FROM GARAGE BOX TO APARTMENT - Onder de Pannen

Anita Matthew (55) is not a demander. But when she became homeless last year, she had to. Sometimes she could turn to friends, sometimes not. "I thought: am I going to have to sleep in my car? I found that very scary, especially as a woman. Everyone sees you lying down." The ETHOS census published in October 2025 found that about one-third of homeless people are women. Often women belong to the group of hidden homeless people. These are not visible on the street due to their stay with acquaintances (31%) or in inappropriate spaces (18%).

The homelessness came after a relationship breakup. With her new partner, she had bought a house in Haarlem, a small house they had been working on together. During a motorcycle trip, Anita looked at his phone; they were playing the state lottery together and she wanted to see if they had won anything. To her horror, she saw all the messages from dating apps. Her boyfriend was in contact with several women. For Anita, it was done. The house went up for sale. For a year, meanwhile, she looked for a new place to live, without success. What made it extra sour: she lost her registration time for social housing. The accumulated years went with her ex; she started over from scratch. "I called, 'but yes,'" I heard: "rules are rules. The accrued years went with the oldest."

Garage box

Anita works in elder care and that just went on. For the night, she tried to find a place to sleep. She could always go to her brother and his family, but with her friends, whom she herself had always helped with all kinds of things, the door still sometimes remained closed. "Because my brother has a family, which I didn't want to bother all the time, I decided to sleep in my garage box. Anything better than in my car. I found that very scary, especially as a woman. Everyone sees you lying there. During the day I had laid out all the blankets in my garage box, only when I went inside at night I realized that it's totally dark in there. There is no electricity. My phone was the only source of light, but I needed it for work the next day." She rolled up in blankets, her coat still on, phone off to save battery. Sleep was not possible. "I was just shivering." The next morning, she went to work in the same clothes. "I walked around like a zombie, but I was glad I could work."

Shame

That first period consisted of shuffling: a few nights at her brother's place on the couch, then back to the garage, and again showering or eating somewhere else. Her job in elder care, meanwhile, rotated, shifts with people with dementia and parkinson's. No one there knew she had no home. "Homeless at fifty-five," Anita says, fighting back tears. "The shame. You can't imagine that." Even her daughters she didn't tell. "They knew I had had to sell my house, but not that I was homeless after that. Why would I tell them that? I didn't want them to be worried."

Bingo at Onder de Pannen

Through the usual avenues, Anita tried to find housing. She looked everywhere for information and help, registered with housing associations, courts, and looked through the municipality and online for opportunities. But nothing came. Until she stumbled across Onder de Pannen, our project for temporary housing, online. "I signed up, no harm done, I thought." To her surprise, she received a call fairly quickly. The first interview took place in a café near the Haarlem train station. Not long after that followed an introduction to the landlord in Bentveld, where she would eventually end up temporarily, between Haarlem and Zandvoort. "It clicked right away," she says. How much time passed in between, she doesn't even remember. "Everything went so fast in that period, for my feeling I was suddenly there." Key. Room. A roof over her head. "It was bingo right away." The room is small, but has everything you need: its own washing machine, a bed, a couch and even a balcony overlooking the old trees of Bentveld. "Look at me sitting there," says the Haarlem native on her apple-green couch. After which she continues in a played cockney voice: "In Bentveld, almost Aerdenhout!"

Rust

Her first night is still sharp on her mind. "A door that could close. Rest. Privacy. A real bed." And then came the emotional blow, as if it was finally allowed to be there. "I sat here and thought, what am I still doing? Why don't I end it?" Right after, "But I won't do that to my children." Her three daughters are her anchor. From them she kept hidden how bad things were. She knew: if she told them, they would worry. She didn't want them to. "They have their own lives." Now she has rhythm again and a new relationship. "We're going shopping together soon." She looks strong and cheerful, but doesn't want to dig too deep. "If I do, I'll be sitting here crying." About Onder de Pannen, she talks with audible relief. "Without Onder de Pannen, I'd still be in my garage box." She stresses how important it is that something like this exists, for people who work, had their lives in order, but lose their homes due to circumstances. "Imagine there is still someone like me. Then you still hope that there is also someone who says: come on in."