Alicia Conte is a participant in the JustWorks Katrina Relief Camp in Mississippi.

If someone asked me to describe my experience in Mississippi to them so far, I would have to tell them it is impossible. I have been in Gulfport, Miss., at the Turkey Creek campsite for about three days, and I feel that -- actually, I am certain that -- I have learned more in these 72 hours than I have in my entire life.

Before coming to Biloxi, I was -- to say the least -- nervous. Nervous that I would not be good at whatever volunteer work I would have to do. Nervous to see how horrible the damage done to this area by Katrina would be. Even more nervous, though, to see what had not been done.

I got my first impression of Mississippi when I stepped off the plane into the Gulfport-Biloxi airport where there was much construction being done, and only the beginning of a roof. Then, on our way through town, I realized that on the main street, all the stores and gas stations and restaurants were open and new. I started to wonder what work we would have to do.

And then we took a turn off of the main street. Houses are missing entire roofs. There is garbage everywhere, and not just your everyday trash, but sinks, toilets, bathtubs -- everything that could not be salvaged after Katrina's devastation. This tour through town was only the beginning of my learning experience here, though.

Two days ago, I sat through an antiracism seminar with our group of 40 volunteers from different UU congregations reaching from California to Massachusetts. Coming from a mostly white, middle-class, suburban town, I guess you could say I'm pretty "sheltered" in terms of exposure to a diverse community. At this open-discussion meeting, I was not only to hear and learn firsthand stories from people who have experienced discrimination, but I learned how to spread antiracism and bring my new knowledge home and share it.

This is what I love about the organization I am a part of. I am not just jumping into fixing houses and rebuilding homes that have been ravaged by the hurricane, but I am also learning how spread awareness for this amazing cause. Although we were all very eager to start the physical work, I think that the two days of training were definitely necessary to our volunteer work here in Mississippi.

Today, we divided into groups to head out and finally get our hands dirty. I had the chance to help wire a house for an older women who has generously taken in six foster children. Although I have never had any experience with electrical work, I was taught by an experienced electrician who has amazingly devoted many weeks to volunteer work for Katrina survivors.

It was not until I met the woman on whose house we were working that I realized how amazing and caring people can be. This woman did not hesitate to offer us food and drink, and repeatedly thanked us and blessed us for our work. This is when my experience here came full circle. I have not only learned how to wire an outlet today, but how to become a better human being.

Everyone who I have encountered on my trip so far has been extremely friendly, welcoming, and thankful. Before I came here, I felt like my contributions were so infinitesimal that they could barely make a difference, but when I saw the look on that woman's face I realized otherwise.

I am so happy that I am here in at Turkey Creek right now, especially since I still have four more days. I am not yearning to go home, but wishing that I could stay longer. This trip has taught me selflessness and courage, and has also showed me the true kindness of the human heart. I could not think of a better way to spend my time than being here, at TCCI, in Gulfport, Miss.

Kate Raymond is a participant in the UUSC Katrina Relief JustWorks camp in Biloxi, Miss.

We've had another interesting day. We toured an Audubon site that is focused on restoring a wetlands/bayou area after Katrina and met yet another person with a vision for southern Mississippi. So many people with passion!

Yesterday and today, we've been listening to and questioning activists. There's Kim McDonald who heads this project on the UUSC end. And there's the Turkey Creek staff that are running the camp where we sleep and eat. They seem to be mostly in their twenties and completely committed to doing what they can to help this community and its people.

Sharon Hanshaw, coordinator for Coastal Women for Change in East Biloxi, is a former hairdresser who rose to the occasion and made it her mission to help people stay in the community. She explained some of the political and economic difficulties of the situation.

She believes that the casinos in the area are playing a waiting game. "If you get tired enough, you'll leave, and they'll make it all like Las Vegas here." She just shakes her head and says, "But we're not going anywhere."

I'm inspired by these people who are doing something to help do the right things for those who are disenfranchised, who do not yet know how to have a voice.

Erica Baron is a participant in UUSC's Katrina Relief Camp currently taking place in Biloxi, Miss.

