Alternative Spring Break
Saturday, March 29th, 2008 09:21:35 PM
Picture Hurricane Katrina, in August of 2005 tearing through New Orleans. What do you see? Houses damages, families displaced, a town in shambles all because of mother nature. Now picture that same place today. What do you see? Skyscrapers? Homes rebuilt? Bourbon Street bustling with college students and 45-year-olds alike, all traveling from bar to bar and live jazz music hot spot to another? All of this would be correct, if you combine what happened two years ago, the destruction that existed then, and the partial rebuilding that is happening now.
New Orleans was the Spring Break destination to many athletes this last March. Football, soccer, and volleyball players joined forces with the runners of track and fielders of field (you know what I mean) along with other students from Miami University. Some were form Campus Crusade for Christ. Some athletes were from Athletes in Action (a Christian organization on campus) and some students just wanted to help.
With light of these type of "alternative" spring breaks in may newspapers, it probably is no surprise to you that over 120 students traveled by car the 15 some odd hours to spend a week rebuilding, piecing together, and establishing new friendships.
My group for the week consisted of 9 girls and 1 boy (lucky duck); two athletes, 5 sorority sisters (from two different sororities) and 3 Campus Crusaders. None of us knew one another too well. Our first two days we spent at Lake Pontchartrain State Park. We traveled the 25-mile long bridge connecting New Orleans to this little community where the park was located. We ended up planting different kinds of trees, mostly Oak, in a park where 80% of the tree coverage was lost. Imagine a canopy of trees, so thick that when on the ground looking up, the sky is not visible. Now imagine yourself as a 5'4" individual, looking up 4 years later at miles and miles of sky where trees once stood. During the week, with everyone planting all 4 days we were working, we planted over 25,000 trees (I called them twigs) with the hope that some would grow up into big, strong oaks.
Our last two days were spent in neighborhoods, going door-to-door asking if people needed help. We worked with the organization called Crossroads, however we were more free to converse with people living in these neighborhoods. Get to know the families and their stories.
One of the days there, I think Wednesday, a small group of us went to the lower 9th ward, where the levees broke and houses were absolutely demolished. It was amazing to see a place that once was a populous neighborhood is now a field of grass with the occasional cement foundation, occasional porch steps leading to where a house should stand but instead weeds and grass grow tall. Standing on the new levee looking over this quiet land was such an eye-opening experience.
I took the rise of traveling into one of the houses (sorry Mom I was compelled to). This house from the front still stood, a little off the foundation, but looked OK. Moving around the back we found that the entire back of the house had been ripped off, showing a living room, bathroom, and kitchen in shambles. The front door on the other side of the house was conveniently opened for us. Taking a step inside the house, the moldy floorboards creaked underneath my weight. Surveying the scene, the residents of the house clearly had not been back since the devastating hurricane years prior. Shoes were thrown everywhere, furniture musty and old flopped over and flipped upside down, dolls were thrown about the house making it clear that children were present here. Dry cleaning still hung in the closet, or at least plastic covered clothes. I picked up an address book and agenda book that still had legible writing in it.
The shock of this hurricane will probably never be able to be explained to someone like me. Even years later, experiencing the X's on the outside of houses explaining who checked the house, how many bodies were found, and the date of the check still bring tears to my eyes. The people that still live in tents under the highways near Canal Street and near downtown are the story. The houses that have been left with a lifetime of stories in them are the story. The simple matter that the levees broke is sad and probably angers so many people, but the story is not in the cement walls of the levees. It is in the faces in the pictures of the people who lost loved ones. It is the stories you hear of people whose houses are scheduled for demolition. The people you are helping who are willing to share their side of the story. Their personal recollection of that horrid day.
New Orleans is regaining spirit, it is regaining passion, and it is regaining a community. It is nowhere near being rebuilt. It is being patched together, stitch by stitch, by alternative spring breakers, organizations like Habitat for Humanity and Crossroads, by the residents who call this home and are willing to put the sweat and the time into recreating what once was.
Next time you think you have it hard, really look at the situation. So often we complain about school, homework, soccer practice, the 10x100, the cooper, lifting, the boy/girl friend not being fair, the car not starting, your workday being extended by 2 hours. People say, "it is the worst" when describing a situation. I urge you to ask yourself...is it really the worst?
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Jane Anderson
Eva Candia