From the Days of Old Until 1976 - Doña Rosita Valdez Padilla

Yesterday I was working on my Ancestry family tree. Looking back at family history makes me feel different emotions every time I read it. Kind of like listening to my favorite songs from high school. I react differently, depending on my age or mental state of mind. I was rearranging photos of my grandma, Doña Rosita Valdez Padilla and I found an endearing photo of her taken shortly before she died at the age of 92 in 1976. The photo had been published in a book by Samuel Leo Gonzales called  "The Days of Old." I had forgotten that there was an entire chapter about my grandma in the book and the importance of that chapter to my family history.

So yesterday I decided it was time to reread the book from a different perspective. I cleaned 3 book shelves and found lots of cool stuff, but I didn't find the book I was looking for. This morning I finally found an online article about Mr. Gonzales from the "Las Vegas, New Mexico Optic Online News." The story was actually picked up from "The Santa Rosa Communicator" and written by my cousin, Davy Delgado. Published on January 29, 2023, after Mr Gonzales' death.

Click here -->  Link to story by Davy Delgado

I still couldn't find Mr. Gonzales' self published book, but fortunately, I had copied the chapter written about grandma and posted it on my Ancestry family tree years ago. The chapter about my grandma is shown at the end of this blog post. Here's a paragraph that's heart warming. Mr Gonzales wrote:

"Doña Rosita Valdez de Padilla lived in Puerto de Luna in the home of one of her sons, José. At 92 years of age, she had an excellent remote memory. She spoke of those people who had long since passed away, as if she had visited with them recently. Our conversations were conducted in "good ole" New Mexico Spanish. She shared information concerning her family, friends, and old customs and traditions that some of us wish were still with us today. Her humble home was one of the most hospitable places this writer has ever visited."

Painting Of My Grandma's House
By Christina Fajardo

My grandma's adobe house, across the road from the Puerto de Luna mountain was in fact hospitable. It was insightful and sweet to read the subject matter that was important enough for her to mention when interviewed by Mr. Gonzales. She spoke of her younger years when her grandfather was good friends with Lorenzo Labadie. I found this to be extremely interesting because Lorenzo was my father's maternal great-grandfather. Lorenzo had been a Lieutenant Colonel, then a sheriff, an Indian Agent and then a census taker in his 70's.  When I first started doing ancestry research, I learned so much from Lorenzo Labadie's excellent record keeping on the census of the late 1800's and 1900. For months late at night as I researched my ancestry, I felt that Lorenzo and I became best friends because I would go down these rabbit holes of his record keeping.

Then Grandma Rosita spoke of the time her husband, Ascención Padilla, came to ask for her hand in marriage. I never meet my grandpa, he died in 1949, at the age of 73 of a stroke. I've only seen photos of him when he was an old man. But my mom used to describe her beloved father as a big, handsome, kind man with blue eyes. I imagine him looking and acting like my son, Christian. They're both Aries. My grandma was a sweet, tiny woman, barely 5 foot tall and 100 pounds, soaking wet. 

My Grandpa
Ascencion Padilla

Nita, Christina and Grandma Rosita
At Thompson Park, Amarillo, Texas

Now that I am older, I regret that I wasn't able to spend more time with grandma after I graduated high school in 1973. I wanted to live in New Mexico, but my parents had other plans. In 1976, at the time of her death, I was living on a farm in Manchaca, Texas with my soon to be husband, Davis. It was next to impossible to take trips to New Mexico because Davis and I had a horse, cows, chickens and a garden. I'm pretty sure I felt drawn to that lifestyle because of the memorable time I spent on grandma's farm in Puerto de Luna. Grandma's farm on the Pecos River held an indescribable magic and I obviously wasn't the only one that felt it. 

My Dad riding my horse, Carmen
Manchaca, Texas

My horse, Carmen, my dad and my cousin Wayne
Manchaca, Texas

We had our own kind of magic on Summer Tree Farm in Manchaca, Texas. Phillip and Deborah lived next door in a big beautiful stone house where Phillip and Deborah got married the weekend grandma Rosita died. Needles to say, we were busy in our young lives. Looking back, I like to believe that even though I didn't get to spend much time with my grandma in her last years, living with her on her farm for a year in high school had a huge impact on me as a person. 

Obviously Before Selfies, I took a photo of
Phillip and Deborah having dinner at our house.
Look at all the cool posters on our wall.

