You can’t leave Biloxi and not be a changed person in one way or another. As much as I wish I could share every detail of my experience, I find it impossible to fully articulate the devastation Hurricane Katrina caused the Gulf Coast. I am haunted by the fact that the 25,000 people Hands On is working with in Biloxi is just the tip of the iceberg of those still left in need of critical help. Hurricane Katrina left over 500,000 people without a place to rest their heads at night. Most of these people didn’t just lose their homes, they lost their lives: their cars, family heirlooms, photo albums, computers, toys, clothes, jobs and most tragically, even their loved ones. To my surprise, the one thing the people from Biloxi have not lost is hope. I am fortunate enough to say I have taken an active part of giving back the lives of the people of Biloxi. They are so deserving of it.
My first trip to Biloxi was, for lack of better words, the most enlightening and amazing experience of my life thus far. (Read entry #1) With that said, I returned back to Biloxi only ten days after coming home the first time. This time was a shorter trip, however, only the six days that fell over President’s weekend. I will spend five weeks in Biloxi this summer; I can’t wait. I feel a real sense of purpose for my life when I am volunteering in Biloxi; not necessarily a purpose I find at home in Santa Cruz. There is simply no opportunity to volunteer in Santa Cruz that would bring me a fraction of the satisfaction and purpose that volunteering in Biloxi brings me. I think this is because my time spent in Biloxi is real. I see real people in the most real, devastating situations they will experience during their entire lives (hopefully!). I have the chance of witnessing sixty other volunteers at work, giving their time and efforts for no other reason than to help these poor victims of the hurricane. They feel just as touched as I, both emotionally and physically. I say physically because there truly is a real pain that I experienced after first witnessing the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Dave Campbell, the brave man who started Hands On USA, gave a speech one night regarding the term “heart-wrenching” and what it really means. “Have y’all ever really thought about what it means to experience “heart-wrenching” pain?” I took in his thoughts and let it sit awhile. Soon after, I realized he was right. Talking and working with the survivors of Hurricane Katrina really, truly brought about a pain, a sadness that physically wrenched my heart. It was a kind of pain that I have only experienced once before, on a mission trip to Tijuana with my church youth group during high school. The pain I feel for the people of Biloxi is unfathomable. I carried an ache, and still carry an ache in my heart for all of the innocent victims I met during my time in Mississippi.
The night before I left for Biloxi, my Dad asked me if I was prepared for what I was about to do and be a witness to. I quickly told him “yes, of course” but what I really wanted to say was, “What are you kidding me? Yes I’m prepared for the Gulf Coast! I’ve been to Tijuana haven’t I?” Boy am I glad that I stuck with the “Yes, of course” response. Because…as much as I hate to admit it, my Dad was right. There was nothing that could have prepared me for my trip to Biloxi, absolutely nothing.
There is something so cool about helping other people. After both of my trips to Biloxi, I still haven’t put a finger on it. All I know is when I do good things for other people, I feel really good inside. Call me selfish, but it’s true.
Quickly after my first return home, I underwent a horrible case of reverse-culture shock. It was terribly hard for me to get back into the swing of things. My heart and mind were still in Biloxi and I couldn’t break away from the thought of all the people that still needed my help. I started school that week, heavy hearted and carelessly minded. I wanted to tell everyone about my experience in Biloxi. But I learned that sometimes you have to be okay with not being able to enlighten everyone with a personal experience; that’s just how it goes. So here is my story- forgive me for the typos because it is completely unedited or revised.
Immediately following my flight into Biloxi, I was taken on a drive along highway 90, a highway that once hugged the beautiful Gulf Coast for 30+ miles. I came prepared with my camera in hand, or so I thought. Any attempt to explain, in a short e-mail, the damage and destruction Hurricane Katrina caused on the Gulf Coast is absolutely impossible. I will try my very best, however, to paint you a picture of what is remaining of the 75 mile stretch of peninsula. Although I have included pictures in this e-mail, I hate to tell you, they just do not do justice. Unless you are breathing the moldy, musty air while watching 25 fellow volunteers tear down the remaining structure of a home that belonged to a family of 8, and you listen to the quiet sobs of the grandchildren from the FEMA trailer ten feet from the former front-porch; you will never truly know the devastation. (Just that very thought brought me to tears.) The Gulf Coast is much worse than any part of Tijuana I ever saw.
The excitement of my arrival to “base camp” was peaked by my triumphant greeting as Hands On USA’s 1500th volunteer. Way cool. Just as I walked in the front doors, the office staff began singing “1500!” to the “Hallelujah” melody. 1500 remained my name for the rest of the trip. I dug that. From there, the work began. I was taken right out to work on “interiors” twenty minutes after arriving from my 11 hour journey to Biloxi.
