Interlude

The St. Bernard story has been exciting to cover. There is a great deal off energy being focused by the residents on returning to their homes, and their stories have been inspiring if not humbling to hear. This is housing that has been condemned by the city and the federal government, and marginalized even before the storm. The projects have been seen as an embodiment of all negative stigma attached to the poor black class of this city. If they were so crime stricken and mismanaged before why do they fight so hard to return? Why are they willing to break the law to go home and clean out their old apartments, in a struggle they may not win? But they assure me that they will win, and will stop at nothing to keep what space they had been afforded.

During one of my forays there I stopped by a new emergency shelter that had been set up by Common Ground. It happened to be just a few blocks from the St. Bernard complex, and I went by to catch the lunch crew as they moved through on their delivery circuit. Although the place was clean, with power supplied by a generator in the back yard, it was clearly the last of last resorts before the street. The families that I saw there were sprawled among bunk beds in the tightly packed house with no private space. They were friendly when I knocked on the door, welcomed me in as if it was their own house and I went to the back to talk with the coordinators, whom I had worked with previously at St. Mary’s. The little ones followed me back and so I taught them some magic tricks, making various small objects reappear in their ears, and they played with my camera for a while. I was surprised that they and their families seemed glad to be there.

And this is how it is in New Orleans, the answers are always around you, you just have to open up enough to see them. Of course people want to return, it may not be the best home, but it is the best home they have, as sad as that may seem. There are no better options afforded them, because no one in power here seems to care — certainly not the the business community who the mayor so clearly answers to.  And certainly not the federal government, who plays its own game, and is working with the city to bring public housing down.

When I go to St. Bernard I have to dodge the police and sneak in each time, to visit the activists who are holed up inside the community center they are occupying.  Last time I was there I took some tools and helped them secure their position. Bringing them food and supplies has been part of my role as their carpenter/journalist.   Strange role as it may seem.  Yesterday Caitlin and I had a very close call on the way out, when our driver was stopped by police after dark on our way back to the rendezvous point.

I have mentioned in previous posts the metaphor of a public commons under siege. This is literally is case in the St. Bernard projects, where we boarded up the windows of the community center in the very center of the empty projects, preparing for a possible police raid. They have been asked by those who lived in the projects to hold the space as long as possible, so it can be reopened again as a resource for the community — childcare for families, a tool-lending library, and a gathering place for the residents as they begin to come in and clean out their apartments and (we hope) move back in.   As one of the occupants told me on Saturday “this is not just a symbolic action to get the attention of the media.”  They are here to hold the space by whatever (non-violent) means necessary.

During the day-time there are work crews of volunteers from Common Ground and elsewhere who are helping single mothers, disabled folks, old tenants who grew up there and others to muck, clean, and de-mold the old buildings. For those of us who have spent time gutting houses this is very light work.  There is almost nothing wrong with these places, despite the city’s claim that they are somehow beyond repair. It is with these work crews that we slip in carrying tools and food, using our disguise of tyvec suits and respirators, to gain access to the occupied New Day Center.

Editing the audio and video from the New Day Center has been a learning experience and a full time job, working hand in hand with the Common Ground Media Collective.  I am new to all of this about how to conduct a good interview, cut out the unnecessary parts, and make a concise and interesting 10 minutes out of an hour of audio footage. I guess I couldn’t ask for a better training ground — although the last few days were spent mostly on the computer.

Today the power went out at our office, and so I am sitting in a local cafe with the old laptop I brought down, glad I can finally put it to use. Unfortunately, in the confusion of the power outage, someone slipped in the back door and stole the audio recorder I had just bought.

I did a lot of stomping around and shouting: “Why the hell wasn’t the power bill paid? AND WHO TOOK MY RECORDER!!!”  As it turned out, the interviews were already backed up and the power has returned, and Caitlin is helping edit them right now. It is frustrating when your stuff is stolen here, but you have to move on. That is just part of living in a desperate area, the price you pay to be here… it happens no matter what you do.  “Attachment to suffering,” says Nick.

I am going back now to finish my editing work, and pick up my laundry that is drying. Tomorrow I am going to shadow a documentary crew all day to learn some more interviewing skills. Maybe I can get some of the multimedia up tonight that I have been preparing.

Stay in touch,

Logan