A Million Minutes in Africa

About 60 miles north of New Orleans we started noticing trees snapped halfway up as if they were oversized toothpicks. The number of utility trucks, mobile homes, and travel trailers on the highway replaced the normal interstate traffic we had seen the previous few days. A few miles before crossing Lake Pontchartrain there was a large amount of garbage strewn on both sides of the highway. After we crossed the bridge over the lake, we noticed a brown layer that covered most things and buildings for several feet above the ground. Then we came upon miles of houses that were obviously abandoned. Cars left at odd angles as they rested upon piles of junk. Squadrons of refrigerators standing on the side of the road without their doors. To see such a lively town empty of its people was shocking and sad.

We were on our way to visit a friend who lived in one of the neighborhoods away from the tourist area, but still we could tell the area had its own charm. The only people who were on the street were crews taking down half-dead trees which threatened to collapse onto power lines which still had no power. We found the house of our friend. When we pulled up to his house he was sitting out front after a day of directing contractors on how to rebuild. He planned to stay in the city even though he was only one of two people on his block doing anything with their houses. We admired his ability to come back and restart his life with a house which had a completely destroyed first floor. As he said, “What else am I supposed to do?” I had at least two or three possibilities in mind as I imagined myself in his shoes, but sometimes it is better to be quiet.