Today was our first day of gutting. We managed to gut an entire house in a day, which is considered to be quite an accomplishment.
We were woken up early in the morning, around 630, by the sound of a morning chorus, singing "This Little Light Of Mine." We had breakfast, received a tutorial on gutting, and then outfitted ourselves with tyvek suits, respirators, and goggles. I also had to wear a pair of used gloves, which were ice cold from being washed or from someone else's sweat. Once we were all properly dressed, we loaded up in a truck and headed on to our first house.
The house was in the completely bare lower 9th. We were greeted by the former homeowners, who were delighted to see us. Seeing them gave more meaning to the day ahead. After reviewing what they wanted removed and what they wanted left behind, we got to work.
The first step to gutting, after shutting off the power, is removing all the homeowners' belongings. This is the most demanding part, both physically and emotionally. We removed everything, from refrigerators to mattresses to closets of clothes. After a while, you learn not to think too much about the things you come across --- the one cherished teddy bear, the ID cards, the video casettes, the headless Barbie doll caked in mud --- and become numb to everything you throw away. Otherwise, it would get to be too much.
After all the household items have been removed (a process that took us most of the day), we proceeded to smash all the walls and peel away the fiberglass. The dry plaster walls were fragile enough to pull off with our hands. Following this, we swept away the remaining plaster and dust, and denailed the house. Come 430 or so, we were finished.
Gutting houses is not easy. It takes a long time, and demands just as much from the gutter emotionally as it does physically. When gutting, you find yourself overcome with bouts of frustration or anger or sadness. Yet whenever it seems too intense, you manage to go on.
Cleaning your work clothes is a whole other process. Your boots, gloves, goggles, and respirators all need to be soaked in frigid baths of pinesol, bleach, and water. It didn't help much that it was freezing outside.
Being here means being cold and being put to work, but it is entirely worth it. Tomorrow we gut another house. My luggage hasn't arrived yet, though, so I don't know what that means for my stay here.
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5 comments:
Great blog, Richie. I look forward to your updates.
have you taken any more pictures?
--rachel
Chandra, thanks!
Rachel, yes, but I may not post them until I get back, the computers here are very slow.
I'll be keeping up with what you're doing.
good luck,
Caitlin Maxwell
how hard it sounds like it all is.
it's funny how things like this get forgotten once the media blitz is over, but we all know in our hearts that things are not right yet in new orleans. i guess most of us just try and forget it so that we can go on with our lives, which is, when you think about it, kind of insulting to those who are living in the middle of all of it.
things like this make me wish that i had the time...the money..the strength of character to chuck my comfortable life and go where help is so desperately needed. but. i can't. (at least i tell myself the reason is 'i can't', and not 'i won't')
thank god or allah or great spirit or santa claus or mother nature or whoever you want to pray to that there are people like you down there doing something.
try and keep up your spirits. i can't imagine how hard it must be, but know that there are people out there who are so proud and thankful that you are doing what you are doing. you're helping us all.
~danielle (aka babs)
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