Basque ethnography at a glance

Bowling alley in Eskolunbe. Kuartango (Araba). Author: Bea Gallego.

They say boredom is good, that our brain appreciates it, because it allows us to reflect, organize our ideas, or reconnect with our real needs.

It may be true, then, that boredom is good. However, from a cultural point of view, what is truly interesting is the other side of the coin, which is the entertainment we use to mock boredom. Probably, because of the boredom caused by long hours of rain, winter darkness, or the sight of slow herds, to name but a few examples, by all the materials (textiles, wood, metal, leather, stone, vegetable fiber, etc.) that have contributed from generation to generation to the professional and domestic sphere, the most beautiful exhibits of traditional craftsmanship. Not forgetting, of course, other examples of creativity related to orality, music, or dance, in which tangible elements did not necessarily have to intervene.

Traditional games combine material and intangible aspects, and contrast the relative simplicity of the most obvious elements (a ball, sticks, lines marked on the ground or on the wall, etc.) with the variety and complexity of the rules that encompass it. Thus, those that were formerly regarded as simple popular games have brought with them sports in which there are cultivated regulations. As is the case, for example, with many forms of ball games (pelota) or Basque rural sports (Herri Kirolak).

We also find it in what is called the “bowling game”, which is very present in Araba. The basic rule is, that by throwing a spherical piece of wood (bola), we have to shoot down as many pieces of wood (bolos) as possible, which are deliberately placed in a space called bolatoki (bowling alley). Based on this principle, each modality (Alavesa, Salinero, Calva, Palma, Toka, Tres Tablones, Hirutxerlo…) adopts its own rules based on dimensions, weight, number of pins, scoring systems, penalties, etc.

Santa Eulalia. Kuartango (Araba). Author: Bea Gallego.

Nowadays, not all bowling alleys in the villages of Araba are maintained, and some of the ones that still exist have not seen a throw in a long time. Population shortage, the ability of other seemingly more sophisticated and media sports disciplines, regulations restricting age of entry, etc… They greatly hamper the continuity of an element of high identity value, for various reasons: its close connection with other elements of heritage, both architectural and immaterial (from community work to get the bowling alley ready, to sociability and orality). Its intergenerational transmission; or, beyond endemic rivalries, the creation of a sense of belonging to a community, are just a few of them.

There is still something atavistic in the sound of the ball, while it rolls down the plank or out of it, from the woods that collide, from the pin that falls, from the people who whisper or applaud after a throw. Something that connects us in the present, but takes us to the past while pushing into the future. That is why, in this first quarter of the 21st century, the holding of inter-village championships, the inclusion of games in certain romerias or the programming of exhibitions in festivities to publicize the variety of the local tradition, continue to mobilize the faithful public. Therefore, this is as meritorious as it is necessary, to prevent the inherent elements of our own culture from being swallowed by the seemingly omnipotent (and ultimately, tedious) ball of globalization.

Beatriz Gallego – Labrit Heritage