Encounter in Ruinen

On July 25, I walked my second practice stage in preparation for Walking for Humanity. A modest 13-kilometre walk – but one that touched me deeply. Sometimes it’s not the distance, but what you meet along the way that makes all the difference. The Drenthe landscape was stunning. A mix of forest and open fields, winding paths, swaying grass, and that characteristic silence you only find in this province. A cow in the distance, a mushroom under a tree, a sand path that seemed to lead nowhere, but turned out to be just right.

I walked in silence. Testing my gear, listening to my feet, letting the wind clear my thoughts. Everything went well – but I didn’t yet know the highlight of the day was still ahead. In the village of Ruinen, just before I planned to end my route, I saw him. An 85-year-old man standing in front of his little house. A small, modest home with a neat garden. He looked up, nodded, and asked, “Where are you headed?” That one simple question was enough.

I told him about Walking for Humanity – about walking 26 days, visiting asylum centres, collecting stories of hope and loss, and calling for compassion. He listened. And then shared his own story.

As a young man, he worked in Zierikzee but lived in Ruinen. Every Monday, he would travel by public transport to Arnhem. There, he’d jump on the back of a colleague’s motorbike, and together they would ride to Zeeland. The whole week he slept with host families. On Friday, he’d head back. It was tough, but “that’s how it was back then.”

He told me about the time he and his wife lived in a caravan near Rotterdam. Eventually, they found their forever place in Ruinen. They bought a small house – exactly the one he now stood in front of – for 20,000 guilders. “All saved up,” he said with a mix of pride and nostalgia. And there he stood. In the front yard of the life he had built with his wife. A story of simplicity, perseverance, and love. No grand gestures. No heroism. Just loyalty. Continuing. Staying. And building something that lasts.

I got to listen. And that’s exactly what I hope to do with Walking for Humanity. Not just cover kilometres, but make space. For stories like these. For real encounters – the kind you only find if you’re willing to slow down.

The walk itself was beautiful. But that conversation, in the front yard in Ruinen, was the real gift of the day. And I carry it with me toward August 1.

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