Living in Africa, I tend to forget the details of my life in the United States. PIN numbers and access codes, phone numbers and addresses escape me. Birthdays go unacknowledged. Heck, I don’t even know what month we’re in half the time as there is little change in the seasons. But I surprised even myself with this overseas-induced forgetfulness Tuesday evening. A new logistician from France had arrived on a Yambio site visit. In an effort to get to know one another, we were conducting the usual interview: where are you from, where have you worked before, do you have a family, etc. I always have a difficult time answering the simple question: What state are you from? I typically state that I’m originally from Minnesota. If the person knows the lay of the land, I explain that I also spent most of my adult life in Washington State and that I most recently lived in New Orleans. To the latter bit of information, I often add, “You know, the place that had the big hurricane a couple years ago?” I assume that most people know of the situation even if they are unfamiliar with Louisiana. It was then that my mind did a quick calculation and realized that in fact this is the month of August, and that the two-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina was the following day.
When I left New Orleans in December, the crime rate had been skyrocketing for months and large swaths of the city remained in hopeless ruins. Emails from my NOLA friends indicate that life has become even more harrowing in the Big Easy. Let me outright plagiarize Sarah’s email, as she says it best. “The crime (both violent and white collar) is outrageous. In the last 2 weeks a patron of Pal’s had he throat slit while sitting at the bar by an unstable veteran for no apparent reason, 2 big dog criminal brothers (reportedly responsible for 15+ murders between them) were killed 4 hours apart, one in a hail of 100+ bullets not 4 blocks from your old house at 5pm, several times a day migrant workers who are busting their asses to rebuild the city are robbed at gunpoint of their hard earned cash, there was a huge Justice Department sting at Traffic Court that resulted in so many arrests for embezzlement and bribery that the court had to be shut down for lack of employees, and City Council President Oliver Thomas just pled guilty to bribery in a parking lot shakedown scheme. And after a week of crime Mayor Nagin said, and I paraphrase a bit, “It’s a two edged sword. Unfortunate that so many people are getting killed but at least it keeps people talking about New Orleans. It keeps us in the national media.”
Yesterday I read a news article about the health care system in NOLA. It remains, seemingly, beyond repair. The article told the story of man suspected of suffering form prostate cancer. Due to the lack of doctors and functioning facilities, patients are often forced to travel to distant Louisiana cities for diagnosis and treatment. He was looking at having to go to the city of Houma which I believe is about 50 miles away, but he had no vehicle, and even if he did, he would have waited months for an appointment. He mentioned to his nurse that his niece in Nicaragua who was a doctor. The nurse, even to her own astonishment, found herself recommending that he travel to Nicaragua for health care. Plagiarizing again, I write her here quote from the Times-Picayune: “We felt he would have the support and that it would be a lot less cumbersome and difficult for him to get a consultation there,” she said. "I have been a nurse for 30 years. I never thought I would have seen anything like this."
The organization I’m working for now in South Sudan has programs in something like 24 countries. In the days after Hurricane Katrina, it tried ardently to open programming in New Orleans, but was forced to shelve it plans by politics and bureaucracy.
It’s at times like these that I’m at a loss to explain my country, and even sometimes my own intentions and desires. The other day Elizabeth and I were comparing health care coverage – particularly for the indigent -- in the United State and her home country, Kenya. I explained that depending on one’s location, one could indeed get free or reduced health care, but that services are limited, and often don’t exist in rural areas. “Then why are you people here giving health care to the Africans?” she asked her typical no-nonsense style. Sometimes a question can stop you dead. I can’t explain my country, goodness knows, but I can explain my choices, at least to a certain extent. I could wrap it in bows and pretty paper, but the bottom line is this: I work in developing countries because I want to. There’s no other way to put it. Yes, helping people is important to me and I thrive on it, and God knows the people of South Sudan need it. But in the end, there is no such thing as altruism.
Would it be so for New Orleans, the Broken Easy, my home of yesterday. May God bless it this hurricane season.
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