Winnipeg Free Press

A year ago, on the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the mayor of New Orleans proposed the creation of $1 million memorial to the 1,600 people who died as a result of the storm.

In addition to memorializing the dead, it was also to mark the resting place for 85 bodies that remain unclaimed nearly three years after the disaster, and also double as a warning to be better prepared for the next hurricane.

“This is an example of the dead helping the living,” said New Orleans Parish Coroner Frank Minyard at the unveiling in 2006. “The underprivileged African-American community suffered worst in this storm, and we have to make sure for the next storm that it doesn’t happen again. Hopefully, this memorial will be a reminder of that.”

But as the third anniversary of the hurricane approaches on August 29, nobody expects the memorial to be anywhere near ready. Reasons for the delay are tossed around: Some blame the mayor’s office and other city officials, while others say it’s because the whole city is worn out and fatigued.

The experience of the memorial is an apt symbol for what has happened to New Orleans as a whole: Like the memorial, the city and its effort to recover also seem forgotten, frustrated and delayed. This is especially true for the poorer areas of the city, which are struggling to recover.

And that’s what worries many in New Orleans. They worry that their communities will be forgotten as time goes by, as funds for Hurricane Katrina recovery dry up, and as other disasters occupy the country’s attention.

For a few Winnipeggers who had the incredible privilege of working in that city in the summer of 2008, that won’t be the case. Those of us who had the chance to live and work in New Orleans will remember those we met for a long time, and maybe we will also find a few ways to remind others, too.

And maybe some of us will even go back again next year, if Mennonite Disaster Service and the people in New Orleans still need and want our assistance.

Considering that much of New Orleans is below sea level, and that the city could be innundated again by a storm like Hurricane Katrina, why don’t they just move?

That’s the question I’ve heard more than once since going to New Orleans in late July to do reconstruction and repair with Mennonite Disaster Service. Why rebuild something that might just be damaged or destroyed again?

To begin with, consider the practical implications: Where would you move over 450,000 people to? Imagine deciding one day that because Winnipeg is located in a flood plain, we should all just pull up and move to Selkirk, where flooding is less likely. It’s impossible.

In the case of New Orleans, there are few places people could go to get out of the way of future hurricanes, anyway. Plus, much of the land surrounding the city is swamp; you drive for miles on elevated bridges over bayous as you depart. There really isn’t anywhere for people to go.

But when you ask “Why don’t they move?” in the mostly African-American Lower Ninth Ward, one of the hardest-hit parts of New Orleans, you get a different response. When people in that area hear that question, the “they” being referred to is them: People who are poorer and black. They hear a question tinged with racism, and they take considerable umbrage. 

They point out that their neighbourhood was no less a community where children played and people raised their families than the richer areas located on higher ground in other parts of the city.

They note that there was a higher percentage of home ownership in the Ninth Ward (63 percent compared to the 27 percent city-wide average).

The say that many families have lived in the area for generations, with houses being passed down from grandparents, to parents, to grandchildren.

They also say, simply, that it is home. “People have built a life here,” says Elois Reed, a licensed plumber and long-time Ninth Ward resident. “Why would we want to abandon that to start over somewhere else? Our community was strong.”

“We may not have been rich people, in terms of material things,” Reed, an African-American, goes on to say, “but that doesn’t diminish who we are as people. We weren’t poor and useless. People here worked hard. Some had two or three jobs.

“We were rich in other ways, in knowing and loving each other.”

Reed doesn’t sugarcoat the problems the community experienced before the storm, or play down the scale of the challenge facing them as they try to rebuild the area. But she feels that they are being overlooked and under-served because they are African-American, noting that other areas of the city and the state appear to be getting more resources and assistance.

“Racism is a reality in this country,” she says.

For Reed, and for many others in the Ninth Ward, the question isn’t “Why don’t they move?” but “Why isn’t more being done to help them?”

The official death toll in New Orleans from Hurricane Katrina was 1,100. But people in that city say the storm is still claiming more victims. 

