«Agur ama», a letter by a Basque political prisoner

This letter was written by Basque political prisoner Francisco José Ramada Estévez, "Bera" and released in Spanish by Basque newspaper Gara on 18 April 2013.

You are gone with the warmth of a land to whom you came from the countryside in Zamora looking for opportunities and which you learnt to love.

We could not say goodbye to each other this time, I could visit you at the geriatric nine months ago. But not now, althought the judge gave me permission to visit you fifteen days ago. I would be able to say goodbye, but it was impossible. I know that you were waiting for me until the last moment, until you faded the last breath of your life. You know that my tears flooded me when I was given the news, not for weakness but of anger, but also of pride for being son of this wonderful land. Because despite the vindictive, arbitrary and cruel prison policy which prevented me from receiving your last kisses, friends from Ataun such as Martxel, Patxi, Karmele, Xabi, and others from Irun like Alberto, Mattin, Manolo, Fernando, or those from your religious community such as Javier, who has been like one of the family, and lots of friends more could give you my last goodbye between sounds of txistu and guitars from your religious community singing "Agur Jaunak", whose notes sounded inside me while I was being brought handcuffed in a van traveling the roads of Spain. Someday we will start our way back alongside the end of a dispersion which moves us away from our loved ones, it will be like you wanted when you voted Bildu so that they brought us all back home.

The warmth that dozens of friends from Ataun and Irun gave me at the door of the Juncal church in Irun, with shouts of support that touched me, was comforting. Also in the sacristy, when I could be with my sister Mari Mar and my nephews after all these years. As also hug many friends I had not seen for many years, so many that there were some who I did not recognize, so I apologize. And in every moment, inseparable with my tireless and beloved partner Mila who, althought being at home, continues jailed. Not even a minute we parted, together at any time and, even during the mass, she comforted me with her love in all those difficult moments. In short, that you are gone with the warmth of a land to whom you came from the countryside in Zamora looking for opportunities and which you learnt to love. Despite the difficulties of life you never lost your optimism, despite your poor health you made huge effort to visit me in Granada or in Castellón because you wanted to have me with you. Despite all your efforts, I always found your laughter and the brightness of your eyes. Because the desire to live was overwhelming in you. So that you have struggled for live until the last moment. Now you rest caressed by the wind of Cantabric sea which slips in and transmits you my kisses. Do you know, ama1? Sooner than later we will walk through the streets of our freed fatherland, this day I will bring you flowers and we will talk.

In these cold nights in my cell I am accompanied by the memories of my chilhood in Bera, the image of Aiako Harria2 from the balcony of our house in Ilekueta and the whispers of the Altzate stream which bring me your voice to relieve your lack.

Well, ama, I thus say you goodbye, by letter, because they have not let us any other option. I know that I will be able to visit you soon and bring you the first spring flowers. Until that day.

Eskerrik asko Ataungo eta Irungo lagunei3.

¹Ama is the Basque name for mother.

²Aiako Harria is a massif east of Oiartzun in the Basque Country. Bera is close to it.

3It means “thanks to my friends from Ataun and Irun”, in Basque.