measured out in coffee spoons

Window Seat 10A.

2011-07-12T15:46:00.002-04:00

It's 4th of July and I am on a flight from California to DC. As I watch the Bay Area fade into the Central Valley (the forests fading into the desert), I find myself admiring cluster after cluster of identical matchbox homes and circuit-board cities. I am filled with an odd sense of patriotism- not 4th of July nationalism per se, but a larger, more general feeling of human championship.

We are a people that build bridges and roads and air planes. We zig-zag across the earth, carving ourselves into the land we insist on taming and domesticating. We've evolved past being survivalists- we are conquerors.

Ironically, at 30 thousand feet in the air, I am quickly humbled and reminded of the limits to human enterprise. As I look down at the Sierra Navadas, I marvel at their awesomeness and how, in one sweeping glance, they stop even the most arrogant sense of human entitlement to survival.

So here's to a great 4th of July celebration from window seat 10A.

May our victories always be remembered with humility and may all my future flights be this entertaining. =)

A little song, a little dance, a little heat exhaustion.

2011-07-11T22:57:00.001-04:00

2011 Smithsonian Folklife Festival celebrating the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps

What a phenomenal week of events... and all involving partying in 90 degree heat at the National Mall.

Garifuna Collective featuring the Umalali Women Singers.

(Garifuna is a musical culture from the Caribbean coast of Central America that blends elements of West African and Native Caribbean heritage and is, in one word, AMAZING)

These multi-generational performers from Belize and Guatemala continue the mission of their founder, the late Andy Palacio, to preserve Garifuna language and culture through music.

And in my humble opinion, they have truly done justice to that mission. What an amazing group of performers.

The Naro Giraffe Dance Group of Ghanzi, Botswana was created in 1996 in an effort to showcase and preserve the culture of the San people, who have been forcibly relocated from hunter-gathering communities in the Kalahari Desert to government-run settlements.

The healing trance dance, being performed this photo, is a traditional practice dedicated to the removal of bad spirits and ailments. An important ritual of the San culture, the dance dates back thousands of years and is still practiced today.

Aires Del Campo, a traditional string music ensemble from Colombia’s Coffee Region, performing Andean music as well as party tunes of the Paisa culture.

Don't let their serious looks fool you- these gentlemen were belting songs that had everyone from grandma and baby out on the dance floor.

And last, but certainly not least, food=)

This is a family festival folks, two cerveza limit. Now, we don't want the Peace Corps celebrations getting too rowdy, do we?

Most the food was sold out by the time we got there, but I managed to fill my stomach with some delicious fried plantains, rice and beans, and that cute little beef empenada. Not too shabby for festival food, eh? and, maybe it was the 90 degree heat talking, but that little glass of Passion Fruit heaven was the best maracuya I've ever had (this side of the border=)

Where have all the black squirrels gone?

2011-02-06T17:54:00.002-05:00

In front of my kitchen window grew a lovely tree. and in that lovely tree lived a family of lovely black squirrels, whom my dog chased and tormented relentlessly at every opportunity. They'd return the favor by hopping onto my windowsill and taunting Scooter into a barking frenzy. and so it went until a man with a chainsaw came into our neighborhood last week and cut down my favorite tree.

he climbed up to the top with a chainsaw dangling from his waist,

strapped himself in,

and began cutting that tree down like he was chopping carrots.

And that was that.

Scooter bids farewell to our favorite tree and all its furry little tenants.

Oh, Black Squirrel Tree, we hardly knew ye. May you be processed in peace.

*Photos taken from my Sprint Blackberry.

Get a job, snow man!

2011-01-30T19:37:00.002-05:00

Guess it's true what they say about snow men... they'd rather melt than get a job.

Year in Random Review. 2010.

2011-01-09T21:01:00.011-05:00

2010 snow storm.

sister and fiance.

a bad man.

National Harbor.

best wedding cake ever.

Glenn Beck's opponents come in all colors and ages.

July 4th in the District.

Zarah's birthday photoshoot.

Tara and her new pup, Stella.

rock and roll.

Annual fed government job fair in DC. Over 5,000 people just yearning to work.

Scooter's halloween costume.

The National Building Museum.

Boo at the zoo.

Law school graduation.

lunar eclipse in waiting.

Putting a face to our food.

