“Looking back, I realise how special it was to have played a part in what we were doing at the time,” says Bep Weijenberg-Habets. At Onze Lieve Vrouweplein, where we meet her, the terrace tables are still empty, awaiting the lunchtime rush. The morning sun shines on the façade of number 29, an imposing corner house. “That’s where we started in July 1970,” she says. “I was twenty years old and had only just left school.”

Weijenberg-Habets had no idea who Sjeng Tans and Ben Niessen were or what they were planning to do. “But before I knew it, I had been taken on as secretary to the chair and secretary of the Committee for the Preparation of the Maastricht Medical Faculty.”

New life

The reason for setting up the committee was the government’s plan to establish a new medical faculty in the Netherlands. Tans, a Maastricht politician, and Niessen, a government official, did everything in their power to bring the faculty to Maastricht.

“It was very important that the university came here,” says Weijenberg-Habets. “There wasn’t a single university course here. Limburg was a disadvantaged region and a blind spot for the rest of the Netherlands. At the same time, the closure of the mines was looming, which meant that around 40,000 people would soon be out of work. The university was desperately needed to breathe new life into the region.”

But the committees tasked by the government with deciding where the new faculty should be located did not take this into account. “They simply looked at the best location for the new faculty,” says Weijenberg-Habets. “Maastricht wasn’t actually the front-runner.” It was up to Tans and Niessen to make sure their dream for the city became a reality after all.

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Clashing personalities

Just a few weeks later, the team moved to a building on Havenstraat, directly opposite the offices and printing works of De Limburger. The building still bears a large stone plaque bearing the inscription ‘De Nieuwe Limburger’, the name of the regional newspaper at the time.

“Large rolls of paper for the printing works were delivered here every day,” Weijenberg-Habets recalls. “Having the newspaper literally across the road was, of course, very convenient. Tans was regularly interviewed about the progress of the plans. He was a real politician: outspoken and willing to take risks. Niessen was more thoughtful and cautious. They were very different, which often led to clashes.”

Ultimately, their differences proved to be no disadvantage. Quite the opposite: together, they managed to achieve their goal. In 1975, the Rijksuniversiteit Limburg was officially established as the predecessor of today’s Maastricht University.

“By then, we had around a hundred employees and had moved again, this time to Tongersestraat,” she recalls. “A year later, in 1976, we already had three hundred members of staff.”

Graduated with honours

“UM can be incredibly proud of what has been built here in just fifty years,” she says. The university has also meant a great deal to her personally. Years after leaving her job there as a secretary, she returned – this time as a student at the Faculty of Law. After graduating, she worked for the municipality and eventually became deputy municipal secretary.

“Without a law degree in Maastricht, I would never have been able to study again,” she says. “I was 34 when I started, and I had two young children. There was no childcare available, and online education didn’t exist either.”

Thanks to the way UM’s Problem-Based Learning programme was organised, she only had to go to the university twice a week. She could fit this around her children’s school hours. “If I had had to travel outside the region, I would never have managed to complete the degree. In the end, I even graduated cum laude. I’m still very grateful for that.”
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Text: Caya Forman
Photography: Joris Hilterman