Phillip and Deborah Fajardo's Wedding
Summer Tree Farm
Manchaca, Texas

Phillip and Deborah Fajardo's wedding
August 1976
Summer Tree Farm, Manchaca, Texas

Mom and Dad at Phillip and Deborah's Wedding

Davis and Christina

Phillip and Deborah's Wedding

My Brother Phillip with the black vest on
and a whole bunch of cousins
At Grandma Rosita's Funeral
Puerto de Luna, New Mexico

Nuestra Senora del Refugio Catholic Church
Puerto de Luna, New Mexico

Christina and Nita 

With Our Uncle Sam Henderson

Puerto de Luna

The writer, Samuel Leo Gonzales said Grandma's home was hospitable, not knowing that it was in fact my grandma's heart and soul that he connected with. I can only imagine how she was as a young woman. My mom told me that her favorite flowers were geraniums and hollyhocks. My favorites! I use to dream about having a living room dedicated to my grandma like the one she had. The walls were painted blushing pink with a deep red velvet couch and a matching rug on a dark wooden floor. The glass paneled French door to the living room was always closed because it was reserved for visitors. I never created that room but I have always had a chair like the one she sat in by the cast iron, pot belly, wood burning stove. When I lived with her during my junior year at Santa Rosa High, I had no idea that she was such a wealth of information. I took her at face value. A blind grandma who sat quietly waiting for her daily flow of neighbors. I should have known there was a steady stream of visitors because she was a wealth of information with amazing healing energy. Sort of like sitting with a purring cat. She and I didn't communicate easily due to our language barrier. She spoke mostly Spanish and I spoke mostly English. One of my older cousins told me later in life that she'd told him she used to feed Billy the Kid on the ranch in Ojitos. Years later, after many hours of research, as I was reading the list of people on the 1880 census in Ojitos, I discovered that Billy the Kid was in fact listed as a ranch hand  on the neighboring ranch that belonged to my great Uncle Hilario Valdez's father-in-law, John Gerhardt. In high school, I didn't understand the magnitude of the family history and knowledge grandma held. The crazy thing is that one of my all time favorite movies and sound track "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid" was being filmed in 1972 when I was living right where it took place and I am a descendant of some of the characters in the movie.

When I think about it now, nearing the age of 70 and grasping the fact that I have fewer days ahead of me than behind me, I see the magnitude of having 8 generations of the Valdez branch of my family tree born in New Mexico. Most of them in Santa Fe, the oldest capital city in the US, established in 1607, making it both the oldest capital city in the country and the oldest European settlement west of the Mississippi.

Even though they don't really know American history, or even what America is, the new administration has put a new light on the fact that we are all one, regardless of borders. My grandma was born in New Mexico just 36 years after New Mexico had become part of the United States. Her father, (my great grandfather) Frebonio Valdez was born in 1846, in Santa Fe just 2 years before New Mexico became part of the United States and his father (my great-great grandfather)  Antonio Andres Valdez was born in 1817, in Santa Fe when New Mexico was still part of Spain. The borders were redrawn 3 times in just those 3 generations. Yet for the previous 4 generations New Mexico was part of Spain. 

With that being said, I write this blog of my family history for my children and grandchildren. Right now they are busy with their lives, however, one day they will slow down long enough to realize there were things they wish they would have asked me. We can't expect everyone to be on the same page but I am an big advocate of providing the information of family history because I believe in healing generational trauma.

Below I have attached 5 jpegs of the chapter in the book by Samuel Leo Gonzales called  "The Days of Old." 

"The Wagon Boss" Painting by Charles M Russell - Update

The synchronicities in my life are sometimes so astonishing that I have to write down the events to reflect back on the events at a later date. As I understand it, synchronicities occur because the connection between our individual psyche and the collective unconscious creates a sense of meaningful connection between our internal and external experiences. If one pays attention, seemingly random events line up and can be interpreted as signs from the Universe. These synchronistic events are part of the reason I write this blog. This post is going to touch on what appears to be a couple of different subjects that you will see actually all come together in the end.

