We will now finalize our study of flat roof construction. We will also take a moment to ponder the implications of the flat-roof design and its singular development in Ibiza as opposed to the other Balearic Islands where pitched tiled roofs predominate. For, although many of us are inclined to think of the flat roof as a response to the island’s low levels of rainfall – and the subsequent need to collect water via available surfaces – in actual fact, this assumption must be modified when actual peasant practices are taken into account. But, we are getting ahead of ourselves.

 

The Ultimate Waterproofing 

Readers will remember that the rural roof was a three-layered construction, assembled from intermeshing strata of seaweed, ash and pulverized clay. These lightweight materials were applied directly onto the ceiling to form an amazingly effective rain-repellent, heat-resistant covering. However, in order to make absolutely sure that no moisture seeped in – either through the crevices in the double walls or through the joints where wall and roof met – these points of penetrability needed to be sealed. The solution was a low parapet wall that overreached the surface of the roof by about a foot. This extra course of stonework was built up from the exterior wall, thus creating a right-angle at roof level. The advantage of this structural feature is that it provided two secure binding surfaces all along the wall/roof seam, where the risk of seepage was greatest. 

Over the centuries, a nigh infallible technique for offsetting water penetration evolved. It consisted, firstly, of sealing off the top of the parapet with a perimeter capping made of gravel, lime and water – yesteryear’s concrete. The cap was further shielded by a generous coating of lime mortar, which, because of its impermeability, was rendered down in a long sweeping fashion so as to overlap the wall/roof seam and fill in the ‘joint of vulnerability’. As a finishing touch, the crowned and sealed parapet was whitewashed.  

As aesthetically appealing as it was practical, this architectural element was known in Ibicenco as ‘es redó’, that is, ‘the redoubling’. Students of architecture such as Rolph Blakstad and Martin Davies have noted that the ‘redó’ confers traditional farmhouses with a slightly tapered look at the top where the parapet narrows and sags almost imperceptibly – charming imperfections which are lacking in modern structures built to emulate the country style. 

On a more pragmatic note, for those families who could afford to extend their house upward into a second storey, the redó offered the possibility of building directly off its raised perimeter. Naturally, the capping had to be taken off, but, despite its unevenness, the parapet was structurally sound enough to serve as a foundation for additional courses of stonework.

 

Upkeep

With the ‘redó’ in place, the maintenance required to keep the roof leak-free was minimal. Once a year, the weeds that invariably sprang up on its clayey surface had to be cut down to stubble. They were not pulled up, so as not to disturb the delicate layering, but simply snipped off at the base. New clay in the form of dry nuggets was then scattered over the roof surface. It was not necessary to pulverize the clay as had been done in the original construction, for, when the rains came, the chunks would readily dissolve to form an even layer which adhered to the contours of the roof, i.e. a gentle bias toward the centre and a 1% - 2% gradient toward the drain spout at one of its sides.

 

The Drying Roof     

We will now go on to consider a special type of small roof favoured by well-to-do peasants and known as a ‘sequer’ (or ‘dryer’). This roof was much more costly to build than a normal roof and, therefore, constituted a bit of status symbol for those who could afford to have one. Inasmuch as its purpose was to provide a safe, clean place for drying foodstuffs, it was made to a much sturdier standard than the triple-layered roof we have just examined. Scrupulously whitewashed for greater hygiene, the ‘sequer’ was often built on top of a small, low room – such as a store – and was variously accessed by means of wooden rungs embedded in the wall, a portable wooden ladder, or, in the deluxe models, a narrow staircase built into the wall itself. Its construction required the expensive materials of lime and gravel in order to achieve a durable surface on which two or three people could walk about in the course of their tasks. It was here that the all-important summer crops of wheat and figs were dried before storing.

 

Summer Wheat

The first of the two crops to ripen was wheat, traditionally harvested in July. After the grain had been separated from the stalk, but before it was ground into flour, the wheat had to be washed to remove impurities. Though somewhat tedious and time-consuming, the process was easy enough. Approximately two kilos of grain were poured into a sieve (or ‘criba’) which was, in turn, immersed in water contained by a large ceramic vat known as a ‘lebrillo’. Tiny pebbles would sink to the bottom of the vat, while dust, snails and small bugs would float to the surface. The surface was skimmed, the sieve removed, and the process repeated until the desired amount of wheat had been washed. The wet wheat was then taken up to the ‘sequer’ and spread out on a clean cloth to dry. A certain amount of haste was expedient for, if left overnight, the wet grains would sprout and be lost. In emergencies – when rain threatened, for example – the washed wheat would be placed in a warm bread oven to remove the moisture. Once dry, the clean grain could either be stored in sacs or taken to the miller straight away.

