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Written August 17, 2006

*I wrote this on the bus last Thursday morning on the way to our work site.*

Each morning we meet at the buses at 6:20 a.m. with our hard hats, goggles, gloves, masks and steel-toed boots - known around camp as PPE (Personal Protective Equipment), which is all mandatory on site according to OSHA.

Even though it's hours before most of us would consider being awake, we're talking and laughing with the work we're about to do looming in front of us.

The tragedy of the situation stays at bay for much fo the day. The homes we gut are still firmly attached to their foundations, unlike the homes in the lower Ninth Ward, that have collided with each other like some fatal bumper car ride.

Every once in a while, I'll uncover something or walk into a room and think of my parents' home. I think of the memories we've made sitting on the patio in the evenings after the heat of the sun has faded. I think of my mom curling up with a James Patterson novel or my dad frying dinner outside. Just the day-to-day living that has vanished for the residents of St. Bernard Parish. Their waking thoughts are not of where to stop and grab a cup of coffee or what to wear to work, but rather when will they see their neighbors again or when, if ever, FEMA will do something, anything positive for the Parish residents.

The only signs of outside life in the parish are the volunteers, from churches, Habitat, Americorps and other non-profit groups.

The streets are mostly empty, with the exception of the debris piles left by volunteers. And as unsightly as they may be, they are a sign of progress.

Imagine your neighborhood as it is today. Cars parked in driveways, trash cans at the curb, lights on in various houses, kids playing in the front yards. Now imagine all of it underwater. It's all gone, but Hope is not lost. There are a few cars as many people evacuated when Katrina blew in and therefore were gone when the levees broke and the flood waters poured in from three sides at a rate of a foot per minute.

Many residents aren't here clearing out their homes. They are long gone. Some have had their homes demolished and those that are here or nearby have had theirs gutted professionally or by volunteers. These people plan to either remodel and move back in or try to sell. Their mortgages weren't wiped away even though their homes were.

Grass, weeds and bushes are overgrown in 95 percent of the yards. After being here for just five days, seeing a home with a cut lawn looks strange. It's an immediate reminder of the life that once thrived in these communities. It's so easy to look around and see the destruction, the debris, the closed businesses, the tall, thick weeds and forget. But then a scarcely-populated school bus will drive by in the afternoon and drop off a single child and the harshness of the current living situation in the Parish will crash into me.

I met a volunteer firefighter from near Baton Rouge yesterday. He came to the Parish shortly after the Hurricane, but only stayed three days. Wylan came to assist in the search and rescue efforts, but he discovered a child that had died either in the storm or the following floods. He couldn't handle finding small bodies in the rubble of what was suburban New Orleans, so he went home to his family. He's come back to work as part of the clean-up crews using a bobcat to carry debris to the dump trucks.

There is progress in the Parish. There is rebuilding and recovery. And it is important, regardless of what you might see or hear in the news. Home is a concept we all understand. And regardless of how destroyed it might be, either literally or figuratively, it is part of who were are, who we've become and where we are going. Saving it is all some people have.

St. Bernard facts

All of this information was copied straight from Wikipedia. To the left is a map of LA; the red dot is Violet, LA, which is where Camp Hope is located - all within St. Bernard Parish. NOLA is west of St. Bernard Parish.

Hurricane Katrina and Its Aftermath

See also: Murphy Oil Spill (Chalmette, La)

On August 29, 2005, Saint Bernard Parish was devastated by Hurricane Katrina. The storm damage, which affected virtually every structure in the parish, was believed to come both from direct effects of the storm and from a massive storm surge funneled in by the Mississippi River Gulf Outlet ("MRGO").

The eye of Katrina passed over the eastern, less populated portion of the parish, but in doing so pushed a 25-foot storm surge into Lake Borgne and into the MRGO. This surge destroyed the parish levees which were 14-17 feet high. Almost the entire parish was flooded, most areas getting between 5 and 12 feet of standing water. There may have been as many as two homes untouched by flood waters. Independent engineering analysis of the storm surge suggests that the Mississippi River Gulf Outlet transmitted the storm surge from the Lake Borgne area directly into the center of the heaviest populated areas of the parish. Unlike most of the flooding in New Orleans, the water rose suddenly and violently, during a period that witnesses have reported as no more than fifteeen minutes. In many areas, houses were smashed or knocked off their foundations by storm surge higher than their roofs.

