New Orleans 2006: One Year After Katrina

Almost one year after Hurricane Katrina pushed a storm surge over the levees keeping Lake Pontchartrain and Lake Borgne out of New Orleans, the city needs our help. Although I had heard of the devastation from friends who had been there and watched with horror at the news stories, it was still shocking.

The First United Methodist Church funded a mission trip with 47 youth and adults to go to New Orleans the last weekend in July for a week. We were blessed with a tour bus, and youth leaders had made arrangements for us to stop in Godfrey, Illinois and Memphis, Tennessee on the way down. We had a delicious lunch in Godfrey from the United Church of Christ, and made it to the Idlewild Presbyterian Church in Memphis by 9:00 PM. After a very late supper, we got some sleep and got up at 5 AM to continue our trip.

Coming into New Orleans from the north, we rode for thirty or more miles of elevated highway overlooking waterways, people fishing and boats drawn up to shacks. As we drove through western New Orleans, signs of the hurricane and consequent flood began to appear. At one point, we saw a steeple leaning upside down on the roof of the church. A black line about nine feet high marked the point at which the water had sat in the buildings for two weeks. The Creole Café had grey curtains hanging out of its broken windows and doors. FEMA trailer parks were scattered throughout the city. Some businesses worked out of trailers, as well.

We arrived at Oak Park Baptist Church Sunday evening in time for a delicious hot meal. We learned that the church had converted its Sunday School rooms into dormitories for the volunteers who had come down this summer. In each room there were from 8-10 bunk beds made by volunteers earlier this year. I was glad to be up off the floor. Showers were taken in a FEMA trailer with cold water. Sunday night, the cold water didn’t feel very comfortable. The church was air-conditioned, though, which made all the difference in the world. I had never been in New Orleans, let alone in the hottest part of the summer, so the stifling heat felt like I was walking into a wall any time after about 10 AM.

Monday morning we were up at 5 AM, met for devotionals at 5:30 and ate a hearty breakfast of eggs, grits and a biscuit. It was delicious! After making sack lunches for ourselves, we got on the bus at 7:30, but were soon to discover that the streets of New Orleans are really one big maze. As we drove through miles of damaged homes, I could not help crying. Houses sat empty with spray paint symbols telling of the desperate search for survivors during the flood. Imagine losing everything you own in one day. Then imagine hundreds of your neighbors losing theirs. Multiple this by hundreds of neighborhoods. Imagine being unable to haul rotten, moldy furniture out of your house by yourself and leaving it for a year. Imagine being in a different city for a year while your house rots from the flood and roof damage. Imagine losing family members, friends and neighbors through death and dislocation. Imagine losing your job because the business was damaged or because the population of the city decreased by 40%. Imagine being unable to do any reconstruction because the insurance companies don’t cover flood damage. Imagine the politicians fighting over the money being pumped into the city. What kind of government allows this suffering? Does anyone care about the poor?

We dropped the first two groups off at their sites fairly easily. The first group was to tear off a damaged roof and replace it. They were sure they could get several houses done this week. They disembarked with a cooler full of lunches and a very large container of ice water. We began to see piles of damaged personal belongings in the parkways waiting for the city to haul them away. It was heart-rending to see a photograph on top of the pile, a sewing machine or a file folder that might hold financial records.

The second group took us down a rather run-down street with lots of low branches. As we dropped them off in the driveway of a house that needed to be gutted, one of the girls burst into tears. This was once someone’s home. The members of this group had to wear Tyvek suits and masks to protect them from the mold and possible toxic substances left behind by the flood. They would have to work for about fifteen minutes and then take a break from the heat. The homes had sat in nine feet of water for two weeks and then leaked water every time it rained for a year. In addition, they had to wear heavy boots and gloves. They, too, were hopeful they would be able to do several houses this week. We left another cooler and water with them as I looked at the torn curtains through the window.

After a two-hour drive through the very confusing streets (we later learned to go west on East I-10 and vice versa), we arrived at McMain Charter School. An energetic young man named Graham Balch met us and explained what he wanted us to do for the school. He described the effort to reform the schools, which he said suffered from decades of corruption. Using volunteers to improve the schools was part of a campaign to “Bring the Love Back” to New Orleans (Graham, it never left). I was told he was a liaison between Fortune 500 companies and the school district, although he said he was part of the Recovery School District. A part of me wondered how the teachers felt about us “Northerners” coming down and “fixing” their schools, but they didn’t have much choice. I was later to learn that in the last year, only twenty of one hundred twenty five schools reopened after Katrina. More about that later.

We, like the other two groups, asked if we could do another hallway when we finished this one. Thank you, Graham for not laughing. The Pepto-Bismol pink hallway had many doors with lots of little windows, walls that needed to be repaired, and paint on the granite floorboard. Graham said it would probably take 3½ days to finish it. Although we had the “cushy” job inside with air conditioning, it was very hot and very hard work. It took us all day to tape the windows and trim areas. We started scraping the pink paint off the granite baseboard with a wire brush, but I recommended buying some paint stripper to cut down on the sweat factor. I had been fighting a headache all day, but it had definitely become a severe migraine by the time the bus picked us up. My imitrex wasn’t working and I thought I would puke as we picked up the other two groups. We cheered the other two teams as they got on the bus, looking much worse for the wear.

Imagine my surprise when my roommates turned out to be even more considerate than my own kids had been. I went to bed; they shut off the lights and spoke in whispers the rest of the day. I had asked for prayers so that I wouldn’t have any migraines, but I was to learn instead that at least two of the youth had migraines as well. By morning, I was up and about. Although I had to take medicine for several of the days, I did not have another debilitating headache.

