On this day, in 2005 I was trying my best to comfort Loyola students who would be evacuating the city of New Orleans over the next three days. I had spent the day evacuating my dorm of all students and assisting with the evacuation of the other dorms. Working with staff and campus police to develop a plan for the school and doing my very best to keep my own wits about me when all I really wanted to do was say “you fucking people are crazy” and get the hell out of the city leaving my responsibilities behind.
On this night 6 years ago I did not sleep. I was busy trying to pack up my belongings and get them as high as possible in my apartment on campus that sat just feet away from the flood prone street of St. Charles Ave. I would be moved to a different building the next day and continue the evacuation process through the 28th with the college and on my own with a few travel companions (Jennifer, Wesley and Aubrey) on the 29th finally arriving in Leander at my parents’ home at just around 2pm on the 29th (26.5 hours after beginning my own evacuation).
This was the first time I had put the words hurricane and Katrina in the same sentence, and I prayed it would be the last.
On this day, I hugged my friends on campus, sat their while they cried from fear and uncertainty, thought briefly about my friends off campus and especially the ones I hadn’t talked with in a while.
Before I went to bed, I called my mother, comforted her, assured her everything would be ok and told her I loved her and would see her soon.
Up until this point, I had never been so scared in my life, that fear would be smurfed by the fear I would experience later that week as I sat on the Bonnet Carre Spillway hardly moving over the course of several hours, attempting to be patient as we all (170+ Loyola students and staff) headed for our shelter in Baton Rouge.
Praying I wouldn’t run out of gas and that I could handle the stress and stay strong for the three other people I would later be responsible for, I thought about my best friend I had made leave our home in the Parish and head to her cousins house in Baton Rouge. I wondered when I would see my friends again, when I would see her, how long it would take to get home (Austin) and if I would ever return to the city I now called Home.
Six years later, I sit in my room, listening to reports of another hurricane threatening to strike NYC where my brother lives, as well as many of my friends from NOLA. I sit here, praying that this storm will not be as bad as Katrina and that my brother and millions of others will be spared the heartache and suffering that those of us who lived through Katrina experienced.
Six years later, tears are still brought to my eyes as I remember the emotional overload we all experienced. Hearing for the first time, in a small coffee shop gathered around the only TV in the place in the little town of Nacogdoches, Texas, that the levees appeared to have failed and that the city was taking on water, like a sinking ship. Remembering the kindness that was shown to my travel companions and myself at that little coffee shop so early in the morning, the looks in the eyes of the staff and the looks on the faces of my companions the moment they realized we would not be back in NOLA any time soon. The mood shifted from it’s just a small bump in the road to dear God where will I complete my degree.
Tears fill my eyes when I look over and see the college diploma I finally obtained 6 years after that storm blew me off course. Tears fill my eyes when I think of the friendships that were made while I lived in New Orleans and the friendships that have been maintained and rekindled in the years since.
Had it not been for that storm, the displacement refugee status in my own country, I would not have made the friends I have made at AOMA or through employment and social engagement. I would not have the perspective on life and love that I have today. Had it not been for that storm, I would be a very different person than I am today.
I consider myself extremely lucky and blessed for the people in my life who have helped to hold me up in the years following this life altering event. I feel blessed for the good fortune to be apart of countless new experiences in the years following Katrina. But I still bear the inner scares of that day. I still hurt, I still bleed with grief, I still long for the city I called Home.
I will never be the same, none of us will, though we continue to rebuild and heal where ever we are, we will always carry that day and the days following with us in our minds and in our hearts. The Jewish faith has a saying, “l’shanah haba’ah birushalayim – Next year in Jerusalem!” I have said this many time myself during Farewell to the Sukkah prayer and while attending Passover Seders. I think this year I will adjust my words slightly and say, “Next Year in New Orleans”