Fostering Certain Things
Before starting today’s blog, I’d like to point something out that some folks may have missed. The other day, after my vast expression of anger at the situation down here, my niece Isabella Raincloud made a comment. I was surprised to see that she reads what I have to say. She’s seven now. Seven and eight months, and she’s angry. I think she’ll do some great things. She’s seven and can already think of an excuse for nearly everything, and can probably use a computer more adeptly that many other people reading this. She’s creative, because she’s given me some absolutely weird presents which I don’t understand (but I was very glad to receive liquor bottle pour tops one Christmas). I hope she grows up to fully understand sympathy. If you take those three qualities, intelligence, creativity and sympathy, and combine that with anger and well chosen direction, Great things can be changed. But still, FEMA, Red Cross, Bush, internationalaid.org, I don’t care who you are, don’t piss off my niece because I don’t like that.
With all that said, today’s been a break from mapping. We’ve spent the morning and afternoon cross-crossing Jefferson Parish, passing out 10,000 maps to various organizations. After the last few days, where the failures of assistance down here keep rearing their heads and when I’ve begun to feel all the stress, I’ve lost focus on the point of my efforts here. I’d hand over a stack a maps, and each time, be it a police officer, Red Cross food distributor, charge nurse, national guardsmen with an M-16 directing traffic, or a pastor, each time I’ve been met with a face of sincere gratitude, thanking me, as if I’d really done something. Despite all the failures, I still don’t feel like I’ve been doing it. I click around on my computer, drive around collecting addresses and making notes, talking with people, but I’m not in the fray of things like most other volunteers here.
There’s a reason I’ve seen so much frustration in other people, bubbling to the surface in anger…because of what these people face everyday. They stand in the direct heat, in the middle of traffic, and with hundreds thousands of people coming to them asking them to give not only diapers, water, food and brooms, but asking them to give of themselves. Sympathy often can be mighty, but it’s a weight that can get heavy.
Yesterday, I was working on a map at the church we’re staying at, clicking away at a table near where a few Red Cross coordinators were working. Where I’m at is a volunteer shelter, and out in the parking lot there’s a group of Baptists that cook and prepare food to be distributed on Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicles. While this facility is not directly a food distribution point, it looks like one from the street. There had been a few walk-ins throughout the morning, but I hadn’t been paying attention. Then I did. A woman probably 32 came in, by herself. She went to the Red Cross worker, and for some food. The worker explained, as best she could, and that this place didn’t give out any food or donations, and the food outside was reserved for the vehicles. She apologized for not being able to help any more than that. In response, the young woman began to explain her situation: Section 8 housing, flooded and forced to leave, just the clothes on her back, water damaged car…nothing else, no where to go. And the Red Cross worker couldn’t help her, couldn’t direct her elsewhere, because she only knew what was right in her parking lot, nothing more.
I’d already begun walking back to my room so I could grab some of the spare maps off the cot. I hurried back. The Red Cross worker and the woman were outside, and she was turning towards her car, distraught. She was still trying to explain that she had nowhere else to go, no family, no money, no other hope left. I quickly caught up and handed the woman a map. She was from Slidell, the town on the map. She didn’t know that there was help available to her there. In Slidell, there’s a nice Red Cross shelter, which has WiFi, there are food distribution areas, places to can get clothes for free. Just the basics, but enough to survive. She didn’t know these places were there, and available to her. She didn’t know that there were opportunities for her. The map I made brought those opportunities to her. The map I made caused her to cry. Not because she lost everything, but because she had something.
Of course, all this is balanced. I went today to give a stack of maps to an Army Corps of Engineers distribution point, where giant blue tarps were handed out to act as temporary roofs. This was operated by civilians, and the one in charge, who I was offering the maps to, refused to give them to the disaster victims as they came in to seek help. She refused to have them on premises. Why you might ask? “If we gave those out here, it might be seen as if we were fostering certain things.”
WHAT? Fostering certain things…like what? That you might actually like to help someone who needs help??
I said that this day has been a break from mapping. It’s after 1am now, and its time to get tomorrow’s maps ready.
With all that said, today’s been a break from mapping. We’ve spent the morning and afternoon cross-crossing Jefferson Parish, passing out 10,000 maps to various organizations. After the last few days, where the failures of assistance down here keep rearing their heads and when I’ve begun to feel all the stress, I’ve lost focus on the point of my efforts here. I’d hand over a stack a maps, and each time, be it a police officer, Red Cross food distributor, charge nurse, national guardsmen with an M-16 directing traffic, or a pastor, each time I’ve been met with a face of sincere gratitude, thanking me, as if I’d really done something. Despite all the failures, I still don’t feel like I’ve been doing it. I click around on my computer, drive around collecting addresses and making notes, talking with people, but I’m not in the fray of things like most other volunteers here.
There’s a reason I’ve seen so much frustration in other people, bubbling to the surface in anger…because of what these people face everyday. They stand in the direct heat, in the middle of traffic, and with hundreds thousands of people coming to them asking them to give not only diapers, water, food and brooms, but asking them to give of themselves. Sympathy often can be mighty, but it’s a weight that can get heavy.
Yesterday, I was working on a map at the church we’re staying at, clicking away at a table near where a few Red Cross coordinators were working. Where I’m at is a volunteer shelter, and out in the parking lot there’s a group of Baptists that cook and prepare food to be distributed on Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicles. While this facility is not directly a food distribution point, it looks like one from the street. There had been a few walk-ins throughout the morning, but I hadn’t been paying attention. Then I did. A woman probably 32 came in, by herself. She went to the Red Cross worker, and for some food. The worker explained, as best she could, and that this place didn’t give out any food or donations, and the food outside was reserved for the vehicles. She apologized for not being able to help any more than that. In response, the young woman began to explain her situation: Section 8 housing, flooded and forced to leave, just the clothes on her back, water damaged car…nothing else, no where to go. And the Red Cross worker couldn’t help her, couldn’t direct her elsewhere, because she only knew what was right in her parking lot, nothing more.
I’d already begun walking back to my room so I could grab some of the spare maps off the cot. I hurried back. The Red Cross worker and the woman were outside, and she was turning towards her car, distraught. She was still trying to explain that she had nowhere else to go, no family, no money, no other hope left. I quickly caught up and handed the woman a map. She was from Slidell, the town on the map. She didn’t know that there was help available to her there. In Slidell, there’s a nice Red Cross shelter, which has WiFi, there are food distribution areas, places to can get clothes for free. Just the basics, but enough to survive. She didn’t know these places were there, and available to her. She didn’t know that there were opportunities for her. The map I made brought those opportunities to her. The map I made caused her to cry. Not because she lost everything, but because she had something.
Of course, all this is balanced. I went today to give a stack of maps to an Army Corps of Engineers distribution point, where giant blue tarps were handed out to act as temporary roofs. This was operated by civilians, and the one in charge, who I was offering the maps to, refused to give them to the disaster victims as they came in to seek help. She refused to have them on premises. Why you might ask? “If we gave those out here, it might be seen as if we were fostering certain things.”
WHAT? Fostering certain things…like what? That you might actually like to help someone who needs help??
I said that this day has been a break from mapping. It’s after 1am now, and its time to get tomorrow’s maps ready.
posted by B at
1:07 AM
