"hard work in the Big Easy"

Hard work in the Big Easy

As I sat and listened to smooth blues from a Juliard students trumpet in the Camp Hope cafeteria, I mused about what a week I experienced. They continued with their jazz, “Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans” by Louis Armstrong. I didn’t before, but now I surely do. Knowing full well that I saw and felt what no other Camp Hope volunteers had before me. Going into this trip expecting to change was not a sound prediction compared to the metamorphosis I underwent.
Five years ago Hurricane Katrina drowned the city that care forgot, and five years later the city is ecstatic over a Superbowl championship. Still in the process of restoration and rebuilding, the forgotten lower ninth ward has been suppressed by distracting publicity. Camp Hope is a sanctuary for volunteers from across the country, accomadating and feeding those who find the time to waste on helping other people. Southern hospitality at its finest all organized and sustained by a group of dedicated volunteers. Ameri-Corp being one of the major contributors, these individuals move to one of many Ameri-Corp campuses to be housed and periodically sent around the country during times of need. They are essentially the “domestic Peace-Corp” and the locals love them; they are respected for their selflessness. They led us on our expedition into the bayou to plant thirty six hundred cypress saplings, prepared and served our meals and kept the camp as tidy as possible. Ameri-Corp deserves the respect they have and then some, as they were genuinely helpful and friendly folks.
When the FGCU student government alternative spring break group got off of our twelve hour bus ride we were groggy and sluggish under a cold overcast Louisiana sky. When we entered Camp Hope humble warmth filled the air. We were given a thorough tour, shown the showering facilities that were built by local volunteers, brought to our room full of bunk beds and shown the water line in the cafeteria. The area of St. Bernard Parrish where Camp Hope resides was conquered by twelve plus feet of water five years ago, truly mind blowing when you stand where a twelve foot wall of water deluged a city half a decade ago. Camp Hope is an oasis compared to the grunge of the lower ninth ward, a building in the form of a blessing among a community of foundations where families once lived and houses once stood.
Our first assignment was to aid Habitat for Humanity in forty degree weather with a swift wind. The sun tried to poke through the blanket of clouds to warm us in our sheltering endeavor but to no avail. Hammering nails in the cold stings at first; eventually your nerves just stop responding and only feel the nails going further into the wood. Working together with twenty one people I met the day before, laughing and helping each other build a house for a person we will probably never meet. Just knowing that one day a proud family would inhabit a house that I put a few dozen nails in was enough for me. Habitat for Humanity provided all of the gear and the coaching to ensure forty strangers could produce results even in adverse conditions.
Locals would wave to us and honk their horns. A few local residents were outside of their homes; ambulances and local sherrif cruisers began to park at a house across the street. FGCU moved its work to clearing and preparing a foundation for a house that was only a cinder block foundation. We walked through a grizzly crime scene to get to this new work space. Behind a dilapitated and abandoned house a young man was murdered by a gun shot wound to the head. One of the local women I walked by was saying that she called the police the night before around eight o’clock reporting gun shots on her street. They responded the next day when someone reported a dead body, over twelve hours later. She said “because it’s the ninth ward they don’t respond until a body is reported, we’re at the bottom of the barrell.” Upset about another death in her neighborhood I was in shock as more squad cars came and caution tape barricaded the scene. This “routine drug violence” seemed normal to the local women but it was a revelation for me. The lack of redevelopment and fewer populated houses with a majority of abandoned lots and houses has made the lower ninth ward an environment reminiscent of the Wild West. An urban desert of open space for outlaws to roam, and too much empty void for police to control. This Example of violence did not dicourage me, it motivated me more, and this event just magnified Habitat for Humanity for its glorious mission to restore a community in ruins. We were sent back to Camp Hope an hour early because of this incident which gave us all time to introspectively interperet this situation. My hands were swollen on the bus ride home; I squeezed my fat senseless sausage fingers trying to get feeling back, thinking about the condition of this abandoned and forgotten community. During our group discussion students of different ethnicities, ages and sexual orientations brought up the grim reality we live in and this example of worthless violence. Many different reactions around the room, tears of anger and memories of fallen friends all surfaced, but so did the cumulative understanding of the hostile reality we all live in and our purpose to at least attempt to change it. As a result of one witnessed death, twenty one students from all walks of life agreed that only we, people, can change this world, for such an atrocity a communion conceived. Without the dark side of those circumstances a human bond would not be necessary to counter it.