In case you are new to my blog, the topics are largely about my profound connection to my ancestors, the majority of whom were the original Spanish settlers of New Mexico. I'm a first generation Texan... barely... I was born at St Antony's Hospital on Route 66 in Amarillo, just 50 miles east of the Texas/New Mexico border. Before my generation, both sides of my family had been in what is now New Mexico since Spain colonized the New Mexico region in 1598. Then, for 27 years between 1821-1848, New Mexico became part of Mexico when Mexico won its freedom from Spain. Then in 1848, the United States claimed the top 55% of Mexico which is now the western part of the United States including New Mexico, California, Arizona, Nevada, Utah and portions of Colorado and Wyoming.

Mexico also gave up its claims to Texas, hence recognizing the Rio Grande as the border between the United States and Mexico. It seems appropriate to be writing about borders right now since the newly appointed administration of the United States is trying to deport Mexicans and even Native Americans. Why? "Because they're not Americans." WHAT? Here we are again. As of inauguration day, January 20, those at the top are fighting the same old war. Not actually trying to take land but deporting people out of the United States. Call me crazy but Native Americans are just that. Native. According to archaeological and genetic evidence, Native Americans have been in America for at least 20,000 years. And as for the Mexicans... the western half of the United States used to be Mexico. Logically they have every right to be here. As for me... my family immigrated from Spain to New Mexico 427 years ago. I think it's safe to say this is my home.

My country is in an uproar. Along with all the other crazy distractions, the new administration is trying to change the name of "The Gulf of Mexico" to "The Gulf of America."

Yet, simultaneously, something really cool happened to me the other day. These synchronicities always happen when there is an uproar in our country, seemingly to help me process the madness and I am so very grateful for these positive little messages from the Universe.

A piece of artwork that had been in my family since the 1960's made it's way back to me on January 12. But first I have to tell the story about this piece of art and the artist who painted it and why it has anything to do with the uproar in the United States. 

The Fajardo's Thanksgiving dinner
1970 with "The Wagon Boss" 
on the knotty pine wall.
1804 Magnolia, Amarillo, TX

I had written about it in January of 2022 when I was in St Louis for my annual winter trip. But now I actually have the piece of art and I've learned more about the artist and his family. They were very much a part of the western states becoming a part of the United States in the 1800's. Here's a link to the blog from January 17, 2022 if you want to read it later.

https://christinafajardo.blogspot.com/2022/01/the-wagon-boss-by-charles-marion-russell.html

I wrote the above blog on a typical snowy winter day in St Louis. As I sat sipping mint tea, deep in thought, hundreds of miles away from my Central Texas home, I imagined that my son, grandchildren and I had been sent on a mission by our ancestors to this midwestern outpost in St Louis. The purpose? To heal some of our generational trauma. Why would I feel that? Well, a few male characters in my family tree came from the St Louis area in the mid 1800's and married into my large Spanish settler family. There was a big land grab going on out west after the United States had taken more than half of northern Mexico. It's always felt a little more than coincidental that my son would end up living right back in St Louis.

I had begun that day reading about the marriage of my cousin Josefa Jaramillo and her husband, the frontier legend, Kit Carson. They seemed to have a storybook romance. On the other hand, Josefa's older sister, Maria Ignacia Jaramillo was the common law wife of Charles Bent. He was equally as well known as his brother-in-law, Kit Carson. He was an American businessman who owned the most important trading post on the Santa Fe Trail called Bent’s Fort. It was the only permanent settlement that was not under the jurisdiction and control of the Hispanic or Native Americans citizens in the west. Charles Bent and his younger brother, William Bent started out as fur traders. Their father, Silas Bent was a prominent land surveyor and Supreme Court Judge for the Missouri Territory. The Bent brothers could have lived lives of ease in St. Louis but they saw the potential wealth in fur trading in the western territories.

It was common for men to "go west" to find fortune in the uncharted lands out west. It was also a known fact that to be successful out west, the protocol was to convert to Catholicism and to marry into a large, prosperous, land owning Hispanic family who had been well established citizens since the 1500's. In the case of Kit Carson, he converted to Catholicism and married Josefa Jaramillo. Charles Bent didn't want to convert to Catholicism so Maria Ignacia Jaramillo merely became his common law wife. 