For more than two months after the storm, much of the parish remained without proper services, including electricity, water, and sewage. Federal and state relief was notably lacking in the parish. Parish President Henry "Junior" Rodriguez, declared all of the parish's homes unliveable. Many areas of the parish may have to be completely demolished, although there is much uncertainty about whether or not this will happen. Several residents have begun to repair houses which they believe are more cheaply repaired than bulldozed and rebuilt. There is much fear about the lack of funding because of the complete loss of the parish's tax base. St. Bernard's levee system, however, is being restored and is expected to be at pre-Katrina levels by June 2006. It should be noted that this is the first time in FEMA history that an entire parish or county experienced the severity of damage that St. Bernard received from Katrina.

As of late November 2005, it was estimated that the Parish had some 7,000 full-time residents, with some 20,000 commuting to spend the day working, cleaning up, or salvaging in the parish and spending their nights elsewhere. By mid-December some businesses had returned to the Parish, most notably the ExxonMobil plant in Chalmette and the Domino Sugar plant in Arabi, together with a handful of small local stores and businesses. Thousands of parish residents were still waiting for promised FEMA trailers as their wrecked homes were still uninhabitable. At the start of January 2006, it was estimated that some 8,000 people were living in the Parish, only about 200 of whom were in their pre-Katrina homes.

The Baton Rouge Advocate of February 28, 2006 published newly determined official population estimates from several state agencies. David Bowman, assistant director of the Louisiana Workforce Commission, who was appointed to coordinate a group of experts working on these estimates, noted that these numbers will play a major role in government funding, both in those parishes that have suffered major losses in population and in those that have gained it. Louisiana Tech University, which has responsibility for providing parish population estimates to the State Treasurer’s office, estimated the population of St. Bernard Parish in July 2005 at 67,419. Bowman and Karen Patterson, the Louisiana State Demographer, consider the best current estimates for January 2006 to be those produced by the Office of Primary Care and Rural Health of the Department of Health and Hospitals. For St. Bernard, this figure is 6,889 – a loss of 89.9%.

Emergency Communities offered one reason for hope in the first year after Hurricane Katrina. In the parking lot of a destroyed off-track betting parlor, EC built the Made with Love Cafe and Grill, a free kitchen and community center serving 1500 meals per day. Made with Love, housed in a geodesic dome, also offered food and clothing distribution, and emotionally supportive volunteers. Upon leaving, EC has offered logistical support for the founding of a new long-term community center for St. Bernard.

Many St. Bernard residents feel their plight is little known and generally ignored by the nation as a whole, having been overshadowed by the proportionately less severe but more visible damage in New Orleans.

Home

Yesterday about a quarter to five, I reluctantly packed my car and drove away from Camp Hope and St. Bernard Parish. It's bizarre how one week with little electricity, sparse internet and cell phone service and no privacy could persuade me to want to stay in such a place.

I found quickly that the comforts of home do little to compete with friendship, energy and a significant purpose. Although I was exhausted when I arrived home, I woke up every 90 minutes wondering where I was and why there was sheetrock on the walls. There were moments when I thought I was in someone's house that needed to be gutted. And then I'd wake up and look beyond my feet to see if Ashley was still in her cot, but all I saw was a closet full of clothes that I now dread having to ever have to carry out if my apartment floods.

After orientation Sunday afternoon, Ashley and I told each other we already knew we didn't want to leave camp. And Saturday as we were getting ready to go, it was all too true. She had to tell me not to cry.

On the way back to Tennessee and Virginia, respectively, we were both trying to devise plans to move to New Orleans, get jobs and gut houses voluntarily in our free time. I must admit that I'm torn. I feel like I've had a peek of the opportunities that life has to offer and the simplicity it could be from living to truly serve others.

