesses are already witnesses, because most are witnesses to this world.

I have the opportunity to hear and work these testimonies from time to time, in the last few weeks, and I recognize that time is fantastic. Because these documents are treasures at different levels.

One is the conception of the world. The life these people describe is ‘united’. To begin with, they are very aware of territoriality, of everything around them, and everything is smooth, clear and unique. “These mountains I knew them (...) They were my sites, they wanted something to happen that I needed.” They are in a territory, in close relationship and dependence with neighbors and neighbors, they know that culturally they differ, even if the word culture is not used. In essence, they do not speak a single intellectual word: culture, nation, identity, social cohesion, decision, development, etc. Other words. They live concepts. Mountains, towns, neighborhoods, houses, works, they and us. They differentiate very clearly between so-called ‘them’ and ‘us’. “Here we were doing it,” “Know that life was not sweet! But together we were all alike.” The saturation of these witnesses is fascinating. In fact, the world they describe is about a third. However, they have a whole, a roundness, they are compact. In front of them, we're disseminated puzzles.

Language is extraordinary. I have the opportunity to hear words and expressions that have not been listened to me for a long time, and the translated rations, think of Euskara in forms of expression, have nothing to infect Spanish. There were ordinary people, little schooled, able to speak in Basque on any subject. Today, this ability has become a stranger, an ability to address a subject all of a sudden. In other words, lost words. And at the same time, there is the possibility of saving them, even if only in numerical files.

Epicity stands out. “Once, like that, he called us De Gaull, because he needed help. At the end of these corners, German proudly asked us about wheat.” The truth or the influence of time, of course, prevails the tendency to present his life in the epic mold. “The guards didn’t catch us in pieces.” Everything is big, distant, heroic, at the same time close and simple, hand, dominated, clean and simple. Is it linked to the place? Is it related to the uniqueness of historical times? At the forefront of it all, doesn't the story of oneself begin?

To end, beautiful, some details will give a fantastic side to the legend. “With the cows of Contrabanda (from Ezterenzubiti) we went to Bilbao walking. On Sunday afternoon we arrived at seven the next day. A Bilbao.” I am not going to alter you a single detail of history, I will leave you with nothing but reporting, which you say is as complete as you say: after all, we would all like to live in that nefarious country, united to creation, free from our relations, going as well.

Far from the times of the pandemic, as after any disaster, we are embraced by nostalgia.