Report from two Maas Watchers
day
The river Meuse was waiting for us. Empty, nearly dry, but bathing in a golden light.
We scooped up water that had travelled 800 kilometers, and started painting. Watercolors, between blades of grass and ants. The paper bulged, purple. Not the Meuse’s color —but we liked it.
With the tiniest bike—no pedals—we bumped over the stones. White stone, the riverbed of the Meuse is white. The bed in the watch house creaked. It preferred to be alone.
The fries had a mascot and they were called frietsjes.
We ate frietsjes next to a busy road. A river of traffic, if you will.
What does the Meuse attract?
Dogs. Pointy-nosed ones. Strong guardians. Shepherds, bull-breeds. Solid paws. Sharpened teeth.
All those dogs! And in between them moved the Maas Watcher Child. On that tiny, tiny bike.
The little arms, the veins in her neck—so exposed, so easily caught in a dog’s jaws—Could I focus on the Meuse? No. Just—no.
This river Meuse—was it even the real one? That riverbed appeared so… open. So quiet.
Yet we had driven over bridges on the way to get there, massive ones, their road decks humming with rhythm. We’d looked out and seen a pearl-flat surface, a shimmering mass.
The water had lain smooth in its bed—plaster-smooth.
We passed a highway sign: You are now crossing the Meuse.
But the river was kept hidden, obscured by thick metal plates.
Meuse Meuse, are you there? we called.
And I thought: what’s being kept from view here?
Is this your dark side, Meuse?
Or is there something toxic being dumped into you?
night
“If you go out at night, keep your distance from the wild horses. They’re not used to people.”
Thinking of horses, I lay beside a little mouth that drooled. I tried not to move— to not upset the bed.
And—was it a dream?—for a moment, just a moment, the Meuse was in the room. With us.
A meter high. She just stood there. Then painted the walls with a watery brush—watercoloring them in gentle strokes. When she grew tired, she sat on the edge of the bed. Leaned back. And layed herself down like a blanket.
In October too, people wait by the Maas—every day. They are part of Maaswacht, a long-term project by the river, in collaboration with Maaslab, SoAP, and TAAT.
Would you like to wait by the river yourself? Maybe walk among wild horses at night? Send a message to maaswacht@gmail.com