What Would You Do?

Just imagine what you would do. The worst natural disaster hits the United States in 2005 and help is slow to come. You are lucky to come out with your life and then the real nightmare begins. The temporary housing solution that your state government elects is cheaply compiled trailers. At this point, you have been homeless, so you gratefully take the trailers while you wait for Mississippi to rebuild.

May 15, 2008, Mississippi is not rebuilt: there are not enough houses or apartments for the thousands still living in FEMA trailers. The homes and apartments that have been rebuilt are price gauging, so the apartment you used to rent for $400 a month is now $800 but your salary is still the same or worse –you don’t have a salary because you ascertained a disability when Katrina hit and you can no longer work. Still things could be worse you say—if you were homeless or did not rent or own a home in your name then you do not even qualify for FEMA assistance, at least you do.

July 2008, after three years of living in your cheaply built trailer, after having taken your kids to the hospital for respiratory infections, after symptoms that you thought were sinus or headaches problems, you learn that the trailers are emitting formaldehyde. Your home is toxic. All the hospital bills are piling up because you just spent $6,000 on hospital care for your son or daughter and you will not be reimbursed because any health related issues associated with the trailers are outside of FEMA’s and the government’s scope. The government directs you to sue in a class action lawsuit. In the meantime, FEMA wants you out of the trailers now that they realize the trailers are toxic.

You have two choices. Choice one, stay in your toxic home and risk yours and your families health. Choice two, the fourth time since Katrina, you are asked sometimes harassed to move out of your trailer and go live in a motel. Maybe you think motel/hotel living would not be that bad, but the motels are in bad shape, most are in bad neighborhoods, used by drug dealers, or don’t have a kitchen unit. Solved says FEMA—we will deliver you meals. Six am breakfast and six pm dinner, but if you miss the meal bus you do not eat. Never mind that you might be at work or just coming off the night shift and asleep.

These people just want a home—a permanent home where they do not have to report to their FEMA caseworker anymore, but there are so many obstacles. There is little or no affordable housing, no money to pay a deposit, first months rent, and utility deposits when you only make minimum wage, and FEMA is forcing people to move into living conditions that no person would chose to live under except that they have no choice.

Despite all these things that might make the ordinary person angry and bitter the people in the Gulf Port Region still have hope and hospitality. We went knocking on doors in an effort to ensure that FEMA’s estimate of people living in the trailers is accurate and to survey what options (very few, if none) people have, and to help those who are facing immediate eviction or are being told that FEMA can’t do anything else for them even though FEMA has an obligation to help them find housing or ways to afford housing until May 2009.

Despite the rather bleak outlook, despite the fact that I could do very little on an individual basis—unless they were facing immediate eviction—everyone one who let me in was happy to have someone to at least talk to for 15 minutes about their problems. I would all my interviews by saying that I was sorry that there was not much I could do, that I wished them the best of luck, and if they faced immediate eviction or harassment by FEMA then at least they have a number to call. Everyone I interviewed ended our interview by thanking me for caring, for trying to do something, for coming to Mississippi all the way from DC.

The people of Mississippi have shown me that even when life is at its worse the human heart remains humane and does not stop giving love and hospitality just because it has been wounded. The people here amaze me and I am grateful and honored to have met so many people who are so full of love and hope despite conditions that might break others. The people of Mississippi are not broken; the system that is supposed to help these people get back on their feet is broken.

Sandra Garcia
Columbus School of Law, '10
The Catholic University of America