GERNIKA = GUERNICA

Guernica seems like a funny place to head for some R and R, given its tragic history. But it also seemed like a place one ought to visit because of the same tragic happenings. It seemed important to stand where such an outrage happened, to bear witness, more than seventy years after the fact.

Gernika (I'm using the Basque spelling, since it's a Basque town), was an important place to the people of Biskaia (Viscaya) as a market town and the equivalent of a county town where legislators assembled and justice was meted out. In the olden days, justice courts and assemblies throughout the Basque country met outside under imposing trees. The tree of Gernika was one of the most famous. When the Basques became part of Spain, at least two Spanish monarchs had to come to Gernika to stand under the tree and swear to preserve various liberties of the Basque people. Most days Gernika was a market town with access to the sea, and beginning in the nineteenth century, had a couple of factories. Bilbao was close by, only thirty kilometres away.

Other than that, it wasn't much to write home about. But things changed in the nineteen thirties when General Franco and his rebels seized control of the Spanish government. In 1937, Gernika became important strategically, in a most temporary fashion, due to its proximity to the area of Markina to the east, where a group of Republicans, the enemies of Franco, were hiding out in the folded, green, and remote hills. Suddenly Gernika was a potential refuge and supply line. General Franco allowed Italian and Nazi air strikes on the town. Instead of destroying strategic targets, during the course of a couple hours,they held carpet bombing raids, destroyed the entire town in a fiery maelstrom, and killing somewhere between two and sixteen hundred people, depending on who you believe. The handful of buildings to survive included the Andra Mari Church and the Hall of Justice,with the Tree of Gernika on its grounds. One of the raid's stated targets, The Renteria bridge over the Oka River was undamaged too. There was, and remains, the feeling that the raid was punitive; an attempt to break the spirit of the Basque people, and bring them into line.

I've been reading the stories of some of the survivors, and even though I've seen the photographs of the destruction, and seen the maps of how little survived, it wasn't until I walked through the streets that I could even begin to imagine the horror of it. Even then, its difficult to believe that this sunny, well-kept little town was nearly obliterated in the course of a market day afternoon. But, if you look closely you can begin to notice the lack of older buildings. If you go to the marketplace, you'll see a large round modern building, strange in itself. Go inside and sit on one of the benches. The glass walls surrounding you are imprinted with photographs of the devastation. You look out through these ghostly images onto the busy rebuilt streets. Then you really get the picture.

I didn't go to the Peace Museum. I didn't need to, and I certainly didn't want any more information on just how horrible it had been. Instead, I chose to go to the Museum of the Basque Culture up near the church. Wars come and go, but the people endure. That is what is important.