I just discovered a book called "Blood in the Borderlands: The Rise and Fall of Charles Bent, 1829-1847" by David C. Beyreis. The book says that Charles Bent knew that he needed to be “plugged into” local power networks and "marriage" into a landowning Hispanic family was the best way in. But he just barely tolerated the people of New Mexico. On the surface his plan seemed to be working for him. The United States appointed him as governor in 1846 and his possibilities seemed limitless. But there was trouble brewing. The powerful Hispanic families and Native Americans of New Mexico felt that the new U.S. governor didn’t treat them with due respect. They feared that their land titles would become null and void and they’d lose their land. Only 4 months after Charles Bent became governor, a group of Native Americans and Hispanics gathered in the Taos plaza demanding the release of some Native Americans who had been jailed by U.S. troops. The Taos Revolt broke out and it ended with Governor Charles Bent being scalped and murdered.

Needless to say the Bent family was both powerful and controversial, depending on who recorded the history. Charles Bent and his brother William had been disowned by the Bent and Russell family. The Bent brothers had a sister named Lucy. Her full married name was Lucy Bent Russell. I found her grave at a cemetery in St Louis. 

Grave of Lucy Bent Russell
St Louis, MO

Of course that lead me down another rabbit hole and I discovered her grandson was the famous American artist of the American Old West, Charles Marion Russell. Also known as C.M. Russell, Charlie Russell or Kid Russell. Here's where my story comes full circle. When I was a child, my father worked as a furniture repairman at "Heath Furniture Store" in Amarillo, Texas. Our home was always decorated with the most fashionable Early American Furniture, upholstered with the most plush earth toned velvet fabrics. A large framed print of a Charles M. Russell painting "The Wagon Boss" hung on the knotty pine paneled wall the living room above the couch. I never knew anything about the piece of art or the artist. To me it was just pretty piece of art from a nice furniture store. 

"The Wagon Boss"
Painted by Charles Marion Russell 
The original oil painting The Wagon Boss by Charles M. Russell
is owned by the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
The Thomas Gilcrease Foundation gifted the painting
to the museum in 1955

This masterpiece that I spent hours gazing at, was a print of a painting from 1909. The earth toned art matched the knotty pine paneling and the floral earth toned love seat, gold arm chair, polished end tables with gold lamps that were all perfectly arranged on the gold carpeted floors.

What a surprise to discovered as an adult that Charles M Russell was born in St Louis in 1864. He left home at the age of 16 and went west where he painted more than 2,000 paintings of cowboys, Native Americans and landscapes and created bronze sculptures set in the western United States.

Charles M Russell had been named after his Great Uncle Charles Bent but didn't follow in his footsteps. He was a gifted artist, storyteller, historian, writer and advocate for Native Americans. Totally opposite of his power and money hungry uncle.

This is where the story of the art by Charles M Russell and the uproar of the United States all come together. Earlier this month, I went to my step-daughter Sarah's birthday party. All of the women and kids were sitting around the dining room table talking and eating while the men were playing corn hole in the backyard. 

Ethridge Family
Dylan Ethridge, Adriane Ethridge, Davis Ethridge, Sherry Ethridge, Christina Fajardo, Sarah Ethridge, Jeanette Parr
and Emerson Ethridge

My ex-husband, Davis' wife Sherry casually says to me "I have a surprise for you." I said "What is it?" She proceeded to remind me that when Davis and I got divorced, I had left the Charles M Russell "Wagon Boss" painting in the closet and it was still there. I was in shock. She told me I could drop by their house and pick it up. So Dylan and I dropped by and picked it up. I brought it home with the intention of giving it to Dylan because he has asked for it. My parents had taken it out of the frame some time in the 70's and I am guessing I brought it home to Austin with me around that same time. It may have even hung over my fireplace at one time, I can't remember. 

At any rate it seemed magically synchronistic that the "Wagon Boss" would make its way back to me at this time when the political choices of our country's administration is mimicking the times when Charles M. Russell's power mongering Great Uncle Charles Bent had been appointed governor of New Mexico. A man with no moral compass, who had lived a life of privilege and lacked empathy towards people who didn't look like him or speak his language or practice his religion. Sound familiar? He was a lot like the man who bought his way into the White House earlier this month. 

It warms my heart that Charles M Russell went his own way and lived a life of empathy and compassion. This painting represents the kindness in Charles Russell's heart. He chose to spend his life helping the disenfranchised after his great-uncles had played such a huge part in doing just the opposite. Charles M. Russell, often called "the cowboy artist," is recognized for his significant contribution to portraying the positive Native American life and culture in his art. He used his platform as an artist to depict Native Americans as strong, dignified people. He also advocated for their rights through his paintings and writings, even going as far as supporting land rights for tribes by lobbying for the establishment of a reservation for them. 

