A Local Tells A Story… January 15, 2008

Since coming down to New Orleans, I don’t think there is an emotion I haven’t experienced. I’ve seen death, destruction, and chaos. But, I’ve also seen hope. That is, hope in the eyes of a local near the home we are fixing on Marais Street. Let me tell you the story.

As I was walking back to the truck and waiting for some others, there was a family parked near me and as chances were I was blocked from getting into my truck. I smiled and said, “Excuse me.” That was all it took for the gentleman to smile and ask me where I was from. He had noticed the “Presbyterian Disaster Assistance” magnet/sign on the side of my vehicle and began to inquire. I let him know that I was here with some students from The College of New Jersey and we were here to spend some of our time to help rebuild some of the homes in the lower 9th ward. He smiled and said, “Thank you for all that you’ve done. We need it badly.”

He then began to tell his story. He arrived back in New Orleans four months ago to drop off his mother and had brought his wife and daughter with him. When they arrived where her home was supposed to be it was no longer there. It had been washed away with the floods, as many other homes in the area had been. They then looked for his brother’s home, which was still standing, but completely ruined inside and out. Two years earlier, his brother had been rescued from the roof of his own home because he had chosen, as many had, to stick it out through the hurricane and not follow his mother out on August 28th, one night before Hurricane Katrina arrived.

This man named Gerald was born only miles away, and decided that he would help rebuild his hometown even though a few months earlier he had proomised NEVER to return to “that God-forsaken place.” He said that his family had lost many friends in the floods that followed the storm, as well as some distant family members. He kept on saying, “This place was a lot more lively a few years back. I remember how much fun it was! It’ll never be that way again. Never.” When he walked away, he shook my hand hard and said, “Thank you very much for everything.”

This conversation had a huge impact on me, as it kind of brought reality to everything. It showed me that nothing I saw on television came close to what had really happened. The television doesn’t convey the feelings of hope, despair, anger, and disbelief that these people are feeling even today. And honestly, I never felt my stomach twist and my eyes well up with tears when I had seen everything go down on my television set two years earlier. I did today. It’s real what happened, and what’s happening right now down here. I’ve seen and heard it with my own eyes and ears.

There is a lot of work that remains. Most of the people that left will never return as they have nothing to return to. They have no belonging left. They are all starting over again. And, at the current pace of rebuilding, with the meager funds that the federal government has earmarked for New Orleans (and the parishes surrounding her), it looks like this tragedy will live on for many more years. In the meantime, we’ll try to do as much as we can.

Harpreet