Another update from my friend, Joan, who is in Mississippi helping with Katrina cleanup.
It's 9:45PM, and I'm writing you from the back of our RV, in a camp made up of about 50+ volunteers (most in tents -- or our 'tent city') from around the country who have come to try to provide immediate disaster relief to a place called Gautier, Mississippi.There is so much that I want to tell you about today, about the people I've
met, the things I've seen, the work I've done. About, Lee and Greg, Mr.
Price, and Dawn, and Jean, and Agnes, and the incredible resilence I've
seen, about the Mormon Team working across the street, and the little boy
with the poodle, and how just seeing a cookie cutter in the mud, the metal
kind with a wooden handle, that my grandmother used to have, nearly made me
break down and cry. About how the water lines on the doors of a workshop
that housed 60 years of a man's possessions were at least 5 feet high and
still wet. How I spent the day since we got here hauling out everything we
could from there to the front yard of the house that essentially looked and
smelled like a dump. How not only was it the water from the storm, but also
the sewer waters backed up. How incredibly hot it was outside. How there
are these strange black bugs that fly around. How I learned to operate a
circular saw so I could cut dry wall at a 4' high line so our team could
basically gut out Pop Pop's (94 year old grandfather) entire house. How his
grandson was running around trying to manage all these other houses in the
family that he hadn't even had time for his own yet. The mold, the dust,
the shattered lives. Every house's front yard next to the road was a pile
-- one big muddy dumpy mess of waterlogged ruined remains, making it hard
for pick ups to get through with shovels, and generators, and circular saws
and crow bars. Hugging people like Jean, who I had just met today, who was
still just trying to get over the recent loss of her husband, but now had
this. Her neighbor who lost 3 cars, and wasn't sure what "they" were gonna
do with their houses and asking us if we knew if "they" were just gonna
bulldoze them all. And just trying to help them get through this. How
little has been salvageable, yet losing those memories attached to those
keepsakes hurts so much. And how people are trying to salvage because they
need the money. How people need money, have tarps on their roof tops, are
staying with friends or a shelter but essentially homeless. How some don't
have insurance or the means. How they're hoping FEMA will come around and
replace their things. How they've thanked God we've come to help them. How
sometimes just helping someone laugh might mean the world to them. How I
have so much and am so blessed and how it has to take absolute catastrophic
disasters for us to really stop and help. I mean really stop, put down
everything, and help. And just how necessary this is. And how blessed I am
to be able to be here doing it. Not because I particularly like picking up
things that are heavy, dirty, smelly, rusty, musty, wet and old, but because
it might be the one tangible thing that is not only helping them get through
this but also maybe giving them the hope they need to be able to get through
this. Or the relief -- because these people are exhausted -- physically,
emotionally. I don't know. Or because I can't think of something more
rewarding than truly helping someone in need.I know what I'm seeing here may be life changing for me. It is that
intense. I'll keep Mr. Price in my heart and prayers and remember that
despite seeing his father losing everything, and the rest of his family, and
he himself too, still teased me about "if I had a license to operate that
wheelbarrow?" and if maybe we should go to a casino to try and win some
money. But that when I suggested he might want to rest a bit and have some
water (he was 74) and I was concerned with the heat. "Rest?" He said to me,
"I've got all next week to rest."That's it for now, but there's so much more. I'm staying here tomorrow to
help organize on site and attend the service being held here at 9AM. I knew
immediately when I saw how things were here I had a job to do, and Lee, the
Camp Manager needs some relief. I told him I'd give him 2 days over my time
here. I didn't bring the troops* out with me today because I had no idea
what to expect and people were so excited to work we really left without
enough provisions (water, etc), but when I go on Monday I plan to, and will
send some with our team that goes out tomorrow.Did I mention I never worked so hard in my life? Interestingly though, I'm
not sore nor tired. The rest of the camp is asleep...I guess it's time for
me to do the same.
What kills me about this update is Joan has been in the Peace Corp in Africa, she once worked in an after school program which tried to keep kids, mostly extremely poor, out of gangs and off drugs. She currently works in public health dealing with AIDS in Africa. Yet, what she is seeing in Mississippi is a life changing event for her.
* troops are little stuff bears that she made to bring for the children down there.-----
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