Cees Trappenburg’s shoes (52) are next to the heating. He himself is sitting next to it, on his knees in room 2.03 of the town hall in Meerkerk. Trappenburg examines a kit from Ikea. In front of him are spruce slats, which he tries to twist together with an Allen key. It should be a bunk bed.
In the past, before the municipal merger, this floor housed the finance department of the municipality of Zederik. After that, there was office furniture in the storage. And from Monday, Ukrainian refugees live in this part of the town hall. In many other rooms the beds are already made.
“You know what’s the worst?” jokes Trappenberg, who is on the payroll of the municipality as a district ambassador. ‘I worked here for years, and we never got a bed. We just had to sleep in our chairs.’
All stamps
As is being done here on this Friday afternoon, sawing, drilling, screwing, plastering and plumbing are currently taking place all over the country. Each of the 25 Dutch Security Regions must realize 2000 reception places for refugees in the coming weeks. And then maybe even more.
Mayor Sjors Fröhlich of Vijfheerenlanden says that his municipality started preparations early. ‘We didn’t want to wait for all the stamps to be set,’ he says. ‘That is why we started renovating before we received a formal order from the Security Region.’
They were ‘a little disobedient to the administration’, says municipal secretary Nanette van Ameijde (62), who is doing odd jobs in a sporty pink hoody. ‘We wanted those beds to be delivered quickly, because before you know it they were sold out everywhere. It was complicated through the official route, with codes and a company account. So I increased the daily limit of my own bank account and ordered the beds on my iPad myself.’
Because they quickly sensed that the need would arise to receive Ukrainians. And they also knew that they wanted to offer a solution here that is more sustainable than the sports halls with camp beds that are now also being furnished here and there. It should not become a place ‘that makes people happy for one or two weeks’, says Fröhlich, ‘but something that is also OK for six months.’
sidewalk
The choice for the town hall was quickly made. Since the municipalities of Leerdam, Vianen and Zederik merged in 2019, whereby each of the three town halls continued to exist, the building in Meerkerk has been partly empty. So if the boas would move to another wing and the social team would relocate, they could accommodate eighty refugees here.
They got to work. The piled up furniture disappeared into the municipal yard. Partition walls were built in the open-plan offices, so that the refugees will soon have some privacy. The sidewalk at the back entrance was repaved, so that prams and wheelchairs do not get stuck. There was a dining room, a kitchen, a recreation room, a playroom and a quiet room. And four bright yellow Dixies were placed outside, so that there are enough toilets until the toilet unit is delivered.
And all that within a week, says spokesman Attie Mager (58). ‘We have worked so hard and with dedication.’
‘The reason is immensely sad’, says municipal secretary Van Ameijde, ‘but this creates a lot of solidarity in our organization. That’s touching, I must say.’
bit sour
However, it also hurts in a way. Because the enthusiasm with which many municipalities are now looking for shelters for Ukrainians is in stark contrast to earlier reluctance. Six months ago, the national government called on municipalities and provinces to make more reception places available ‘with urgency’ for asylum seekers from countries such as Afghanistan. That cry for help yielded so little that in December the cabinet was forced to oblige three municipalities and a region to provide acute emergency reception for asylum seekers.
And so here too the question arises whether the municipality of Vijfheerenlanden could not have made the town hall available earlier. Mayor Fröhlich emphasizes that his municipality ‘has always been first in the reception of asylum seekers and status holders’. They were already investigating whether they could accommodate eighty to a hundred extra status holders, he says, in addition to the status holders that the municipality had already been assigned.
Anyway, Fröhlich also sees the contrast. ‘I sometimes find it a bit wry that we don’t always stand in line for the refugees from Syria and Afghanistan, who have experienced at least as bad acts of war. On the other hand, I think let’s cherish the current situation and use it to show that refugees are not criminals. Coincidentally, Ukraine is closer, so sentiment is different. But we mustn’t forget the other refugees either.’
‘It has to be upstairs’
Cees Trappenburg is meanwhile receiving assistance in room 2.03. Mart van der Linden (60), an educational housing advisor in daily life, saw an appeal on the intranet to come and help. Because his work was about done for this week, he decided to sign up for a bunk bed.
He, too, is on his knees in no time, bent over the instructions for use. Then they hand each other planks and conduct classic job dialogues.
“This one has to be like this.”
‘Let’s see, then this one should be like this.’
“It has to be upstairs, yes.”
And although the scene, according to spokesperson Attie Mager, is reminiscent of the animation series Neighbor and Neighbor, where everything always goes wrong, a bunk bed arises quite quickly.
On Monday, two refugees will sleep in it.