Understanding, slowly
Now I get it. Before I came here I was really frustrated by the lack of media getting out of Common Ground. 'What in the world is wrong?' I thought. People doing this great work, bearing witness to what we on the outside cannot even begin to imagine, and they aren't telling us shit!? Now I understand. Not only is internet access rare and rather slow; additionally, the long days of gutting houses, bleaching mold stained wooden beams, and hauling supplies from trucks to distribution centers---a few among the many tasks a Common Grounder could apply themselves to on any given day---make it so that a filling meal and a good night's rest are pretty much all one cares about.
I have been itching to get to a computer, and finally I am here, at the Common Ground 'House of Excellence'---known to those in the know as 'the hoe'. It's a space that was cleaned up by Common Ground folks and is now used as a community media center. There is free internet and phone access for the community, and Common Ground volunteers are invited to use the facilities after hours. Today the place is nearly empty, though, so I am breaking the rule and using a computer before five o'clock.
The first few days here were interesting, at once not at all and exactly what I had expected. My first taste of New Orleans southern culture came on the shuttle from the airport to the Pauline street Common Ground center of operations, hereafter referred to (for reasons I will explain later) as the Greener Zone. The shuttle driver, a man named James, welcomed the all white crew of passengers to his beloved city with a few stories of the city's rebirthing process. 'We're coming along,' he sang, 'and we welcome you all with open hearts to have a taste and a look at our beautiful city.' I was the last passenger to depart the shuttle; the others were deposited at fancy hotels, some of them tourists and others presumably contractors or government employees. James seemed to relax a bit, to shed his quasi-minstrel show dance after the obviously moneyed passengers had departed. I asked him about his experience, his family, how they fared during and after Katrina, where they were now.
His story was like many I have heard since. 'My mother had very bad cancer before the storm,' he sighed, 'and so I did not want to take any chances about getting her out if it was a bad one. You know,' he said, 'one of the reasons that so many people drowned or were stuck here is because we in New Orleans have become accustomed to hearing about the next big storm. Lately, in the past few years, we've been warned about leaving the city and so people do, in droves. Then you run out of gas on the interstate and get stuck there for a few days with little food or water, and the baby is screaming and gets sick. You know, if you have sick people, old and young in your family, you can't take that risk if you aren't sure that a big storm is coming. So lots of people just took that chance, and stayed. Me, I had enough money to get me and my family out. I found a cancer clinic in Texas and took my mother there. It's a good thing I did.'
His mother has since passed away. After she died a few months ago he returned to New Orleans, got a job as a shuttle driver and is now in the process of navigating the government's lengthy red-tape process to try to get back into his home. Though he's paid to get it gutted already, he must pay for a series of inspections from electricians and the like. Only if these inspections pass will he be able to contact contractors to get an estimate of how much it will cost, and whether the house is structurally sound enough to rebuild. Then, finally, after obtaining green lights from these people, he must get it cleared with local and state officials. After all of this, a process which could take over a year and cost a pretty penny, he will be able to start the process of rebuilding his home. 'And hurricane season starts in a few months,' he said, smiling the 'no-matter-what' smile I have come to associate with New Orleans and its steadfast people.
There's so much to report and not much time in which to do it. There are a few people waiting to use the computers here at the HOE, and so I will just write a few more things before signing off. Common Ground is doing great work here. The racial politics of the place are, as to be expected, a bit strange. It seems as if some of the people working there don't have any questions or self-consciousness about their role in an entirely black community---a community that has never, ever experienced such attention from outsiders. The work is wonderful, though, and I have yet to speak to any local folks who have anything negative to say about Common Ground volunteers or the organization in general. So far the group has gutted over 300 houses, is in the process of gutting about fifty more each day and has a waiting list of over 300 more to go. The work is done completely for free, and Common Ground is now in the process of organizing with local churches to lend safety and gutting supplies to congregations who want to organize their own work crews. It's inspiring to see so many different kinds of people coming together to do such work.
I'm working on a film and have done quite a few interviews. I hope to interview a woman named Mama D, a local community organizer in the 7th ward. Apparently she has beef with Common Ground; I am excited to talk to her and hear her perspective on things here. I will also interview a Pastor Davenport, a really interesting guy who was recently excommunicated from the Baptist church. His daughter contracted HIV a few years ago and he has since set up an HIV/AIDS awareness center outside the largest projects in New Orleans. The 7th ward projects is, according to the Pastor, the most dangerous place to live in the most dangerous city in the country. He personally has been stabbed and shot more than once. His community center is really amazing; I went inside the office the other day and saw that he has posters of queer men of color on his wall, condoms everywhere, boxes of lube and tons of pamphlets about STDs and safe sex. He's truly an inspiration. In addition to the HIV/AIDS program, he runs a media center and a job training program for kids from the projects.
