Following is a report by recently returned Plenty medical volunteer, Judy Joffee: UNITED HOUMA NATION by Judy Joffee October 7-15, 2005 ARRIVAL Coming into the New Orleans Airport, as I look down, I nonchalantly observe large earth-moving machines bulldozing "stuff"; I realize that this is a housing development, now rubble. Eavesdropping on the passengers in front of Bob and I, we learn that a 4 and a 6 year old are being reunited to their mother after weeks of separation during evacuation. There is a small presence of National Guard outside the airport - weapons at bay - not sure what they are really doing other than posing at the traffic light at airport entrance/exit. Let’s remember that this is the very same airport that 3 weeks earlier became the mash hospital and morgue post Hurricane Katrina. Each person has a story - the budget car rental lady, the van driver bringing us to our rental car. Immediately their determination to move on despite the great disaster is very evident. The car lady recommends an eatery called Grumpies. Grumpie, who is also called Grump, is a fortyish woman, slow as molasses, but certainly not a grump. Bob and I recharge there, We hear from the locals their experiences and damages. A telephone call to Roberta Kachinsky at the Houma Nation Store in Raceland cements us toward our hearts’ mission. Lots of damage observed on our drive to Raceland - large signs downed, roofs covered with blue tarps (blue tarp businesses have developed at the cost of $2,500 per roof), mature trees toppled and broken. Bob innocently remarks about the strange stuff blown on the trees. "Honey," I say, "that’s not hurricane debris, its Spanish moss!" A high wind-damaged sign, states "Welcome to America’s Wetlands" as it advertises boat rides. Brenda Dadar Robichaux is the elected Houma Nation chief and married to Doc Michael Robichaux. She’s hardworking and committed to her tribe. Upon our arrival we learn that she is in Colorado at the National Congress of Indian Educators. Doc Mike, in his beautiful Louisiana twang, orients us to his sugarcane plantation, now home to certain displaced Houma and volunteers from Plenty, Habitat for Humanity, Quakers, and other individual "do gooders" per Mike. We are introduced to the Mississippi Delta via 5 huge maps. We quickly learn that for the Houma in Terrebonne, Lafourche, St. Bernard, and the Plaquemines, Katrina did the wind damage (roof, window, doors blown out) and Rita did the flooding (for all us folks who conceptualize flooding due to rain pour, no, the floods came from two ways: either breaks in the levees, which are raised earth embankments, or from the gulf and bayou areas) The water swells up over embankments, onto roads, and into houses. It brings with it debris, boats, oil spills, gasoline, natural gas, sewerage, snakes, and chunks of landmass. DORIS AND ROY BILLIOT We start our days at 5 in the morning, which follows the bioschedule of Doc Mike. We load up his Dodge Ram with items to dispense - medications, vaccination, water, groceries, and cleaning supplies - and off we go into Dulac. He introduces us to Doris and Roy and she takes us under her wing, per request of Mike. They are a solid senior couple of the Houma tribe in Dulac and have lived in their home for many decades. It is a sweet, lovingly cared-for modest home. Roy is a retired fisherman who was sustained during his prolonged absences on the gulf sea by a video made by his daughter, Jamie (see article on Jamie Billiot in Marie Claire Magazine, Meet the Faces of the New America, November 2005, pages 9 and 78). They have lost just about everything in their home but it’s is the loss of this video that brings tears to Roy’s eyes. The Billiot’s, like all the folks in their community, have outside their home, a large pile that was, before the flood, their life’s belongings. Imagine everything that is within the first 4-6 feet of the floor destroyed – furniture, appliances, clothing, bedding, whatever is in closets or dressers, books, knickknacks everything. All that is waterlogged is dragged outside to the road with a sign that says, "Do not remove", (if someone has house insurance, they wait for an agent to come). And then mud to be removed from inside. It is a dark brown ooze which is left behind when the waters recede out; it is silt, shit, oil, natural gas, dried snakes, stink, refuse. It covers everything and with time dries from the sun into first thick mudlike linoleum, then into mosaic formations that get smaller and smaller until, Doris points out a tiny mimosa tree growing, some blades of grass, and remnants of a flower bed. Remember that southerners pride themselves for their gardens and flowers. Then comes the removal of the interior walls, floors