2010-09-12T03:16:00.001-04:00

I am not a vegetarian, nor do I ever plan on becoming one. But just because I love fried chicken and chapli kabob doesn't mean I am apathetic to the plight of farm animals.

So, this post goes to all our yummy little friends- may we always treat them with kindness and dignity; and may we never forget the value of their lives and the gravity of their sacrifices.

(can't forget to thank the laborers!)

As American as Funnel Cake

2010-08-26T10:10:00.040-04:00

In the great state of Maryland, there are funnel cakes and then there are GRAND CHAMPION FUNNEL CAKES. It is with immense honor and pleasure that I introduce to you today,

the supreme of sweetness,

the daredevil of deliciousness,

the grand freakin’ champion of the 2010 Montgomery County

Agricultural Fair…

(drum roll)

Caramel Apple Funnel Cake!

Putting the FUN back in FUNGUS.

2010-08-15T00:43:00.009-04:00

DAY 1 - 8:00 am

NIGHT 1 - 12:00 am

DAY 2 - 10:00 am

NIGHT 2 - 9:00 pm

Can this Super-Mushroom get any bigger? Is it secretly plotting take over the world? How much longer till the neighbors start avoiding me?

Stay tuned...

Butterfly Effect--ed?

2010-08-03T14:26:00.003-04:00

I watched a butterfly die today. It was a very strange experience.

For the first time in my life, I had the opportunity to just sit next to a butterfly and watch it be still. I really wanted to take advantage of this proximity and snap a few photos while I had the chance, but was torn about the intrusiveness and insensitivity of doing so as the little creature took its last breaths. I am sure it seems silly (and borderline PETA-activist-crazy) to many folks that I would worry about disrupting this one single butterfly when, in the grand scheme of things, I am responsible for causing far greater environmental harms. But I think this type of argument is misleading b/c it really confuses consciousness with responsibility- whether I am able to act responsibly and correct/avoid certain “bads,” should not negate my duty to be conscious of all that is “bad.”

Ultimately, I chose to take the photos and, as a result, must take responsibility for the impact of my decision. But, I also appreciate the rarity and honor of being able to capture the image of something so beautiful as it died.

Cookie Brownie!

2010-06-05T19:54:00.002-04:00

What are the two greatest things in the world? Cookies and brownies. Why has it taken Betty Crocker so long to put them together?? Oh happy day.

Home?

2010-05-26T07:20:00.004-04:00

Some say home is where you lay your head.
But I think home is where your shoes always have a place to rest.

The World Outside Our Window(s).

2010-05-20T09:02:00.008-04:00

Why don't we take more photos from our airplane windows?

It's strange to think that up until a hundred years ago, all our poetry,

fairy-tales, art, music were inspired by looking up at the heavens;

but now, here we are, looking down through the clouds at ourselves.

No matter how many times I fly, I always find myself amazed at how

visually striking the atmosphere. So next time you fly, take a moment

before you put on that eye-mask or crack open that laptop, and peek

outside your window- what you will see is the stuff our collective and

historic dreams made of.

The World is Blue.

2010-01-03T23:26:00.008-05:00

Atlanta aquarium.

2 a.m. Winter Wonderland

2009-12-20T03:21:00.012-05:00

There used to be a sidewalk here.

Upside-down ice cream cones.

It's difficult when the snow is taller than you.

Trapped.

Autumn in D.C.

2009-11-10T00:18:00.014-05:00

Year in Review

2009-11-09T22:21:00.005-05:00

I know, it's been a while. One year, to be exact (thanks Hamza). So here it is, my year in review... not events per se but images, moments, fleeting glances.

Part of the Berlin wall.

The morning commute.

A confused pup.

A lovely new hat.

A little piece of Nicaragua.

A memorial outside my law school.

Restless Rocky.

Sunset over Punta Leona.

My new humidifier.

A bamboo forest.

A long journey.

Curious is an understatement when it comes to this cat.

Happy D.C.

We love road trips.

Surprise party in waiting.

Mike Walker's new friend.

Just plain happy.

Walking home.

A bridge in Maryland.

Shameless.

my carbon footprint

2008-11-09T13:45:00.000-05:00

I recently took a moment to calculate my carbon footprint:

(1) I emit about 13.6 tons of CO2 into the atmosphere.

(2) If I implement some basic conservation habits, I can reduce my emissions by 13% a year- a total of about 11,200 pounds!

