Lessons learned from my time away:
1) It is hard for many people outside of this area to care about what is happening in Mississippi because it is even harder to understand.
What happened in New Orleans was a palpable and photogenic tragedy. What happened here is simply mass destruction and devastation on an incomprehensible scale.
When I left the Peace Corps, I was warned about the relative indifference of the rest of the world, especially from my fellow Americans, in regards to what I did and what I went through. The following conversation was frequent:
“Wow, you were in Africa?” a curious individual would ask.
“Yep,” I would reply.
“What was it like?” the curious individual would ask.
At this point, I wouldn’t know what to say. Try summing up any two year period of your life in which your ideas on humanity, happiness, metaphysics, social interactions, hygiene, language, right and wrong, up and down, and the way the world turns were completely turned on their head.
Sometimes, I would be curt.
“It was a learning experience,” I would often say.
On other occasions, I would be thorough and give anecdotes about my cat getting eaten, my projects (and my house for that matter) being stolen from, my illnesses and the desperate squalor. I would also add the happy stories about smiles, sunsets and strong drinks.
Then, there would usually be a ridiculous question. Example: “Were there any lions?”
At first, I was upset by this. Then, one day I realized how detached the questioner was from my experience and what had informed them about Africa to that point.
My point of relating those experiences is to put in perspective what happened last weekend when I was visiting with my Peace Corps friends, all of whom went through similar difficulties after their time abroad.
“So you live in South Mississippi now, huh?” one would ask.
“Yep,” I would reply.
“It’s really messed up down there, huh?” the next question would be. Or, “What’s it like?”
“It’s a learning experience,” would be my reply.
When I would get into details, try and expand upon the experience a bit, I got this question occasionally: “So it’s kind of an adventure, huh?”
“No, it’s actually really f****d up,” I would reply.
I relate all this not out of bitterness. I wanted people to not care or talk that much about what was happening. I went to the Green Mountains to detach myself as much as possible from Mississippi.
But it was a little jarring to hear Peace Corps volunteers, who had dealt with the difficult questions themselves, turn around and lay them on me.
I suppose that you can’t understand it until you see it, smell it, live it. I know that all the reporters who come here from elsewhere, stay a while and then leave still don’t get it. Shoot, even I don’t really get it.
I see, smell, feel, taste and hear the devastation all the time. I saw Hurricane Katrina coming and I watched her go. Yet I don’t understand the situation fully.
I loved Mississippi the moment I got here. Great food. Great outdoors. Great people.
To see it ripped to shreds though, has left me confused and wanting of a better picture or frame of reference for the whole situation. But even those who have been here decades don’t get it, which brings me to the second thing I learned while roaming Vermont’s lovely mountains…
2) The mental health of people living and breathing the disaster is precarious at best.
Because we can’t grasp the entirety of what’s happening, we have no chance of gaining a routine. There is nothing comfortable about being here, let alone working and living in it.
It is nearly impossible to “recharge” for large, daily tasks while here. All that being here seems to do is break you down.
One of the hardest parts about Africa was how different everything was. The hardest part about here is how different everything has become.
There is no getting back to normal. I even disagree with the saying “Getting back to the new normal.” The base that was there is gone. Building from the ground up means any kind of normal is gone.
It is hard to understand that.
Almost two out of every three dwellings in South Mississippi are gone or unlivable. To comprehend that, go outside, look at your block and say there-gone-gone-there-gone-gone as you glance from building to building. That’s saying nothing about the jobs, schools and lives lost.
When people begin to get that, and few do and even fewer seem to try, it is beyond jarring. It is worse than being slapped, beaten or knocked out.
There is an immeasurable degree of humiliation in the face of a force not only beyond control but miles past understanding.
On to my final learning point…
3) There is no horizon.
The endgame is unforeseeable. A conclusion is impossible.
Therefore it is now a question of picking oneself up and learning to work and live with that.
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Mike is off to sunny Florida for a few days of much needed recharge. I hope his time there gives him some perspective on here as my time away did for me.
There may be a lack of photos for a while, although I may post a couple that won’t run with my story tomorrow on the guy who was evicted from his FEMA trailer for not taking care of his dog.
Thanks for reading.