If this week could be summed up in one word, it would without a doubt be community. Coming in to this trip, I really didn’t know what to expect. I knew that we would be doing some cool service work and actually get to meet the people who’s houses we were working on. But I didn’t realize that along with those things, I would find myself completely in love with a city that I wasn’t even familiar with only a few days before. New Orleans quite literally welcomed our small little group with open arms. Of the two families who’s houses we renovated, both came outside to thank us, talk to us, and tell us all about their story and how Katrina affected them. We heard firsthand accounts of the affects that hurricane has had on their lives and we physically got to see the aftermath still being played out. My heart breaks a little every time I think about driving through the Lower Ninth Ward and seeing an area that once housed around 12,000 people now only have about 2,800 occupants. I keep replaying how sad and desolate the abandoned house foundations were as we drove past them, knowing that a home once stood there that held a family who has now lost all of that. And this is almost 10 years after Katrina hit. This city needs so much more help than I think any of us imagined when we set out to do service work here.
Through all of this catastrophic mess, I’ve witnessed some of the most beautiful things in my life here. One night it was walking through the Garden District and seeing the breathtaking architecture that is uniquely its own, and so Creole. And most nights it was this indescribable feeling that we are all being welcomed home for the first time in years. What I didn’t realize until this trip is that it took a great deal of time for a lot of the first responders to actually make it into New Orleans to rescue people or bring in supplies, so the residents were the ones who stepped up. They took out their little motorboats through the streets they once drove to work on, and paddled up to their neighbors houses to physically rescue them. They shared the little food supplies they had with each other. They housed people who didn’t have houses anymore. What this place became was a community helping its own community. I can’t even think of a deeper bond that I’ve experienced. And now all these years later, the people aren’t too proud to ask for help to repair their own homes, they warmly welcome volunteers like us to come and share in their lives and culture. Through their humbleness, I have become humbled. Some question why people would come back to a place where they have lost so much, but I completely understand it now. To leave New Orleans and this community that they’ve formed behind, would be losing so much more than just physical possessions…it would be like leaving your family behind.
Seeing all this devastation becomes real when you drive through once lively neighborhoods that are deserted and when you’re on your back laying insulation under someone’s house who has been living with way less than yourself. Sure you can come to New Orleans to experience the crazy livelihood of Bourbon Street or experience the incredible food of the French Quarter, and that’s what a lot of people do. To them, New Orleans is just another really good time full of new experiences. But they are missing out on so much more; they aren’t getting to see the full picture. They don’t get to meet the residents who have built this city back from nothing to make it their own, or see the huge prevalence of poverty in each parish, or work alongside people who start out as your acquaintance but end as your friend. Our group has spent this spring break giving a little bit back to this city, but I never would’ve imagined that this trip would end up completely changing my heart. I owe New Orleans a lot more than just a few hours of hard manual labor for what it’s given me in return.