In one family, six people have died since late August, 2005: Parents, siblings and relatives. They died of various ailments and illnesses, but family members attribute their passing to the stress of losing their homes, their jobs, their churches, their friends, their support networks and their communities, plus the additional stress of being evacuated to temporary housing in other states. 

Another man spoke about his father and mother-in-law, who had been fine before the storm, although elderly. Since the hurricane his father-in-law has been in the hospital six times, while his mother-in-law lives in a state of constant depression. “They weren’t that way before Katrina,” he said, noting that he knows of people who have “died earlier than he would have expected” since the storm.

Their comments are supported by Orelans Parish coroner Dr. Frank Minyard. In an Associated Press (AP) story carried in the Washington Post in June, he said “there is no doubt in my mind that Katrina is still killing our residents. People with pre-existing conditions are made worse by the stress of living here after the storm. Old people are just giving up. People are killing themselves because they feel they can’t go on.”

Dr. Ronald Kessler of Harvard Medical School is monitoring the mental health of 3,000 Katrina survivors. He has found high rates of mental health problems.”Previous research has found that mental disorders are predictors of earlier death rates,” he told AP. “So putting the two together in New Orleans is not surprising.”

According to New Orleans medical officials, the death rate has jumped from 11.3 per 1,000 deaths to 14.3 per 1,000, a leap of more than 25 percent, since the storm.

Disaster recovery experts say that recovery involves not only the physical aspects of getting things back to normal, such as rebuilding homes and businesses, but also dealing with the emotional, psychological and spiritual effects. In the case of Hurricane Katrina, these effects appear to still be taking a severe toll today, almost three years later. 

“So, where exactly did the body of your mother end up?”

“How high was the water in your living room?”

“Were you able to save anything?”

“When did they find your granddaughter’s body?”

Those are a sampling of questions I asked Hurricane Katrina survivors when I was in New Orleans last week. They sound terrible, invasive, almost predatory. And they are. What gives me the right to ask such terrible questions about deep and personal loss?

As a reporter, you have to ask those questions. You have to get names, dates, places and events right. You have to press people to be accurate and specific. Otherwise, the writing is weak, flaccid and suspect.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a difficult thing to do. You end up feeling like a voyeur, peering through the cracks in the curtains that shield people’s lives. It helps that the people I interviewed in New Orleans wanted to tell you their stories; it’s not like I was an interrogator, prying information out of reluctant interviewees. Sometimes, I thought it was actually catharthic for them to meet someone who wanted to listen, who showed interest in what happened to them during the storm.

And yet, it still somehow feels wrong. What gives me the right to intrude on someone’s suffering, even if it is for a higher good? In this case, the higher good is ensuring that the people of New Orleans are not forgotten, and that people in the rest of North America will keep volunteering to help with reconstruction and repair efforts in that city. But it’s still hard to do.

Of course, my experience is not unique. Any reporter could share similar stories. The challenge is not to let the heart grow hard or get calluses on the soul: After all, if you’ve heard one story of pain and loss, you’ve heard them all. Nobody wants to become like the reporter who, while covering a war in Africa, asked the question that became the title of the memoir of journalist Edward Behr: “Anybody Here Been Raped And Speaks English?”

Of course, this experience isn’t unique to reporters. Every day we all can see heart-wrenching stories of pain and suffering from Canada and around the world through the media. It can leave us numb, and in danger of becoming, as Susan Sontag wrote in her essay Regarding The Pain Of Others, “tourists in other people’s reality,” gaining a “semblance of knowledge,” but not knowledge itself.

Over the past 25 or so years I have been granted the tremendous privilege of being able to personally record the suffering and challenges facing people in the developing world and in North America. In all cases, the people I have spoken to have been gracious and polite, even when sharing horrific tales. They gifted me with their stories, and also with the awesome responsibility of sharing those stories with others. I can only hope they feel honoured by what I have written.

