Rebuilding New Orleans one nail at a time

MEGAN PELLEGRINO COPY EDITOR MRP727@CABRINI EDU

“You really want to go to New Orleans?” “You know Princess would be expected to work!”

“Eww, there are gators and swamps!” “You are going to get all dirty and bruised! How’s that gonna look?” Some kind of support I recieved from my family and friends when I made the decision to spend part of my winter break helping others rebuild what was lost from Hurricane Katrina.

Sadly, at first, they all were right! Princess was not happy!

After being on a bus for not one, count them, two days, we arrived at what they call Camp Hope. I, for one, not too hopeful. I stand in the middle of the main hallway of Camp Hope, this run down school with not even tiling on the floor looking up at a large school clock that was being held up by mere wires.

At this point, I tried to stay positive, laughed at the situation and decided to find my bedroom (classroom) and choose my bunk. Bunk bed? Ha! Try cot! And lets talk about selection, the room was packed! Instead of choosing a cot, it was more like finding the empty cot among thirty.

I finally found my cot, laughed it off, and decided that Princess could get her mind off of these horrible accommodations with a nice hot shower. Try artic

GRAYCE TURNBACH A&E EDITOR GRT722@CABRINI EDU

Two days on a bus will drive anyone nuts and it was getting to me. Little did I know, that would be the least of my worries.

We arrive at Camp Hope in St. Bernard’s parish in Louisiana. Off to the cafeteria we went. Catfish with mustard, it’s what’s for dinner!

Sleeping arrangements were army cots. 24-30 people in an old classroom. They weren’t the most comfortable things but, after a long day of work they did the job.

We had ice cold showers and plywood bathroom stalls. Talk about uncomforable.

Living conditions at Camp Hope weren’t what we expected, but neither were the FEMA trailers the residents of New Orleans have to live in.

Two and a half years after Katrina destroyed the city of New Orleans Miss blast!

Again, I will repeat, Princess was not happy with the accommodations!

Knowing that I was thousands of miles from Jersey, I decided to suck it up for the week, and pledged I would never ever go to Camp Hope or endure this experience from hell again!

Day one on the worksite arrived. I was nervous of what to expect.

Moments later, I personally met Miss Edna, the woman who the habitat for humanity house was for, in her FEMA trailer. Miss Edna told us her horrible story from Hurricane Katrina. She lost everything, including the love of her life, her husband. As Miss Edna shared her story, almost everyone around me was crying. It hit them hard.

I looked around at everyone crying, still intently listening to Miss Edna’s horrific story. When she was finished, she looked around at everyone with tears running down their faces, and told us not to cry. We were her angels, her babies and that we finally arrived and said “I may not be rich in money, but I am rich in friends.”

This was my breakdown moment, the exact moment when I realized why I went to New Orleans. Although, I spent the past few days complaining on just about everything under the sun, Miss Edna considered me an angel and counted on me.

From this moment on, I

Edna, a 62-year old widow, still resides in one of these cramped trailers.

Imagine calling home a plywood bedspring for your mattress, little to no walking space, an oven the size of our microwaves and a bathroom/shower basically in your kitchen.

It’s difficult, right?

What’s even more difficult is imagining this living condition for two and a half years. It’s so far from being a home.

Luckily, for Miss Edna the 57 of us had arrived and were there to build her the foundation of her new life. Whatever it was going to take, we were more than willing to do it.

Being in New Orleans made me realize how lucky I am, but more importantly, just how blind I was.

I had no idea living conditions for the survivors were this horrible. You can’t know until you see it.

Steps are all that’s left to most of the homes that were destroyed. The streets we walked on once realized that week, I must dedicate to Miss Edna and Miss Edna alone. She deserved my overachiever personality and nothing less of that. had 10 to 15 ft. of water in them and fishes swimming around, some people even had aligators invade their property due to the flow of water.

That night, when we returned to camp, instead of complaining, I was grateful for my running water, designated cot and waiting in line for a bathroom. It was something, a lot more than what Miss Edna could say.

The week went by quickly, and as corny as it sounds, it was an experience of a lifetime.

