Monday, November 5, 2007
Initiated?
Day one of actually working was ridiculously gross and overwhelming but was pretty interesting and well worth it, so don't be scared or think you can't handle the work if you're debating on coming down.
Our orientation was last night and the videos Sarah showed us probably would have had me bawling had I been by myself but seated in the front row of 70 people, I was able to manage maintaining my tears and limiting myself to just a few. The benefit to watching these depressing videos though is that they're a reminder of why you're here.
I'll admit, a quarter-way through today I thought "What is the point of this?" 30 or 40 people had signed up to gut a Medical Clinic about 10 miles away along with its neighboring Mental Health Clinic and Drug Rehab Center, neither of which had been touched since Katrina and were in muddy, dark, moldy shambles. My car got their early, being the speed demon I am, and we took a look around the Medical Clinic.
There was a busted water pipe spewing water all over the front lobby--at least I think it was the front lobby. There were no doors, no desk, no anything except a pile of rubble and a pool of mucky water. The building was partially already gutted but there was a lot of work to do--most of the walls were still up and there was debris everywhere. The once blue walls were spotted with black mold colonies and wires hung loosely from the ceilings and walls. Cockroaches scurried from one pile of nasty rubbish to another.
We prepped ourselves with yellow rubber boots to cover our shoes, white body suits that turned into saunas, helmets, eye goggles (sexy), gloves, and face masks that made those Outbreak masks look wimpy. I'm honestly scared of the big goofy masks that make you look like Darth vader so I opted for a less intense filter mask.
When we got going, you're not really sure how to start, you just start. And looking back, I can't remember what I first started working on but I eventually focused on demolishing the walls of one of the rooms. It's incredibly therapeutic sledge hammering your way through the morning.. I'm sure everyone who had a sledge hammer used some sort of life stressor as ammunition, i.e. their shitty job, their pisser boss, their stupid girlfriend or more stupid boyfriend, nagging parents, etc. So yeah, I won't lie, it was fun picturing those walls as my cubicle walls.
But about halfway through the morning, not to dissuade anyone, but I honestly started to wonder what was going to happen to this building and what the point of taking my mini wrecking ball arms at this wall. What good would this do for St. Bernard? Why were 40 people, from random parts of the U.S., shovelling, axing and sledging (sledging?? sledgehammering? do I care right now? I smell like hurricane vomit...) away at these buildings? What would happen to this building and who's going to keep it going?
By lunchtime, everyone looks like a wet cat, gnarly, grumpy and ready to bite your face off. Just having to go to the bathroom is work--taking off the layers of protective coating. As we ate though, I think there was a sense of commaradery in the work we were all putting in and everyone seemed pretty proud.
I think the commaradery our group develops helps us develop a stronger sense of hope for this place. And our continuing faith helps the community realize there will be light soon. As most of the country has given up on this place, there are people here who still have faith in a new St. Bernard and a new New Orleans.
The Clinic is really pathetic looking--it's a shell as of now with piles of rubble sitting in the parking lot. I'm not really sure what the next step is for the Clinic. All that's left inside is the frame, some debris, hanging wires, and puddles that have been there since who knows when.
But regardless of whether or not someone actually comes back to continue the work on the Clinic, I have faith people will see the continuing efforts and realize it's not that hard. It's not that difficult to keep the work going. I don't know if the Clinic will ever get fully cleaned up and even if it does, I don't know what's going to happen to it--whether it'll end up being demolished and turned into a plot of land for Donald Trump to build something on or if people will keep coming back to rebuild a Clinic.
So I guess all I can do after I leave is keep bugging people to help and if they can't help, then ask other people to help because, really, this isn't that hard. Giving up is easy but it's never as satisying. Some of us might not be able to see each project from start to finish but if we're able to continue one or more steps of each project, that keeps the faith of the community strong and enable volunteers to come back and conitnue the next step and that alone is worth it to me.
Our orientation was last night and the videos Sarah showed us probably would have had me bawling had I been by myself but seated in the front row of 70 people, I was able to manage maintaining my tears and limiting myself to just a few. The benefit to watching these depressing videos though is that they're a reminder of why you're here.
I'll admit, a quarter-way through today I thought "What is the point of this?" 30 or 40 people had signed up to gut a Medical Clinic about 10 miles away along with its neighboring Mental Health Clinic and Drug Rehab Center, neither of which had been touched since Katrina and were in muddy, dark, moldy shambles. My car got their early, being the speed demon I am, and we took a look around the Medical Clinic.
There was a busted water pipe spewing water all over the front lobby--at least I think it was the front lobby. There were no doors, no desk, no anything except a pile of rubble and a pool of mucky water. The building was partially already gutted but there was a lot of work to do--most of the walls were still up and there was debris everywhere. The once blue walls were spotted with black mold colonies and wires hung loosely from the ceilings and walls. Cockroaches scurried from one pile of nasty rubbish to another.
We prepped ourselves with yellow rubber boots to cover our shoes, white body suits that turned into saunas, helmets, eye goggles (sexy), gloves, and face masks that made those Outbreak masks look wimpy. I'm honestly scared of the big goofy masks that make you look like Darth vader so I opted for a less intense filter mask.
When we got going, you're not really sure how to start, you just start. And looking back, I can't remember what I first started working on but I eventually focused on demolishing the walls of one of the rooms. It's incredibly therapeutic sledge hammering your way through the morning.. I'm sure everyone who had a sledge hammer used some sort of life stressor as ammunition, i.e. their shitty job, their pisser boss, their stupid girlfriend or more stupid boyfriend, nagging parents, etc. So yeah, I won't lie, it was fun picturing those walls as my cubicle walls.
But about halfway through the morning, not to dissuade anyone, but I honestly started to wonder what was going to happen to this building and what the point of taking my mini wrecking ball arms at this wall. What good would this do for St. Bernard? Why were 40 people, from random parts of the U.S., shovelling, axing and sledging (sledging?? sledgehammering? do I care right now? I smell like hurricane vomit...) away at these buildings? What would happen to this building and who's going to keep it going?
By lunchtime, everyone looks like a wet cat, gnarly, grumpy and ready to bite your face off. Just having to go to the bathroom is work--taking off the layers of protective coating. As we ate though, I think there was a sense of commaradery in the work we were all putting in and everyone seemed pretty proud.
I think the commaradery our group develops helps us develop a stronger sense of hope for this place. And our continuing faith helps the community realize there will be light soon. As most of the country has given up on this place, there are people here who still have faith in a new St. Bernard and a new New Orleans.
The Clinic is really pathetic looking--it's a shell as of now with piles of rubble sitting in the parking lot. I'm not really sure what the next step is for the Clinic. All that's left inside is the frame, some debris, hanging wires, and puddles that have been there since who knows when.
But regardless of whether or not someone actually comes back to continue the work on the Clinic, I have faith people will see the continuing efforts and realize it's not that hard. It's not that difficult to keep the work going. I don't know if the Clinic will ever get fully cleaned up and even if it does, I don't know what's going to happen to it--whether it'll end up being demolished and turned into a plot of land for Donald Trump to build something on or if people will keep coming back to rebuild a Clinic.
So I guess all I can do after I leave is keep bugging people to help and if they can't help, then ask other people to help because, really, this isn't that hard. Giving up is easy but it's never as satisying. Some of us might not be able to see each project from start to finish but if we're able to continue one or more steps of each project, that keeps the faith of the community strong and enable volunteers to come back and conitnue the next step and that alone is worth it to me.
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