Kindness of Strangers

When in New Orleans do as the New Orleanians (is this even a real word- somebody spell check please) do. For almost a month here I’ve tried to abide by this mantra. I’ve taken the St. Charles trolley, partied on Bourbon St and eaten way too many shrimp po boys for my own good. Despite my living in New Orleans for the past four weeks and my attempts to be considered a local, it’s still very apparent (most times immediately) to the natives that I am not from here. I’m not sure what it is that gives me away but I’m thinking my distinctive North Carolinian drawl, my tendency to sweat bullets as soon as I step into the thick Louisianan air, the overly eager look in my eyes as I wander through the French Quarters or my inability to pronounce New Orleans but instead New Or-Leens all land on the list of “foreigner” tell-tell signs. Either way, my inability to “fit in” has drawn a considerable amount of attention to myself. One of the first questions people ask me after realizing that I’m merely a “clumsy tourist” is “Where are you from”? When the person doesn’t seem too sketch I respond honestly saying “North Carolina” in my perfect (yes perfect!) southern drawl. The second question they ask is “So, what are you doing all the way down here?” Again, if I feel comfortable knowing this person is not a crazy stalker or serial killer I tell them that I am a summer intern with the Duke Engage program volunteering with Providence Community Housing. I then proceed to give them a brief spill about my job and Providence’s mission to create affordable mixed income housing in New Orleans. And like clockwork every time, the person usually thanks me for my willingness to donate my summer to better the city.

I will admit, during the first few days I was quite taken aback by people’s gratitude for my services, however menial I may think them to be sometimes (especially every Friday afternoon around quitting time.) And at the risk of sounding egotistical I also must say that it makes me feel good inside to know that someone beyond my friends at school who are jealous of my trip to NOLA or the program directors of Duke Engage consider my time here as valuable and beneficial. The most meaningful appreciation that I’ve been given is from the curious grocery store owner or the man standing behind me in the po boy line after learning about my intern. People often remark about the kindness of strangers and over my four weeks here I’ve become amazed at how the sincere interest and gratitude of complete strangers makes me feel not so strange in this unfamiliar place. So while I am pretty sure that no one is ever going to mistake me for a Big Easy native, I nonetheless feel at home and welcomed here.

I’m not sure what all it is, maybe the Louisianan accent that’s almost as beautiful as my North Carolinian one or maybe the smiles that make the appreciation received from NOLA natives all the more special. Or perhaps it’s just the glint of hope that I feel these people have in me and my compatriots in our efforts to make this city a better place. So no matter how tedious my job may get some time (this week I had to help organize a city parcel survey for over 6000 units the Lafitte-Treme neighborhood) I just remember that I have to push just a little harder, no matter how tired I may get. I’m still working to earn the thank you given to me the day before by the guy sitting next to on the trolley as well as the kindness of countless other “strangers” that I’ve encountered.