New Beginnings in Spain by Sarah Barkley (early reader books TXT) 📕

own winery and hire people to work for him, not the other


way around. But, as year after year passed, and he continued working the vineyards, he began to


realize that he would never have enough money to start up his own business. By that time,


Ramiro was eleven or twelve, and really struggling in school. His father grew bitter, and began


drinking all the time. He started getting fired from jobs, cheating on his wife, and living off the


unemployment benefits. His mother had gone to work as a seamtress in a factory in Bilbao,


working six days a week, during the night shift, to support the family, while his father would get


drunk in a bar downtown and sleep with hookers. Ramiro knew this since he had followed him

several times.


One night, when Ramiro was 14, his dad came home drunk as usual. He had noticed Ramiro’s


school report card sitting on the table, and snatched it up and read it before Ramiro could hide it


from him. He had once again failed his spelling and grammar class. His father was outraged.


He grabbed Ramiro by the right ear and dragged him out to the barn. Instead of the usual


procedure of having Ramiro bend over and take the beating with the cane, he was shocked when


his father roughly threw him to the ground. Then he started kicking him over and over again.


He kicked him in the back, in the arms, in the stomach. He was wearing the boots that he wore


in the fields. The ones with the steel plate in the toe. He kept screaming that Ramiro was a


disgrace to the family. Then he started kicking him in the head. Over and over. Slowly,


everything began to get fuzzy, and then he passed out.


When Ramiro came to a few hours later, he dragged himself into the house. He was covered in


blood, and it felt like some of his ribs were broken. His mother hadn’t come home from work,


yet, and his dad was passed out on the couch. He didn’t know why his father hated him so


much. He hardly ever beat his brothers or sisters, but then they always made the good grades.


As he peered over to his snoring father, he made up his mind to leave and not come back.


Early the next morning, while everybody was still asleep, he gathered a bag of clothes, some


food, 800 pesetas from his mothers purse, and left the house. After wandering the streets of


Bilbao for a few weeks, trying to pick up odd jobs for food, Ramiro was one day approached by


an elderly man walking with an old cane and wearing a blue cap. He had been watching Ramiro


as he shined somebody’s shoes outside a fancy hotel.


“You work hard, for such a young man. You should be in school, or out playing with your


friends. “


Ramiro looked up at this old man and told him to mind his own business. “You know nothing


about me, so do not tell me what I should or should not be doing!”


The man smiled warmly, and put up his hands in a peace jesture. “Tranquilo, I was just admiring


what good work you do. Do you live around here? I haven’t seen you before, and I know


almost everybody in Bilbao.”


“I am new here, and I live in the park, are you satisfied? Now leave me alone, old man!”


With that, Ramiro started to pick up his things and walk away.


“No, please, wait! My name is Javier Benitez, and I would like to offer you a job.”


Ramiro stopped in his tracks, and looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of job do you have


me?” Ramiro had heard stories about boys being used as prostitutes for the gay tourists. “Do


you think I’m an idiot? Just because I am poor and homeless, do not think that I will be a


prostititute for you!”


Javier laughed, “oh, young man, of course not. Come join me for a coffee and let me tell you


about the job.”


Ramiro did go with him for coffee, and almost instantly began to like this man. For one thing, he


had praised the job he did on the guy’s shoes. Nobody had ever praised anything he did.


Ramiro sat and listed to the old man all afternoon. When Javier had first mentioned that he


worked for the ETA, Ramiro started to get up to leave.


“No, I’ve heard about you people. You’re like terrorists or something. You go around blowing


up buildings and cars and killing people!”


“Young man, you are wrong. We have a very noble cause. You only know what the government


wants you to know. Listen to me, and I will tell you the truth.”


Javier spoke for hours. He told Ramiro how the ETA, which letters stand for “Basque Homeland


and Liberty”, had started during the Franco Era in the late ‘50s. When Franco had died in 1976,


democracy was restored in Spain. The new Spanish constitution granted the regions of Spain


some degree of autonomy, or “self-rule”. The Basque region, in Northern Spain, was given its


own parliamnet. They had control over SOME things like taxes, health services, mass media,


and education. The Basque language was once again allowed to be


taught in the schools. Many of the Basques were pleased with these changes. Compared to the


Franco Era, they felt like they were finally free. But Javier explained how these Basques were


fools. Spain still controlled the major issues like politics and the economy. The main power and


important decisions still came from Madrid.


Javier went on to explain how they deserved to be completely free and independent of Spain.


They needed to create an independent homeland in Spain’s Basque region. They would do


whatever it took to gain their independence. They preferred a type of marxist society. A form of


socialist governement with a classless society. Not like what the Franco regime did for Spain,


but for the Basque Region, and only the Basque region. Why should they have to listen to the


Spanish governtment and their laws? They are NOT a part of Spain, and demand their


independence!


Nobody had ever spoken to Ramiro like this. What Javier said made sense. He was mesmerized


by him and by his passion. He was 14 years old. How could he just now be learning about this?


Maybe in a classless society, his father would have had a better chance to be equal to the others,


and not always feel like the hired hand. Maybe then things would have been different.


Javier had invited Ramiro to live with him and earn his stay by doing chores around the farm.


For the next five years, Ramiro lived and worked with Javier and some of his followers. He


learned all there was to making bombs out of the crudest materials. He became an expert


marksman. When he was 20, Javier had sent Ramiro to a training camp in Lybia for six months.


When he returned from Lybia, he was ready to fight for the Cause.


Now, ten years since his return from Lybia, Ramiro was ready to launch their biggest money


campaign of all time. 5,000,000 Euros. With that much money, they would then be able to


fund their projects for many months. Spain WOULD listen. The world WOULD listen. They


will soon know that they cannot stick us in the corner somewhere and hope we’ll go away.


They will soon have what they deserve! Their freedom and their homeland.


“Yes, and what did you think about the celler?” Enrique was still rambling on and on. “It looks


great, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose that barn. I had heard that a lot of the old barns and houses


in Spain had bomb shelters built during the war. Even though they never really needed them,


they still had them, just in case. Those kids will be scared, but they’ll be warm, dry and have


plenty of food. Too bad they won’t be able to eat off their fine china for a few days, but that’s


the way it’s gonna be. As soon as their rich daddy pays the money, they can go back to their


caviar and fine wine. Oh, and the way I covered the door with all the hay, nobody will ever find


them, don’t you agree, Ramiro? Ramiro? Did you hear what I said?”


Ramiro jumped back to the present, and looked over at Enrique, and forced a smile. “Si,


Enrique. You did excellent work. We could never had come this far without your help”. Might


as well keep the kid happy and eager to work, while he can.


“Gracias, Ramiro. I am proud to work with you.” Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and


mercifully slept for the rest of the drive back to Bilbao.

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