Patrik Proško

Here's the translation: It was like this. It was Thursday, and we moved from the southern part of the island to the northern part to replenish our supplies. However, it was raining on the northern side. "Where should we go, Patrik, and what will we do next? Do you have another project in mind?" "Well, I don't. I replied desperately. I haven't found another suitable place, so now I don't even know what materials to buy. Recommend me some places." "Well, we can go to the mountains on this side of the island; there are wadis, desert roses, dragon trees, and caves. It's raining there now, and it might continue. Yes, the nature here is beautiful, I agree," I said, "but it will probably be similar to what I've seen. I'm here mainly for projects; I want to do one more." "Okay, it's up to you. So, where are we going?" "Let's go to the plateau of desert roses. I haven't explored it in detail yet, but I have everything completely drained, and if I manage to create something there, I won't even have a way to document it. Can we go somewhere with electricity?" "Well, we can go to my house. I live not far from the town, and you can recharge everything at my place," said the driver, Hamid. "Okay, great, thanks, so let's go." When we arrived at his house, there was a wrecked car right in front of it, surrounded by piles of stones, and suddenly everything clicked for me. Everything fell into place—the idea, concept, materials, and the background. The wreck was right in front of the entrance to his house. "Guys, could we do this project here?" I explained the idea to them and made a sketch. "I want to build a house inside this wreck using these stones." They looked at me with a smile and said, "Yeah, that could work." But I only have three days to build it, and one day is needed for documentation. "We can handle it," they reassured me. That was Thursday evening. And then incredible things started to happen. We built the house, including the roof, in 2.5 days! On Friday morning, cement bags, a cover sheet in case of rain, the village leader's permission, and the landowner's consent for the construction of walls and the use of stones were all in place. We also brought a load of water barrels, and the builder and his assistant, who were already there when we returned with the sand! By noon, we had the first row built under the columns. Everyone helped carry stones, mix concrete, carry water, and level the surroundings to keep the builder from being delayed. By Friday evening, more than a third was completed. But to finish it in time for my departure to Oman, including documentation, I needed to speed things up. So I said, "Would it be possible to order another builder with an assistant for Saturday, so he can work from the other side?" "Of course, that would work." And on Saturday morning, two more guys were ready for construction! "Great, it seems we're keeping up with the walls, but I haven't figured out the roof," I said as a native construction supervisor. "I don't know what to make it from and where to get something. I won't be able to cast the overhang as quickly as the others have done with their houses, but I saw that you also use corrugated iron. Can we find some?" "Yes, we call it subusta. It's similar but has foam reinforcement for insulation. That's great, I'll take that. Just where to find it and what to cut it with." "I know of a destroyed camp after the cyclone," one of the builders said. "There are smaller pieces there. We can go check in the evening." So, after work, we went. It was in the desert on the sand, and there were pieces exactly the size I needed—unbelievable. I couldn't imagine cutting without tools. We had to ask the owner if he would sell it to us or rent it. Do you know who it belongs to? Yes, it belongs to the local sultan. It's the son of the previous sultan who ruled here on Socotra and part of the territory in Yemen, they told me. What? So I might get the roof from the sultan? Well, I hope so. I hope he's at home, and we went to try. It was already night. We arrived at a kind of wilderness in nature, and we were lucky—the sultan was at home and welcomed us. The room was empty, with only a few mattresses and a teapot on the floor. He had a few friends around him, all chewing on some green leaves, local speed. They poured us tea, and they wondered why we had come, looking at me somewhat surprised—what was a foreigner doing at the sultan's? My guides started explaining what I was doing as a Socotran and showed him a video of our chief, Václav Havel, which usually works, and also the previous projects I had done on Socotra. The sultan watched everything and began to smile. I said, "I need a roof for my next project. Could you sell me those sheets, please?" The sultan said, "Take them for free; I like it!" So on Sunday morning, we had the roof in place, the sultan brought it himself. We finished the walls, put on the roof, and by Sunday afternoon, I could start taking photos and caught the sunset! Before, there had never been one, and then there never was again. "Patrik, why doesn't it have doors?" they asked me. It has doors and windows; they're just bricked up. Yeah, but why are they bricked up? I know; it's an incredibly curious question. Everyone would like an answer, but it will remain forever shrouded in mystery.