Of my work with Common Ground Relief

So, here I am again. Did you miss my rants/updates?

All that remains of house in the Lower 9th Ward.

I think I needed a couple of days to take everything in, process it and put it out again in a way that would show my thoughts.

As I said in my previous post, on Monday I met the founders of Common Ground Relief (CGR), an humanitarian organisation that was born in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Originally based in the Algiers area of New Orleans - on the opposite side of the Mississipi compared to the French Quarter if that gives you an idea -, it was created almost from scratch, and with no funds to assist, feed and shelter people that had lost everything because of the events, but couldn't leave the city.

Common Ground's distribution centre.

I say 'almost from scratch' because the two founders, Malik R. and Sharon J. were not new to organised effort, and, especially Malik, to social movements. They never defined themselves activists until somebody pointed out the fact to them, but they had both been, in some way or another, "involved" and "active" in the past.

Malik, I find out later, used to be a member of the local Black Panthers chapter back in the 1970s. He didn't think twice about opening up his front and back yards to the evacuees, and, also thanks to the help brought in by hundreds of volunteers that arrived from all over the States, he set up CGR's first distribution centre and health clinic on September 5, 2005.

Desolation in the Lower 9th Ward.

"I thought we would help people and then get back to our lives sooner than

this," says Sharon. "We didn't expect to come on as far as we are

today."

Today CGR has projects running in different parts of New Orleans, and focuses its activities on legal aid and health care (both given free of charge to anyone in need), but it also still oversees a great deal of reconstruction work, especially in some of the

worst affected areas, such as Lower and Upper 9th Wards.

Both very close to the levees that didn't cope with the strength of the rising water a day after the hurricane had struck, they were submerged under 22 feet of water, houses completely washed away, hundreds of lives lost. Before the tragedy, 12,000 people lived in the Lower 9th Ward alone; today, only 600 have come back.

Gate to nowehere in the Lower 9th Ward.

Anger, frustration, and sometimes pessimism, but also hope, pride, and creativity are the prevalent feelings among these communities. Anger and frustration for authorities - on a local, state, and federal level - that did too little to prevent the flooding, and, afterwards, far too much to create a state of panic and fear that the media were eager to

pray upon.

But also pride for what has been done so far by grassroots groups like Common Ground, and hope for a better future that they are helping to shape, little but little.

More (maybe) soon.

Stay Tuned.

ps: I have just uploaded a photo album of my time spent covering CGR's work. Enjoy.

House, sunflowers and the levee.

Volunteers in the Lower 9th Ward.

The new stretch of levee.

Looking for clues and evidences.

Common Ground Relief logo.

Debris and rotten garbage.

Common Ground Relief volunteer.

Old and new levee.

When tragedy becomes photo op.

Steps leading nowhere.

Volunteers on their way to gut a house.

Unloading the tools.

Preparing the masks.

Gutting and getting rid of all the junk.

Volunteer at work.

More gutting.

Carrying away all that junk.

A sweaty business.

Getting rid of the endless junk.

A seemingly endless work.

Corridor view.

A moment of rest.

Mopping the floor.