Charles M Russell

In closing it warms my heart that my father chose a piece of art to hang in our home that was painted by someone who wasn't just a "cowboy artist." He was related to my family by marriage and a hero of mine. He was recognized for actively helping Native American tribes by deeply immersing himself in their culture and portraying their lives with respect and accuracy in his art, preserving their history accurately through his paintings. 

With love to you Charles M Russell. May your kind spirit live on forever.

The Arrival of the Montoya Family in New Mexico Part 1

I've been told many times that I should write a book about my ancestry research. This task would be next to impossible. I would have to settle on one ancestor and there are too many ancestors and too many intertwining stories to fit into one book. I've watched "Finding Your Roots" many times and Henry Louis Gates is usually hard pressed to find one ancestor in the famous person's past who is a historic figure. It's mind boggling to look into my family's past and find Hernando Cortes, Juan Onate, Kit Carson, Billy the Kid, just to name a few.

I started this journey to answer a few questions, then quickly realized the more I learn, the more questions I had. I discovered an extremely complex history filled with thousands of people and just as many challenges. There are so many perspectives from which to tell each story. Fortunately, my family has hundreds of years of recorded history, thanks to the Catholic church. I never expected to be able to look up so many of my ancestors in Wikipedia. There are hundreds of stories filled with exciting, romantic stories of my family immigrating from Spain to Mexico and then up to New Mexico beginning with Hernando Cortes in 1547. There are monuments, schools, buildings (castles) and streets named after many of my ancestors. All the while, I have to take into consideration that they came to conquer so there were atrocities and bloodshed. The pain and suffering has caused deep scars stored in my families DNA. We pass those wounds from generation to generation and the scabs can be picked off and the bleeding begins again until someone in the family is willing to do the work to heal the family dynamics. 

Today, Tuesday, April 18, is World Heritage Day. 

I've decided to write about the time in history when much of the controversy in New Mexico began.

In 1583 King Philip II of Spain's decree for the settlement of New Mexico was a call for a wealthy individual to step up and finance an expedition to what is now New Mexico. Juan de Oñate was not the only nobleman to put in a bid for the position of colonizer, but he was the best connected. On September 21, 1595 Juan de Oñate was awarded the contract by King Philip II  to settle New Mexico. Oñate was the first European to colonize New Mexico, thus extending the Comino Real by 600 miles and he was the state's first colonial governor.

El Comino Real or The King's Highway A single highway which connected Mexico City, and Santa Fe 

The king and his council approved missionaries to go to the Americas with the primary objective to spread Catholicism to the indigenous population. Oñate began the "Entrada" in early 1598 with a large caravan of settlers, missionaries and livestock to establish a colony.

This is all important to my family history because Oñate was my 10th great-granduncle and many of my other ancestors were colonists on this historical expedition. I know it's controversial to even say that these days but I can't change the past and where I came from. I feel like I can be proud of my Spanish heritage without maintaining some of the colonizer values as much as I can be an American today without agreeing with the politics, especially in the state of Texas, where I live.

I have mixed emotions about the statues of Oñate being taken down in 2020. To me, they were beautiful pieces of art and it represented our past. I don't agree with some of the things that have occurred in the name of Catholicism but I don't want all the churches torn down. They are a part of our history. I just have to wonder if toppling statues across America was necessary. It's history and we can't change our history. We can only attempt to do better in the future and maybe use the statues as a reminder.

Is it possible that some colonists came hoping to create a utopian society in the new world. Maybe some enlisted in hopes of extracting all the riches they could from the far off lands. I have often wondered why the Spanish King didn't take into consideration that the native people in the Americas had their own religion and customs. 

Due to the "Entrada" New Mexico became known as "Tierra de Guerra" "The Land of War." Land grants were given to the colonists and empowered them to collect tribute from the forced labor of natives. Oñate wasn't a saint by any means, but at the same time, the Spanish brought with them thousands of horses, cattle, mules, sheep, pigs, goats, wine and the mining industry.