Yesterday morning, a bunch of us went to the worship service at the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship. I was struck by how much Katrina still impacts the daily life of the congregation, individually and collectively.

Yesterday afternoon, we took some time to do a training on race, class, and Katrina, which began with some conversation about race and class in the United States, and then talked about how devastated people were. As one of the trainers said, "Everyone was devastated, but some were comfortably devastated."

This morning, we met with Sharon Hanshaw of Coastal Women for Change, who talked about the efforts of the members of the community to rebuild their lives and homes. She talked about their struggles to be recognized by the people in city government and to get political power for the local residents.

This afternoon, we went to the Audubon Center to see how Katrina has impacted the environment, and to hear about the efforts to take environmental concerns into account in the rebuilding.

For me, these past two days have been a constant back-and-forth of hope and hopelessness. As we left Boston, I was hopeful that our being here would make a difference. I was filled with hope by the energy of the local UU congregation. The workshop on racism, though, reminded me of how big the systemic issues we're dealing with are. Racism, classism, and the systemic denial of justice to the most vulnerable people have been and remain a huge and incredibly deep part of our national life. How does anyone begin to get a handle on something this big?

This morning, though, I began to have hope again. Listening to Ms. Hanshaw talk about the work that her organization is doing, it seemed like there was some light again. People are working hard to make a difference. There really are things we can do to help. She talked so enthusiastically about the difference that volunteers are making and about the UUSC/UUA response. It's amazing to hear the incredible appreciation that she and others have for UUs. And watching the wetlands at the Audubon Center -- which the workers there have only just begun to rehabilitate -- springing back to life. It seems a fitting symbol for the spirit of determination we have seen over and over again here.

Then we watched a short documentary about the homelessness crisis here in Southern Mississippi, and I feel again the enormity of the situation we are trying to impact.

Hope and hopelessness. People here, 18 months after the storm hit, are homeless or living in unsafe FEMA trailers. They are struggling to find jobs, child care, transportation, basic necessities of life. They desperately need help. And they are incredibly resilient and courageous in the face of all of this. And here we are and that is something.

Jinnie Trabulsi, a community minister who has done a lot of organizing for the UUSC/UUA effort, tonight talked about the Kabbalic idea of Tikkun Olam -- that the Divine light in the world has been spilled, scattered, and hidden, and that it's up to us to help find and recognize the pieces of light. I think this is a really appropriate image. I'll try, as we get to work tomorrow, to find the spots of light and hope and hold them up for recognition.

Cynthia White of San Francisco recently spent a week in New Orleans as part of a UUSC JustWorks Katrina Relief camp. She wrote the following account.

Our van stops in the Lower Ninth Ward. We exit in awe as we take in our surroundings. This is the first destination of our New Orleans tour. I can assure you we are not in the French Quarter.

Hundreds of shiny plastic signs are nailed to dilapidated homes and stressed electric poles. They read: “We Buy Homes,” “Prudential Real Estate,” “We Demolish,” “Concrete Slab Removal,” “Mold Inspection.” Official spray-painted graffiti marks water-stained facades where the Feds came and went, leaving notice of their search for stranded people, bodies, and animals. Yards are littered with debris. Broken windows reveal cluttered rooms with heaps of furniture, strollers, and clothes. I feel like an intruder and I wonder if I am really in North America.

Perhaps one in every 10 to 15 houses is undergoing reconstruction. Each home is a small beacon of hope for the thousands of people who were displaced after Hurricane Katrina. We are invited into Miss Mary’s (Mary Fontenot, director of UUSC partner ACT) house, who is also leading our tour. This is one of the promising ones on the vacant block. She is living in a FEMA trailer park several miles from here. Her friends and family came together to help rebuild her house that sat for weeks under 10 feet of water. Aside from the frame, nothing was salvageable. But that was the past and Miss Mary only exudes hope and energy for a new future.

Mary, like many other community organizers, is devoted to bringing back the neighborhoods of New Orleans. She speaks openly and passionately about the challenges they are up against and the endless battles they have fought to regain the homes that they own. The stories she relays are tragic and truly unbelievable. She reiterates again and again how they have “fought tooth and nail” for the little progress that has been made. She tells us that the first health clinic since Katrina is about to reopen down the block. The delays have come from insignificant details concerning governmental building codes. The small building sat for months unoccupied because the handicap ramp was an inch off.

