Never in the months before my trip did I really believe that I was going to New Orleans. I had pondered doing something to help our national emergency, but it was always just a thought. When five other Brown students and I booked our flights, it was just a plan. Then, as I walked through the silted streets of the Lower Ninth Ward, with water from open pipes streaming over rag dolls and overturned SUV's before pouring into once-clogged pumps, New Orleans, all of a sudden, was my reality.
Hurricane Katrina's impact was clearly visible in every neighborhood once you learned to spot the water line. A slight discoloration in the paint marks the level where the water settled for three weeks. Any building with such a line is uninhabitable until it is stripped to its structure, a process that will take years to complete. Communities further uphill are springing to life. Downhill, the water line rises, and the throngs thin to a few scavengers. The only signs of life in these areas are the brightly colored signs proclaiming, "I am coming home! I will rebuild! I am New Orleans!"
On every building was a spray-painted X that marks the number of bodies found inside. Most are zeroes until you reach the Lower Ninth Ward. Zero, zero, 13, zero. I walked out of a bar in the bustling French Quarter for some air and was stunned to see a four on the wall - a family.
Yet, New Orleans rises above morbidity. The city is a shrine to life. Hordes of people fill the streets, eating in cafés, selling books and doing laundry. Where civilization can exist, it thrives, though the composition of the city is radically changed. We marched in the first 'Second Line' since the hurricane, a parade evolved from old-time jazz funerals. Men danced on top of cars and on ledges, flags waved through the street, confetti poured into the corridor. Among thousands of cheering bodies, you felt the thrill of return.
Our group stayed in a church we found through Tulane University and worked with three organizations in our two weeks there. With the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now, we stripped entire homes, from couches to drywall, into neat piles on lawns. Around 90,000 houses were left to be gutted, and we did only two. With Tulane, we cleaned and prepared public schools to open in early February. We helped the Ashé Cultural Arts Center, a central organization in the black community, with business administration and construction of a fence. They introduced us to the nuanced political and racial dynamic of the city and explained why every political issue is a class issue and, therefore, a race issue. The areas below the water line were less desirable and settled by poorer people, which in New Orleans is almost a synonym for black. In an unfortunate twist of events, the people most affected had the least ability to return and speak for themselves. The city was in the hands of a much richer and whiter group; Ashé was working hard to counter that force. The more I learned, the more visible New Orleans became as a complex, battered and broken political entity fighting to heal herself.
Go down and see for yourself! We were able to become a part of the tapestry of emotions and events because we planned our own experience. We wrestled with each other and our consciences in deciding how to make an impact and where to fit into a foreign world. As participants in this struggle, we were welcomed as family; our presence alone seemed to comfort residents. The usual distinction between residents and volunteers was almost meaningless. Everyone was there to help, and everyone was a child of the city.
One local who helped us chop down a fallen tree gave us a personal account of his time in the Superdome. The members of the church where we stayed offered us support and connections, others gave rides and food; we even got an offer for housing and work before we stepped into baggage claim.
Perhaps most special were the lifelong bonds I made with my five companions and the volunteers who lived with us. Every one of my traveling companions has a different story to tell because the experience touched each of us differently.
I am committed to organizing groups to go down for spring break and summer, in whatever capacity you would like. If you didn't get in to the Swearer Center program and don't have tickets to somewhere else, there is no excuse. Contact me and I will help you go down there. Say you will help, and make it more than an idea.
I wrote this article primarily to answer the questions I know you have been asking yourself. Yes, you can find good work to do and a place to stay (even a profit if you want). Yes, you are wanted down there. Yes, you will make a difference. New Orleans is waiting for you, and she needs you now.
Michael Morgenstern '08 wants you to e-mail him at mikern@brown.edu if you're interested in helping out the Big Easy.
