Hard Work In the Big Easy

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Giving the Gift of Good Will
"Voluntourism" brings together people who use their personal time or vacation time to help gut and rebuild homes flooded and devasted by Hurricane Katrina. They also work to feed and support the residents who are working to get their lives back to normal.

"They fit a need that is still unmet -- providing essentials," said Gary Ostroske, CEO of the United Way for the Greater New Orleans Area. "They feed a lot of people at a very reasonable cost. It's an unusual group, and I think they're doing a spectacular job."

The residents of Plaquemines Parish, two hours south of New Orleans, where EC recently set up another operation, seem to agree. Far from the chilly reception one might have expected when conservative Louisiana meets a band of hippies, they have been welcomed, says Ostroske, "with open arms."

The operation moved to New Orleans in December 2005, and by March was serving 2,000 meals a day. During my week-long stint in the Arabi zone, my fellow volunteers were an eclectic bunch: dreadlocked hippies, clean-cut high schoolers, businesspeople, schoolteachers, homeless people, college students and a miscellaneous selection of camp followers with bandanna-wearing dogs.

Despite the motley coalition of volunteers, the Arabi operation was a slick one -- like a MASH unit but without the uniforms. The dining tent was set up in a parking lot, along with an intricately laid out kitchen and dishwashing tents, dry goods and kitchen supply areas, trailers for cold foods and supply distribution centers. A "healing tent" offered tetanus shots and Reiki massages. The security detail was called the "peace patrol," and the recycling center got a steady stream of material for composting. Porta-potties, solar-powered showers and an open-air sink with a marvelous collection of shaving gear created a large outdoor bath area. Volunteers lived in tents perched on abandoned storage pallets, as the ground was, and is, too contaminated to pitch a tent on.

The wind blew that polluted ground into our faces most of the day, as we prepped food, washed dishes, mopped floors and served residents. There was an endless array of jobs, and the days were long: Breakfast setup started at 5:30 a.m., and the last of the dishes got done around 10 p.m. In between, there was time to sit with residents and hear their stories.

The locals were invariably gracious and grateful to us, but their taut faces and strained smiles attested to how thin they've been stretched by the storm-that-won't-end. Their existence, they said, is ordered by an endless array of Federal Emergency Management Agency paperwork, insurance company red tape and long waits for pay phones, food and supplies. We heard many tales of mistreatment, disrespect and sheer incompetence.

"We're just waiting," one resident told me in his languid New Orleans drawl, "till something better comes along."

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Common Ground Collective, the second organization I worked with, was formed just after Katrina hit. Initially the group provided medical assistance and supplies to hurricane victims; now their activities are varied and shift with the seasons. When I visited, the focus was on helping Ninth Ward homeowners rebuild, giving priority to the disabled, seniors and single mothers. Now, with summer heat and the onset of hurricane season, home-gutting is limited to early morning hours when it's coolest; tutoring, church refurbishment, a fledgling wetlands reparation program, medical clinics and the organization of shelters for the next storm are underway.

People from more than 100 countries have volunteered in the program, according to Kon?. Operating out of an abandoned Ninth Ward school building, Common Ground is run by a loose-knit group of about 50 volunteers. Funding comes mainly from individuals and religious groups, Kon? said, and the number of volunteers at a given time fluctuates from a few hundred in slow spells to more than 3,000 during this year's spring break.

During my stay, the 200-odd volunteers were largely college students or recent graduates, though my co-workers also included a retired couple from Wisconsin, an ex-school principal from Vermont and an Israeli army officer. Volunteers slept in communal or individual tents (on pallets, of course) in a vacant lot across the street. (In preparation for hurricane season, accommodations have since moved into churches or schools for safety.) Breakfast and dinner were provided in the school gym, and lunch was transported to work sites by volunteer drivers.

Outdoor showers were mobbed after work hours, and during my stint, the water was more often cold than hot -- prompting some (including me) to seek accommodation elsewhere. I ended up in the convenient but very basic Ursuline Guest House in the French Quarter (see Details).