The Land of My Fathers: A Son's Return to the Basque Country

The Street of the Americans

THE STREET OF THE AMERICANS When first we came to the Basque Country to live, the little house we rented was on a street leading to the rickety narrow-gauge railroad in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. My cousins called the avenue the Street ofthe Americans. This puzzled me because we had been led to believe we were the only Americans in the village. Also, I had perceived from a nodding acquaintance that our neighbors were obviously Basque. The houses they lived in were impressive villas, and this added to the paradox. Finally, the mystery unfolded itself. The villas had been built in the 1920S and '30S by Basques who had lived in the United States, working as sheepherders for as long as ten or twenty years in the mountains and deserts ofthe American West. Unlike those Basques who had chosen to stay in America, they had come home to the Basque Country with their savings, gotten married, and started families. My cousins explained to me that they were the offspring ofpetitspaysans, which means poorformers. They did not tell me that these Basques had gone to America to better their station in life. The uncharitable among the villagers still considered them petitspaysans. "They went to America because they couldn't suc73 ceed here," the uncharitable said, neglecting to mention there was no way the Basques could have succeeded in a land ofno opportunity. The Basques who had come back with money and built their villas consorted mainly with each other in the bistros and on village feast days, sharing mutual experiences in towns named Reno, Fresno, San Francisco, Los Angeles, among others. That they were even being denied their birthright of being born Basque did not seem to bother them. When I talked to them, they simply shrugged their shoulders and smiled. They knew that the subtle ostracism was born out ofenvy. 74 ...