This past week I visited New Orleans as part of a delegation from the national Board of Directors of the Jewish Community Centers Association of North America.
We toured many of the devastated areas; saw some of the actual levee breaches; met with current residents of New Orleans who were displaced by Katrina and saw how the city is coping with the huge disaster that occurred over a year ago. We were also privileged to join a workforce to help rebuild a local YWCA battered women’s and children’s shelter.
Toxic Neighborhoods
We went into many different neighborhoods – many that were not shown on national TV – where the middle and upper class population resided. I say resided because this in past tense. Blocks and blocks, complete neighborhoods stand vacant with broken windows. You can see water marks on the sides of the buildings indicating where the water settled and sat and big “X”s chalked on the fronts with coding that explained if the home was condemned, why (toxic water), and whether anyone deceased was found inside.
Some of the homes had FEMA trailers in front of them where the homeowners were living while they were repairing their homes. Some had “For Sale” signs. Most were dark and barren.
Every so often, we passed a home with a sign that said “Coming Home”, where some hardy souls had moved back into their home.
The scary part is that they could be the only occupied home on a street – and at night, the streets are very dark and dangerous.
For those brave families who returned, the infrastructure is still not there. Streets have potholes the size of refrigerators; water pressure is lacking and electricity is spotty. Many have no choice since their mortgages will not be forgiven by the lenders and home values have plummeted, making the real estate almost valueless – who knows if they will ever go up again.
The Synagogue
We visited what was left of a synagogue very near one of the levee breaches, passing a rusted boat laying on it’s side in the middle of the street on the way; seeing empty concrete footings where many of the homes in that area were just wiped off their foundations. This was the Shul that was featured on the news with the photos of the rabbi wading in the water to retrieve the Torah scrolls.
The only things left in the building beside mold and debris, are the stained glass windows which miraculously survived. The only things they were able to save were the brass memorial plaques and candelabras. The ruined Torah scrolls, prayer books and machzurim were all buried in the cemetery. Will they rebuild the Shul? Probably not. The number of temple members that have come back to New Orleans is only half of the original membership – and that congregation will not be able to survive in it’s former home.
The Jewish population of 10,000 has shrunk to 6,500. The current president of the New Orleans JCC told us her story – the evacuation, her daughter’s Bat Mitzvah in the “diaspora” without the friends she grew up with; coming back to her home to see the destruction; her resolve to stay and rebuild. My heart goes out to her and her family. I know they will never be the same.
Cleaning the YMCA
We participated in a work crew at the New Orleans YWCA. We wore hard hats, masks and work gloves and were assigned to different foremen, also volunteers, from a disaster response group called Nehama, who divided us up and told us what to do.
What was left of the “Y” was dark inside; water was dripping from the ceilings; there was exposed insulation from the rotted drywall; there were roaches. The empty building was filled with mud and debris; broken glass and broken dreams.
Along with my friend Yael, I assisted in cleaning what was once a food pantry in the Y’s kitchen. We threw out rusted cans, moldy paper plates, broken food processors and catering equipment, and ruined snacks. I was brought to tears (yet again) when I discovered an unbroken box of plastic Skippy peanut butter jars under the rubble. They were so normal in such an abnormal place – the blue on the label was bright against the grayness.
We filled up several wheel barrows and dozens of heavy plastic bags. We dragged them to the curb where the huge mountain of debris grew and grew. When it was time to stop, our group felt like we really accomplished something, albeit a small, small part of the renewal of New Orleans.
In Jewish tradition, as we left the building, we planted a tree and said a Shehechianu.
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