There's much, much more to say. I will write more later, when I am not hogging the computer from someone else who needs to use it.
I have been itching to get to a computer, and finally I am here, at the Common Ground 'House of Excellence'---known to those in the know as 'the hoe'. It's a space that was cleaned up by Common Ground folks and is now used as a community media center. There is free internet and phone access for the community, and Common Ground volunteers are invited to use the facilities after hours. Today the place is nearly empty, though, so I am breaking the rule and using a computer before five o'clock.
The first few days here were interesting, at once not at all and exactly what I had expected. My first taste of New Orleans southern culture came on the shuttle from the airport to the Pauline street Common Ground center of operations, hereafter referred to (for reasons I will explain later) as the Greener Zone. The shuttle driver, a man named James, welcomed the all white crew of passengers to his beloved city with a few stories of the city's rebirthing process. 'We're coming along,' he sang, 'and we welcome you all with open hearts to have a taste and a look at our beautiful city.' I was the last passenger to depart the shuttle; the others were deposited at fancy hotels, some of them tourists and others presumably contractors or government employees. James seemed to relax a bit, to shed his quasi-minstrel show dance after the obviously moneyed passengers had departed. I asked him about his experience, his family, how they fared during and after Katrina, where they were now.
His story was like many I have heard since. 'My mother had very bad cancer before the storm,' he sighed, 'and so I did not want to take any chances about getting her out if it was a bad one. You know,' he said, 'one of the reasons that so many people drowned or were stuck here is because we in New Orleans have become accustomed to hearing about the next big storm. Lately, in the past few years, we've been warned about leaving the city and so people do, in droves. Then you run out of gas on the interstate and get stuck there for a few days with little food or water, and the baby is screaming and gets sick. You know, if you have sick people, old and young in your family, you can't take that risk if you aren't sure that a big storm is coming. So lots of people just took that chance, and stayed. Me, I had enough money to get me and my family out. I found a cancer clinic in Texas and took my mother there. It's a good thing I did.'
His mother has since passed away. After she died a few months ago he returned to New Orleans, got a job as a shuttle driver and is now in the process of navigating the government's lengthy red-tape process to try to get back into his home. Though he's paid to get it gutted already, he must pay for a series of inspections from electricians and the like. Only if these inspections pass will he be able to contact contractors to get an estimate of how much it will cost, and whether the house is structurally sound enough to rebuild. Then, finally, after obtaining green lights from these people, he must get it cleared with local and state officials. After all of this, a process which could take over a year and cost a pretty penny, he will be able to start the process of rebuilding his home. 'And hurricane season starts in a few months,' he said, smiling the 'no-matter-what' smile I have come to associate with New Orleans and its steadfast people.
There's so much to report and not much time in which to do it. There are a few people waiting to use the computers here at the HOE, and so I will just write a few more things before signing off. Common Ground is doing great work here. The racial politics of the place are, as to be expected, a bit strange. It seems as if some of the people working there don't have any questions or self-consciousness about their role in an entirely black community---a community that has never, ever experienced such attention from outsiders. The work is wonderful, though, and I have yet to speak to any local folks who have anything negative to say about Common Ground volunteers or the organization in general. So far the group has gutted over 300 houses, is in the process of gutting about fifty more each day and has a waiting list of over 300 more to go. The work is done completely for free, and Common Ground is now in the process of organizing with local churches to lend safety and gutting supplies to congregations who want to organize their own work crews. It's inspiring to see so many different kinds of people coming together to do such work.
I'm working on a film and have done quite a few interviews. I hope to interview a woman named Mama D, a local community organizer in the 7th ward. Apparently she has beef with Common Ground; I am excited to talk to her and hear her perspective on things here. I will also interview a Pastor Davenport, a really interesting guy who was recently excommunicated from the Baptist church. His daughter contracted HIV a few years ago and he has since set up an HIV/AIDS awareness center outside the largest projects in New Orleans. The 7th ward projects is, according to the Pastor, the most dangerous place to live in the most dangerous city in the country. He personally has been stabbed and shot more than once. His community center is really amazing; I went inside the office the other day and saw that he has posters of queer men of color on his wall, condoms everywhere, boxes of lube and tons of pamphlets about STDs and safe sex. He's truly an inspiration. In addition to the HIV/AIDS program, he runs a media center and a job training program for kids from the projects.
There's much, much more to say. I will write more later, when I am not hogging the computer from someone else who needs to use it.
posted by boston2palestine at 9:36 AM
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