Upon coming back home, the one question most seem to ask is, "So, how was the trip?" It's a question I frankly don't have the ability to answer, so I typically summarize by responding, "Great" or by using a similar adjective. This despite I began reflecting upon it all by taking one of those few well deserved naps in your life: and in this case a nap under the morning sun on a picnic table bench on Saturday, as well as the 7 hour journey back home, and throughout Sunday.
However even after thoughtful reflection, it remains mighty difficult to explain to anyone in a few simple words what this experience has truly meant to me, and I imagine it's the same for most all of us volunteers. This is because the trip was many things to everyone involved. It's the relationships you develop amongst the SEI crew, the friends or acquaintances from afar that you make at the work site, learning and applying new skills everyday, the pride you take in your given or chosen task, the drain of energy if you are not used to standing and hammering all day long. It's overcoming the fears of being on the edge of a rooftop, contemplating and still not ever understanding the life of a love bug, an hour long conversation with a resident who apologizes to me that he finds it too easy to vent sadness and frustration at having lost his fiance, driving an 8 passenger van for the first (and perhaps last) time, plugging $10 in a jukebox and enthusiastically choosing John Anderson as one of those songs (again, perhaps for the last time), talking with Carl about the first time he heard Jimi Hendrix, it’s Robin changing the fate of man by impressing on him her experience during a 3-hour flight home, the paranoia of misplacing my Estwing hammer because I love it more than almost anything I have there with me, sleep deprivation for every sort of reason, fried green tomatoes, pulley systems developed for a shower.
If you approach each day as another opportunity to help as we all did (none of us missed a work day, and as far as I know, we were on-time each day as well), you find it in yourself to wake up at 6a and work until 6p each day and you learn a lot about a person, yourself included. I certainly learned a lot about myself each day. For instance, I learned I can carry a big hammer but I am nothing without our incredible site leader Russ, and the help of other more knowledgeable and patient volunteers such as Galen. I learned that I can burn and tan and then burn again so I chose to wear a functional, kinda ridiculous straw Panama Jack hat instead (a hat with with lead based fake South African shells, or so I learned when I went through the metal detector at the airport). I learned that I want to apply the skills I have learned and get involved in Habitat (iBuild, or a similar organization) in the Philadelphia area.
As Robin Bortz was quoted as saying during a local news interview (which you can find on the link posted by Robb Muse above), “Where else can you work where someone thanks you everyday for what you do”? Of course, it’s very true. In Mississippi, the families you build for are so very grateful and most everyone in the community shows their gratitude in some way, and when they express this it's usually in a way that one can tell that by volunteering to help build homes, this raises the spirit that had at once been taken away in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. In this sense, it's quite profound. It's this aspect of the volunteering that is by far the most rewarding for myself; experiencing the genuine gratitude of many of the residents. I say this because we can build a house for someone to live. However we can't give anyone back their lives. It seems almost too cliché to mention anymore on a blog and especially amongst those affected by Hurricane Katrina (because they ALL lost everything) but it's fact- Almost Everything Was Lost. From the remote control to your family scrap book to your car and home, it's all lost and gone forever. You are told to provide receipts in order to be properly compensated. Your receipts were lost. So you are given a $5,000 check to cover the cost of the three vehicles (two you utilized in your own business). That might buy you a few tools to get back in business and a clunker from an auction in Florida that you now can drive to a job, when and if you find work. You are given a FEMA trailer, but then eventually told to move. FEMA then restructures as a result of Katrina and the bureaucracy of it all is so overwhelming to penetrate that you must foot the bill on your own. The local church and local non-profit organizations (that may have nearly been dissolved before the disaster, i.e. Americorp) are now your only salvations, but they can only prop you up in so many ways. You've heard the stories. Everyone has one. It's disheartening to hear and it must be a nightmare to live. When your home is destroyed, your business destroyed, your community in shambles, and for a week you don't even have water or a port-a-pot for a month... it's inconceivable to imagine how much most everyone in this community has lost. Let alone the grief of losing a loved one or someone close to you. It most certainly must challenge your spirit. It's probably only too easy to give up hope. Though even after all of this, when I speak and a resident of Bay St. Louis who hears my northern accent asks me why I am here, I explain, and I see and hear this gratitude when I hear “God Bless you all” by a local, or we are provided a home cooked meal prepared by a neighbor, or a tearful speech or hug by a Habitat home owner. The Gulf is definitely rebuilding. Though when you hear the stories, the realization is that in many ways, it will never be the same. It's a paradox that once you acknowledge is true, in my opinion, only then can you perhaps begin to understand what the families in this area have been through.
You take all of this with you back home. As a result you reflect, and perhaps you want to prioritize and learn and do more, or perhaps you simply are grateful in that moment. We all take something different from the experience. It's impossible for me to explain in detail all that I have taken from this trip. Though I know we all built 10 homes in a week. I know that we made a difference in those families’ lives. I know Habitat-For-Humanity and Americorp will carry on the work to be done without me there. I know it will be an experience I will not forget and I hope that this is not the end of such experiences for myself, SEI, Lagniappe Church (which housed and fed us volunteers), and I know it's not the end for Bay St. Louis, Diamondhead, and the Gulf Region.
Yours,
Alan