I would have to write a novel to tell you about all the different experiences I had while working in Biloxi, so I am going to touch on a few. The city of Biloxi (45,000-50,000 people before the Hurricane) has been divided into quadrants. Each volunteer organization is assigned to a quadrant. Because Hands On USA is so large, we were assigned to the most devastated part of the city, East Biloxi. The pictures will explain. The first day I arrived, I joined about ten other volunteers helping “gut” a house that had been badly damaged by the flood. (ALL of the houses were badly damaged, this resident was lucky enough to get help.) Interiors included: taking apart whole bathrooms, digging up the floors (sometimes 5 layers thick because these homes were typically built by the residents themselves), tearing down walls with sledge hammers, removing dry wall, and tearing out kitchen sinks, furnaces, etc. Needless to say, it’s a tough job. By the end of the day, when all the trash has been removed and placed in the street, you are pooped, and very grateful for the twenty minute car ride home. The following day I signed up for tutoring. The local elementary school has lost a significant amount of teachers to the storm, thus they are drawing out students like me to come and teach Reading/English to 1st-4th graders. I would guess, just by sheer observation, that about 90%-95% of the students were African American. They speak Ebonics. So, my job was to basically reverse-teach them Ebonics (what they learn at home) and teach them American English. It’s a real trip, to be in charge of a class like that with no supervision. The most awesome part about the experience was the students really wanted to learn. Hands On USA is widely known around Biloxi, and the students recognize us as well. For that, we are greatly respected by the students. Makes the job much easier. Another day I volunteered at the local Animal shelter. Animals are still, to this day, being brought in from the aftermath of the storm. The staff was very grateful to have extra hands to walk, clean, and care for their animals. What else? Oh yes, one of my favorite experiences was something called “Street Team.” This included a team of four people that drove out to East Biloxi to do nothing but talk with the locals. If I learned one thing on this trip, it is this. There are still locals that haven’t told their story to a single soul. Picture me, in my Hands On sweatshirt, pulling up to an old woman raking at the side of the road. We explain our business, and in less than two minutes, her harrowing story unfolds. And you know what? That’s really what most of the people of Biloxi want. They just want their existence to be affirmed. They want us to know what it really means to be living their lives: no roof over their heads, breathing mold and mildew, traveling to the community center every day for free food, and spending every waking moment of their life trying to fix their home. We are told to stay strong (a.k.a. not break into sobs) when they tell their stories. Sometimes that just isn’t possible. One woman in particular, Anita, left me speechless. I will never forget our conversation. She had lost her husband of 51 years in the hurricane, and is currently living in the brick tool shed behind her son’s house in East Biloxi. Her son sent in a FEMA app that was never approved. She was 73, in poor health, and had not yet seen a dime from federal aid. After she was through with her story, I asked her, “So do you ever wake up some mornings and just feel like this totally sucks, I can’t do this anymore?” And this was her response: “Ya ever seen that Apollo 13 movie? I think a lot like that. (She quotes the movie) We're not gonna go bouncin’ off the walls for ten minutes, 'cause we're just gonna end up back here wit the same damn problems we started with! We just try to figure out how to stay alive.” I was at a lack of words. I felt that anything that would come out of my mouth would ruin the moment. I wanted to hug her, tell her that she was the strongest person I had ever met, and that eventually her life would work itself out. Instead, I sat next to her in awe; completely and utterly humbled. That one experience would have made the whole trip worth it.
My other jobs included debris clean up around the neighborhood, cooking and cleaning for the other 70 volunteers (an all-day job, let me tell you!) clearing out the barges that were washed on shore (to put this into perspective- gambling used to be Biloxi’s biggest economy. These barges housed huge casinos on the water. One barge is about the size of 10 Titanics. In total, 4 barges washed up on shore. We were in charge of cleaning them up (along with the air force.) More jobs: working at the local day care, watching children whose parents were fixing up their houses, distributing food (STILL) to local community members, putting up streets signs (Yes, I did say putting up street signs, there are still hundreds to be made) and many many more.
So, the first question I usually get asked upon getting back is, “So what did you do over there exactly? Is it still really that bad?” Well folks, bad is an understatement. Horrible is an understatement. Unbelievable is an understatement. Just that first tour down the coast when I got off the plane made me sick to my stomach. The initial shock of the devastation hit me like a ton of bricks, and to be quite honest, never really left me for the remainder of the trip.
I met some of the most amazing people on my trip that I will ever meet in my lifetime. People that I know I will be in touch with for a long, long time. The coolest part about Hands On is that no one person there is there for any other reason than to volunteer. It is a completely non-profit organization, meaning not a single person is monetarily rewarded for his/her services. How cool is that? FIFTEEN HUNDRED people have given up their busy lives to benefit the people of the Gulf Coast. It was not uncommon to meet people at Hands On that had left well-paying jobs to volunteer for a couple months in Biloxi. One newlywed couple I met had sold their condo in Berkeley, bought a trailer home, and traveled cross county to Biloxi to help with Hands On. When I asked her how long they would be staying, she nonchalantly replied, “Oh, well…as long as they need us.” No where else in the world would I find a more dedicated, positive, friendly, open, generous, and fun-loving group of people to work with.
One more thing before I wrap this up. (Thanks for staying with me all this time! ? ) At dinner on the last night of everyone’s stay, you are required to stand up and just say a little something. The night before I left, one of the long-term volunteers was leaving. She stood up and said, “You know what? There is no other place in the world I could be right now, no beach in the Bahamas, no mountain in the Alps, no vacation anywhere in the world, where I could feel this good.” Her words really hit me. Within a matter of ten days, my fellow volunteers at Hands On became my family. We were a team, comrades, brothers and sisters.
Biloxi was a learning experience for me. Not only did I learn just how horrible the devastation is along the Gulf Coast, I learned a lot about myself. I see the world through a different filter now (as my Dad would say). I have a better handle on what I truly value in my life, you all included. I know what it means to work with your heart and soul. I know what it feels like to be so physically tired you don’t know if you will be able to wake up in the morning, but somehow when that next morning comes you want to wake up. I know what it means to be a team player. I know what Southern hospitality is. I know I can throw myself into a situation with fifty other complete strangers, and God will take care of it for me. I know that just a dozen people can really make a tangible difference. I know that Biloxi, in time, will rebuild to the amazing place it once was. I know that the people of Biloxi will remain hopeful until that day comes.
So I challenge you, friends and family, check out what’s going on in the Gulf Coast. Not just New Orleans, but Mississippi and the coast of Louisiana. It is in worse condition than you or I could have ever imagined. They need our help, badly.
I love you all so much, and I am thankful to have each and every one of you in my life.
With Love,
Nathalie