I worked hard and played hard during this trip. Leaving home, I only had two expectations: I knew I was going to sweat a lot and work hard. Both of which I did in excess. But I met some of the most amazing people, both volunteers and residents of the Parish. I can say that I have experienced true kindness from strangers and have been moved to give beyond anything I thought possible.

My heart overflows with love for the Parish, the rebuilding of New Orleans, Black 3 (my gutting team) and all the people I met at Camp Hope. I don't even mind FEMA water any more. And I could not be more grateful or feel more blessed to have such amazing support from my family and friends. When I tried to tell my newfound friends of the kind words you all sent me, I would get choked up and be able to talk.

Please point anyone that might be interested in volunteering or getting involved in the continuing recovery and rebuilding effort to this blog or to the Habitat-NOLA website. Camp Hope needs both monetary and material donations.

I'll have pictures coming throughout the week.

New life in the Parish

So to all you wonderful people out there that emailed me or posted a comment, thank you. I sat here in the computer lab with tears running down my face until some new friends of mine popped in to say hi. I couldn't tell them why I was crying because I just started crying harder.

It's so amazing to be apart of something this fabulous.

I don't have much time to tell of today's journey, but I can tell you two great short stories.

A gutting team found a litter of kittens today. They were alive and are now residents of Camp Hope like the rest of us. There are four of them, two orange and white and two black and white, like Dusty and Ram, the cats I grew up with. They are so precious and it was such a joy to hear them meow. Life can survive anywhere and this Parish will thrive again.

A St. Bernard Parish resident, Boogie, took three of us on a free, quick tour tonight. He's a cab driver and a volume of knowledge on the Parish, its history and its people. He is the epitome of strength, courage and humor in dire straits. Boogie's house was on high ground in the Parish and only had 32 inches of water in it after the floods. He's gotten SBA loans since he didn't have flood insurance (he wasn't zoned to need the insurance) and is far on his way to having his home refurbished.

All day my team (Black 3) rips a house apart and today I got to see the better side of that. Boogie's house has been gutted, power-washed and sheet-rocked. He has a running hot water heater, washer and dryer, air conditioner and natural gas. We toured his home tonight, and didn't need our flashlights. He has two FEMA trailers in his front lawn. He and his grandson live in one and his daughter and granddaughter live in the other. The gutted the house themselves. The insurance company gave Boogie $2350. Yea, you read that right. He has thus far spent $41,000 fixing his home. It's all come from SBA loans. Pride sprawls across his face as he takes us through his home.

He tells us of the people and their determination to bring the Parish back. He tells of his hope and joy with every new FEMA trailer he sees because it's one more family back in the Parish. He is not bitter about the current state of his home, but he has a few harsh words for the current administration and FEMA.

He took us took a cemetary where all the mausoleums had been washed around. Sealed containers border one end of the cemetary. They hold the bodies and coffins that floated out of their resting places. I could tell you it was a haunting experience and Boogie would back me up. He says the spirits, though not evil, will haunt the government officials who will not allow them to rest in peace. They walk the earth in search of rest. They are determined. They, like the living residents of the Parish, want to see it restored.

The first full day I was here, Sunday, I told my new friend Ashley that I already knew I wanted to stay longer than the week I've been allotted. And I do. There is so much work to be done and so much kindness in this Parish. Boogie gave us our tour for free. Restaurant workers waive the cost of drinks. The homeowners cannot thank us enough and asked God to bless each and every one of us.

I'm finding out what the human spirit is all about. It's truly an amazing journey.

Oh how I love to sheetrock

Or rather, how I love to rip sheetrock off its studs.

While I don't think I'll be able to post much today, but since yesterday was also lacking, I am making some time to do it now.

It's hard to make myself come in the computer lab to write when there is soooo much to do and experience here.

Yesterday we finished the Floranes house. It was hard to leave them, but we had to. The volunteers are only half way through with gutting the houses on our list and the FEMA deadline is in 13 days. I've heard talk that they've extended it, but I'm not certain.

Today we started on a house that was about 20 percent completed. Fortunately these homeowners don't own near as much stuff as the Floranes. They also weren't there. While it speeds up the work to not have to work around the homeowners, meeting them motivates me to work harder, faster and take greater care of the few things we can save.

