Roerstraat

My old primary school is located on Roerstraat. A red brick facade, with windows divided into small panes.

To the right, the Theodorusschool, where Leonard and I went. To the left, the Mariaschool, for girls. Separated by folding doors covered with blackout paper.

You only saw girls during recess, in the distance, hanging upside down in their petticoats on the climbing frame. Or singing while jumping rope. They were taught by nuns, who looked quiet and strict and who were said to be bald.


My walk yesterday began on Rooseveltlaan. There, near the gate to Roerstraat, I spotted a strange lady, whom I would have been very afraid of as a child. A pale and elderly lady, with a heavily made-up face and a turban on her head. Her lips vermilion red. A mummy shuffling to the butcher in Maasstraat, hearing or seeing no one.


Roerstraat. More a square than a street. Just like Jekerstraat and IJsselstraat, and with similar prison walls. The sight of educational institutions in the South.


During recess, Leonard and I spat against the windows and doors in the narrow part of Roerstraat, towards Merwedeplein. We threw sand and leaves through a mailbox. Brother Hubertus blew on a cigar-shaped whistle and sadly beckoned us inside.


The classroom windows have been pushed up. In the gardens between Roerstraat and Rooseveltlaan, the sound of chirping birds hangs in the air. In the distance, the tram and the occasional moped or car. Every now and then, a gust of wind. I smell gasoline and the blooming chestnut tree in the courtyard.


From: Southern Walking Path

Jos WRSM