We arrived home last evening, following a three day journey from New Orleans via Galveston, Houston, Dallas and Kansas City. We were a tired but satisfied bunch, filled with memories of our time in New Orleans.

As I drove home, I thought about a critique I received from someone in Manitoba who wondered if this was the best possible use of time and money. Since I have been critical of short term relief and missions trips to the developing world in the past, it’s a fair question, and deserves a reponse.

In my mind, a short-term trip is appropriate for the following reasons:

1) There must be a clear and verifiable need for volunteers. This need must be established by a reputable and credible local agency or agencies, using the best possible assessment tools.

In the case of New Orleans, leaders at the United Way and Catholic Charities stated categorically that if it hadn’t been for volunteers, the city would not be as far along as it is now. The need is real.

2) There must be a request for help from local residents and organizations. These residents and organizations must also feel that they have a significant say not only in making the request, but in determining what kind of work will be done and where it will be done.

People who have money and power are often unaware of how their presence changes the dynamics of a relationship with people who are poor and powerless. Givers and receivers can see the world in very different ways, with receivers sometimes feeling they cannot be too directive or emphatic about their desires for fear of offending the people who are providing help. This is particularly true when the people receiving help don’t want the kind of help they are being offered: The givers want to build a school, but the receivers really want a clinic. How do they say no? And if they say no, will it mean they never get help from these rich North Americans ever again?

3) The work must be done through and under the supervision of a reputable and credible local agency or agencies. In the developing world, many projects occur because someone in Canada or the U.S. met someone in Africa or Central America and established a personal connection, then went home and organized a group to go back and build a church or school or clinic. This isn’t a bad thing, but neither do they know if that’s really the best thing for the community; that’s where an experienced organization can be of tremendous assistance. Maybe what the community really needs is something else altogether, or maybe the pastor or community leader they are helping is really just building on their own grandiose dreams, without input from other residents.

4) There must be a proper local assessment process to determine who will receive the assistance. This is to ensure that the help goes to those who need it most. This is important, since people from outside the community or country usually cannot identify the neediest people.

In the developing world, for example, everyone in a village can look poor to a Canadian; it takes an experienced eye to note who are the poorest of the poor (and who are the richer of the poor). New Orleans is similar; 80 percent of the city flooded, which homes are most in need of attention? Which families most need assistance? Everyone looks like they need help. But some have more resources than others.

5) The people who go to provide the assistance must go through some sort of screening process. This would not be set up to eliminate those who don’t have a lot of construction experience (or that would have ruled me out), but it should ensure that people know why they are going, what they will do and what is expected of them while there.

6) There should be good local leadership. This is provided by people who are on the ground for the longer-term, who know the local area, understand the culture, know local officials and know how things get done.

7) There should be an appropriate response. There is a temptation to leave money and material goods behind, or to provide more assistance than a local community can handle. Too little in the way of material resources is a problem, but too much, given too quickly, can also be a problem. It can overwhelm a community or a family or a church, leaving people worse off than before.

I have mentioned before that Brad Pitt has organized a commendable effort to build as many as 150 houses in the city’s poorest neighbourhoods. They are large, beautiful and elaborate homes, with angled rooofs, multi-level construction and solar power. Locals speak admiringly of the homes. But they also note that they can’t be built by volunteer labour; professional crews like the one supplied by Mike Holmes of Holmes on Homes are required to build them. They also wonder if they will end up being hard for families to maintain. Plus, the large size will also mean higher taxes than before. Are they the best houses for the area? The jury is out.

8) There should be coordination on the ground. At the beginning, the response to Hurricane Katrina was plagued by a lack of coordination. With over 100,000 homes damaged, there was no shortage of things to do, but groups found themselves all working in the same areas while other neighbourhoods were missed. As well, some families received help from multiple agencies, but others went without.

9) There should be some cultural similarities. A bunch of white folks from Manitoba may not share everything in common with African-Americans in the deep south, but we spoke the same language and shared the most basic of cultural and other assumptions. The learning curve, in other words, was not that steep.

