Day 1: Sunday, Jan. 8. I really had no idea what to expect. I still did not know exactly where we were staying, where we would be working or what we'd be doing. I heard New Orleans looked like a war zone and that there was still a lot of looting. It made me kind of nervous, but I was curious to see for myself what it was like.
Later: A group of nine UW students and I worked through the Storm Recovery Center in the Louisiana United Methodist Church. I thought we'd be staying in a warehouse, but much to my surprise, we were staying in the beautiful Felicity Church parish house near the Garden District. Judy, who runs the parish, gave us a welcome speech when we arrived. Even months after the hurricane, tears came to her eyes as she spoke of the devastation. When I talked with her later that night, she expressed that her biggest fear was that the country 'will forget about us.'
Day 2: Monday, Jan. 9. After lunch today we drove to a neighborhood about 10 minutes away to begin gutting a house. We were all very anxious to start working.
The house belonged to a woman named Anita. She was a wonderful person and constantly expresseed her appreciation for our help. We needed to take out the walls and tiling on her first floor as well as gut out her entire kitchen.
For protection against the extensive mold caused by the floodwater, we had to wear protective blue suits, gloves, boots, goggles and air-filtering masks.
Anita walked around occasionally to see our progress. It was difficult to watch her as we destroyed her house. As we took a sledgehammer to her kitchen counter tiles, I heard her say quietly, 'No one knows the memories.'
It was easy to get caught up in the thrill of smashing walls and ripping out plaster, but when I'd stop and think about what we were doing, it was unsettling??
Before we left, a few of us went across the street and visited with 87 and 91-year-old sisters, Anita and Dorothy Stangle. Currently, they are living in a trailer provided by the Federal Emergency Managment Agency and are among the fortunate ones to have electricity. They tried to wait out the hurricane, but when the floodwaters rose in their home, they had to be picked up in their neighbor's boat at 3 a.m.
From there, they were moved to an apartment complex, the Convention Center and to the Astrodome in Texas. Dorothy did not have her heart medication with her, and their walking canes were lost. They both kept repeating how lucky they were to be alive. And even though their neighborhood is now mostly barren, they wanted to stay in New Orleans where they had lived their entire lives.
Day 4: Wednesday, Jan. 11. The theme for the day was disorganization. We were driven to the church at 9 a.m. and ended up staying there for two and a half hours doing nothing. It is hard to believe how unorganized everything was.
The Storm Recovery Center had barely been open for more than a week, so they were still trying to figure out how to run things. It represented the chaos in general down there. There was so much devastation; it was hard to know where to begin. When there was an extraordinary amount of work to be done, it was the most frustrating thing to be sitting around.
Day 5: Thursday, Jan. 12. There is only one thing I can write about the day. We took a 'tour' (led by Judy) of the lower ninth ward of New Orleans. I expected it to be emotional, and I knew it would be devastating, but it was unlike anything I have ever experienced.
As we drove closer, the damage worsened and the water lines on the houses grew higher and higher. I still feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it. It was like a war zone. Entire houses were moved from their foundations, and others were nothing but piles of debris. Trash cans were sitting in trees and dolls were face down in mud. A body was found just the other day.
The damage was beyond words. It has been four months since Katrina hit, and seems like not even a dent has been made in the recovery process.
I don't know how it will ever get cleaned up. The scenes of wreckage affected each person in the group differently, but it silenced all of us. I will never forget what I saw that day.
Day 6: Friday, Jan. 13. Today we went to work on our third house. It was basically untouched, so we had to take out all of the possessions before we could start gutting. We ended up removing enough stuff to fill two FEMA dump trucks. The house belonged to an 87-year-old lady named Diane.
During our lunch break, Diane's daughter stopped by to see how things were going. She told us that her mother was not doing well and had lost a lot of weight over the past four months. She was not sure if her mother would make it much longer if she could not return home. For now, bringing back recovered pictures lifted her mood. Hearing that story made our work even more meaningful.
Day 7: Saturday, Jan. 14. It is going to be difficult to reflect on the experience. I learned a lot about New Orleans' culture, the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina and about the power of personal relationships. The problems'ranging from disorganization to the large number of displaced people to the environmental effects of the hurricane'are still very real.
As the city slowly returns to life, it will need all the help it can get. Although I sometimes felt defeated thinking that we only worked on three houses, I try to remember that we did make a huge difference in the lives of several individuals.
Throughout the week we got to know a few people really well. We listened to their stories, took down their homes and began the rebuilding process for them. While those we talked to were frustrated with the poor government organization and very worn out, they all spoke of the kindness they have been shown throughout the whole crisis by everyone they have encountered. Ten college students can do something.