 

Figs

Figs, another important staple in the Ibicenco diet, ripened in August. As today, in traditional Ibicenco society, this delicious (and nutritious) fruit was considered a delicacy. The best figs were eaten by people, while run-of-the-mill figs were given to pigs. In either case, the fruit had to be dried so that farmers could lay in a provision for the winter months. Figs destined for human consumption were carefully dried on cane matting to preserve their chewy sweetness. On the other hand, those destined for animal fodder were left on the roof to bake and wizen until someone remembered to take them down. Nonetheless, the mere fact that the figs were hauled up to the roof at all, speaks volumes for a farmer’s good intentions. Many a family who didn’t have a ‘sequer’ simply laid the figs on some dusty patch of ground where the ants and worms had a small bacchanalia before the pig even got a whiff of his rightful grub.    

​
 

Implications of the Flat Roof

To conclude our study of roofing, let us pose the question of why, out of all the Balearic Islands, the flat roof occurs almost exclusively on Ibiza. To give a nutshell answer, Ibiza was, throughout most of its history, the poorest member of the archipelago. Its penury forged a barter-based economy and a fierce self-reliance. As we have learned, the flat roof is a do-it-yourself operation fashioned out of materials obtained either by barter or directly from nature. Significantly, however, as Vicent Palermet points out, what started as the poor man’s answer to shelter evolved over time into a streamlined and highly functional abode. The fact that the flat-roofed finca has endured over the years can perhaps be viewed through the lens of architectural Darwinism: when a construct works well, the impetus for change is minimal. 

 

The Other Balearics 

A quick glance at Majorca and Minorca reveals that these islands followed a significantly different historical trajectory than did Ibiza. Part of their building tradition came down to them from the long-occupying Romans, who extended, among other technologies, that of pitched tiled roofs throughout Europe. Ibiza, as Punic colony, did not inherit that architectural development. Moreover, the construction of a tiled roof requires sufficient financial wherewithal in order to both purchase manufactured materials and to hire a master builder, for it was a task which could not be undertaken by an untrained household. 

In regard to Formentera, while both flat and pitched roofs can be found there, the latter predominate. This phenomenon is due to the unique set of conditions surrounding its resettlement in the early 1700s. Under the aegis of the sea captain Marc Ferrer, twelve Ibicenco families staked their fortunes on the lesser Pitiusa. The heads of these families were men of Ferrer’s social class, that is, well-to-do merchants and corsairs. With their armed boats, they engaged in maritime commerce, thus engendering a cash-based economy on their island enclave. Formentera’s lack of vegetation and other resources inclined the settlers toward the construction of pitched roofs, which the seafarers had seen on their journeys and which they could afford to commission. Three centuries later, despite the fact that this socio-economic framework no longer applies and numerous flat-roofed constructions have been built, by and large, the pitched roof prevails.

 

Water

Addressing the flat roof as a means of collecting water, if we take a closer look at actual peasant practices in the Pityuses, we see that cases in which the roof was used to collect water constitute the exception rather than the norm. Palermet explains that the older the farmstead, the less likely it was to have the necessary cistern into which water would have been channelled down from the roof. Conversely, the more modern the farmstead, the more likely we are to find the roof/cistern system of water collection. To understand this phenomenon, we must bear in mind that the excavation of a cistern was a monumental task, requiring an extended community effort, which not everybody was prepared to undertake. Instead, custom dictated that women went to a communal well, usually on a daily basis, and brought back jugs of water, sometimes with the help of a mule or donkey. Accordingly, this precious commodity was used with the utmost frugality and ethnologists reckon that the amount of water consumed by the household itself was probably less than that allocated to the livestock. 

Palermet cites three exceptions to the foregoing scenario: the rich, the needy and the Formenterans. Wealthy families often enlisted workers (either their own slaves or paid servants) to dig a cistern in cases where their property did not already have its own well and waterwheel. Normally, humbler families could neither meet the expense involved in such a project nor could they afford to neglect their farming duties for the length of time the excavation required. However, when necessity made water collection imperative, (e.g. families whose farmsteads were so remote they did not have access to a communal well), the roof would indeed be used to collect water and channel it into a cistern. 

Returning again to Formentera, the flat roof eventually did make its way timidly across the Paso de Freus, often with the aim of collecting water. Overwhelmingly, however, cisterns in Formentera were built at some distance from the farmstead. Wherever the terrain permitted, a holding tank was dug into a broad expanse of downward sloping rockery. This incredibly laborious but worthwhile task was designed to funnel the maximum amount of rainwater into the tank and, needless to say, offset the necessity of a flat roof. 

We may thus conclude that, owing to a peculiar combination of climate and convention, the flat roof found its niche and flourished in Ibiza. At some elusive point along the timeline, this unique architectural element acquired a value greater than the sum of its parts, becoming the embodiment of what is noblest in the Ibicenco farmer: his durability, his self-sufficiency and his ability to survive and thrive.