Founder
Nobody was coming to save my clients. So I learned to be the one who did.
I did not start with a title or a team. I started with other people's businesses in my hands, a slow internet connection, and no room to get it wrong. This is why I do the work the way I do, and why I take yours personally.
I taught myself all of this. There was no course I could afford, no mentor waiting, no safety net underneath me. What I had was a computer, an internet connection that dropped more than it held, and a stubborn refusal to accept that the people building the software the world runs on were somehow made of something I was not.
So I started at the very bottom, where nobody watches and nobody thanks you. Small websites for small businesses. Fixing what other people broke. Then servers, becoming the person who gets the call at 3am when a shop's whole website is down and every hour it stays down is money the owner does not have. I learned that a website is never just a website. It is somebody's rent. Somebody's family. Somebody's one shot.
For years I sold my hours on freelance platforms, competing against the entire planet on price, staying awake across time zones I would never visit, doing the work of a whole team for the pay of a stranger who never learned my name. I was the invisible hands behind other people's success. It was lonely, and it was slow, and more than once I wondered if it was ever going to add up to anything.
Then I built a hosting company of my own, Hostinax. I grew it, one careful decision at a time, until it was carrying around six hundred customers. Six hundred businesses whose websites lived on servers I was responsible for. And then I made the hardest call of my working life: I shut it down. Not because it failed, but because I could not give six hundred people the depth of care I demanded of myself and still build the thing I knew I was meant to build. Walking away from something you grew with your own hands does not feel like strategy. It feels like grief. I did it anyway.
What people see as an overnight company was years of sleepless nights stacked end to end: days without proper rest, weekends that were never weekends, holding an entire operation together on nothing but stubbornness and the refusal to let anyone down. I launched Yarqat on 7 February 2024. That date is not a start. It is a finish line I dragged myself across after years of proving to no one but myself that I could.
Every one of those years taught me something a fancier background never would: what it actually feels like to be on the other side of the invoice. To be the small business owner praying the thing works. To trust someone with the part of your life you cannot afford to lose, and just hope they care as much as you do.
That is why I built Yarqat. Not to become another agency that wins the logo and hands your work to whoever is cheapest. I have been the cheapest. I know exactly how little care comes with that. I built Yarqat to be the thing I always wished I could hire when I was on the other side, someone who actually understands that your software is your livelihood, and treats it like it is theirs.
What that means for you
When you work with Yarqat, you are not a ticket in a queue. You are the exact person I used to be, someone with something real on the line, hoping the people they hired actually care. I do not forget that for a single day.
I still stay on the pager after the work ships, because I remember every night I was left alone with a problem that was not mine to fix. I would rather tell you the honest, boring, proven answer than sell you a bigger one, because I have seen what the flashy shortcut costs a business that could not afford the bill. And I will tell you the truth even when it is not what you want to hear, because that is the respect I always wished someone had shown me.
Tell us what cannot fail.
A technical conversation with the engineers who would do the work. If we are not the right fit, we will say so on the call.