New Orleans, LA - Feb. 2006...by Kristen Koch

As my plane was about to land in New Orleans, in an airport I had flown into more times than I could count, a sudden fear came over me. All through the emotionally draining and exhausting days of watching on television a city that I love be torn to pieces by nature and worse, by human ineptitude, unpreparedness, and apathy, there was always a part of me that didn't quite think it was really as bad as it seemed. But as the airplane made it's approach all of a sudden the only thing I could think of were the people who lost their lives and suffered on this runway and in this airport only a few months ago. I felt ashamed to show or even feel any of the usual jovial excitement that a trip to New Orleans stirs up in me…it's returning to a place I once called home. To a place that taught me many lessons about life and about myself. To a place that is home to some of my best friends and gave me many of the best friends I will ever have. To a place that loved me, accepted me, and opened my eyes to the realities of the world. To a place that I go back to regularly and have yet to leave disappointed. To a place that is so unique and wonderful amidst all of its frustrations, inequalities and discomforts…There was no mention by the flight attendants or the pilot of the distress that my city was under. They took every opportunity to thank me for flying on their airline, but they didn't once have the decency to pay reverence to a city that has been ravaged and destroyed. It was as if no one wanted to make eye contact or mention it, but just pretend that it was another average stop in Omaha or Cincinnati …How many people on that plane were returning home for the first time? How many were visiting friends and family for the first time that they hadn't seen since before their lives were turned upside down? How many were there to serve and volunteer in this needy city?

My first few hours out of the airport and making my way around town consisted of trying to observe every minute detail that might have been affected by Katrina and her after- effects and asking question after question of my best friend who picked me up. I didn't want to miss a thing and sat staring out of the car at everything trying to imagine what my city looked like 6 months ago. Soon enough my curiosity, overwhelming concern, and awe were distracted by the joy and excitement of seeing so many good friends and just enjoying them and seeing them for the first time after the ordeal they endured and continue to endure in many ways. However, I found that the need to pay reverence never left me for long and I was always quickly pulled back in by a conversation, an out of sort sight, or just my own thoughts drifting back to where I was.

I took a run through the French Quarter on Sunday morning - typically a bustling time full of tourists who are wandering through the streets recounting last night's activities in the Big Easy, preparing to stuff themselves with a fantastic feast for brunch, stopping to listen to the various street musicians and just enjoying the sights and scenes that the original city has to offer. But instead of the usual, I found the streets relatively empty and a lot of the color missing. Most noticeable was the attitude of the few people that were out and about. They seemed very quiet and respectful, very observant and aware of their surroundings.

My visit to the 9th Ward was something I was definitely not prepared for. My best friend took me early Tuesday morning and she been there three times before…the best way I have been able to describe it is to imagine playing "bumper cars" with houses. When I was standing right in front of the barge that burst through the levee, I had no idea what I was looking at. Liz told me what it was, but I either didn't hear her or I couldn't comprehend what she said. When she explained again I was stupefied. How in the world could that monstrosity have moved into the position where it was sitting too far inland to ever look comfortable? I was instantly aware of the power of the water that had rushed through the broken levee and that's when all hell must have broken loose (no pun intended) in the 9th Ward. The power of the water that surged into the area clearly had just picked up every building off of its foundation, put the whole neighborhood through a spin cycle and dropped it…houses at all angles to the ground and to each other, walls barely standing and leaning in all directions, houses butted up against each other, refrigerators hanging from the roof, cars on top of cars, personal possessions strewn as far as you could see. The irony could only be found by the life jackets lying on the ground, by the "Playground" sign whose play area had been replaced by a home that appeared to have fallen out of the sky…It all appeared to be an abstract painting that no painter in the world could ever create from their imagination as no one's imagination is that cruel and contorted….and this is 6 months after.

During my initial few days in the city I spent most of my time in areas (the areas where I spent most of my time as a student) that had much less damage - windows blown out, holes in the roof, flooding between 6 inches to 4 feet, all of these things considered "minor"…It was amazing to me how quickly my eyes and expectations adjusted to looking for the water line on every building, the trash and piles of debris still needing to be picked up, the barren trees, the blue tarps on so many roofs, the refrigerators duct taped shut in the front yard (these were apparently very standard in every yard upon initially returning to N.O.), the trailers parked in front of homes as well as in newly created trailer parks in odd locations, the braces to hold up and try to save very damaged palm trees, non-functioning stoplights that were replaced with small stop signs at what used to be major intersections, construction and clean up everywhere and people wearing those masks and suits to protect themselves from the toxic conditions…and the one sight I take with me more than any are the painted markings on every house, big or small, fancy or run down, made by the people who searched each and every home in the aftermath of Katrina. There was always a date and several other markings which I couldn't decipher, but realized could only represent the number of people and animals, dead or alive that were found or rescued.

One of the hardest things to adjust to in a city known for its 24 hour service of fantastic food, drinks of all flavors and potencies, amazing music and general entertainment for whatever mood you're in, was the lack of open restaurants, bars, gas stations, and drug stores. So many of the big chains are still closed and even so many more of the small businesses are boarded up and abandoned.

The moment that seemed to grab at me more than any other was after a two day detour to Tallahassee, Fl. On my way back into New Orleans I started to noticed the wind blown trees and debris along the highway in parts of Mississippi. As I got closer and closer to New Orleans and particularly through Slidell and N.O. East you see so much from the highway. For some reason I expected it to be hidden from the views of the highway, but Katrina spared nothing. It was very obvious that She had blown through there with a fury and a cruel and unforgiving zest not to be understood. As I got further and further into New Orleans I could feel my emotions and once again that need to pay reverence tugging at me. So I decided to delay the beginning of my Mardi Gras celebration for a few hours and instead went for a drive through the Lakeview area of New Orleans.

