Another thing: they were all full of gratitude.

Another report from Austin

9/04/05

I don't care much for the word evacuee to describe the Americans displaced by Katrina. The word is bandied about so much in the media. It adds an uncomfortable distance and shields us from a reality. If I have a buzzword, I can talk about it with little sensitivity, without thinking so much about what an American evacuee really feels. We have become so accustomed to soundbites in America and their numbing effect.

So, let me say, I met several Americans today who have survived the aftermath of Katrina that flooded their homes, their community, their city, and their lives. The experience humbled me.

They made their way to Austin by bus and plane. Some by choice, others had run out of choices. They all had a story to tell and every story was a mixture and harsh reality and hope. That they had hope seemed a miracle to me. Another thing: they were all full of gratitude.

I woke up this morning to the sound of my youngest daughter reminding me of my commitment to go with her to volunteer at Brackenridge Hospital for the relief efforts set up for victims of Katrina. She had signed me up to be with her and one of her good friends, a Muslim American, whose youth group had organized to help out. At 9:00 am I am standing in the midst of 25-30 Muslim youth from across the city whose average age could not have been more than 19-20. All eager, all orderly and anxious to help wherever they could. The effort was a little bit disorganized at first, because there has been an overwhelming outpouring of volunteers in Austin. An overabundance of volunteers at 9 on a Sunday! All the volunteer stations in Austin were filled with back up lists. Austin is responding. But the need will go on for months. The donations throughout the city the last few days were everywhere, so much of the early help was sorting an organizing the clothes, the bedding, the toiletries, the food. Literally mountains of donations! The kids took off to do just that. The group leader asked me to help out in greeting, consoling, and welcoming the displaced as they were cleared by the medical triage teams. The next step in their journey being the ride down to the Convention Center to a more permanent facility. At first, I didn't consider the position of greeter- counselor to a good fit for me, but I didn't show up with requirements that I be used for certain tasks. I showed up to help where the help was needed.

Ill fitting or not, for the next 4 hours I got close to some of the survivors. I listened and they talked. A few were still visibly frightened and very uneasy with being in a place that was not home, with a future out of their control and in doubt, at best. Because I was at the Brackenridge station, the people I saw either had medical issues or had family with them that had medical problems. They were white, brown, black. They were of Asian, Mexican, central American descent and some, second and third generation Louisianans. You name it. If there was a common thread, it was socioeconomic. It wasn't race, nor religion, nor color. The people I met didn't get out because they literally had no place to go to. To my amazement, I read yesterday that 19% of the residents of New Orleans make $ 10,000.00 or less per year. Today, I met some of them.

I met real volunteers too. There was Mary Fran, Terry, and Sabiha. All social workers here in Austin and all expert at what we were assigned to do. They tutored me and I watched and followed their lead. We owe much to these people. I don't know how they do it day in and day out. But I am grateful they do.

I listened as man around 25 tell me he tried to stay and help as long as he could, but the smell of the death finally got to him just before the National Guard came into his area. He said he had floated to higher ground a few elderly people on an air mattress through his streets that had become a lake. Barney showed up with his 20 year old daughter, Stacy, who had cerebral palsy. His house had been broken into by 3 men in the middle of the night . They stole his TV and VCR. Another man of about 45 told me of how he had rushed to his parents home in lower N.O. and had moved them steadily higher to the second floor, then the attic and described a harrowing night of not knowing whether the water would reach the attic in which they had then become trapped. The good news is that it did not and both he and his parents are now in Austin. A young mother and her 5 year old, told of how they camped out with others on I-10 between Baton Rouge and N.O. with little food or water for 3 1//2 days before being rescued. Yet another showed me his Harrahs' employee card and said in broken English that his direct deposited paycheck for September 1 had not made it to his bank. He had no savings, no home and no job to go to after Katrina.

These Americans need our money and our help. The rebuilding of homes, communities and lives will take months. I urge each of you to volunteer a few hours per week, or as much as you can

You can call the Red Cross Hotline:

American Red Cross: 1-800-HELP-NOW

There is nothing that can be added to this good report except to encourage you as strongly as possible to contribute in someway to the relief effort. Pray, volunteer, send money, take in a displaced person, provide a job, do something, please.