This is the text from the speech made by Alyssa Hughes, US EPA on her experiences with Hurricane Katrina cleanup:
Hurricane Katrina Reflections
by Alyssa Hughes 2/28/07
as read during LWSTS™ #5, 03-01-07
I will never forget the first night after the storm. I’m sure a lot of people never will for a lot of different reasons and now it’s written in history. But I knew the first night after the storm hit the gulf coast that my life would never be the same because I would never be looking at it through the same eyes. Before I saw one building destroyed, one barge split into pieces, communities crumbled, shorelines disintegrated, foundations with no home, stairs leading to thin air, clothes hanging from the lifeless limbs of trees, lives in a billion little pieces in muddled muck on the ground – before any of those images were burned into the neurons in my brain, I stood alone, 60 miles from the coast in Hattiesburg, Mississippi with no power, no food and no running water, lost in the most beautiful sight that has ever befallen my eyes. I only wish words could convey the immensity of that night in my mind. If they could I would wrap them in a box with a bow and it would be my greatest treasure and I would share them with everyone everywhere I go. A photograph freezes time but would have failed to define the vastness of the firmament the night after the storm. If I could go back and capture every star I’ve seen in my life and place them all in the same black sky – it would pale in comparison to the intensity and quantity of stars I saw that night. It was so striking that if I close my eyes even now, a year and a half later, I can see the universe around me. Because the sky was so clear and there were no lights for a hundred miles, we were undeniably embedded in a universe beyond our imaginations. The Milky Way stretched out above us like a streak of white spray paint arching across the walls and ceilings of a black room. Seemingly so close that you would reach out to touch it, were it not for the knowledge that tells you its far beyond your reach. I like to think that that night there was a star for every life that was altered by the devastation of the storm. A star to grant the strength to start over. That night I felt connected to something beautiful and miraculous and unforgettably overwhelming. That night I was a witness to the winsomeness of nature – pure perfection painted above my head. In the days and nights to come over the following 6 months I would become a bystander to the absolute power that nature has over man and the things of man.
Our work began over the next couple of days after we were finally able to make it to the coast and establish a campground. The destruction and devastation were complete and utterly overwhelming. Our eyes interminably fell upon miles upon miles of homes, businesses, communities, lives, buried underneath layers of bricks and boards a mile inland. Within that mile from the shoreline of the Gulf there was nothing. Only foundations from where buildings used to stand. It would be impossible for me to write the words for every picture in my mind. I don’t think the mind can map the logical links for some of the sights I know I saw. A massive casino barge split in two – the work of countless people through innumerable hours and millions of dollars destroyed in a matter of minutes. And that’s just one ship. The hardest part for me was walking amongst the ruins of someone’s life. Everything they worked for, everything they built, everything they loved and lived for, scattered and intertwined with the lives of strangers miles away. That was the ground where my eyes would stay and my feet were planted. But when my eyes wandered to the skies above – the leafless trees draped with clothes, suitcases and toys – I felt a piercing pain that penetrated the places within me. There was something so unnatural and unimaginable that made those images hard to swallow and impossible to digest. Our mission was to sift through these misplaced possessions and piles of debris in order to recover hazardous materials. It became apparent as lives began emerging among the scenes that our mission was important – vital to their safety and a small glimmer of hope for the environment that seemed to have taken a knockout blow. But in those first days and weeks and months before the people and their stories returned to the places they called home – our mission seemed inconsequential. It’s easy to get lost in the mental aftermath of complete devastation and it’s impossible to imagine the strength it takes to continue to live with nothing but memories and hope to fuel you. I know it must have been hard to take the first step, to pick up the first piece of a former life and place it in a pile, to clear the way to begin again. I know that it must have been hard, and it would have been impossible without helping hands. Katrina purged compassion out of people to depths far beyond the limits of their bodies. I wasn’t in New Orleans and I can’t speak about the storylines that played out there. But on the gulf coast of Mississippi I witnessed people come together and help each other rebuild from nothing. Nature didn’t discriminate between casinos and trailers, rich and poor, big or small – it all fell victim to the whim of a storm. Through those months I learned a lot about nature – its power and its beauty – and our place among it all.
I remember back to the first night after the storm and how infinitesimally small in space and time I felt with the universe stretched out before me. I felt as though my life would occupy a speck on the timeline of the world.
Alyssa Hughes
Alyssa has worked in environmental cleanup for the United States Environmental Protection Agency for the last several years. She recently spent time in the cleanup following Hurricane Katrina, and will share some of her experinces.
An Atlanta resident, Alyssa has been a frequent participant and visitor at the Sustainable Society Discussions for more than a year. LWSTS™ #5, 03-01-07