Basque ethnography at a glance

Simeón Hidalgo Valencia

Sometimes, just sometimes, the servant is better off than the master. That happens in the Izagaondoa valley, in Zuazu (Navarra), at the foot of the Izaga peak. But first let me introduce you to the characters so you know about whom we are talking.

The master is an image, of a respectable size, depicting Archangel St. Michael, the quintessential host of an unusually large chapel, with no less than three naves, that is near the top of the Izaga peak, which was earlier known as Higa de Izaga. Several penitential pilgrimages, in other words, rows of pilgrims in tunics and with their heads covered, and carrying a heavy cross on their backs, make their way up there every year. They enter the chapel at the pace of litanies in Latin and then prostrate themselves in joy before St. Michael, protector of all he prevails, or here the Izagaondoa, Unciti and Lónguida valleys.

The servant, popularly known here as the criadico, is a small image of St. Michael which is worshipped in the parish church of Zuazu, one of the villages in Izagaondoa that is under of the protection of the “master”. And I say that the servant is better off than the master because the winter here is hard, very hard, freezing cold! And while the servant spends it in the warm church, the master winters up high, in a soulless (never has this word been so badly used) chapel, battered on all four sides by the harsh weather up there.

Well. From the end of September until early May, the villagers and residents of the valley visit and worship the criadico with great devotion in Zuazu. They kneel before him and recount their problems, woes, misfortunes and all kinds of mishaps, always followed by the petitionary prayer imploring for the woes to be less painful, for the problems to be solved and for the comfort they deserve. The small St. Michael, the criadico, not only patiently listens to all the faithful who come to him, but also mentally notes it all down so that nobody is forgotten and nobody is overlooked.

To that end, whether it is sunny, raining or snowing, a bank holiday or working day, the doors of Zuazu’s church open on 8 May. A group of villagers from Artaiz, Zuazu, Reta, Ardanaz and Iriso gather there, and after a collective prayer, they place the small image on a litter designed to be carried by two people; and, while the bells toll, a pious procession leaves the church to accompany the criadico along a step zig-zagging bridle path up Izaga. The only pause along the path, which runs through forests and meadows, is when they stop to pray looking out towards Ujué, until they nearly reach the top, as the chapel is a little lower down.

Joaquín Ahechu

And they then take the criadico inside to be with the master. And they pray, sing and have lunch… In the evening, the chapel’s doors are closed, and master and servant remain there alone…. until September. Time enough for the criadico to let the master know what is happening, to tell him about the dead, problems, intercessions, needs, the harvest, what has happened and what is no longer happening; it is divine intercession with two intermediaries instead of one. And the best thing is… that nobody is overlooked.

What has been said, every 8 May, as usual. For centuries.

                                                                            Fernando Hualde – Ethnographer – Labrit Heritage