I also learned that because I am a broke law student who lives far from her family, my individual emissions, compared to the average American, are very extreme. For example, I emit an extremely low amount of CO2 in regards to home and auto emissions. This is because I live in a tiny little apartment in central D.C. and don't use much heat or electricity. And because I only use the metro/subway system in D.C., I don't need to drive a car here. However, because my dear family lives in California, I fly home at least three times a year and emit about 14,520 pounds of CO2 into the atmosphere!

National individual ave. of HOME emissions is about 11.16%; I emit about 5.06% --> =)

National individual ave. of AUTO emissions is about 5.02%; I emit about 1% ---> =)

National individual ave. of AIR travel emissions is about 0.46%; I emit about 8.61% ---> =(

Some reduction strategies:

-By maintaining a strict recycling regiment, I can offset about 11,000 pounds of my carbon emissions.

- By planting one tree, I can offset about 1 ton of my carbon emissions!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yesterday, the D.C. Green Muslims had another service day where we went to Marvin Gaye park in N.E. DC and planted a total of 6 trees. I personally helped plan two of those trees, thereby reducing my carbon footprint by almost 2 tons. In conclusion, my CO2 emission total for 2008 will be about 11.6 tons. Comparatively, the ave. American will have emitted about 19 tons of CO2 this year.

How cool am I? You do the math.

Stumped.

Devan. The hardest working kid I ever met.

Yes. It took 6 of us to uproot the stump.

The pick-axe is my tool of choice. And yes, it is damn heavy.

Scooter McGee says: if you're not part of the solution, I will bite you.

La Revolucion

2008-08-10T01:50:00.001-04:00

I crossed the border on foot from Costa Rica to Nicaragua.

The view from the cargo boat. We were waiting to begin our journey across Lake Nicaragua.

Ometepe, the island of the twin volcanoes

A memorial in Granada.

The FSLN flag. Many homes displayed their Sandinista pride.

One of the many buses leaving for the celebrations in Managua.

Senor Gato, a friend.

Sunset in San Juan Del Sur.

A little History
(Disclaimer: My understanding of Nicaraguan history is superficial; some of these statements may be inaccurate. I am not trying to glorify the Sandinistas nor am I claiming to support them in any way.)

In 1979, the Sandinistas overthrew the Somoza government and took control of Nicaragua. After the revolution, the FSLN party (the political party of the Sandinistas), lead by Daniel Ortega, competed in national elections and won by a landslide. Although the FSLN won in what many international observers believed was a “free and fair” election, the U.S. felt otherwise.

Washington D.C. never liked the Sandinistas. Carter had backed Somoza’s violent attempts to crush the Sandinistas. When this didn’t work out, the U.S. tried again to topple the Sandinistas. Reagan began supplying the Contras (a group of exiled anti-Sandinistas) with arms and training to help topple the FSLN party. After much protest from the International Court of Justice, the UN, and other human rights activists against U.S. involvement in Nicaragua, the U.S. Congress finally passed legislation prohibiting the president from supplying any further aid to the Contras.

But Reagan (the maverick that he was) didn’t listen. He and his buddies continued to assist the Contras by illegally and covertly funneling to them third party donations and proceeds from arms sales to Iran (and began the Iran Contra fiasco). This aid, in addition to other regional political factors, eventually exhausted the Sandinistas. In 1990, the Sandinista government was officially defeated and replaced.

But now, 16 years later, Daniel Ortega has reemerged. In 2006, Ortega won back the presidential throne for the FSLN party through a “free and fair” democratic election.

My time in Nicaragua:

Understanding this history really helped me appreciate the passion and emotion I witnessed in Nicaragua during the anniversary weekend of the Sandinista Revolution.

There was a current in the air that made me realize that the chants being yelled and the flags being waved were heavy with historical memory. The older folks had a glow of reflection around them. Many spoke softly as they talked of Sandino and told stories of power and blood shed. The young boys were on fire as they took to the streets, all wrapped up in red and black. They were aching to celebrate a revolution they had grown to love through stories and memories. It was their time. As they made their pilgrimage to Managua with their family and friends, they began to take ownership of the revolution. And soon they would see Daniel Ortega, Hugo Chavez, and many others take to the stage and sing the songs of bravery, martyrdom, and revolution.