I spent most of the day tearing sheetrock down. I've been told I'm a mad woman with a crowbar. It's exhilarating to see what you can do in one day with 10 other people.

I'm planning on sweet talking someone here tonight so I can use their laptop. There's a line forming to use the three computers we have and since internet access is slow at best, it takes much of our 20-minute allotment checking email and attempting to sign on to blogger.

St. Bernard's Parish was completely flood during the Hurricane. It's bordered on three sides by water. Wealthy, poor and rural residents' homes were all flooded. No home was untouched by the water. All 87,000 residents were instantly homeless. But I've talked to them, hugged them, watched them dig through wet, moldy, smelly debris that once was their home and they are courageous and strong in the face of such overwhelming odds. Although they have been abandoned by their nation, they possess the true American spirit.

Gutting

So today was my first day of house gutting. It was intense and I was so glad to be there. I felt nauseous throughout the morning. After finally going back in the house, I was carrying some pots the owner wanted to keep outside. Apparently, they had a lifetime warranty.

They were full of water, aka Katrina juice, and needed to be poured out. Never again will I deliberately pour out Katrina juice. As I poured out this huge pot of water that had sat in this house for nearly a year, I had to close my eyes; it looked so disgusting. It was black and murky and had large white globs floating in it. As I neared the end of the pour I opened my eyes and the smell overwhelmed me. What followed was a good 10 minutes of projectile vomiting in the neighboring house's yard. (No residents in this neighborhood, which is common here.) All the FEMA water and yogurt I'd had came right up. I felt sooooo much better afterwards and went on to be much more productive the rest of the afternoon.

The homeowner was there most of the day with us - Lloyd Florane and his twin daughers, Denise and Darnell. Lloyd and his wife Janet are the definition of pack rats. None of us had ever seen so much stuff in one house. They'd lived there for 35 years when the flood waters came and destroyed everything they owned. Today was the third day volunteers had been gutting and we still aren't done. Lloyd and his girls went through the debris piles with each wheelbarrow dump. They salvaged things that none of us thought could be saved, but it was all they had left of the life they once knew.

Darnell was the only one in the family whose house wasn't flooded. She lives in St. Tammany Parish. (I feel like I'm mispelling some words, but I don't have a dictionary at hand to check, so bear with me.) While their digging slowed our work down, I couldn't have cared less. I spent the afternoon in a house that smelled terribly on a ladder prying videos, VCRs, model train sets and photo albums out of a dark, moldy, insect-ridden bedroom closet. Lloyd squatted on the floor and went through it all. He knew the large majority had to be tossed, but he wanted to see it one last time. At one point, I could hear him sniffle and he wouldn't face me.

Some of the volunteers didn't see the point in going through the stuff. It's obviously ruined. But where else do we have to be? We are here for the homeowners. It's their way of grieving and saying good-bye.

The kitchens are the most disgusting. We have been warned not to open the refrigerators. The food has been in there for nearly a year. The homes were covered in 16 feet of water for nearly one month and they have sat, growing mold, waiting for someone to gut them.

All we leave is the exterior, the studs, the water heater, pipes, electrical systems, toliet and bathtubs.

As I sat taking one of many necessary breaks at a gutted house across the street, I could see the patches in neighboring homes' roofs where residents broke through and were rescued when the waters flooded in.

The Parish is a ghost town. Homeowners are long gone. Before Katrina 87,000 people lived in St. Bernard Parish and about 8,000 have returned. And those that are here are so amazingly grateful. The Floranes made us sandwiches and bought us Gatorade. That may not seem like much, but Camp Hope doesn't have much money and the lunch made for us was not stupendous.

And the water, the water deserves its own story. FEMA water comes in a silver alumninum can, yes a can. And it tastes like aluminum and the Mississippi River. But it does the trick when you sweat through all your clothes.