Contrast this with going to the developing world, where people don’t speak the language, don’t know local customs, where religions might be different, where expectations vary considerably. It takes a skilled group to navigate that cultural maze.

10) Local jobs must not suffer. The people doing the free labour must not be taking jobs from local people. That would be one of the worst things that could happen. In the case of the developing world, the cost of sending one group of Canadians could provide employment for many local people, who can then also support their families.

In the case of MDS in New Orleans, the groups they work with (like Catholic Charities) only refers them to people who are the least able to pay to rebuild their homes. All others are referred to a list of locally-recommended contractors. As well, all the major work (electrical, plumbing, foundation, heating, cooling, etc.) is done by local trades.

This list is not exhaustive. And MDS would probably be the first to say that there are things it could do better. But I believe it meets all the critieria above, and does its job well. Local people feel the same way: Both Catholic Charities and the United Way speak very highly of their association with MDS, as do local clergy.

So, in my mind, the answer is yes. It was a good investment of time and resources, both for the people who received the help, and for those of us who went.

The week in New Orleans is over; tomorrow we head home.

We leave behind one house that is partially framed; another house is ready to be painted; a third needs a final coat of drywall mud. A bathroom was tiled at a fourth house, while a family will dedicate and move into their almost completed house next week.

Each of these houses are the product of the labour of many people. A total of ten groups are coming down to New Orleans this summer from across North America, including two from Manitoba. Each group added their bit, and their sweat, to the ongoing projects.

For us, the effort has been more than rewarding. We’ve gotten to know each other better across intergenerational lines. We laughed, played and worked–lots and lots of work.

At the same time, we’ve gotten to know people here in New Orleans. They graciously admitted us into their lives, and into their pain and loss. We were humbled to hear their stories, and to see how strong and courageous they are in the face of considerable obstacles.

While writing this blog I have attempted to show both the challenges that face this city, and also the difficulties of doing the right thing when it comes to disaster recovery. But I’ve also talked about having fun, and the lighter side of life in New Orleans. This city, just like Winnipeg, is more than just the things that tend to make the news: things like crime and despair and tragedy. Like back home, people here laugh and play and enjoy their community, and they invited us to do so, too.

As for this blog itself, it’s not the end; there are many other things I want to say about life in New Orleans and doing disaster recovery work. Check back over the next while for updates as I process all that I have seen and heard. Also check the Sunday Faith Page for another story from New Orleans, and for a story in View From the West sometime this week, too.

As for Brad Pitt, I never did meet him. But I met someone who did meet him, and the MDS framing crew met Mike Holmes of Holmes on Homes. Mike is here building one of the Brad Pitt homes just down the street from where MDS is building a house for a local pastor.

A final thought: Nobody we helped here in New Orleans had ever met a Mennonite church member before the storm. But denominational lines don’t matter when disaster strikes. As Robert Green said: “I don’t know much about Mennonites, but I prayed with them and all I know is they love God just like I do. And that’s all that matters.”

I was interviewing Thira Duplessis the other night. She’s the wife of Charles, the pastor of the Mount Nebo Baptist Church. MDS is building a new house for Charles and Thira; their home, in the Lower Ninth Ward, was completely destroyed by the flood that followed the storm. So was their church; out of 120 members, only about 20 are left in New Orleans.  What does a pastor do when not only is his church gone, but his congregation, too? But that’s a story for another day.

After the interview, I asked her to spell her name. Here’s what she gave me: Thirawer.

“Thirawer?” I said. “I thought you pronounced it ‘Thira.’”

“I do,” she replied. “The extra letters are lanny-yap.”

Lannyap? I told her I had never heard that word before.

“It’s an old Lousiana expression for extra,” she replied. “In my case, it’s extra letters.”

Curious, I went to Google (where else?) to find out more. As it turns out, the word is spelled “lagniappe.” It is derived from the Spanish phrase la ñapa (meaning “something that is added”). In use down here, it refers to something extra that a merchant might give you in addition to your purchase. The spelling shows the French influence in the region.

