A Katrina Story

I wrote this for a calss and thought I'd share. It's for a feature writing class.

By Ryan Killian

Dottie Harris lifts a hand to heaven and looks upward as she sings. One of a quartet, they lead the congregation in praise and worship. The four musicians outnumber the congregation two to one. This is Sunday afternoon church at the Austin Convention Center. Torn from their homes by Hurricane Katrina, Gerard McDougle and Cornelius Bottley sit and listen.

The pastor, David Bush sits with his arm around Cornelius. Over the last few days the two have become friends and now they talked in hushed tones and even break into muted laughter. The music provides a backdrop for their conversation.

Charlie Tuttle, a bespectacled man in jeans and work boots plays an acoustic guitar. A new song starts with him singing lead. His tenor rises above the guitars.

“It’s dark and lonely and the path is unclear,” he sings.

The relevance is lost on no one.

Cornelius once lived in New Orlean’s 9th Ward. At the age of 55, the retired construction worker planned on coasting through the rest of his life. He thought he had it made.

On August 29, 2005 his plans were interrupted. Katrina hit the city as a Category 5 storm and Cornelius found himself the lone swimmer in a submerged community. For two days they suffered with no food and water. He decided he had to do something.

So he swam.

He swam for seven blocks until he found someone in a boat. After explaining his community’s predicament, the two broke into a store and gathered as much canned goods as they could. He then returned to his neighbors.

For four days this was the routine. Cornelius braved the water, consciously knowing he was risking his life for people he didn’t even know.

“I always thought that was a sucker’s play,” he said. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t risk my life for nobody that’s not my blood.”

But the horror he witnessed motivated him to action. Despite his courageous actions, he wonders if could have done more to help. The dead haunt him.

“I don’t sleep at night; I can hear them scream,” he said.

One of his neighbors had nine children. After the storm, he saw her with seven of them. She explained that her sister had come and gotten the other two.

“I knew in my heart that they were gone,” he said.

He said it would have been impossible for the two to have been evacuated before the storm.

The children weren’t faceless. He’d been accosted by them countless times. Every day they’d ask him for candy, and he was an easy mark always ready to provide.

“I can hear those two hollering in my heart,” he said.

David, the family pastor at High Point Fellowship in Cedar Park, steps in front of the seats to deliver his sermon. Thirty-seven seats overlooking Cesar Chavez Street in downtown Austin and three of them are occupied. Don Harris, an elder, sits in the back row with Gerard.

David stands as close as he can, one foot rests on a chair in the front row as he preaches about having faith in hard times. The congregation may be small, but he knows that he is needed.

“Where else would a Christian be?” he asked rhetorically before the service started.

He said the first few days were packed but now, attendance has tapered off. But as long as Cornelius and Gerard need him, he’ll be there, every day.

“God brings me out here,” he said.

With the sermon delivered, the musicians start playing again. They follow their pastor’s lead and move in close. The legs of their music stands are under the front row of chairs. After three songs, the Pastor asks them to surround Cornelius and Gerard. They lay hands on the men and each other and form a circle of prayer. Inside the circle, affirmations and praises to God are whispered as Bill Lee, a musician, prays. The seven are huddled tightly beseeching God for faith and peace.

When the last amen is uttered the circle remains. Gerard and Cornelius are invited to church; Charlie says if they need a ride, it will be there.

Gerard, who seemed distant when he arrived now smiles and compliments the quartet. He asks for a CD and calls them the best he’s ever heard.

He didn’t plan on being here today. He didn’t even know about the service.

“I was going to Wal-Mart, and I was just drawn to here,” he said. “I guess the Holy Spirit drew me here.”

Walking past the Convention Center, he saw the doors. Yellow caution tape was stretched over them. He ignored the tape, breaking through it as he opened the door.

Then he heard the singing.

“I got DVDs to play… this was much better,” Gerard said.

He found the source of the music and sat down. They were merely warming up, but he stayed.

Forty-seven years old, Gerard was staying with his mom after being made to leave New Orleans’ Central Business District area. He’d been in Austin 14 days, but this was the first time he’d found himself at church. Almost embarrassed, Gerard revealed that the music had caused him to break into tears. The invitations to visit the church were well-received.

“I’ll be checking in,” he said.

Meanwhile, Cornelius stands with Pastor David and speaks quietly. The last few days have meant a lot to him. By his own admission he was “all broke up” when he met the pastor. Things are turning around now.

“It opened up a door in my heart,” he said.

Now he’s coming out of the sudden, deep depression he’s been mired in since Katrina struck. His plans to live at ease for the rest of his years have been literally washed away. The screams still echo in his dreams. The memories will never leave him. But he plans to rebuild, to start anew. His presence in church is the first step, and perhaps the most important.

He points out repeatedly that he comes from a rough background.

“I’m not no Christian,” he said. “I’m not no angel.”

But he’s coming to see Pastor David as often as he can. He thinks the pastor can help him in his search.

“I’m just trying to find a little peace,” he said.

In other news, I've recovered $400 of the $500 slide, but have been playing very little. I've placed in 3 of my last 4 PS SnGs, which was nice.
Hurricane Rita could be inbound, and my family lives just north of Houston, as you can imagine, that place is going crazy. Wal*Mart is sold out of water, most fruits and veggies, all kinds of non-perishable food.
I guess people learned from Katrina, and they'd rather be safe than sorry.