It is difficult to even begin to understand the hurdles these communities face. There are no churches, no hospitals, no schools, and no businesses left to offer the basic communal necessities. Even if families come home and manage to fork out the necessary money to gut and rebuild their homes, where do they find work? Where do their children go to school? Many of these communities still don’t have potable water or electricity.

The government continues to turn a blind eye to its people as plans for industrial expansion and an airport are in the works for the Upper Ninth Ward where most homes were totally obliterated or demolished. In this case, developers, contractors, and surveyors were allowed into the ward even before the original homeowners.

Mary’s voice is taxed as it is probably the most important tool she has. She apologizes for her hoarse throat, smiles, and hugs her friend with whom she shares a “temporary” trailer. Despite their odds they are reaching out and moving forward. They are organizing community meetings, disseminating information, listening to the needs of their neighbors, taking action, and most importantly keeping their faith knowing that the situation can only get better.

We turn to get back on the bus. We have two more hours of driving through New Orleans. Twenty more miles of another half dozen neighborhoods that are in better or worse shape than the Lower 9th. A mockingbird calls as a bulldozer speeds through the empty streets. We turn the corner and Mary points out the freshly painted health clinic. I, too, feel a sense of hope and an overwhelming admiration for the people of these communities.

Kriss Wells of Le Claire, Pa., is a participant in the Katrina Relief JustWorks camp in New Orleans.

Today, I helped gut a house. Our group went into a house that has been sitting empty since the flood after the levees broke. The place was a horrible mess. The toxic waters invaded everything. There was still food in the microwave. A rat jumped out of the food cupboard.

We carried all the furniture, appliances, clothes, etc., out to the street. Everything was ruined by the toxic water, all the industrial waste that has washed for years into the Gulf. The nastiest stuff you can imagine has soaked into this house. We were protected today from the toxins by wearing respirators and coveralls and goggles and gloves.

After emptying the house, we proceeded to dismantle the plaster walls down to the studs. We carried all the plaster and lath out to the street. It feels good to start this house on its road to recovery.

Every day since we have arrived in New Orleans, the subject of loss has found its way into my conversations. Thousands of people here have loss on top of loss on top of loss: family, friends, neighbors, even their churches are gone. Some people barely recognize the street that they live on. Of course, over a thousand have lost their lives. And it wasn't Katrina that killed them.

Those people died because the levees that were built to protect New Orleans were not built strong enough. Why was this city left unprotected?

C.J. McGregor of Fitchburg, Mass., is a participant in the Katrina Relief JustWorks camp in New Orleans.

It's my third day in New Orleans with the JustWorks camp. I arrived thinking this was simply a chance to give back, offer my assistance, and live my UU faith. These things are all true but this experience has become so much more. This is human rights work. This is a time to stand beside those whose systems have failed them.

I toured the devastation this morning and felt anxious and sick as I entered the coach that would transport my group. I reflected on my anxiety. Was I anxious because after I witnessed the devastation I would have to do something about it? Does this mean that this problem now becomes my responsibility? Is it because witnessing the pain, suffering, and injustice of others is so difficult?

Life was much easier and more pleasant before today. The truth hurts. My spirit and my soul were settled and content before today. They have been poked and prodded and I am restless and angry. I am making a commitment, today, right now to stand beside those fighting for their homes, their land, their lives.

One year after Hurricane Katrina, it's important that we continue to remember what happened in the Gulf Coast and to be aware of what's still happening. There is still a lot of work to be done. I myself was reminded of that when viewing this slideshow.

The photos used in the slideshow (which is narrated by UUSC Associate for Youth Nguyen Weeks) were taken during two recent UUSC JustWorks camps. Camp participants spent a week working in either New Orleans or Biloxi, Miss., helping survivors clean up their homes and communities. Yes, one year later they are still cleaning up, still trying to move back home.

