By Ana Luz
It’s April afternoon in Amsterdam New West, and the room at Vrouw en Vaart was filled with a particular kind of civic energy: the low, steady hum of people who have come not merely to talk, but to figure something out together. The occasion was a Wijktafel Osdorp gathering, convened by Wijknetwerk Amsterdam New West in collaboration with GGD Amsterdam. And this one carried a quiet important point: “The journey at Road of Hope: from participating to contributing“.
For a decade now, Road of Hope, name given by the first refugees families attended by the organization, has operated in the interstices of the city, where official systems meet the lived reality of newcomers. Its work is not flashy. It unfolds in classrooms, in circles of women sharing tea, in workshops where the language of self-development merges with the practicalities of daily life. Yet on April 21, as partners from across Amsterdam’s social infrastructure gathered in Osdorp, it became clear that the organization’s quiet persistence has begun to ripple outward.
The Wijktafel itself had a pragmatic aim: to align institutions and residents around the evolving needs of neighborhoods in Amsterdam New West, particularly Osdorp. But the subtext was unmistakable on how to better support those who arrive in the city with little more than hope, and how to build structures that do not merely absorb them, but allow them to flourish.
At the center of the discussion stood Road of Hope’s founder, Patricia Barendregt, and its project coordinator, Andreea Alexandru. Their presentation was concise, but it traced an arc that spoke volumes: from early grassroots efforts in 2016 to a more structured, community-anchored presence today, with plans for a new site: Station Wildeman.
There, the organization hopes to expand its weekly offerings: Dutch and English language classes, driving lessons (a surprisingly consistent request), and a range of programs that move beyond integration as a bureaucratic path and toward something more holistic. Among them are the very starting point as women’s gatherings for asylum seekers, and the applied methodology, created by Road of Hope, into Personal Development courses for statushouders and other residents, as well as workshops that span physical health, mental well-being, and the complexities of Motherhood Across Cultures.
If this sounds like a curriculum, it is! But one shaped less by institutional design than by participants feedback. The model is iterative, almost conversational. While needs are expressed; programs emerge.
What distinguishes Road of Hope, however, is not just what it offers, but who carries it forward.
During the event’s question-and-answer session, two volunteers, Berta and Shefaa, shifted the room’s attention from programs to people.
Shefaa, who arrived in the Netherlands from Palestine in 2023, described a trajectory that would seem improbable if it were not so grounded in the specifics of her experience. Having participated in two Personal Development courses, she began by helping informally, spreading the word, translating for others, bridging small but significant gaps. Today, she is training as an Intercultural Facilitator, a position created to be the cultural bridge between newcomers and the host society. Shefaa’s Dutch is still developing, she noted, but her sense of purpose is not. Having lived across multiple countries in the Middle East, she brings with her a layered understanding of cultural nuance, knowledge that cannot be taught so much as lived.
Berta’s story stretches further back. More than a decade in Amsterdam has rendered her, in her own words, “fully integrated,” though this label doesn’t fully capture the depth of who she is. One of Road of Hope’s earliest participants, she has since become a volunteer, a women’s group leader, and an intercultural facilitator. Professionally a makeup artist, she now leads workshops that frame beauty not as superficiality but as self-care, a small but potent reclamation of dignity. For her, Road of Hope was not simply a service provider; it was, she said, “a place where I felt home,” and from which she grew into leadership.
Their stories illustrate something that institutions often struggle to quantify: the moment when support transforms into agency.
After a brief pause, the room reorganized itself into discussion tables. The format was simple. Clusters of professionals and community members exploring potential collaborations, but the implications were broader. Representatives from organizations such as SEZO, GGD, Starpunt, Sipi, Buurtteams Amsterdam, and Wegwijs Salon circulated through conversations that felt less like networking and more like the early stages of alignment.
“It is important for Road of Hope to be more visible,” noted participants from Starpunt and Buurtteams. Visibility, in this context, is not about branding; it is about integration into a wider ecosystem of care. Others echoed a desire for continuity. “It was a great Wijktafel,” said Corinne, a moderator from GGD and Wijknetwerk Amsterdam New West. “We want to follow up with another one regarding Road of Hope’s work and unfolding collaborations.”
Such remarks suggest a shift. For years, organizations like Road of Hope have operated at the margins – indispensable yet under-recognized. The tenth anniversary arrives, then, at a moment when the margins are beginning to be acknowledged as central.
The next Wijktafel, scheduled for May 19 under the theme “Gezond Ontmoeten” (“Healthy Encounters”), will likely continue this thread. Road of Hope is expected to return, not as a guest, but as a participant whose role is increasingly difficult to categorize: part service provider, part community builder, part translator between worlds.
In a city often praised for its infrastructure, it is easy to overlook the quieter architectures. The relationships, the shared spaces, the incremental acts of trust that make systems function. What unfolded in Osdorp was a glimpse of that architecture in motion.
Ten years on, Road of Hope is still doing what it has always done: meeting people where they are. The difference now is that more of the city seems ready to meet it there.
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All photos were taken by our volunteer, Fay Mohamed, except for the Google image of Wildeman Station.