Andrew Canniff

The trip to New Orleans has been an eye opening experience for me to say the least. It has been interesting to be fully immersed in a culture of which I was completely unfamiliar with. Being from the city of Boston, I thought I would be able to relate on some levels to the urban society of New Orleans and more specifically, the Lower Ninth Ward. This assumption could not have been more incorrect. The City of New Orleans and the community of the Lower Ninth Ward might as well be in a different continent from the northeast. This statement is not meant to be derogatory in the least bit because both regions possess unique aspects.

Hurricane Katrina devastated the Lower Ninth Ward in August of 2005. More six years later, the damage to the area remains catastrophic. While taking our bus tour through the community, one could easily mistake the area for a war ravaged city. Contrary to popular belief the war here is still being fought. Waged against poverty and lack of resources, the people of the Lower Ninth Ward battle daily to preserve a community steeped in tradition and pride. Evacuating the Lower Ninth Ward during Hurricane Katrina and deciding to never return would have been cowardly. The citizens of the Ninth Ward are far from cowards, they are tough, working class people who have decided to sacrifice their standard of living to salvage a culture which easily could have been washed away by the turbid waters of Hurricane Katrina. The Lower Ninth Ward could easily have been the modern lost city of Atlantis.

My fondest memory of the trip thus far occurred nearly two and a half hours from New Orleans on a ranch which is sponsored by our fearless leader who simply goes by moniker Mack. Travelling by bus over a lake which had water stretching from horizon to horizon, we finally reached Mr. Johnson's farm. Richard Johnson greeted us upon our arrival and asked if anyone in the group knew how to drive a tractor. I instantly jumped up and followed him to what looked like an ancient piece of farming apparatus. To be completely honest, the closest I’d ever come to driving a tractor was sitting on one at a County Fair. What transpired next was a trial by fire. Unable to comprehend any of Mr. Johnson’s deep southern lexicon, I hopped onto the tractor and cranked the key. I quickly learned that the control mechanisms of a farm tractor are the direct antithesis of the average motor vehicle. The brake pedals are on the right, the shifter is awkwardly in between the driver’s legs, the clutch pedal is on the left, and most surprisingly the gas pedal is actually a lever positioned next to the steering wheel.  Before I knew what was happening the tractor lurched forward and Mr. Johnson cackled as I nearly jumped out of my seat.

However I quickly got the hang of wrangling the massive piece of equipment and Mr. Johnson directed me towards a series of fence posts which were connected by rusted barb wire. He ordered me to wrap a thick chain around each post and yank it from the ground. I red lined the tractor engine and it began to sound like it was about to explode. The posts were stubborn, causing the front wheels of the tractor to lift off of the ground. Finally with a crack the posts were unearthed.

Although my encounter with the tractor occurred 120 miles from the Lower Ninth Ward, I felt that my work on the ranch yesterday touched the lives of many because in the near future young teenagers will be traveling to Mr. Johnson's farm to escape the crime and poverty of the Lower Ninth Ward.

For more information about the Lower Ninth Ward Village please visit their website here and if you would like to make a donation, you can do that here.