Tuesday morning, we were a little better organized. We dropped off the first two groups and made it to the school in about an hour. Ann Isola stayed with the kids at the school while Debbie Vannorsdel and I walked to a nearby paint store to pick up some supplies. Telephone poles were littered with signs for tree cutting, insurance assistance, storage, mold removal and P.O. Box rental.

On the way, I noticed a professional painter in the front yard of a home. I asked if he could give me some advice and he said yes. “Is it okay to use stripper on a granite surface?” He looked a little confused. “Yes, you can use paint remover on granite.” “Is paint remover the same as stripper?” “Yes, but I was a little confused because the word you used is not such a polite word.” “Oh! Yes, I want to remove paint that is caked on and very old.” A lovely conversation ensued during which I learned that our painter had moved to Chicago when he was sponsored by a church. He had moved to New Orleans a few years ago. He seemed like he wanted to talk, but I was feeling guilty about not working, so we said good-bye and parted. I realized as we left that his Polish accent had a distinctive N’Awlins flavor.

We walked about six blocks to the paint store, and saw trailers in people’s yards with plumbing, a group of professional roofers, and a mural that said, “Keep your eyes on the prize and stay on the King’s highway: Education.” The paint store looked like everything was new, and it was very busy every time we went there. By the time we returned to school, it had gotten very hot. Inside, I tried to open the windows to allow ventilation for the paint stripper. I found to my dismay that there were only a few windows on the whole floor that opened. One of the windows I finally opened was held shut with a bungee cord. Isn’t this a safety hazard? How do you teach in a school without the option of fresh air? What kinds of parents allow that much corruption to go on in their school district? Does the Fire Department do annual inspections?

We finished the primer Tuesday and even began a small portion of a new color on one wall. I have to say, the pink was terrible, but beige and dark beige are not my favorite colors either. Hope the secondary kids in the school don’t mind the boring colors, but it did look better when we got done. As we loaded into the bus, the other teams were already there. They cheered us this time, and it really felt good. I didn’t think I needed any encouragement for doing something that needed to be done, but it was a lot harder than I ever expected it to be.

The cold showers in late afternoon were feeling pretty good by now and I was getting to know my roommates. This was the nicest group of kids I had ever been with. I had missed the activity Monday night learning everyone’s names, but enjoyed the worship service Tuesday night with excellent music by Second Hand Disciples. The kids were actually ready for bed between 9 and 10!

On Wednesday we finished painting the darker bottom color of the hallway and made excellent progress on the lighter top part. Ann had given each kid his/her own doorway and we put the tall guys on the ceiling area. We were confident we could finish ahead of schedule and asked Graham if we could do anything else. He suggested we begin on two other hallways if we had time. Americorps was bringing in forty volunteers for one day on Saturday. (We were able to prepare a corner hallway for them.)

That evening we heard a speaker who had been the head of the medical mission for the Louisiana National Guard during the hurricane. I didn’t manage to get her name, but her story was amazing. In spite of inhuman conditions at the Superdome, she stayed and provided what assistance she could to 1500 people with medical needs. Her description of the suffering of the people and the frustrations of inadequate supplies were second to her faith that God was there, helping them get through the ordeal. I don’t want to put her information on the Web for copyright reasons, but the courage of the National Guard companies from all over the U.S. was definitely not adequately described by the national media. She was the first person to have said that no government could have adequately prepared for this catastrophe, and I think she is right.

After her speech, Graham made an impassioned request for help moving some classrooms. It was the hardest decision we made all week. On the one hand, we really wanted to finish the tasks we had started and didn’t want to feel our mission had been incomplete. On the other hand, school was starting soon and there was a deadline to consider. (We later learned that school was to start the following Monday.) We decided to move the classrooms on Thursday, and I was delighted to get to talk to some of the teachers. The classrooms we were moving were Early Childhood classrooms! We loaded a truck at the Eisenhower Elementary School and half of our group went to unload it. While they were gone, I was able to talk to a kindergarten teacher who gave me some disturbing information. It seems that the state took over the school system and made all the schools charter schools. Teachers’ salaries were capped at twelve years experience, so 50% of the experienced teachers had left the first year. Those that stayed will be required to work an eight-hour day. Inside the schools, kids had trouble attending and were bussed from the west bank to the nearest school. Many of them were still living with relatives. The best news is that class sizes are being kept to twenty students per teacher. Early childhood teachers are mandated to use the Montessori curriculum.

Thursday afternoon, we reserved for sightseeing. Originally, I considered this optional, but Tracy had insisted and I became very grateful. The French Quarter is beautiful and I enjoyed beignets and cold water at the Café du Monde. I received four beignets instead of the 3 I paid for and learned it was because we were on a mission trip to help restore NOLA ( New Orleans, Louisiana). In one of the nearby tourist shops, the owner gave me a 10% discount because I was helping rebuild the city. The food we had at Remoulade was delicious with very patient wait staff (would you want a very noisy group of tourists in your restaurant?). It was hard to believe the week was almost over.

On Friday, we finished our hallway and cleaned up our mess. A hard-working crew prepped another section of hallway for Americorps and we all felt pretty good by the time the bus picked us up. We finished with another worship service Friday night where teens told how they had been touched by the loving people of New Orleans. Everywhere we went the people were glad to see us and treated us like royalty. Our group had been shown that hope is the best thing we have to offer each other when life overwhelms us and by working together we can do things we could never do alone. I got a new hope that there is life after children and I am needed somewhere in this world.