culture

Things down in Southern Mississippi and Southern Louisiana sure can be interesting. The people are very friendly, and they'll talk your ear off it you let 'em. Vowels play a much greater role in sentences than they do in other parts of the country. The word H-E-R-E is pronounced "hea-ya" and the word B-A-R-N is pronounced "bo-ahn". The white people don't look as healthy as they do in California (mostly due to smoking), or as corn-fed and ruddy as they do in the Mid-west. I notice that black people avoid my eyes, perhaps as a sign that they "know their place". It's odd for me, to be sure, to be witnessing such racial stratification, but not at all surprising. Talk radio is full of overtly racist statements like "if they could just learn to talk right..." Lots and lots of pickup trucks and fast food restaurants.

But the people we are helping rebuild their homes are grateful beyond words. Sometimes they stop one of the volunteers wielding a hammer just so they have someone to talk to, to tell their stories to. Usually the homeowner and the volunteer end up crying and hugging. There's a lot of religiosity about, a lot of Old Timey "God will lift us up when we are weary" spirit in the community, amongst Baptists, Pentacostals, Catholics, Methodists, Episcopalians, and Presbyterians alike.

I try to view the culture here with same the compassionate and respectful attitude that I would the Indonesian culture. I can just open my eyes and ears and heart and absorb the different worldview and appreciate it for what it is. It helps me to remember that they were poor before the hurricane, and mostly forgotten or mercilessly stereotyped by the rest of the country. We have an obligation to help, just like we feel obliged to help the homeless or people living with AIDS.

The landscape is utterly fascinating, I have to say. I can't imagine what would have made the French delve into swampland, marshes, rivers, bogs, through alligator country, battling mosquitoes and water mocassins, then build a high look-out point, see only more swamp and muck for 360', and say, "Oui, ca c'est bien!" That must be why they thought they were ripping off the Americans in the Louisiana Purchase. One thing I saw today, however, was pretty frickin' cool. There is a tree that grows on somewhat drier ground here, similar to the weeping willow, that has long, delicate, drooping, feathery moss growing off the end of its branches, that sweeps the ground lazily in the breeze in a way that's quite mesmerizing to watch.

And the amazing jazz, blues, bluegrass, country and folk music you find on the radio makes the long drives from Gulfport to New Orleans A-OK. Mix in a heavy dose of classic rock, a la Styx, Stones, Eagles, Zeppelin and ELO - plus some Flashdance soundtrack and old school Madonna - and what you have, my friends, is driving music.