This year was different. After a very long time, the father of the FSLN had returned as the father of Nicaragua. This year, President Ortega welcomed his comrades to Managua to celebrate the 29^th anniversary of their revolution.

Turtles

2008-07-27T02:27:00.001-04:00

Torteguero is a small town that has developed over the past 30 years around the tourist industry. The reason this little village has seen such a boom of development recently is because this area is the nesting cite for four endangered sea turtle species. The Leatherback, Loggerhead, Greenturtle, and Hawksbill, make a pilgrimage from hundreds of miles every year to come nest on the beaches of Torteguero. They are drawn by some mysterious internal magnetism towards these beautiful shores. For this reason, researchers started conservation efforts in the 1970’s to protect these creatures.

The Caribbean Conservation Corporation, the organization we worked with, has conducted extensive tagging and has successfully tracked hundreds of migratory turtles for over 40 years. The town is concerned about these conservation efforts because what happens to the turtles directly impacts their economic subsistence. To protect these interests the town enforces various laws regulating tourist traffic on the beaches during nesting and hatching seasons. For example, there are no electronics allowed onto the beach past sunset, and beachfront properties are not allowed to use bright lighting at night (so as not to distract the baby hatchlings’ from their assent to the ocean).

Working at the center over the weekend and assisting in turtle tagging and tracking was an incredibly surreal experience. I volunteered to work the 12am-4am shift. We ate dinner and took a nap from 9pm-11pm. Then we got dressed in all black (so we wouldn’t be visible in the darkness) and headed out. The only light available to us was the moon and the infrared flashlight that our guide carried with him. After our eyes adjusted to the darkness we began stumbling across the beach in search for the turtle. Our first encounter was with enormous markings in the sand that looked like four-feeler tire tracks. These, as we quickly learned, were actually turtle tracks leading to the area where the turtle had begun to make her nest.

We stopped and looked for her as our guide walked towards her nest. My eyes scanned the dark for any sign of an animal. I couldn’t see what had struck my guide’s attention. I began to grow frustrated because I couldn’t see anything moving, anything alive, anything resembling a turtle. And then, suddenly, there she was. I looked down at my feet and saw her lying right in front of me. She was a large panting creature who was speedily scooping up sand with her fins. And before we could catch our breath, she had begun to lay eggs. My friend was given the job of counting the turtle’s eggs and the rest of us measured her and recorded the location of the nest.

Her large eyes seemed glazed over by millions of years of genetic instructions that commanded her every move. She was thorough and precise. After she finished laying her 101 eggs, she covered up the nest with sand, camelflouged it so it was even with the rest of the ground, and then she turned around and left. There was no stopping her once she was done. She was fast. And then, just as she had emerged, she disappeared into the water. I was entranced by her- by her mission, by her exactness. As she disappeared into the ocean, I tried to imagine her swimming back to her home... but I really couldn’t imagine her being more graceful than what I had already witnessed.

Now that her job was done, she would only return to lay more eggs. Her future babies will have to fend for themselves when they hatch in two months. It will take those baby turtles around 20 years to reach sexual maturity, until they too can perform this marathon. That is IF they make it past the poachers, the roaming dogs looking for a meal, the pollution, and the many creatures in the water that are also looking for a snack.

But for now, they are safe in the ground.

Sleeping.

Growing.

Waiting for life.

Montezuma's Revenge

2008-07-08T18:43:00.003-04:00

Ticos (slang for Costa Rican residents) are very proud of their beaches. And why shouldn’t they be? These beaches bring people to Costa Rica from all around the world. Costa Rica has some of the world’s best beaches for surfing, snorkeling, and kayaking. The tourism in this country is booming because us foreigners just can’t get enough of the beauty here.

So why would Costa Rica let one of its most popular beaches look like this?

The Playa Grande is located in the town of Montezuma. Every taxi driver, every student, every stranger on the street had told me that if I was going to visit one beach in Costa Rica, make it a beach in Montezuma. So when I got there and discovered a beach filled with garbage and rubble, I was shocked. I first wondered if the Ticos had conspired together to play a mean trick on me. But the more I asked around, the more I discovered that it was the Ticos who are receiving the preverbal short end of the stick.