Lloyd and Janet sought refuge from Katrina and the impending flood at the Hyatt Regency, which was one of the few places that accepted pets. Their daughter called frantically trying to find a place that would take pets, as the Floranes have three Maltese dogs. They left about 1:30 a.m. on August 29. And there lives haven't been the same since. FEMA placed a trailer in front of their home, but they waited so long the Floranes had already found another place to live. They have stayed in Louisiana, but Lloyd said they won't come back to the Parish. I can't say I blame them.

I'm so overwhelmed by being here, but I honestly don't think I could've decided on a better way to spend my vacation.

I have arrived.

I'm finally here in St. Bernard Parish. It's surreal and yet all too real at the same time.

I couldn't be more happy to be here. I feel like I fit right in, even though the average resident of Camp Hope must be about 20. The people here are kind and like-minded.

I had no real expectations of this trip other than to be hot and work hard. Everything else is a bonus.

I'm staying in a gutted elementary school. There are few functioning businesses and even fewer functioning homes. The closer I got to camp the more destruction I saw. There were rows upon rows of houses with campers or trailers sitting out front. It's completely bizarre to see everything around you destroyed.

I drove through the lower Ninth Ward and it was exactly what you saw on CNN, except that it was real. It was no longer at arms length.

I wanted to stop, but two factors stopped me. I'm a girl all by myself and I had to pee more than I can explain. I know I'll have time to explore and take tons of pictures. But no amount of pictures I'll take or stories I'll tell will ever come close to what I'm seeing.

Right now I'm sitting in what used to be an elementary school class room, with bare steel and some sheet rock put up. Above the sheet rock is about 8 feet of empty space to the ceiling, which is partially covered in tarps. There's one fluorescent light per room, so as night falls it gets darker in the building.

There's a mess hall which used to be the kids' gym. Volunteers and St. Bernard residents are fed here three times a day. I was too excited to eat tonight, but I ate a little because brunch doesn't start until 11:30 on Sundays.

To shower, volunteers have to walk to a second building across a pallet path. The humidity makes Memphis feel like a dry heat.

And I'm excited about all of it. I've always wanted to do something like this. To really hands-on help people.

There's a large group here from Americorps NCCC. When I graduated from college I had the choice of joining NCCC or becoming news editor of the Bartlett Express. Looks like I would've ended up here either way.

On my way

The Jetta is packed. The kitties have been kissed. And I'm ready to go.

I am so unbelievably excited. All my anxiety and fear are gone.

I'm ready for my adventure to begin!

Drenched in fear

About 2:30 this morning I woke up to a shaking thunderclap, but I wasn’t scared of the storm. All the fear of what I’m going to encounter in New Orleans surfaced. Everything inside of me was telling me not to go.

I have read and researched as much as I could of the current state of New Orleans to prepare myself for what I’ll see and experience once I’m there. The most honest account was a blog post of a college student who spent three days in St. Bernard Parish as part of an alternative spring break. What has stuck in my brain were the spiders (which I’m terrified of) and maggots living in the thick mud inside the houses. She said another group of students found human remains. HUMAN REMAINS.

What am I going to do if I’m shoveling mud and debris into a wheelbarrow and I find parts of a body? I try not to think about it and at the same time I try to prepare myself.

I feel like I may be slightly more prepared for the reality. As the cops and fire reporter for The Hattiesburg American, I faced a lot of intense experiences and saw the destruction that water can leave in its wake. I’ve been to murder scenes, interviewed a mother whose 14-month-old son was beaten to death by her boyfriend and seen homes swept clean from their foundation by a massive, sudden flood. But I know none of that will compare to the week I’m about to experience.

Thankfully, one of our IT people was called to my office today and she is from Southern Louisiana. She saw my trip to NOLA on the calendar and asked about it. She's been down three times since Hurricane Katrina and told me there is no way to fathom what it's like until you are there and come face-to-face with those living it. Even though it's where she grew up, she doesn't want to go back until it's rebuilt. It's too much to handle.

I knew it would be all those things. That no matter how much I prepare I will not be ready.

But the most important thing she told me, "They will be so happy to have you there." And that's all I needed to hear and the fear and anxiety diminished. No matter what happens, I just want to lend a hand to those in need.

St. Bernard Parish/Habitat blog

Pictures of what I'm going to do.