subfloor insulation-whatever part of the standing house that was in contact with the floodwaters. Then the tedious process of cleaning with water and Clorox anything and everything. Roy’s big heart prayer is for his home to be raised on stilts. I revisit the Billiot’s on several occassions and promise them that this prayer will be told to Plenty. Doris introduces us to the folks at the Dulac Community Center. We set up our station for tetanus and flu vaccinations, which becomes our seguay into people’s lives. A shot in the deltoid opens the gate to a sharing of stories, health assessments, housing issues, family dynamics, home health visits, medication dispersing, first aid, school discussions, community dynamics, and church and tribal processes. Dulac becomes for me a community I return to many times. It continues to live deeply in me. UNITED HOUMA NATION STORE The store is a century-old general store, owned by the Robichaux family, closed for 50 years. After the hurricane it is cleaned, stocked with generous amounts of donations of groceries, cleaning supplies, new clothes, old clothes, bedding and opened. Once the immediate hurricane crisis had past in Louisiana, the overload of used clothing to the Houma became a problem. A truckload of bagged used clothing had to be destroyed - it was just too much for the store to handle and no agency wanted it. What I saw is that folks want nice new things when they are rebuilding their lives. The Houma Indians come to register their home damage, and request building needs, and get their groceries, home goods, and clothing. The store is run by the Houma Nation and also volunteers from around the country who stay on the Robichaux property either inside, in trailers, tents or popups. Local elderly people come in and remark with delight how grand it is to see the "old store’ open again. One senior gent who came for his flu shot told the story of the mule cart accident he had as a boy outside the old store. He had several compound fractures of the arm and since then has only had use of his hand (no ability to use the arm). He has never seen himself as disabled and shuns any newfangled surgical cures offered. The vaccination clinic at the store begins at 9am every day except Sunday and lasts all morning. By word of mouth many local non-Indians, especially seniors, come to the store to get their free shots without any waiting for doctor appointments. GRAND BOIS (LARGE TREES) This is a small community of about 3 streets-housing ranging from poor trailers to some fancier homes owned by nonIndians. It is located on the border of Terrebonne and Lafourche parishes, and according to Louise, my "guide" from the United Houma Nation Office, it is an often forgotten community to both parishes. The Pit is right there. It is a large surrealistic hole in the ground with geometric patterns of lined-up huge mounds of earth, bulldozers slowly moving back and forth, all done behind fences with No Trespassing signs, water oozing on the road with a color and turbidity that bellows toxic danger. This is an infamous place where the oil industry dumps its nasty byproducts, shamefully suggesting that the Earth Mother can swallow it and suffer no harm. A family nearby with health issues filed an unsuccessful lawsuit, per Doc Mike. Door to door we went for two afternoons- giving vaccinations, and getting a sense of this community. Here is the story of the man in the trailer. I knock and offer him vaccinations from the Houma Tribe, "Dr. Mike and Ms. Brenda sent us out to see if you would like to have flu or tetanus (tetnik) shots." He tells us that he and his wife are staying with their daughter. He is 51, retiring in one year, and has just finished paying off their home. They are from St. Bernard Parish. I know from Michael Dadar, the Houma Nation’s subchief who, with his family, are living on Brenda and Mike’s property because they lost their home, that this area and the Plaquemines were so severely hit by the hurricanes that relief groups could not even get in for initial assessments. (See Times Magazine October 17, 2005, Starting from Scratch, pages 43-45). He tells us, "I heard my porch awnings collapse. I wanted to make sure that the front door was clear and saw the water coming onto the streets. The worst place to be in a hurricane is behind the front door. The water will kill you with the force as it comes rushing in. Within 20 minutes it was waist high. There is no way I wanted to go into the attic and get trapped. My wife and I broke out through the kitchen window. You wouldn’t believe how many snakes were all around us-water moccasins, copperheads. They were scared too. Did you know that alot of people die in hurricanes because of snakebites? We climbed