Fifty Dollars and a Dream

Having grown up on the Gulf Coast, I understand how destructive hurricanes can be. After Hurricane Frederick, I saw grand oak trees that had been uprooted and tossed about like twigs, and we lived without electricity for weeks. Like the rest of the world, I watched as the water poured into the Ninth Ward, and I knew it would take more than a few weeks to rebuild it. What I didn't expect was to be walking through it 172 days later and still see total devastation -- and not one federal worker, not one state worker, not one paid construction worker.

For miles, the only people to be seen doing actual work are a bunch of kids, none of whom appear to have reached their 30s. They have traveled from all over the world and used their own money to get here. None of them are being paid for their efforts, unless you count the plates of mush they're fed at the end of the day, for which they are clearly very appreciative. They spend their days wading through diseased garbage, and their nights sleeping on the side of the road. They have no electricity and no running water. But don't call them heroes, or you'll quickly be told it's not heroic to just do the right thing.

As Brandon casually swats at flies buzzing around his face, talking about the goals they are trying to accomplish here, I wonder exactly how these kids ended up in this hellhole. While I have been shamed by the response of my government to this tragedy, this is a story that humbles me.

...

Once on dry land, King, Darby and Crow sat down with Malik Rahim, and the unlikely foursome began strategizing. The Common Ground Collective was founded with $50, and their belief that they could do a better job at helping people than the government of the most powerful nation in the world. Their small monetary investment has grown; the collective now has hundreds of members who have fed, housed and provided medical care for nearly 20,000 people.

How did they do it? They went to the houses that were standing and asked the people who were still around, "What can we do to support you?" What they kept hearing: You can't rebuild a community that's buried under tons of garbage. So they started by picking up trash and decomposing animals, and then moved on to putting tarps over homes.

They began to envision a relief organization radically different from those that had come to Louisiana in Katrina's aftermath. They wanted to bring together people of every background, race and economic level -- doctors working alongside garbage men working alongside cooks working alongside lawyers working alongside kids, all for one common goal. Space in a local mosque was secured for their headquarters, and soon, monetary assistance started pouring in and volunteers started lining up. A medical clinic was opened, and Red Cross immediately began pointing people in need to Common Ground. (Yes, the Red Cross turned the sick away in droves, instead sending them to a tent run by kids and volunteer nurses.) A legal aid clinic was established to offer immediate assistance to those trying to rebuild their lives and to put pressure on the authorities to focus on relief and rebuilding.

The story of the Common Ground Collective is incredible indeed. While no one can achieve absolute efficiency the contast beween the performance of volunteer groups such as the Common Ground and that of the numerous official relief players, governmental and private, is so glaring that it is simply difficult to believe that the spectacular failure that was the government's response to the disaster was purely accidental.

And let me second Mizell in saying that people like those who founded the Common Ground do inspire me too. In the times of cynicism and isolation they are our hope.

tags: relief  nola  cgc  gentrification  victims  katrina  rahim