By the end of July, when it was almost time to leave, my sister was still without a roof above her head. For a moment, we did think we got help from an online consultant for students who also helps students with housing; in the end, they basically robbed my sister for the fee that she paid for “makelaars,” but I don’t want to talk about them or their unmet promises. Just deal with “makelaars” directly, okay?

In the end, it doesn’t even matter

We spoke to a landlord via video call when my sister was about to leave for the Netherlands. I wanted to support her by being there, but she would have to do the talking, and she did, but was it convincing? I kept telling her that she must try at all costs to look more mature than her age; that way, the landlords would take her more seriously. What a f*cked-up advice, but can you blame me? Getting her a place was my ultimate goal, and we were getting closer, but still, it felt so far away.

Back off, groomer!

We started getting more and more rejections, and then it got creepy. My sister got a message from someone who was offering a nice room. A little expensive, but beautiful. I can’t remember his exact words, but his message had a disturbing tone. One of a typical groomer. My sister is much younger than I but much brighter than I was at that age. She sensed something was off immediately. We ignored his message. We were desperate, but not that desperate. A few days later, he messaged again. We kept ignoring him, and he went away. Teaching about grooming, sexual abuse, and sexual exploitation is part of my job. I wouldn’t have thought you could find groomers on such platforms too, but how stupid of me to believe that. I guess I forget the first thing about groomers; they prey on the vulnerable and the desperate.

Groen-wit-groen

Three days after my sister arrived in the Netherlands, I flew to help her look for a room and hopefully settle in. I arrived on a Friday and went straight to 010 in those yellow-blue trains. My heart was racing. Even though my sister was still homeless, I was happy to be there without my husband but still excited. I haven’t been in four years.

It’s easier when you’re there, but it’s not a piece of cake

I got just in time to greet my sister and shower because we needed to head out in two hours. We had two viewings that day. The first one was for a beautiful room. It was big and spacious but freaking expensive, almost 900 euro expensive. We heard that it would be a “no” for us the same weekend. I guess she smelled that we were “poor”? Because even though she dressed simply, she was covered in all sorts of brands and smelled expensive too. The other one, well, that was a waste of time. When we got there, the place was filled with other people, mostly international students looking for a place to stay. And the shower was pretty disgusting and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months.

The paranoia was real

We had a few more viewings in the next couple of days, one of which I thought would be a scam. My brain overthinks, and my fear of human trafficking stalled us for a couple of hours because I had to confirm if the room that they were offering was legit (it was). I asked my husband to help since he was a “Photoshop expert.” He had to convince me on the phone that the photos weren’t fake, and then we went. It was a few blocks away from the hotel where we were staying. When we arrived, a few people looked around the house, making “fake” small talk with their maybe-soon-to-be roommates. The landlord was there as well. My sister freaked; she just looked around and begged me to leave because the place was cramped and hot.

Endless disappointments

I started getting frustrated with my sister, the resentment grew daily, and I got tired of listening to Steve Lacy’s “Bad Habit” every morning. At the same time, she was a kid, and we were in an unfortunate situation. We were doing our best, and there were days that I gave her the silent treatment to show that I was disappointed, but with the version of herself a few months back, she didn’t do research on time. One viewing turned into an auction (ish), and one roommate was appalled when she heard that my sister was a student. Because being a student equals being a partier. Then, we had another viewing on the same day.

No bus, and a glowing sun

We had to walk for like 45 minutes, and for Rotterdam, that is very unusual because they have all sorts of public transit.
We passed by the most beautiful houses that I’ve seen. They look surreal like they were made out of Legos or something. The people stared at us weirdly. They knew we weren’t from around, and they made us feel so by the looks that they gave us. When we were near the house, my sister saw a dog, she ran towards it, and the owner let her caress it. When we arrived, it felt like someone had been murdered in the place, and all the nosey neighbors were waiting to take a peek at what was happening. People were all over the street, and more kept coming from all corners.

We immediately felt defeated, and we walked all that for nothing. And the worst part was that the nearest busses weren’t passing on Saturdays, so we had to walk the whole route again. But we did stop for some air. Protip: don’t go to viewing when their reply is automatic because you aren’t the only one getting it, and there will be an avalanche of people waiting to get into the house; you will be wasting your time.

Are we searching for rooms or jobs?!

One night my sister was invited to a “hospiteeravond.” I’ve heard of it before but was still trying to figure out what it was. It’s when you get invited to see a room, but you get to mingle with tenants (and maybe future roommates). I went with my sister but stayed outside. In my searches, I read that the tenants would discard someone immediately if they were to bring a parent, in this case, me. So I told my sister she would have to go in alone. It started to feel like we were applying for a job at one point and weren’t meeting the standards for round two.

I video-called my husband, talked with fellow Caribbeans, and talked with an angry-irritated woman and an intoxicated person. After an hour and a half, she came back. She told me that they forced some Hertog on her and gave her disgusting chips (in the Netherlands, chips can taste weird, but you get used to it, maybe). They told her a few days later that they had chosen someone else and wished her the best of luck.

About freaking time!

The following Monday, we had another viewing. A lady opened the door, greeted us warmly, and let us in her home. She brought us to the small studio she was renting and let us tell a bit about ourselves. Well, mostly my sister, because she would be staying in her home. I did most of the talking, though. I felt like such a mom that day. We clicked with her, and she wanted my sister to rent her small studio. I felt like we won the lottery that day. She finally had a place to stay. She finally would have an address to make arrangements, like opening a bank account.

Teachable moments for sure, but they also made me realize how blessed I was to have studied in a time when everything was more uncomplicated. I got things handed to me, and I was privileged in a few aspects. Still, I read a few useless comments from people that went during the same time as I did and maybe a few who even went before me, saying that it was the students’ responsibility. I agree, but also, please remember your privilege as well. Why not help someone, especially a vulnerable child, when you can? Students leaving need our support, not our judgment.

I left a few days after my sister signed the contract. My goal was accomplished.

Top pieces of advice

-Start early with research. Once you’re sure of the school and city you want to live in, investigate as much as possible about housing. This varies by city; for example, in some cities, the amount of time you are registered will matter because it will get you lower on the list until you eventually get a room. Still, in some cities, it won’t matter if you’re registered for two months or two years. Just hope they like you, or you’ll be in luck; who knows.
-Don’t be afraid to explore other cities (or “dorpjes”) near your school. The travel will be longer, but at least you may have a roof above your head.
-Get in touch with a trustable real estate agent (makelaars) that may help you find a place because being in Aruba does complicate things when you are searching for a home, some landlords/ roommates want to see you in person, and they will not accept a family member or relative to come on your behalf, they want you to come.
-See if your school offers help with accommodation. A few schools may help, at least with a short stay.
-Make a few photos public on socials. Your future roommates may search for you on Facebook or Instagram to get a glimpse of you—nothing to worry about.
-Let your pride aside, trust me.
-I would say get in touch with a mentor, but not all of their replies back (I wonder how much these people are getting paid, and why you need to be at least 40 years old to be one?).

If you have any more tips feel free to share. You may help a student in the future and do share your experience because I’m sure that this varies by city.

P.s. If you’re heading to another country these coming days, I wish you the best of luck. It’s probably not going to be easy, life will bring you down every moment (it gets), but you will get up and make the best out of it. Remember, you are more than college and the degree(s) you will earn after all that work. Only you will know your struggles, so expect no pity, expect no hand-outs, collaborate, but don’t depend on anyone but yourself. I hope you have all the happiness (what truly matters) in the world, live your life, and never look back with “what ifs.”