O2 NOLA Common Ground: Dispatch #4
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PAINTING THE PICTURE - -- - OF OUR DAILY SITUATION

Hello all,

Life here continues to be a fast paced, high stress, whirlwind of an adventure- every day full of intense moments, endlesss tragedy, dark beauty, deep inspiration and late nights in the Crescent City. From a distance, hearing of the depth of destruction here, I could not help but wonder if the rich cultural tapestry of New Orleans was gone forever. It is not.

Certainly, New Orleans will never be the same, but the raw, lurking spirit of this place is alive and vibrant. It is a place of shadows and apparitions, where shades of meaning complicate efforts to really feel that you understand the true nature and sultry soul of this swamp-magic civilization. It is difficult for me to distinguish between what is inherent in this place and what is an after effect of the storm, but there is a sense that life is laid bare here, that the ugly and exquisite nature of humanity is on display in a way it is not in other places. I've seen street fights and bar brawls almost nightly, and also felt the very real embrace of the famous Southern hospitality. People here are warm and sweet and watch out for each other in a neighborly way that is unusual for a city this size. It is bizaare to feel so protected and at the same time always be looking over your shoulder.

It is the essense of the Deep South mixed with the rough edge of the Wild West. It is the northernmost island of the Carribbean with a flavor of old Europe that is at the same time undeniably American. It is perhaps the only city in America where voodoo is practiced widely- and the only city where the trumpet is a folk instrument. It is raucous and raunchy, elegant and elusive.

Spent another few days gutting flooded houses this week. It is nasty, sweaty, heavy duty work. Every house in New Orleans has a spray painted X on the front of it somewhere- with four sqaures indicating what agency assessed it, what date it was visited, how many, if any, bodies were found inside and other notes like "cat under house" etc. The neighborhood we worked in yesterday had the X's painted on the rooves because they were visited by boats when the water was two stories high. Many rooves have holes punched in them from the inside- put there to bring fresh air and sunlight to the people trapped in their attics for days after the flood.

The work is brutal and tedious, but the progress a small group of hard workers can make in a day is impressive. We ripped out the sheetrock, trim and soggy insulation- with our friend Usnea swinging from the rafters knocking the ceiling down from above- while the rest of us wielded sledge hammers and crow bars and shoveled the debris out to the curb. I regret not having a camera while on these crews- each street and each house is full of dozens of poignant images. A rusty chandelier hanging in the center of an empty room. A musty attic full of bedding, bullet shells and stale bread where a family was forced to live for days before being rescued. A tractor trailer truck passing by filled with dozens of flattened cars dragging a transformer down the street behind it at the end of a snagged powerline. Moldy marriage certificates and ancient cloth wallpaper hidden in walls from an era ago. Mardi Gras beads in every other shovel scoop.

I want to say that these homes just need to be fixed up and will be livable again- but I truly don't know if its true. Some are in better shape than others, but they are severely thrashed and between rot, mold and termites, I wonder if the residents of these neighborhoods can ever afford to rebuild. Without massive government assistance, I doubt it. I cannot pretend to predict what the future of this city will hold- there are too many forces at play and factors involved for me to guess-but I do feel confident saying that there are major, potentially explosive conflicts coming.

There are also major openings for innovative, visionary solutions and the seeds of those projects are already well under way. The Common Ground Collective, some of the churches and other community organizations seem like the nitrogen fixing plants returning to a hillside after a landslide has wiped the old life away. We are innoculating this place in a sense, making it habitable for the next wave of residents to return. There lives a real possibility that New Orleans will become a proving ground where social justice and sustainability can merge into a model of major relevance to us all. People are being pulled here from all over the country, and within the seething chaos of it all is an electrified sense that something big is birthing here- a movement congealing from disparate directions- an invention of necessity that is addressing universal issues rapidly becoming pandemic across our planet. Out of the greatest darkness comes the greatest light. Perhaps New Orleans will soon sow the seeds of our salvation just as it is now shining a spotlight on the open wounds of our broken, suicidal society.

Meanwhile, the police here are the worst kind of thugs. Our crew has daily interactions with them that range from general harassment to serious abuse. Night before last they detained a friend of ours at the community garden space following a memorial service for another member of our collective killed in a bus accident here. They detained him for no valid reason- claiming he was illegally in an 'unoccupied area' - a term with no legal meaning. There is still a selectively enforced curfew in place for most of the city- and we disobey it nightly- but this incident was early in the evening before it sets in. They put him up against the hood of their car and kicked him in the groin from behind. When others present raised their voices, they were detained and handcuffed as well, until 8 people were being held. They pointed the red spot of loaded, laser guided guns to the heads of many of the grieving people present, including our friend Josh who is 13 years old.

These are volunteer relief workers gathered at a community garden for a memorial service for their friend! And this is what they do to white people! It is a police state- with humvees patrolling the streets with lights flashing nightly, and war jets and army helicoptors in the sky daily. This is all of course a shadow of what it was like just a few weeks ago, when military checkpoints were set up all over the place and the national guard was in town. Ironically, the national guard played a significant role in protecting activists and residents from the worst of the abuses by local police forces. It really begs the question- what are they so afraid of? Us? Race riots? Our protection certainly does not seem to be high among their priorities.

Lastnight we stayed past closing at Cafe Brasil on the edge of the Quarter after a night of hard dancing with a freaky crowd of hobo-neotribal-vaudeville revelers. I love this place like i have loved no other- not more necessarily- but definitely it sits in my heart like no other.

The last picture I want to paint before signing off is of the general absurdity and oddity of our daily situation. We are a group of mostly white progressives with no religious leanings gathered together from every corner of the USA at a church complex in the 9th Ward of New Orleans, a neighborhood that was until a few months ago upwards of 95% black. It is all very strange, and the spectrum of juxtapositions created regularly is enough to keep everyone a little off balance and endlessly amused. We are forming tight friendships quickly and within it all are really having a hell of a good time here. Tears make laughter come more easily.

Please feel free to spread these dispatches as you see fit- or to edit and copy/paste them together for republishing if you want.

Love like the tides and rage like a storm in from the sea. . .Laurel