This year has brought an extraordinary amount of rainfall to Costa Rica, and this has caused flooding along the Pacific Coast. But what does flooding have to do with garbage ending up on the seashore, you ask? Good question. Turns out that Costa Rica dumps a lot of its garbage out in the ocean (like many other nations). Much of it is dumped in areas where the ocean current spins in a circular motion. This is prime real estate for dumping because the trash will just stay in that area, eternally orbiting. Until there is a storm… A hurricane, or just heavy rains will cause the garbage to be pushed towards the shore. And then, what we thought we wouldn’t see again, washes up on the doorstep of our favorite resort.

Butterfly Garden

2008-06-15T13:07:00.001-04:00

Is it a stick? Is it a bug? It's a stick bug!

Sairah and I came across this little butterfly garden in San Pedro. A very nice lady took care of this sanctuary. She mentioned that on rainy days, such as ours, it is rare to see the wildlife. But we did manage to see a few little creatures.

San Luis Waterfall

2008-06-10T21:19:00.001-04:00

Some where deep inside that mountain range is the San Luis Waterfall!

A house at the base of the mountain. This is my dream. Rocking chair and all.

Walking through the banana plantation.

Climbing.

You know what they say about big trees... Big mushrooms=)

A pretty gnarly bug.

Sairah Kazmi and I. We are finally catching our breath after the long hike.

The magnificent San Luis Waterfall.

Me and the mountain. I made it pretty far.

On day 4, I went hiking in search for a waterfall. It is a beautiful little spot set deep into the rain forest covered mountains of Santa Elena, Costa Rica. My friends and I arrived at the base of the mountain around 10 am. We walked through a banana plantation to get to the entrance point. As we began our two-hour uphill hike, it had already started to rain. That of course is a regular part of our day. Rain is like another friend here. We don’t know when she’s coming, but we know that she will in fact be joining us in whatever activity we have planned. Surprisingly, rain makes hiking quite beautiful. Since the temperature is generally in the high 80’s, some cool drops of water feel really refreshing as you’re panting up a mountain.

I am, as many of you already know, a bit of a shutterbug. Because of this, I had the fortunate opportunity to be left behind most of the time, while the others trekked on. Climbing up a mountain and hearing only my own breath against the background of the rainforest’s music, was truly surreal. Every once in while I would stop to catch my breath and think about how inconsequential I am in this forest. There were a million things happening around me and i was but only an intrusion. In the moments that I paused, there were creatures being born, and dying; there was hunting and feasting; there was resting and labor; there was guarding and loving. The smell of wet, hot, soil mingled with the breathing leaves and the perfumed flowers. The sounds of the rustling leaves and the raindrops met the chirping, and the croaking to form a beautiful rhythm. The forest was alive and it was inhaling and exhaling. And in every one of its breaths were millions of happenings and un-happenings.

And then there was me. A small figure in the belly of giant, making her way to a waterfall. It was truly beautiful. But more importantly, it was humbling.

Cume-ba-ya. Let's all hold hands.

2008-06-04T17:23:00.001-04:00

[ PREFACE: I recently got involved with an organization in DC called Green Muslims. The moment I came across this group of people, I fell in love. I have organized for some years now for various causes, but this was the first time I met a Muslim organization that was in it to win it. What I mean is that all the folks in this organization, as diverse as we are, are very passionate about the betterment of the environment and are genuinely working towards this cause. Because of this, working with the Green Muslims has been a very spiritual and empowering experience for me.]

A couple weekends ago a few of us "green" Muslims headed out to do some good. So we arrived at the Marvin Gaye Park in South West DC, ready to plant and maybe pick up some trash. What we ended up doing, however, was breaking up asphalt, mixing and laying cement, cutting and welding metal beams, and a whole lot of digging. What we idealists ended up doing was rolling up our sleeves and doing some hard labor.

That day, we spent about 4 hours setting up a guardrail around a stage to make it handicap accessible. I was a little surprised by this because I didn't understand what was so "green" about completing the construction of a stage. But when Benem and Keith, our construction leaders, explained the history of the park, the project slowly started to make sense. A few years ago, the Marvin Gaye Park used to be a trash and crime riddled place- the first day of the park clean up alone produced 300 abandoned needles. Over the years however, it has been cleaned and developed into a beautiful park where folks of that community can come relax with their friends and family and enjoy nature, as well as each other's company. The stage we were working on was built for free musical performances by local bands and musicians. When completed, it will be a place where art and community can flourish together.

