I am a refugee. I am not offended to be called one. I am a drifter, albeit with a place to stay as long as I need. This is not home, and I know that might offend my family. It’s true. Home is where your heart is, and my heart is still in New Orleans. I am a refugee because I am not home, and I am not gone by choice. I am a refugee because I have sought refuge, and I will once again return home.
A Summary of Thoughts…
I’ve heard a lot of blame thrown around. I don’t want to hear it anymore. You ask why they are yelling so much on TV? It’s a native thing. They all yell. Everybody there has to be loud and pissed at someone. It’s a part of the culture. They’re frustrated.
We don’t have to be like that. The blame game doesn’t help. Bush isn’t to blame. FEMA isn’t to blame. Mayor Nagin, as much as I’ve wondered about his capabilities, isn’t to blame. There is absolutely nothing that could have stopped that storm. Everybody is trying. It’s NOT about race. You can see on TV that there are white people still hanging out on rooftops, just like black people. It’s not about blame. This was going to happen. This is the best that can be done. That’s just how it is.
Jeff Watkins gave a very emotional post on his blog. I wanted to share a part of it.
I am a volunteer.
I am a looter.
I am white by skin.
I am treated as a minority in that city.
I left because I had a way out.
But my heart and mind stayed. It’s not the same, but it’s more unbearable than you can imagine, unless you were there.
I am a person who cares.
I am a person who is angry and fed up.
I can be compassionate.
I can be a bastard.
I was safe.
I wasn’t safe. Even though I didn’t see the horrors in real life, I still can’t get the images out of my head just the same.
I have so much.
I still lost a lot.
I don’t deserve anything.
But because of grace, I have life.
I think that’s awesome, what he said. I agree. He also said a lot about how he’s sick of hearing people blame others and hearing a bunch of people who have never lived in New Orleans talk about it as if they were experts. They don’t know the culture. They don’t know the people. They just don’t know anything really. And like Jeff, I am sick and tired of listening to people try to place blame and talk about the city as if they knew ANYTHING. They don’t, and I don’t care what your consititional rights are- yes, you can say what you want, but you also have the right to shut the junk up. For many who have never lived there, and are reporting the bad news, sensationalizing it, making it racial, making it whatever it’s not- please, please shove the mike down your throat and choke on it. Media: if you’re so upset about the dead bodies, gather them into your trucks and do something about it. You have two arms, if you’d take the time to put the mikes and cameras down for half a second. At least you can get in there and do something. Many of us can’t.
I was born in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and they didn’t get FEMA work until Saturday. Virtually no media attention. I moved from there when I was nearly six years old- to a town that’s not on the map anymore: Long Beach, Mississippi. I lived there seven more years, before I moved to Mobile, Alabama. I’ve been here pretty much since then. I give New Orleans attention because I call it home. Everywhere I’ve ever lived has been deeply affected by this storm. It was huge.
Jeff said, “But my heart and mind stayed. It’s not the same, but it’s more unbearable than you can imagine, unless you were there.” That’s the truth. You have to understand. For me, it was the first time in my life I felt like I was a part of something big. That I was important. That God was using me for something that I couldn’t do alone. That God was actually using me. That the church was doing what the church was supposed to do. That I was alive. That I was a part of something bigger than myself or my friends- that what we were a part of would go down in the books as something only God could accomplish. And now, I’m in a town that I don’t feel wants me here because I am different. I don’t fit in here. And I can explain that, but I won’t right now. I think you understand.
I am deeply grateful for all the people who have given their time and money to help people. I think they are the face of God on this planet. Even if they don’t know Him.
I miss my friends. The church in New Orleans is scattered. My friends have scattered across the country. I miss them so much it hurts.
I’ve had a lot of people ask me what I lost. When I think about it, I am ashamed that I am upset that I lost what I did. But I did leave most everything I have to my name. It would be easier to say that I got my camera, computer, and car out of there. I brought some clothes. A few books to study for class and one or two pleasure books. I brought my iPod mini. Other people lost their entire lives. I am ashamed that I claim to have lost anything. But I lost a lot.
Still people have lost their lives. Their families. Their stories. They are empty. Done. Finished. Some with God. Many without. A real reason to grieve.
I still want to break down. I feel like I am breaking down. I feel overwhelmed. I understand why those men on TV are yelling. I understand why they are crying. I want to yell. I want to cry. I want to give up. But I can’t. The strength that is within me- the Spirit within me- keeps me going. It won’t let me give up.
So I know we’ll all be back. Among the first into the city when it is opened once again. Me. Amy. Blaize. Ben. Jeff. Tiffany. Shane. Clint. Britt. A hundred others. We will be back. Of this I am sure.