Carmen

The other day I met a woman named Carmen and her husband, Clarence, who is in a wheel-chair. The home they lived in pre-Katrina still lies mostly untouched since the storm. They now stay with their two daughters in a home they built for one of them. The FEMA trailer the couple received sits in the daughter’s yard; since her house isn’t big enough for them all, Carmen’s daughter stays in her parents’ trailer, giving them her bedroom and bath.

Although Carmen is appreciative of her daughter’s generosity and their good-fortune in having a family member’s home to live in, she feels cramped and yearns to be back in her own home. Clarence’s wheel-chair has scraped marks along the hallway walls of the house and nicked the doorframes of the bedroom and bathroom. But the couple’s own home is far from being livable, even though it’s nearly been a year since the storm hit.

Mold still needs to be removed from Carmen’s home – the first step in rebuilding. Carmen told me what she’d received from FEMA, that hey had no insurance and what little progress they have made. Numerous contractors and volunteer groups never returned her calls or told her they couldn’t help because of the scale of the job.

I met Carmen when I went to talk to her about applying for grants for building materials. She was so enthusiastic and appreciative that I was even there talking with her about rebuilding and helping her put things in motion. A physically tiny woman – no taller than 5’ at most – her joy filled the room.