Mark Twain wrote about the word in his 1883 book, Life on the Mississippi. Said Twain:

“We picked up one excellent word — a word worth travelling to New Orleans to get; a nice limber, expressive, handy word — “lagniappe.” They pronounce it lanny-yap. It is Spanish — so they said.

” . . . It has a restricted meaning, but I think the people spread it out a little when they choose. It is the equivalent of the thirteenth roll in a “baker’s dozen. It is something thrown in, gratis, for good measure. The custom originated in the Spanish quarter of the city.”

” . . . When you are invited to drink, and this does occur now and then in New Orleans — and you say, “What, again? — no, I’ve had enough;” the other party says, “But just this one time more — this is for lagniappe.”

Maybe I’ll find a use for that word when I get home, too.

All week, there’s been nary a mention of Manitoba, or Canada, for that matter, in the local newspaper (The Times-Picayune). But that changed today with the report of the frightful stabbing and beheading on the Greyhound bus near Portage la Prairie.

Of course, that’s not all that happened in Manitoba yesterday. But that’s all that people in New Orleans will know about a province we call “friendly.”

The experience reminds me that what we tend to know about the world are the terrible and tragic things: Death, destruction, crime, war, disaster, tragedy. These things occur, and it would be pollyanish to pretend otherwise. But these aren’t the only things that happen in the world every day.

I could fill my blog with stories about all the empty lots and boarded up houses in New Orleans. But that would only be part of the story. There are also houses being rebuilt, people moving back, communities and neighbourhoods struggling to be re-born. And that is part of the story, too.

Another evening out tonight, this time to Preservation Hall to hear some real New Orleans Jazz. Playing tonight was the New Birth Brass Band. The played all the favourites, and also a special request for a member of our group who is celebrating her 16th birthday in New Orleans. The band played about eight versions of “Happy Birthday” to Becky, enjoining the standing-room crowd to join in, making it a memorable evening for one Manitoba teenager.

During a break in sets, I went for a walk on nearby Bourbon Street. The place was jam-packed and jumping: Tourism seems to be alive and well once again in New Orleans. This is quite a contrast from the Ninth Ward and Gentilly, where we are working. Down there, it’s pretty quiet, save for the noise of hammers and saws.

This disconnect is not lost on the locals. They repeatedly tell us they understand the importance of tourism to the New Orleans economy, and of the need for the city to promote itself as being back to normal for tourists. But that’s not the reality they experience. They see money being spent to advertise New Orleans, but they still struggle to get the funding and assistance they need to build their homes and livelihoods.

While I was at one of the MDS houses yesterday, a tour bus drove by. I assume it was tourists taking a drive through the disaster zone. It’s easy to be critical of people who drive by to look at other people’s misfortune. But, if I’m honest, I’m not so different. Every night when I watch the news I tour through the misery of others, both drawn and repelled by the story. It’s like watching a funeral procession: It catches our attention, but it fails to move us.

Even after a week in New Orleans I find my eyes easily drawn to all the empty, vacant houses, windows boarded up, roofs peeling, rubble piled up outside on the curb. It’s a normal reaction, even if you know you shouldn’t stare. Luckily, people here are gracious and welcoming, never critical, even for a tourist like me.

Tonight we had a special treat: Alligator stew, prepared by our cooks (neither of whom are from here; one is from Manitoba, the other from Wisconsin). They also prepared soft shell crab and shrimp. Not those little bitty shrimp we buy in Manitoba at the grocery store, but shrimp that are a good 3-4 inches long (without the head). Traditionally, they are to be eaten with the head on, but several in our group felt a little squeamish about that.

Of course, the meal included some Louisiana hot sauce.

Speaking of alligators, one was spotted in Lake Ponchartrain, right across the road from where we are staying. Another held up traffic on Interstate 10 the other day. The local paper did not indicate why he was crossing the road.