During the last days of our cultural excursion, many students began to reflect upon the city's non-toursim side, the realities of rebuilding, and life in a large city. Read along with Multicultural Ambassador Tiana as she comes to grips with the realities of the city and her thoughts on the "Katrina and Beyond" exhibit at the Presbytere in New Orleans.
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It’s 3:50 PM. We walk around Jackson Square, pausing at both
the Cabildo and the cathedral before we arrive at the Presbytere. The hours
posted on the door confirm their closing time—4:30 PM. Admission is six
dollars.
The first room is located opposite the cashier. It has flashing lights and
video clips looping on large TV screens. My stomach flips. My heart stops. I’m…terrified? I pause.
“I can’t do this.”
I turn around.
“You OK?”
“I’m fine.”
I turn around again. The clips play over and over. Wind and rain-- pretty typical hurricane coverage.
Except it’s not.
Images of the Superdome appear on the screen. There must be thousands of people there.
I move to the next room—more videos.
I’m crying.
4:00 PM.
I regain my composure.
Next room.
There’s a replica of an attic. In front of it, a case holds a hatchet.
There’s audio. A woman is speaking.
I lose it.
4:05. 4:06. 4:07.
Breathe.
The next room is larger. TVs line the walls. In one corner, there’s a door marked “A.”
It is the entrance to a man’s diary, which he kept on his walls during the storm’s aftermath.
Days and days go by before he mentions the arrival of the Red Cross.
4:15.
Next room.
Interactive displays demonstrate how levees work.
4:17.
Kids’ room.
**************************
My only relief comes from this street musician that I know as Wyatt. As we pass him he’s singing the blues and playing his guitar. I stand around listening to him for a while.
I would listen to him all night if I could. Luckily, he allowed me to record him as part of my music project.
I wish he had a CD I could purchase.
**************************
I met a couple of other people on the streets as well. I know them as Gary and Dorothy. They are not street performers and are relatively new to the streets (2 weeks and 6 months, respectively).
I turn around.
“You OK?”
“I’m fine.”
I turn around again. The clips play over and over. Wind and rain-- pretty typical hurricane coverage.
Except it’s not.
Images of the Superdome appear on the screen. There must be thousands of people there.
I move to the next room—more videos.
I’m crying.
4:00 PM.
I regain my composure.
Next room.
There’s a replica of an attic. In front of it, a case holds a hatchet.
There’s audio. A woman is speaking.
I lose it.
4:05. 4:06. 4:07.
Breathe.
The next room is larger. TVs line the walls. In one corner, there’s a door marked “A.”
It is the entrance to a man’s diary, which he kept on his walls during the storm’s aftermath.
Days and days go by before he mentions the arrival of the Red Cross.
4:15.
Next room.
Interactive displays demonstrate how levees work.
4:17.
Kids’ room.
**************************
My only relief comes from this street musician that I know as Wyatt. As we pass him he’s singing the blues and playing his guitar. I stand around listening to him for a while.
I would listen to him all night if I could. Luckily, he allowed me to record him as part of my music project.
I wish he had a CD I could purchase.
**************************
I met a couple of other people on the streets as well. I know them as Gary and Dorothy. They are not street performers and are relatively new to the streets (2 weeks and 6 months, respectively).
Gary is from
Texas and was trying to get a ride back home when I met him, while Dorothy
(native to NOLA) and I shared a bench outside of Café du Monde. She was just
trying to get a meal. I provided both of them with food for the night--Gary got
my leftover seafood from a café we went to. I was able to get Dorothy some milk
and beignets.
While I shared my food, they shared their lives. I won’t relate those stories here, but I will say that both of them were glad to finally have someone listening to them.
Forgive me for asking, but when did it become OK to just breeze by, acting like a greeting wasn’t given or a question wasn't asked? Are they not worthy of a smile? Must you have a home in order to be entitled to basic human interaction?
“They’re just junkies, the lot of them!”
“They just want money for booze.”
“They’re not really homeless. They have shelters and stuff.”
“Don’t talk to them, you might get sick. Or robbed.”
I wish I was making this up.
While I shared my food, they shared their lives. I won’t relate those stories here, but I will say that both of them were glad to finally have someone listening to them.
Forgive me for asking, but when did it become OK to just breeze by, acting like a greeting wasn’t given or a question wasn't asked? Are they not worthy of a smile? Must you have a home in order to be entitled to basic human interaction?
“They’re just junkies, the lot of them!”
“They just want money for booze.”
“They’re not really homeless. They have shelters and stuff.”
“Don’t talk to them, you might get sick. Or robbed.”
I wish I was making this up.
“Child, you must be honest, charitable, and show respect to all*.
*Except for the homeless.
~ Multicultural Ambassador, Tiana.
We hope that you will stop by the office (TSC # 21). Also, look for us on social media. Facebook :http://www.facebook.com/TarletonDiversityInclusion and read along with our journeys here on the blog:
http://tarletondiversityinclusion.blogspot.com/ You can also see our images on Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tarletondiversity/. Or follow us on Twitter: @DiversityTSU or email us directly at Diversity@Tarleton.edu
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