FAQ on my trip to NOLA

So, while my odd little vacation to New Orleans is perfectly clear in my mind, it is not so much in the minds of others. I hope this FAQ will assist everyone in figuring out what bizarreness I've gotten myself into this time.

The MOST frequently asked question and the one with the most curiousity in people's voices:
Are you going by yourself? I am in fact going alone; I am driving alone.

What are you going to be doing down there? I'm going to be cleaning out homes of elderly and disabled residents in St. Bernard Parish. The homes were flooded when the levees broke after Hurricane Katrina on August 29, 2005. The homes have several feet of standing mud, mold and all the belongings of the families that used to live in them.

What will happen to the homes once they've been cleared of debris? They will either be bulldozed to make room for another house or they will be renovated.

Is someone coordinating this effort? Habitat for Humanity and the St. Bernard Parish government have partnered to coordinate the effort.

Do you know anyone else who will be volunteering down there? Nope, not a soul. I will hopefully come back with new friends from all over the country.

Where will you be staying? I'll be staying at CampHope set up by the Parish. I get the sense that it's some large tents, but they are temperature-controlled and are staffed with security and medical personnel. And I'll get three meals a day there.

When are you leaving and how long will you be gone? I'm leaving Saturday, August 13 and will come back Saturday, August 19.

Do you need any special shots for this trip? (FYI - this question cracked me up. I'm not going to Ethiopia) But yes, I did get a tetanus shot because I hadn't had one in the past nine years.


I hope I've cleared some things up and I hope you all continue to read my blog as I go through this experience.


To find out more about NOLA's Habitat click here. To find out more about Memphis' local affiliate, click here.


Stefanie

Headin' to the Big Easy

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: As part of my NOLA volunteer experience, I volunteered to write an article for the local Habitat newsletter. They not only accepted, but thought it would be a great idea if I journaled my experiences, which gives me the perfect motivation to update my blog.


Sunday night while trying to fall asleep the intensity of the situation I was about to entire occupied my mind, so much so that the next day at work I was in a noticeably somber mood. Everything I've read, heard and seen about the state of New Orleans and Gulf Coast nearly one year after Hurricane Katrina hit keeps me from being overly excited about what I will encounter when I get there - homes packed in feet of mud, bugs and the potential for finding human remains.

But please don't get me wrong. I could not be more excited to go and help. When I watched the story unfold on CNN last August, I felt an ever-deepening since of helplessness and now I'm actually going to help. Not donate money or even pray, but help hands-on. To look these people that I've seen on televison in the eyes and give them a week of my time and sweat.

But that's just the thing. It's been nearly an entire year and there is still such an unbelieveable amount of work to be done. The people I'm going to help, whose homes have sat devasted, full of mud and memories, are still waiting to get back to normal. I cannot fathom what a year without normal would be like. I'm such a creature of structure and routine; I think I'd lose it or fall into a deep depression. I read the other day that the number of people diagnosed with major depression has skyrocked in the New Orleans area since Katrina.

And all of that makes me so happy to have the chance to help. I'll pack the Jetta full of the donated toothbrushes and shampoo my mother is sending with me, but I'll be bringing a small piece of hope to the residents of St. Bernard Parish. And if enough of us give a little hope, they'll be able to get back home, to normal

If at any time during my NOLA postings you want to find out more about how you can help or just read for yourself what I'll be doing, click here.

HELP & HOPE: St. Bernard Parish Recovery Project

August 12 I'll be leaving for New Orleans, LA to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity in St. Bernard Parish. I'll be spending the week cleaning out homes that were devasted after one of the levees broke following Hurricane Katrina. The homes belong to elderly and disabled people. We will clear homes of mud and debris so they can either be salvaged or demolished to make room for new houses, also we will save any personal mementos possible. I'm posting this not to draw attention to myself, but to ask that everyone consider volunteering along the Gulf Coast. A year later the re-building continues and people still need your help. Habitiat for Humanity needs volunteers to bring help and hope to St. Bernard Parish, a New Orleans suburb still devasted by Hurricane Katrina. The one year anniversary for Hurricane Katrina is August 29.