"Taj Mahal" (by David Henry)

Debris from house gutting projects, January 2007.

This had been my first visit to New Orleans, and it has left an indelible mark on me. It's hard to convey in writing the full range of emotions I felt over the course of our week there. I'd volunteered also following 9/11, and in a strange way I found our work in New Orleans quite a bit more unsettling. At 9/11, the whole world was mobilized and every imaginable resource was deployed in response to what had happened. In contrast, the horrendously stricken areas of New Orleans were all poor neighborhoods filled with struggling, ordinary people. Thousands lost everything they had, which often was limited to their home (passed down for generations, often no paperwork) and the simple household possessions they had within them. Many of these people are still waiting for help and are having difficulty finding work in a city that is far from recovered from this disaster.

Our crew from Transfiguration, together with other volunteers, terrific undergrads from Kenyon College and Brown University, gutted six houses, three of which had barely been entered since the storm. In one case the homeowner -- an unforgettable woman, a grandmother, African-American, salt of the earth in every way -- was living in a FEMA trailer directly in front of her wrecked former home. She said many incredible things, including, “God is good. He could’ve taken our lives, instead he took our things. We learned a lot through this about what’s important in life.” Later in the day, pointing to her FEMA trailer, she said, "That's my Taj Mahal. A lot of folks, they don't have no Taj Mahal." She wanted to get all of our names, saying that, "When times is better, I want to have every one of you down here again, and I cook up for you the best southern dinner you ever had. We’ll have so much fun." Somewhat paralyzed, I went back into her devastated little home and plied out a molded wall with a crowbar.