La Jornada

The La Jornada  - Interaction of mothers with
their children on the long journey

La Jornada shows the animals brought
with them on the long journey

Juan de Oñate statue formerly stood in Albuquerque, NM.
The monument was removed in 2020

So as the story goes missionaries came to the Americas with an escolta (military escort or armed guard.) My 8th great-grandfather Bartolome de Montoya was an Alferez (2nd Lieutenant or ensign) He escorted a band of friars Santa Fe on the second Juan de Oñate expedition. The colony consisted of 65 settlers.

The Montoya family alone consisted of my eight great-grandparents Bartolome de Montoya, his wife, Maria de Zamora their 5 children, Francisco, Diego, Jose, Lucia and Petronila. They also had 25 servants, cattle and equipment needed to begin a new life in New Mexico.

The missionaries would bring with them a portable alter as they approached a group of natives and would begin preaching through a translator. They built churches, housing and a defensive wall with heavy gates. The architectural splendor of the missions is a part of the romantic past tied to song, poetry and history. Theoretically, the missions were designed for a ten-year period, after which the missionaries were expected to move on to newly established villas.

The scheduled plan of conversion of natives to Catholicism didn't go as planned because the natives resisted as one might imagine. In the long run, the Spanish immigrants spent much of their time defending their community from native raids. And then to complicate things, after conquering the natives and taking their land, they took their women. I am a product of that behavior. My 4th great-grandfather Esteban Padilla was the son of a woman listed on the census as a Native American servant. This makes telling my story somewhat complicated. I feel the effects of this behavior on a deep level as I look at the stories from many perspectives because the stories are never just black and white. Native Americans say they were tyrannized by Spaniards. Hispanics say New Mexico wouldn't have its unique hybrid Spanish-native culture if it weren't for their ancestors. 

Santa Fe, New Mexico was settled in 1607 making it the first European settlement west of the Mississippi River. It's the oldest Capitol in the United States. Albuquerque was founded in almost 100 years later in 1706 by Francisco Cuervo y Valdes. 35 families were required by Spain to create a settlement and they only had 12 families so as you can imagine they were making their own rules as they went. 

Just a little back story to keep the history straight:

In 1519 Spanish Conquistador Hernán Cortés (my 1st cousin 11 x removed) led an expedition that caused the fall of the Aztec Empire in Mexico led by Emperor Moctezuma II and brought it under the rule of the King of Castile. Cortés was part of the generation of Spanish explorers and conquistadors who began the first phase of the Spanish colonization of the Americas.

Bartolome de Montoya was born on January 1,1572 in Cantillana, Andalucia, Spain. He met his wife, Maria de Zamora when he arrived in Mexico (New Spain) She was an Aztec born in 1573 in Mexico City and was the daughter of Pedro de Zamora, the Mayor of Oaxaca, Mexico. Bartolome de Montoya was the progenitor of the Montoya surname in New Mexico and virtually all Montoya families from New Mexico descend from him so his name appears often when doing ancestry research.

Juan de Oñate's parents were from Spain, he was born in Mexico (New Spain) and married to Isabel de Tolosa Cortés de Moctezuma. Her grandmother was Isabel Tecuichpo de Moctezuma (the granddaughter of Emperor  Moctezuma II.

I always assumed that I was a Montoya on my dad's side of the family, because his full name is Felipe Montoya Fajardo. Early on in my ancestry research, I was surprised to discover a 1900 Puerto de Luna census that showed my father's mother was a Labadie. The census was very accurately transcribed my my grandmother's Uncle Lorenzo Labadie. My paternal grandmother, Josefita Labadie) was the daughter of Captain Juan Labadie y Sanchez. He died when she was young and her mother, Dorotea Chavez Labadie, remarried a man named Antonio Montoya. Dorotea and all of her children took his last name, Montoya. Then on the 1910 census, when my grandmother was 16, she was living with her older sister, Jesusita and her husband, Prudencio Duran and she was listed as Josefita Duran on the census. So I don't think there is a DNA connection to the Montoya bloodline on my dad's side even though he grew up with them but I know of 3 connections on my mom's side. Both sides of my family lived in Puerto de Luna, during the last 1800's and early 1900's and it seems like it was a close community who took care of each other.

So I conclude this blog with the history of the Montoya surname. Montoya is a Basque surname which makes sense because I am 14% Basque. It originally comes from a hamlet near Berantevilla in Álava, in the Basque region of northern Spain. During the Reconquista, it extended southwards throughout Castille and Andalusia. The name roughly translates to "hills and valleys."