Getting Grounded

Volunteers got a chance to participate in the New Orleans tradition of "second-lining," impromptu processions that follow jazz funerals or parades. Photo: Caitlin Carlson/Mercy Corps

Today is the day to get grounded.

We begin our day by touring.

It would take the writings of Dostoevsky, or some other darkly disposed Russian writer, to fully express to you the sadness and desolation represented by current-day New Orleans. This is getting to be a theme of my reports, but today we took a more extensive tour than yesterday, and saw more of the unpleasant conditions our fellow citizens are experiencing in the Crescent City. Right now, the Big Easy is anything but.

We toured the pre-Katrina impoverished and post-Katrina decimated Ninth Ward; saw a slightly deforested levee and received a telling lecture from the Sierra Club; visited the Lower Ninth Ward Neighborhood Empowerment Network Association (NENA) Center, a neighborhood center helping residents get back on their feet through housing, administrative and informational support); visited the Rosa Keller Library in the Broadmoor neighborhood (the aforementioned neighborhood that fought back); were delighted by strong women at another community center; and were constantly reminded as we went from stop to stop that it is the in-betweens that frequently matter. And the in-between views of New Orleans, from the lofty perch of an elevated bus seat, was consistently disappointing: home after dark, shuttered home.

Still, some views were uplifting. For example, how often do you get to see a governor and a mayor plant a tree together? Quintessential Oregonian behavior in a Louisiana elementary school.

Another highlight of our day was walking a "second line," a New Orleans tradition, from a refurbished church and community center to a lovely, recently restored home adjacent to a levee where we had lunch (chicken, red beans and rice, crawfish, and more), heard local music, discussed what we had seen and heard to date, and girded ourselves for an afternoon of more illumination. The sun was high and hot, brightly exposing the dinginess of the community surrounding us. Yet spirits were high, hope was afoot and we charged forward, determined to learn. And learn we did.

The highest point of my day, however, was reserved for the ladies of the Ashé Cultural Arts Center. Each one of the ladies who spoke represented a different facet of the recovery effort, and to a lady they were eloquent, uplifting, positive and inspiring. If they represent the typical spirit of New Orleanians, then New Orleans will be back in a big way.

As hard as it is to believe, most of my compatriots from Oregon and I were exhausted from a day of sitting on our butts being ferried around on a comfortable bus, listening to heartfelt speeches and comments ranging from Governor Kulongoski and Mayor Potter to the incomparable Tricia Jones of NENA and the unforgettable Pastor Bruce.

What was exhausting was that we were finally getting a mental handle on the enormity of what is confronting these folks in New Orleans. And it was that revealed reality, through whatever empathy we could muster, that wore us down. We realized that it was depressing and challenging to us; we also realized that we would fly back to Oregon, and these folks had no choice but to remain, rebuild and restore - or retreat.

Tomorrow we hit the ground.