Although none of us expected this type of work, we eventually learnt that the development of this park was just as important to the environment as planting trees in that space. Or, as another volunteer put it, building up from the ground sometimes is more important than planting things in it. I understood the true gravity of these words during our lunch.

As we all sat exhausted and giddy with hunger, we reminisced about the difficulty of the day. Through jokes and stories, we talked about the feeling of empowerment we gained from the physical labor, the appreciation we gained for the might and skill of those who are true laborers, and the appreciation we gained for the strength and determination of our fellow volunteers. Through these reflections I came to realize that this project helped us form genuine and positive relationships with each other and it helped strengthen the future of this park. I understood then that forming organic and positive relationships with folks is extremely important for the betterment of our environment. For it is through camaraderie that communities develop. And in these communities is borne the idea that one way of protecting a neighbor or friend or family member is by protecting the land and "community property" on which everyone relies.

Some images from the deep south.

2008-05-29T18:49:00.001-04:00

The beginning.

The Center.

Well, the most important word made the cut.

One of the eleven FEMA parks we visited.

And another.

Two empty lots. These trailers were likely evicted.

Can you see what's at the bottom of the photo? A lot of the FEMA residents choose to have pets so they can maintain a sense of home and normal residential living.

Working.

Our liberal propaganda.

They are the sweetest kids. Although they didn't have much room to run and play in the trailer park, they didn't seem phased by this at all. They were very polite and welcoming.

My first Mississippi sunset. This used to be prime beach front property. Now it looks like nobody really discovered this area. When you're driving down the beach road you'll see scattered buildings and hotels. The state is spending a lot of money redeveloping this area. Many citizens complain though that the state is spending millions of dollars budiling casinos, while FEMA residents are suffering.

Speaking of gambling... here is our first charming, drunk, country gambler. He followed us around a bit that night.

Dinner. In Mississippi, they love two things: all you can eat buffets and casinos. And some people have a number three.. alligator sausage. emmm. I was told it tastes like fishy-chicken.

Michelle is preparing for another long day of Mississippi sun by putting on her sunblock.

Angus, on the other hand, needs a couple more z's before the work starts.
Regardless of our morning routines (I was infamous for not being able to function without my coffee), we worked hard together.

Working. In this picture, Shira and I were calling our clients back to answer questions and were also preparing a presentation for the staff attorneys about various legal issues.

The bayou. In this swampy trailer park, some folks said they sometimes see alligators.

Picture Perfect.
We had an amazing lunch at Mockingbird Cafe. This place was completely themed after "To Kill A Mockingbird." I had the Atticus=)

With every meal, we enjoyed some good ol' southern sweet-tea.
The cafe also had a really cool garden.

The group.

Another tired soul. Usually folks fell asleep on the way back to the hotel because of our long days.

May 15th, it's my birthday! We're on our way to New Orleans. There was lots of construction on the bridges because they were destroyed during Hurricane Katrina.

New Orleans, the French Quarters.

Birthday dinner.

No thanks. I like my food cooked.

But, I loved my birthday bread-pudding. New Orleans has THE best bread-pudding. It simply melts in your mouth.

...and then there was Bourbon St.- the street of ultimate debauchery. Or as someone else put it, "the gates of hell."

The church at nighttime. It was beautiful.

Last day in Mississippi. It's been a long and intense trip, and Shira is excited to go home.

Peace out Mississippi. And God bless you.

The Story of Ms. P

2008-05-16T17:59:00.002-04:00

Ms. P is pissed. She is not polite or friendly. She hasn’t asked me to sit down, nor does she thank me for trying to help her. If it wasn’t for her son letting me in, she probably would not have spoken to me. She is impatient and often rolls her eyes at the things I say.

"Mississippi Center for Justice? What kind of justice are ya'll talkin' about?"

Her anger makes me nervous. I find it difficult, all of sudden, to remember all my reassuring phrases: "I know the feeling, ma'am," "I understand your frustration, ma'am" and, " I am soooo sorry to hear that, ma'am."

Ms. P doesn't care that I am standing in the living room of her small FEMA trailer. She often looks away when I speak. I realize at that moment that reassuring someone is easier when she has some hope in betterment. People with hope are receptive to learning about their rights and options. Ms. P has no more hope left. I don't know what to say. I fall silent.