Our final day we worked hours into the night, we were determined to finish Miss Edna’s flooring and we did. We celebrated our success not as sixty individuals but as a team. We did it for Miss Edna!

As I was walking home, back to Camp Hope, my whole body ached, I felt like death, smelt like dirt and was covered head to toe in bruises, but Princess did not complain. She skipped back to Camp Hope with a smile on her face.

I come back to Jersey a changed person, I have acquired the skill of hammering, the strength to break crowbars and how to prioritize what is important in life.

Today I am constantly asked, would I do this again? My answer, yes the first moment I have the opportunity to go back, I will pack up my working boots and gloves and start heading south to Camp Hope.

Tears of pure sadness were the only tears you would see running down my face for those whose homes were destroyed and still just a pile of rubble on their property.

The only day my tears turned to joy was when I finally saw Miss Edna’s tears of pain and heartache turn to those of joy.

That moment was when she walked across her new floor.

Helping someone like Miss Edna was the most gratifying life experience I’ve ever had.

So much needs to be done in the city of New Orleans, I only wish people would open their eyes to that and volunteer their time to help people in need.

Katrina destroyed peoples lives, the least we could do is help re-build them.

JILLIAN SMITH PERSPECTIVES EDITOR JKS724@CABRINI EDU

I’m not quite sure what made me want to take a week out of my winter break and go down to New Orleans, Louisiana to help rebuild what Hurricane Katrina had destroyed in 2005. To be honest, in August of 2005 when Katrina hit New Orleans, destroying the city and leaving many people displaced and homeless, I was moving into college and wasn’t really concerned about what was happening hundreds of miles away.

So, when the opportunity arose to participate in this Habitat for Humanity trip, I said yes not really knowing what to expect. I figured I was going down, building a house with a few friends, experience the city, and then returning in time to do wash, repack and move back into school for my second semester of junior year.

I was so wrong. It was so much more than that.

The first two days, my views were still the same considering all I had done was sit in a bus for 11 hours plus each day.

Sunday night, when we had arrived at Camp Hope, I was anxious. The anxiousness soon turned to disappoint- ment when I learned we were sleeping on cots, not bunk beds like we had been told, taking ice cold showers and having three toilets, which were always stopped up, for everyone to use. Over the next few days we had all gotten over the fact that we were sleeping on cots with 24 other female volunteers to a room and tried to take one minute showers so that we weren’t in the freezing water for too long. We were there to do good for others and if that meant not sleeping in a fluffy bed and taking steaming hot showers, than so be it.

When we got to our job site, 2312 Gina Street we were greeted by this little old lady, Edna Guerra, or Miss Edna as we were instructed to call her, who was smiling ear to ear. However, that smile soon turned to tears when she began to tell us of her Hurricane Katrina nightmare.

By the end of her speech, I, along with a few other volunteers, were wiping tears away from our eyes. I knew at that moment that this trip was going to be more than I had first expected. This trip wasn’t just “something to do” over Winter break. This trip was going to be doing something to help a woman who was in dire need.

Later that day, I had asked Miss Edna to show me the inside of her FEMA trailer. Being a spoiled, naïve suburban girl, wanted to see what all the fuss was about the governmentprovided trailers. Looking back, I really wish I hadn’t gone inside.

The inside of the trailer, not much bigger than a walk-in closet, was one of the most horrifying things I had ever seen. As soon as I stepped inside, I got a feeling of claustrophobia. I immediately took a deep breathe and as I looked around the cramped, small FEMA trailer, I was hit with a strong wave of emotion.

I cried hysterically for the whole 25 minutes we were inside.

After seeing where Miss Edna had been living for the past two years of her life, I immediately felt a stronger determination to finish the job we had set out to do.

Nothing mattered to any of us except finishing Miss Edna’s floor. Cold showers didn’t matter. Sleeping on cots didn’t matter. Fire ants were the least of our worries.

We finished that floor for Miss Edna. And afterwards, I cried. Cried out of sadness, out of exhaustion and mainly, out of joy.

Words cannot begin to describe the emotion I felt on this life changing trip.

I feel that I am a better person now that I have met Miss Edna. I will never forget her.