Unlike the 9th Ward which was completed twisted and contorted, Lakeview was a perfectly still skeleton of exactly how its people left it. The obvious signs of what had happened were the water lines on every home that were 7-10 feet plus, the film of dirty water and rust left on every car, and the mud, caked everywhere. It appeared to be a ghost town with an eerie silence, a graveyard. The doors were kicked in and like much of the rest of New Orleans every home had the marking of what had been found when it was searched. One house had a person's name written all over it with a phone number to call. I was driving down streets that were now only dirt roads and I was alone with no one around for what seemed to be great distances. It was only the swinging doors and aching trees in the wind that I could hear. I got out to walk around and look more closely into homes and the lives left behind and I couldn't help but to have tears well up. It was all so surreal. In hindsight, I think the 9th Ward was so demolished that I couldn't really comprehend what I saw there. However, Lakeside was very obviously the place were people only 6 months ago lived, worked, played and now have absolutely nothing left of their previous life. They have scattered to places near and far to maybe never return.

At this moment I felt as if the soul of a city which is so hard to describe to an outsider and to someone who only visits it as a tourist, that its soul had been stolen. A place where the blended and multiple accents have come to sound so sweet and comforting to me, a place where everyone calls you "sweetie" and "baby" and always asks "How you doin'?" in a slow and meaningful way…It was very apparent to me as I started to drive out of the devastated neighborhoods and move back towards the populated and functioning areas of town that all of the political debate about whether or not Mardi Gras should happen this year was ridiculously stupid.

Now, my days of Mardi Gras festivities is a whole other story in itself, but unlike the media-portrayed drunken hooligan-fest that most people think of when they hear "Mardi Gras", it is an event and a multi-day lifestyle that is deep in tradition and culture. It is a festival and a celebration, especially this year, unlike any other. I was so excited and so proud to be there and be a part of it. The city of New Orleans needed Mardi Gras as much as they need debris cleaned up, homes rebuilt, tourist money back in the local economy, and so many other things. The locals needed Mardi Gras so that they could have some sense of normalcy back in their lives, even if it's only for a few days. There is something so unusual and hard to describe about the personality of the people of New Orleans. They have a way of being able to laugh at everything, including life's absurdities. It seems they are always able to appreciate life's ever present potential for fun, even at the most inappropriate times and if there was ever an inappropriate time to laugh, this is it and they needed permission to laugh and celebrate together like they always do. They needed Mardi Gras, regardless of what the rest of the country thinks about them having a party at a time like this, just to prove to the rest of the country that Mardi Gras isn't just party, it's part of who they are and represents their resiliency. The floats in the parades, the costumes worn, and t-shirts seen amongst the crowd were constant reminders of exactly what has happened to the city, but as one would expect they found a satirical twist to everything including the abundant inadequacies of FEMA, to the stupid "Chocolate City" comment by Mayor Nagin, to the refrigerators that became a part of the landscape in every yard…and the many other atrocities as a result of Katrina.

In my experience, New Orleans natives have a true grit and toughness and a very accepting attitude of differences and diversity. They have an ability to laugh through anything life throws at them. Maybe it's the constant sound of music they grow up with. Maybe it's the drinks that often start earlier than most people finish their coffee for the day. Maybe it's that they are so used to being the butt of the joke and being used and abused by tourists who come to town only to see Bourbon Street and think that's all the city has to offer. Likely it's something that I can't quite understand. But whatever it is, it is special and it's a place I will mourn for and I will always love, and I will always return to. It deserves so much better. It is the only city in our country that has real customs and tradition and history that can be traced back to its very roots and it's mixing of race, religion, and cultures. It is the "Big Easy", which one of the largest historical twists of irony ever, has now made more difficult than one could ever imagine. No doubt the locals will persevere. Most of them have never called anywhere else home and they never will. They will rebuild and there will be a rebirth of sorts, but one can't help but to wonder if Katrina has wiped the real New Orleans from existence. Will it return with the diversity, uniqueness, and strange but wonderful qualities that only make sense there? One can only hope.

I had several interesting conversations during my visit that covered a lot of the more politically sensitive and very serious issues. They are certainly not things to overlook or ignore, it's just that it would be a full time job to sort through all it. Every question and every opinion is a valid one at this point and deserves consideration. Louisiana has long been known for its inadequate and corrupt government that is now being exposed more than ever (along with the inadequacies of the Federal government.)

-Racial discrimination vs. Economic discrimination - although the TV seemed to only show the poor black population that couldn't evacuate there is also a huge poor white population that was and is no better off
-Discrimination by [the] many of the white elite seems the common opinion. Whereas the white middle class generally is much more color blind and accepting
-Apathy of the black population, particularly as compared to the work ethic of the new Mexican workers in NO who are a whole new piece of the ethnic pie in the city.
-The worst hit of the traditionally black neighborhoods are traced to what used to be rice fields that became housing for slaves
-The city is struggling with who and how to provide financial aid and motivation for rebuilding. It can't rebuild based on renters and welfare collectors. It needs a tax base and paying citizens who can stimulate the economy.
-Two of the leading industries right now are prostitution and strip clubs because there are so many out of town construction workers in the city
-There are so few black people as compared to before. A majority demographic is missing everywhere you look…It is very sad and very noticeable.
-The psychological affect that Katrina has had on friends and family, which in some cases has lead to drinking issues.