Riding out to the bayou under an appreciated sunshine and a bitter breeze was a bone chilling initiation to the beauty of Louisiana wetlands. With Serve Green and Ameri-Corp. the FGCU Students trudged through the muck in every direction in pairs of two planting cypress saplings. Hoping to restore an area of marsh decaying from invasive salt water, the cypress’ we planted can endure salt water. Once the sun was high over head the temperature equalized. Playing in the mud is something I have not done since I was a child! We were wandering fools on a muddy heath riddled with water pockets and sink holes. Mother earth does not make helping her an easy task when we disrespect her. She punishes us, making buffoons of us as we sank and filled our boots with bayou soup, deserving payback from planet mom. Laughing at each others folly as people needed help being tugged out of thigh high mud, the earth consuming our rubber boots as a practical joke. Laughter was the only infectious disease as we stumbled through the mud that spoke to us in sound effect quality muck bubble gas passes. Even if only a few hundred of those trees grow it will still be a dramatic change in the area that covered a few hundred yards. As exhausting as this was after several hours, it was satisfying to plant thirty six hundred hopeful trees to support an injured environment.
Our final assignment was to restore a historic home in downtown New Orleans and demolish a devastated home in the suburbs. Twenty one students split into two groups to tackle both objectives. Mr. Johnson was s local gentleman that contracted the rebuilding of this beautiful home. Built during the early 18th century it had both French and Spanish influence in the architecture. Tall wooden doors and elaborate trim on the thresholds complete with tall window doors in the bedrooms. A front bedroom overlooked the street and the façade was a balcony where there was room to sit over the road below. The other bedroom had a balcony to overlook the garden. Mr. Johnson told us that they removed and restored much of what was charred from a fire that ocurred after Katrina. The house was painted a pale pink and had a matching miniature two story guest house in the back. The whole property was surrounded by a seven foot tall concrete barrier. We organized all the lumber that had been salvaged from the house to ensure they used as much original material as possible to protect the homes authenticity. The material we were touching was 200 year old lumber and bricks, mindblowing knowing how much this citiy has been through in those two centuries since.
The entire FGCU Alternative spring break group was guided on a tour of the entire New Orleans surrounding the popular french quarter. We arrived at the french quarter in the late afternoon. New Orleans is a city known for its food, and I now understand why! Creole shrimp, jumbalaya, and craw fish ettouffe at The Gumbo Shop was spicy bliss. We went into a VooDoo shop to see strange artifacts and jewelery and I was offered a tarot card reading, I declined knowing I didn’t have time. As if the lady put a spell on me my stomach began to cramp, I ate too fast. The attitude of the New Orleans food is laid back and warm, I was punished for rushing through instead of savoring the flavor. I went to Bourbon Street curiously; there stood what looked to be a silver Jester statue holding a crystal orb. Wanting a picture I walked up, he animated and began to make the grape fruit sized clear crystal orb dance through his fingers, weightlessly defying gravity rolling it down his arms and around his palms. Throwing some money to a talanted street performer that played me like a fool’s fiddle I left Bourbon Street satisfied without one drink and a stomach ache.
Our final night was graced by a showcase of Juliard students of all molds and talents. A group of young singers, dancers, actors and musicians in all shapes, colors and sizes entertaining a crowd of equal diversity in the Camp Hope cafeteria. Ballet, interperative and strange hybrid dance that I have never seen before; the dancers were innovative and spectacular. Watching Romeo and Juliet in Spanish and Korean simultaneously was funny, symbolic of the famous balcony scene and its example of blind love and failed communication. A monologue from Hamlet filled with passion, delivered by a tired actor who volunteered all week. The music ranged from violin to country acoustic guitar, a melting pot of musical talent, very New Orleans appropriate. The Final performance was an improvised blues jazz tune, adlibing little lyrics about Camp Hope and New Orleans. The crowd laughed and listened in amazement. We received a closing speech from the Director of the St. Bernard Parrish Camp Hope director Crystal Wells. She thanked us for our motivation to help and wanting to change the world for the better. Julliard stood in front of all of us and started singing “Lean on Me” by Bill Whithers and everyone at Camp Hope joined in to sing and rock side to side. Dozens of strangers all coming together to join in song for no good reason besides love-a potent display of hope.
We live in a time of potential peace; conflict is what is covered, peace is buried by the bad but it should instead be magnified. Focusing on the bad is different than recognizing the bad. Focusing takes energy; knowing manifests energy to putforth focus. When we know about the bad we can focus on trying to spread good, apply ourselves to actually doing something other than sit by and be fed the bad. Instead we should spit on the fire of struggle and strife by applying the kindness in our hearts. We are all potential builders of a better society that needs involvement to improve to what we deserve. I love all of the former strangers on this trip that are all now engrained in my memory and heart as friends. FGCU Student Government sponsored alternative spring break was the chance of a life time. I know what it means to miss New Orleans, and so should everyone else.