Take a look and you'll see the kind of work that's being done by our program partners working together with our members and supporters. Participating in JustWorks camps is one way you can join UUSC in making a difference.

Shayla Reid of UUSC's Programs Department recently participated in the JustWorks Lakota camp.

Upon our arrival in South Dakota, I immediately took notice of the beauty the state had to offer. Driving through the mountain areas, I was fascinated and captivated by the nature. Once we arrived on the Rosebud Reservation, I became aware of the lack of resources, poverty, and isolated land the Native American people lived in.

In the beginning of the week, the Native American kids were shy and curious about our visit to their reservation. As the week proceeded, we all had an opportunity to discuss the stereotypes the media portrays of their people. Once they realized we were not there to change anything about them, but to learn about their culture and create a short movie about their lives, the kids began to open up to the group.


One of the Native American participants said, "I want people to know that not all Native Americans that live on the reservation are drunks or drug addicts." We non-Natives learned that the community of which we were a part for the week consisted of welcoming and friendly people.

During the camp, the kids had an opportunity to learn about videography, media, and stereotypes, how to use a camera, and they were able to produce a short movie. This experience impacted all the participants that were involved, and broke some of the stereotypes that existed before our arrival.

Jacquelyn Whitworth (seated at right in the photo below) is a participant in the UUSC Lakota JustWorks camp in South Dakota.

I wasn't sure what to expect coming to this camp, and I was a little nervous. I even had some second thoughts in the weeks leading up to it, but it has turned out to be a fun and eye-opening experience.

We've started making a video with some of the Lakota youth on the Rosebud Reservation in St. Francis, S.D. Spending time with these youth, working on this video and learning about media, has increased my realization of how Native Americans and others are represented in the media.

If anything, we tend to see images of traditionally dressed Native Americans that make them seem completely different from other cultures in the United States, which promotes the idea that they should remain isolated on a reservation, an hour and a half drive from anyone else (as we have found) with no need to form community with people from the other cultures, while we "honor" them in obscure ways.

Actually, the Lakota youth live a lot like the youth I've grown up with in Rockford, Ill., and many of the struggles they go through -- drugs, racism, school -- are the struggles that youth of all cultures deal with as well.

On the way here, a man told me that the Rosebud Reservation was "a dump, but one of the nicer reservations around." I wasn't sure what he meant by that but I didn't see a dump when we drove through Rosebud to the youth center where we're staying. The reservation is different -- less developed I guess: there isn't a gas station on every corner, and instead of having five Wal-Marts in town, there's a Paul-Mart a few minutes drive from the youth center. There's also a nice corner store about a block from here. I think the poverty rate is high here, but for the most part there's no more development than is necessary -- a fact that could lead the average American to call a place a "dump."

So far, we've done a lot of driving (like I said, Rosebud is about an hour and a half away from everything else). But I've enjoyed the ride for the most part. The landscape is interesting, especially compared to the flat Illinois land I'm used to.

Here at the youth center, we've worked with Susan and Dan of Youth Voice Collaborative and the youth who live here to make self-portraits. On the first night, we discussed basic media principles, the main one I think being that the person behind the camera always decides what the viewer sees, which is important to remember both when creating and consuming media.

Also, when in front of the camera, it's difficult to not censor thought and actions, which a lot of us have found during self-portraits and interviews. We had fun in front of the camera yesterday too, though, when we had a spontaneous dance and soul train. It was fun, although it's kind of embarrassing to watch on video. I don't care too much though.

Christina Wills is a participant in the UUSC Lakota JustWorks camp.

We are halfway through the camp and are getting a lot done. Yesterday, we had interviews about what we expected on the Rosebud Reservation and it was great to hear people's answers. I was pretty embarrassed about mine though. I panicked a bit.

We also listened to people talk about the history of Wounded Knee and I would like to come back next year.

Later that night, our group and the teens from St. Francis danced together. It was completely unplanned. All of the sudden, a dance contest started which turned into a soul train which turned into total mayhem! [In a good way of course : )]

Tonight, we are going to a pow-wow which I am looking forward to. I've really enjoyed my stay so far especially because of the people here.