Service
Project NOLA 2007: The Account of One MB Volunteer
Hurricane Katrina was real.It may sound foolish to say or even a little redundant considering we've all read the stories inthe newspapers and watched the daily television coverage detailing the devastation of this natural disaster. Before traveling to New Orleans I knew that Hurricane Katrina was real, but it was different when I stoodin the middle ofthe Lower Ninth Ward—surrounded by pieces of a family'slife; dishes, TVs and CDs—on a plot of cement knowing ahouse once stood there. It was different being right there touching, seeing, smellingand walking through history.
MB members take a moment to pose with Katrina survivor Sandy inside of her new home.
Going through the film of my New Orleans experience there is one particular photo that always causes me and anyone who sees it to pause. It's a photo of a house with the message, HOME...This was HOME. The misshapen letters spray-painted onto stone aren't the graffiti of a bored tagger. I suspect that these words were written by someone who once called this mass of brick, busted windows, mold and concaved dreams their home. Someone cared enough to stop in the middle of their life falling apart to write their testimony. Maybe they thought they needed to spell it out for whoever cared enough to stop and read it. I got the message loud and clear.
The residents of New Orleans don't only need our prayers, sympathy or money. The people who remain and wish to come back need a place to call home and it should feel like home, especially after nearly two years. President Barton Taylor challenged us to not just talk about what needs to be done, but to "roll up our sleeves and get to work on returning [New Orleans] to normal." So, that's what the Metro Board did. We traveled to New Orleans (for the second time) —a mission affectionately called Project NOLA—to be people of action and not just voyeurs.
For two days we worked onsite with the New Orleans Habitat for Humanity building sheds for a row of newly constructed homes. Sheds? Yes, sheds. Seemingly, not quite as empowering or life-changing as gutting homes for two families (as on the Metro Board's previous visit), but our contribution this time around was just as important. As a group we bonded. Individually, each of us exercised endurance and skills we may not have known we had. I had no idea I could work a caulk gun so well!
Being at the worksite also gave us an opportunity to speak with the residents and share in their lives. Sandy Ricard lived in one of the new homes with her husband, daughter and father and greeted us with warms hugs and an endless smile. The media paints pictures of hopeless victims, but Sandy was not defeated by the storm. Her attitude was that of a conqueror. Despite a tragedy, she still felt blessed and can't imagine living anywhere else. In her words, "I want to die in New Orleans. This is home." I had to wonder what could be so great about New Orleans to make a person feel so loyal, when at any time Mother Nature could betray you and take everything you cherish. I soon discovered why Sandy and so many others love to call NOLA home.
I won't say that the young professionals of the MB "kicked it." Let's just say that we enjoyed the riches of New Orleans culture… a lot. At night, we explored the "touristy" parts of NOLA and it felt surreal. Palm trees lined the Canal Street strip and the businesses were booming. It was a trip seeing people walk down Bourbon Street with open liquor and half-naked women standing outside crude establishments advertising adult entertainment. People were out having fun, being free and enjoying life. We rode the trolley for $1.25 and dined on authentic Southern Cuisine in the French Quarters. Café du Monde became our hangout, as we found any and every excuse to devour the warm and powdery addictive goodness known as beignet (don't call it a doughnut!). Sitting in the café late at night discussing the world over pastry and hot coffee all felt very French. Like, we were in Paris and not in New Orleans. For a second the exoticness can make you believe Katrina never happened. But it did. Hurricane Katrina was real.
Before leaving Sandy's home she shared with some of us that the name Katrina means "to cleanse." Sure enough, I googled it and the name derives from a Greek word meaning "pure." Maybe New Orleans needed to be cleansed and start anew in order to become better… stronger. The same way our bodies become ill to cleanse toxins. The same way negative situations are introduced into our lives to challenge us and ultimately lead to our greatest victory and purpose. Perhaps Hurricane Katrina came to make way for the revival of NOLA—making her land and its people better and stronger than ever. The members of the MB helped share in this revival and we are forever connected to our brothers and sisters—from Bourbon Street all the way to State Street.
