when we think about disasters, we think they happen to other people. we think they don't effect us. they don't effect people like us. but they do.
i was driving through Galveston with some United Sikhs sevadars. the damage was unbelievable. trees were completely uprooted. houses had their first floor completely washed out. the top stories stood as if on stilts. and the boats, boats were everywhere. on the side of the road. embedded in houses. lying upside-down in the median of the highway. we drove down the seawall. hotels were completely demolished. shops had all of their windows shattered and replaced with plywood. some buildings were destroyed while others stood nearly intact. we drove past another demolished hotel. in front of a boarded up convenience store, a woman in a salwar kameeze was pushing a broom, trying to clear the debris. a hand painted sign on the ground in front of her read, "yes we're open". an elderly sardar in a white kurta pajama and a white dastaar looked up at us and broke into a grin and put his hands together. the air resounded with "Waheguru ji ka Khalsa, Waheguru ji ki Fateh!" it's that recognition, the sense of happiness that sikhs feel when we see another turban. like running into a long lost friend. we pulled into the shop parking lot to hear their story.
the shop belonged to a young sikh and his wife. his parents and baby boy also lived with him. they had moved from NYC a few years ago. katrina and rita passed them by. they had seen storms, but Ike was a different story. just outside the shop was a pile of long steel bars. it had been a tall sign for their shop, making them visible to the road. now it was rubbish. the parking lot was filled with debris. debris from down the street, from the beach, from the bottom of the sea. now it was in front of their shop. yet the shop was open. inventory was low, most of it had been lost. but they had electricity to run the coolers. the water was running, though not drinkable. the phone lines were down, meaning no ATM or credit cards. they didn't expect to get them back for another month. their apartment was second floor and was saved. the people beneath them had been washed out. Waheguru. they had no electricity at home, no phones. the water was running but smelled foul. not good enough to bathe in. their landlord had asked them for rent... we told them not to pay. explained that it was their right to have electricity. running water. a safe living environment. we explained that their landlord was trying to take advantage and said to tell him they had talked to a lawyer. ahh, the american way, threaten to sue and everything falls into place. she had cried as she told her story. her husband stayed outside with a broom, sweeping endlessly. the parents talked with the sevadars, excited to have someone around who speaks punjabi, discussing pinds and schools and "do you know ...? he's my massi's sister-in-law's son's batch mate! we talked. we took photos. we smiled. we took turns patting the baby's head, pinching his little ladoo cheeks. we argued over whether or not we would pay for the cold drinks (i hid the money next to the register when they weren't looking). eventually we said our "fateh!" and drove back out of the disaster zone. we had an appointment at the gurdwara in houston, to make an announcement, to ask for donations. to find more sevadars.
we also went to the red cross "mega shelter". an old warehouse style grocery store, gutted and now filled with green army style cots marked "red cross". 700 people were staying there, they said. as smaller shelters closed down, they expected more to come. we hid our kirpans and sighed relief when the police waved us past the line- the first time most of use had not been singled out for a security check- our "volunteer" cards came in handy. we were "trained". we handed out towels and soaps at the portable showers. we helped people use donated computers and phones to try to find relatives, jobs, hotels, anything to get out of this place. the people in the mega shelter were the people who had no where to go. no money for hotels. no money for train or plane tickets. nothing. some of them had been homeless before Ike. others had lost what little they had. they talked to us. they shared their stories, stories of the impossible task of trying to get FEMA to help them. they had been issued cards with ID numbers on them. they were instructed to call FEMA and give the ID number. the FEMA system was automated and asked for a 16 digit number. their cards had 12 digit numbers. they couldn't get into the system. IF they could get out of the automated system, they had to be on hold. for half an hour or more. but the phone limit was 15 minutes at a time. we let them go over, holding for FEMA, talking to relatives who were too far and too poor to help. one mother had sent her children to their grandmother's house, but couldn't get the money together to fly their herself. she used the phone every night at 8:30 to pray with her children before they went to bed.
at the end of each day i went back to my little room at Gurdwara Nanaksar. a tiny room with a window, mirror, and fan. a small thin mattress on the floor with a thick Indian "chadar" (sheet) over it. a quilt to keep me warm. i slept hard and well. i woke early and had a cold bath from a bucket. i walked across the compound towards the sound of Asa ki Vaar. i went into the darbar sahib, bowed my respect, and enjoyed the amrit vela kirtan. i shared cha with some other travelers. and then i went back to the shelter for another day.
i wish i could stay here. i wish i could do seva of these people every single day of my life. i'm registered with the red cross now, so i guess i'll have more to do. hoping for disasters might be a bad thing. but wishing to help, to see the smile on the face of someone who's life just got a little bit less hellish... that i can do.
sireeraag mehalaa 5 || Siree Raag, Fifth Mehla:
sabhae galaa visaran eiko visar n jaao || Let me forget everything, but let me not forget the One Lord.
dhha(n)dhhaa sabh jalaae kai gur naam dheeaa sach suaao || All my evil pursuits have been burnt away; the Guru has blessed me with the Naam, the true object of life.
aasaa sabhae laahi kai eikaa aas kamaao || Give up all other hopes, and rely on the One Hope.
jinee sathigur saeviaa thin agai miliaa thhaao ||1|| Those who serve the True Guru receive a place in the world hereafter. ||1||
man maerae karathae no saalaahi || O my mind, praise the Creator.
sabhae shhadd siaanapaa gur kee pairee paahi ||1|| rehaao || Give up all your clever tricks, and fall at the Feet of the Guru. ||1||Pause||
dhukh bhukh neh viaapee jae sukhadhaathaa man hoe || Pain and hunger shall not oppress you, if the Giver of Peace comes into your mind.
kith hee ka(n)m n shhijeeai jaa hiradhai sachaa soe || No undertaking shall fail, when the True Lord is always in your heart.
jis thoo(n) rakhehi hathh dhae this maar n sakai koe || No one can kill that one unto whom You, Lord, give Your Hand and protect.
sukhadhaathaa gur saeveeai sabh avagan kadtai dhhoe ||2|| Serve the Guru, the Giver of Peace; He shall remove and wash off all your faults. ||2||
saevaa ma(n)gai saevako laaeeaaa(n) apunee saev || Your servant begs to serve those who are enjoined to Your service.
saadhhoo sa(n)g masakathae thoot(h)ai paavaa dhaev || The opportunity to work hard serving the Saadh Sangat is obtained, when the Divine Lord is pleased.
sabh kishh vasagath saahibai aapae karan karaev || Everything is in the Hands of our Lord and Master; He Himself is the Doer of deeds.
\sathigur kai balihaaranai manasaa sabh pooraev ||3|| I am a sacrifice to the True Guru, who fulfills all hopes and desires. ||3||
