Photo by Tom Campbell

Wearing a mask for protection against harmful molds, Kevin Wenning helps gut a house right down to the two-by-fours. After a thorough bleaching, the New Orleans house will be ready for remodeling.

Bell, too, was hit hard by the sights and sounds.

“We drove around a little on that first morning, and it hit me that there was nobody there. So many of the buildings were just boarded up. There was no water and no restrooms,” she says. “We had to use Porta-Johns. Nothing was open, even the hospital was closed. There used to be so much activity here. And now … nothing.”

They split into two groups. Field took a group and worked on Hazel Bell’s house. Kalen Bell (no relation) and Wenning took the other group to Corey Williams’ house on Filmore Avenue.

Bell thought she could ride out the storm and was eventually evacuated by boat. The Williams family headed for Kentucky when the waters started to rise.

The work wasn’t easy. Volunteers wore dust masks to protect themselves from the harmful mold that had been the only thing living in the houses for nine months.

What the Williamses couldn’t carry to the car when they escaped Katrina now sat in a putrid, mold-infested stew in the three-bedroom home. Piece by piece, memory by memory, scrapbooks, trophies, clothing and carpet, the students carried it all to the street. In two days, they built a pile of garbage more than six feet high — almost as high as the water that sent the Williams family scurrying to Kentucky when Katrina struck.

“Seeing the reality of everything, seeing things you would have in your own house,” says student Jessica Wiseman, “that makes everything so real to us.”

Field had been on several relief efforts before. Three times, in fact, he had answered the call to help. But it had never been this bad. He knew coping with the enormity of the task at hand could overwhelm the students.

“I told them, ‘We’re not going to change the world. Remember why you are here. At some point, we are going to have to go home and leave this behind, even though there is still so much to do.’

“In fact,” Field says, “if you flew overhead, you probably couldn’t even tell what we did. But you have to start somewhere. We partnered with these people and helped them take the next step toward getting them back in their homes.”

Next to the Williams’ house, Percy Ellis was working on his own home. When Katrina threatened, he loaded his wife and two kids in the car and headed for the higher and drier ground of Hammond, La., to stay with relatives.

“Seeing all of these people that have been coming down to help us is the most wonderful thing in the world. I get chill bumps just talking about it,” says Ellis, a jazz musician.

“If I wasn’t putting everything I have into rebuilding my own house, I’d write a check to Purdue University for these wonderful kids. They’re helping bring our neighborhood back.”

But to themselves, they wonder if their effort is in vain.

“It might be easier to strike a match to it and let it go,” says Jessica Wiseman. “There’s only so much we can do.”

Bell agrees.

“You see signs in neighborhoods that say, ‘Save our neighborhoods. Don’t bulldoze,’” Bell says. “But for some of these places, I don’t know what the alternative is, short of dropping a bomb.”

So on they work, finishing each day around 6 p.m. when they run out of energy and daylight (electricity has yet to be restored) at about the same time.

And while their efforts may be inspirational, Field says they know who the heroes are.

“We’re not the heroes; the people that live down there and are trying to put their lives back in order, those people are the heroes,” he says.

“Our students get back far more than they give. They get a chance to rub shoulders with people whose houses are so horribly damaged, yet they are still able to say ‘I can make this happen.’ Then they get up tomorrow and do it all over again. I like being around people like that.”

By the time the group had to load up and head back to campus on Friday, they had gutted and cleaned six houses. They stripped each building down to the stud walls and disinfected with a bleach bath to prepare for the ultimate rebirth of each neighborhood, one house at a time.

The timetable for that is anybody’s guess.

Ellis knows it won’t be any time soon, but he is resolute in knowing it will come.

“Come back and see us in 2010,” Ellis says. “This will be a totally different place than what you see now.”

On the long drive back to campus, students shared the many different emotions they encountered during their week of sweat equity.

“I try to explain to people what we saw and what we did down there and how widespread everything was,” Bell says. “But unless you were there, people just don’t get it. There is so much need. And so much that still needs to be done.”

Bell and Wenning got a grade in a course for their project. But they got so much more. The roots of Lechtenberg’s “seed money” have taken, digging deep and holding firm in the fabric of their humanity.

“What if you had a house fire tomorrow and everything was gone? Who would be there for you?” Bell asks.

“People ask me all the time, ‘So many people have had everything destroyed. How could you possibly make a difference?’ We went down to do some good. We came together as a team and completely changed the direction of six families. But even if it had just been one family, it would have been worth it. If I can go to bed at night and feel that I helped just one person, then it was all worth it.”

Contact Field at field@purdue.edu