In this series of articles, we will explore what is undoubtedly the most defining feature of Ibicenco culture, the farmhouse or ‘casa pagèsa’. Historically, the rural homestead was a base of operations within an agricultural network which spread across the entire island. Given that islanders from both town and country depended on local produce for their sustenance, the importance of the farm house extend beyond the individual family housed within it and into the realm of the greater good.  

Each farmstead, or ‘finca’, functioned like a nerve centre within the larger agrarian system and as such constituted a fundamental unit of society. Taken together, these rural dwellings wove a rough but enduring fabric of social cohesion, characterized as much by communal cooperation as by fierce self-sufficiency. Frugality and survival were the guiding values of the rural population, whose many privations were borne with resourcefulness and tenacity.  

 

 

Architectural Change in 19th Century 

Our treatment of the Ibicenco farmstead begins at the grass-roots level, i.e. the family and the individual household, and moves out to the broader social and cultural ramifications.  One final remark before we proceed. It should be clarified that all of our observations will apply to houses built subsequent to the 1800s, when the prototype for the ‘casa pagèsa’, as we know it today, began to evolve. It may come as a surprise to many history buffs that the majority of farm houses which currently dot the countryside date back no further than the 19th century. Author and architect Juan José Serra informs us that, “Prior to this time, houses were extremely small and primitive with the peasants who inhabited them living no better than animals.” Indeed, the study of lime production on the island, demonstrates that it was not until roughly the mid-19th century that the custom of whitewashing began. We may conclude, then, that Ibiza’s earliest dwellings – most of them no longer standing, others long since incorporated into more elaborate structures – consisted of a single room variously used for cooking, sleeping and eating, the main activities undertaken inside a house. All other waking hours were spent outdoors, working in the fields or fishing on the sea.  

 

 

Life in the Country 

Let us start with a general overview in which we consider what the day-to-day home environment was like for the average Ibicenco peasant in recent centuries. When a country couple wed, they were always eager to establish their autonomy from their elders as soon as possible. This was the custom and all strove to live up to what was expected of them. To prove their independence, they would put up uncomplainingly – even cheerfully – with accommodations so basic that today they would be classed as penurious. Hence, a young couple would move into their house when this consisted of nothing more than a single, scantily furnished room with no fireplace, no kitchen, no bread oven and one tiny, glassless window located high up in the back wall. There was usually some sort of bed and perhaps a chest containing the bride’s dowry. For warmth in winter, the couple would light a fire directly on the floor. All other household functions – cooking, bathing, laundry, etc. were relegated to the great outdoors.  

 

Room by Room 

This first little home, called the ‘casa de jeure’ (literally the house of lying down) was the embryo of what, over time, would become, at the very least, a three-room farmhouse. If funds were scarce, this basic unit of habitation might stay at the single-room stage for several years. As a case in point, ethnologist Vicent Palermet supplies us with the story of his great-great-grandfather, who built and moved into his ‘casa de jeure’ in 1859. A combination of documents such as marriage certificates, etc. combined with oral family history reveal that it was not until year seven or eight years later, 1866 or 1867, that the next room was finally added on. 

 

The Kitchen   

This next room was invariably the kitchen, a large enclosure with a very high ceiling, double in size to the ‘casa de jeure’.  Once complete, the kitchen became the epicentre of the household, a warm place – both physically and psychologically – where all the family gathered and guests were entertained. A large circular hearthstone lay on the floor at one end of the kitchen, while, at the opposite end, stood a small table where everyone ate out of the same dish. At a height of about two metres, a wide, built-in ledge wrapped around three wall surfaces. This shelving was used primarily for the storage of carob beans and other dry produce, however, as we shall see further along, it could serve other functions. Perhaps due to its versatility, this high ledge was known simply as ‘es siti’ (roughly ‘the place’). The bread oven was situated midway between the hearth area and the eating area, its door flush with inside wall and its dome-shaped body protruding outwards off the side of the house.  