She holds up a white cloth that has strange red stains on it and tells me that this cloth is from her son's morning nose bleed. I gasp.

The cloth makes my stomach turn. It is a startling realization. The cloth reminds me that I am breathing the same poison that pushes blood out from that little boy's nose. I am breathing the same poison that swells her eyes shut in the mornings. I am breathing the same poison that caused her children's asthma, and that causes her regular headaches and congestion.

The blood on that cloth is real. These children are real and so is their looming, lurking, death. It is possible that at least one of the children I met will develop cancer and die because of prolonged exposure to formaldehyde.

Ms. P says that FEMA is trying to kill them. The hurricane didn't kill them, but FEMA will. And they are going to do it one trailer at a time.

The Story of Ms. C

2008-05-16T17:57:00.001-04:00

Before she leaves for her vocational training classes in the morning, Ms. C has to drop off her three year old daughter at daycare and then take her five year old son to kindergarten. Because her classes finish late, Ms. C's sister picks up the children for her and watches them until Ms. C comes home. She says that the only reason she's able to participate in the program is because she has someone who can help her with her responsibilities. Those who aren't as blessed to have supportive family or friends have to forego such opportunities so they can tend to their immediate needs.

Ms. C is a determined and ambitious woman. She has lost her home and belongings to Katrina, but she continues to persevere. She is participating in a vocational program to be trained as an electrician so she can eventually afford an apartment for her and her children. Her hopes of escaping the FEMA trailer park are fueled by her health problems, her children's health problems, the crime and danger to which they are exposed, and a general desperation for maintaining her dignity as an autonomous woman and mother.

But this isn't so easy. She has gone through ten case workers in the last two years and they have all been unresponsive to most of her complaints and questions. But what frustrates her most is her own lack of information. Ms. C has heard rumors that FEMA will be shutting down her trailer park in a month but she doesn't know if this is true and where she'll go if this occurs. She's read that her headaches and her children's nose bleeds, coughing, and asthma are all caused by the formaldehyde in the trailer walls but she doesn't know if FEMA will be held accountable for this. She sees lawyers going around the park talking about filing a class action suit against FEMA, but she doesn't know what this means and if it will help her. She saw her neighbor's trailer being hauled away the other day and she doesn't know if her trailer is next in line for eviction.

Somehow, she hasn't let this frustration make her feel powerless. She calmly lists the things she needs from FEMA. She says she needs help with the medical bills. And she needs FEMA to respond to her concerns about repairs to the trailer and about assistance with relocating. But what Ms. C needs most of all, is for FEMA to know that she is more than Lot Number 25; she is a person who has a name and a heart- a heart that aches at the sight of her child's blood and at the sound of her child's wheezing.

Ms. C gets up early every morning to conquer her fears of being trapped and powerless. She is a woman of great dignity who finds strength in working hard and finds hope in planning for her children's future.

Mighty Mississippi

2008-05-16T17:51:00.001-04:00

I was recently in Biloxi, Mississippi volunteering with the Mississippi Center for Justice. The center, along with offering many other services, acts as a legal liaison between the FEMA trailer residents and FEMA. During my time down there, my team and I helped interview clients, gathered information about their legal issues, compiled this information into various documents for the staff attorneys, and followed-up with certain clients about further assistance.

Before I came down to Mississippi, I assumed that the people hurt most by Hurricane Katrina were those who lost their house, car, and other belongings. After my first day of meeting and speaking with hurricane survivors in the FEMA trailers, I realized that the hardest hit were those who didn't have much in the first place. Such folks were those who, before the hurricane, were of low income, received disability benefits, social security benefits, subsidized/assisted housing, etc. These people have less economic mobility now than before Hurricane Katrina hit because what resources were once available to them through the government have now become scarce.

Many residents who want to seek employment cannot do so because they have no viable transportation- either they no longer have a car, or their trailer park is placed in a remote area that is too far from public transportation routes. There are also disabled residents who are either physically unable to seek employment, or in no condition to work.

Even if a resident has retained employment, it's quite difficult for her to leave the FEMA trailer because it's difficult to find housing. The average one bedroom apartment in Biloxi, MS used to rent for around $400. The exact same apartment is now priced around $800 because after Katrina, landlords and property managers doubled rental prices and deposit fees. While minimum wage has not budged, property has become expensive, scarce, and inaccessible.