into our neighbors 2nd story window. Five families came there. We all went on the roof. It took 8 hours to get rescued. The houses are destroyed. Do you know where I can find a lung doctor? My chest has been hurting me ever since." ISLE JEAN CHARLES Curtis Hendon is the tribal council leader for this small community of Houmas. He thinks most folks have gotten their immunizations, but he wants me to see his home area for which he has such deep roots and pride. "We’ll see if anyone needs anything," he says. It is really me who needs something. I’m hungry to know more abut these these people - who they are, how they manage, what they believe they need from us outsiders. About an hour out of the town of Houma we drive. There are large managed watershed and wildlife areas as we get closer. The presence of the gulf waters and the end of continuous landmass is overpowering. The topography of small bayou canal shifts to mass of waving water with small multiple areas of marshy land showing through. Curtis speaks of the Isle Jean Charles with his memories of childhood and the changes he has seen. About 50 years ago the landmass was larger and solid and the marsh areas smaller. There was enough hard ground for cattle to graze for miles and folks walked to Montagut abut 4 miles away. Houses were roofed with saw palmetto. "The ground is sinking" is a repeated phrase of his. We drive to the Isle on a ridiculously small, poorly engineered 2-lane macadam road that stretches for about a mile over moving water. We are not more than 3 feet above the water and I get seasick when I stop the car and get out to take photos. Because this road is in a continual state of sinking, bulldozers go back and forth dumping large rocks to reinforce the sides. The few homes on the island, other than 1 or 2 on stilts, have suffered great damage. I am reminded of the midwifery mission I took to El Salvador in 1994, in terms of the poverty seen. The church, 3 Sundays before had been an active gathering place, now it is empty, moldy, and in despair. The cross is on the floor. The watermarks are shoulder high. The ceiling looks beautiful, though, untouched from the flooding. The bathroom is very clean, I think some of the island folk have been coming to us it. Curtis speaks of his great hope to relocate his people to dry land in Houma. "We only need about 80 acres," he says. "How much would that cost to buy?" I ask. "Maybe a $100,00 or $200,000." He encourages the folks not to be discouraged, don’t sell out. In the past the Feds have come to buy out some of the Indians. There was talk of a hotel coming, too (maybe the Marriott?) This is a very beautiful area, just tough to live on. Curtis tells me that when there is a hurricane warning for the island, no municipal services come to help for evacuation. "No!" he says adamantly, "We go get the old people ourselves, and drive them to family." TAKE HOME POINTS AND GOALS Bob and I dispensed over two hundred vaccinations. A continued Plenty presence will lead us into a sharper vision of our long-term goals. Our medical presence is needed. As a midwife I can assume that in June or July there will be a baby boom (nine months post hurricane disaster). A local Dulac satellite midwifery office would be most welcomed by the ladies. We talked about this together, the Dulac women and myself, waiting for The Salvation Army truck to bring their lunches. The acute health care crisis post hurricane is past, and now issues of a more long-term chronic nature can be addressed- hypertension, cardiovascular problems, alcoholism, diabetes, and teen pregnancy to name a few. The often requested house-raising is being checked out. That’s so good. The Houma are telling us they want this. An assessment of the Plaquemines and St Bernard parish is important. The Proveaux Cemetery has the overturned tombs. Doris Billiot says it is a priority that the area gets taken care of. The ancestors want to be put to rest. The teens, like too many teens, are unhappy with their schooling. They do not feel challenged or cared about in their learning opportunities. I’m not sure where to go with this. These people look out for each other, their families, their community. They know what is going on with their neighbors. Our friendly, helpful attitudes foster trust. They easily express gratitude for the volunteers and all that is being done. They are touched that we care to leave our homes from all parts of the country to come to be with them. Thank you Plenty for welcoming me into this wonderful circle of grassroots giving and receiving. The experience of being in Louisiana with the Houma Tribe and just being present, asking good open questions, hearing the answers, has been a gift. I am touched and changed.