Curiously, Palermet relates that even after the kitchen was completed, most of the cooking was still done outdoors. Perhaps it made little difference where the cooking was done since there was no running water anywhere in the house. Fetching water was a daily chore that loomed large. This vital liquid was obtained by travelling, laden with ceramic jugs called ‘gerres’, over rocky terrain to communal wells or springs. The jugs were then transported back to the farm in a cart – if the family owned one – if not, astride the back of a donkey, or, failing all else, hauled by human foot.  

Dishes were washed, either indoors or out, in a big tub or pot filled with water. Soap was never used for this purpose. The dishes were simply scrubbed with rockrose leaves, or, alternately, with the sole of an old espadrille! Rockrose leaves, the preferred method, had the advantage that these naturally absorbed grease. After the dishes had been washed, the dishwater was then used as slop for the pigs. Since no soap had contaminated the water and many leftover scraps of food were floating around in it, the “stew” was simply thickened with a bit of carob flour or barley flour and dished out to the swine: a prime example of Ibicenco frugality.  

 

Bedrooms 

Any room in an Ibicenco farm house could be used for sleeping. Conversely, bedrooms were invariably used for purposes other than slumber. Most commonly they doubled as storerooms. Palermet reports that an itinerary listing the contents of a deceased man’s bedroom contained such diverse items as ploughs, hoes, wooden chests filled with clothes, sacks of grain and legumes, barrels of homemade wine, etc. A room was simply a place to keep things out of harm’s way, including one’s body when it came time to rest at the end of the day.  

Beds, incidentally, held many bodies each night. Single beds usually accommodated two occupants or more, while double beds (135 cm. in width) often accommodated up to six sleepers: two parents and four children, for example. The bodies were positioned in a head-to-foot arrangement with pillows at both ends of the mattress to maximize every inch of available space. There were no cots or cribs. Babies slept with their mothers along with any other member of the family who might be sharing the bed. 

Prior to the 19th century, peasants generally slept on straw mattresses on the floor, a custom in keeping with the lower standard of living discussed earlier. The general upturn that began in the mid-1800s, ushered in, among other things, wooden beds with cross-slats or rush matting as an under-binding. To cushion their beds, three different types of mattresses were used depending on the economic situation of the household. The best mattresses were those stuffed with sheep’s wool, the softest and warmest filler available in that day. Naturally, in order to enjoy this degree of comfort, a family either had to own a large flock of sheep or have access to some other commodity that allowed them to barter for wool.  

After wool, the next best stuffing were corn husks whose inner sheaves were quite soft, although not as fluffy or cosy as wool. Finally, for those who could afford neither sheep’s wool nor corn husks, barley straw, softer than that of wheat, was used to provide a modicum of comfort.  

If the growth of a family began to outstrip its ability to build new bedrooms, and all beds were filled to capacity, there were two last resorts. One was the folding bed, designed like a canvas stretcher supported on a wooden frame. This handy apparatus was set up before bedtime in any free spot in the house and then tucked away in the morning to free up space. The other option was to stow small and nimble sleepers on the kitchen ledge, the aforementioned ‘siti’. The sacks of carob would be removed to wherever fate would have them, and, with a smattering of loose straw, this versatile loft quickly became a row of bunk beds. Palermet points out that intimacy of any kind, whether physical or emotional, was thoroughly lacking in the traditional Ibicenco household. On the other hand, he quips, there was a superabundance of things like lice and fleas.  

 

The Bathroom 

As in any place prior to the arrival of indoor plumbing, the bathroom and toilet were separate. The prickly pear patch at the side of the house functioned as the toilet, while the bathroom could be anyplace, indoors or out, that was warm enough and large enough to accommodate a tub. On bath day, water was heated in a big pot in the kitchen and then poured into a ‘llibrel’, a large glazed ceramic vat measuring from 50 to 80 cm in diameter and 20 to 25 cm in depth. Many members of the family bathed in the same water in order to economize on this valuable and hard-to-fetch resource. Soap, happily, was used in human hygiene, either in the form of olive oil-based soaps such as Lagarto (a traditional Spanish brand), or homemade soaps made out of sheep’s fat – or, in its lieu, pig’s fat. These soaps cleansed quite well, for, as all students of science know, only a lipid will bond with another lipid. Hence animal or vegetable fat will effectively remove built-up oil on human hair and skin.