A day in the life of a flood volunteer

Times Contributor

 

“The Best Things in Life Aren’t Things” – Art Buchwald

It was an overcast morning when we loaded up the car to drive out to Siksika. It was my mom, her friend from work, my sister and I who all packed in, and during the drive we were surprisingly talkative, despite it being 7:30 a.m., much earlier than either my sister or I like to wake up. We met at the Siksika High School with a bus that was driving volunteers out from Calgary, then picked out rubber boots and jumped on the bus to head to the community of Little Washington. As the bus drive down into the river valley I chatted with my sister, singing to the country songs on the radio and goofing around in the bus seats, giddy from being over tired and up so early.  When the bus stopped we were separated into teams and then assigned to houses. At this point everything seemed pretty mechanical; we were given suits, gloves and masks to protect us from the potential mould and bacteria that we might encounter within the houses. We were given instructions to take frequent breaks and to change our masks if necessary. Our first job was to clean out what was left in the basement of the house so a truck could come and easily suck the mud out. 

At first we all went down to the basement into about a foot of muck, grabbing large debris and bringing it outside to a pile. This method was extremely tiring and inefficient with everyone going up and down the stairs, and as a group of 15 we soon managed to divvy up the labour, with about ten people down in the house, picking up large items and filling buckets with smaller things, and then passing them through the already smashed basement windows of the house to the five volunteers who then carried them to a pile. 

I was one of the carriers, and I was committed to being efficient, not really looking at the things I lugging them to a pile: wet cardboard, stacks of floor tiles, chunks of soggy insulation. I was like a worker bee, back and forth grabbing and going. At this point I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, I just wanted to get it done. This method changed suddenly, when within the pile of junk I was moving, I noticed a framed picture of a baby on Santa’s lap mostly soaked with the goopy, rancid mud. This was the moment when the reality of this abandoned house as a home became tangible. This photo was like a switch that turned on the emotions in me that I guess I was trying to ignore. As I placed the picture on the pile, tears trickled down the sides of my mask as I thought about how overwhelming this experience must be for the homeowners. 

Lucky for me, I was also sweating profusely because the suits we wore held in a lot of heat, so my tears were disguised, saving me from embarrassment while enabling me to have a private moment thinking about the family, their home and what I was really doing. As I continued to work the things I was pulling from the basement became more noticeable, a pair of skates, a child’s tricycle, a dreamcatcher, all enveloped in a thick coating of sour smelling muck.  Each of these items underscored the reality of the losses this family had. 

After lunch we had the opportunity to tour the Blackfoot Crossing Museum. Our guide was a flood victim herself, and it was her first day back at work. Throughout the exhibit she shared her personal experience of the flood and of her life, expressing intimate details about how she and her family we grappling with the loss of their personal treasures. She gave us advice: if you have a gift for someone, give it, don’t wait. She was clearly devastated, becoming emotional with every story she told. Despite her family’s great loss, she still had something positive to say about her circumstances. She spoke of how the flooding has brought people together, tearing them away from the overly technological world that we live in, to come together in support of one another. The tone in the room was one of gratitude and it was mutual, from both the guide and the volunteers. After working all day in a family’s home, handling their personal items, it was fulfilling to actually meet someone who was affected by the floods, putting a face to this tragedy and hearing someone’s story. 

As we rode the buses up and out of the river valley, I looked out the bus window, and noticed how beautiful the prairie landscape is, especially with the sunbeams shining through the gray clouds onto the vast fields. Physically tired from the day’s work I rested my head against the bus window, my sister resting her head on my shoulder. Though my body was exhausted, I felt a renewed sense of energy within, the kind of energy that comes from community participation and helping others. 

As a community we are fortunate that disasters on this scale happen rarely; as a member of this community I am lucky my life was not directly affected by the flooding; however, I am also lucky to be able to help those in need, hearing and learning through their stories. Sometimes when someone needs help, the hardest thing to do is ask. I’m proud of my family for helping this day, but I’m more proud of my community for coming together in these times of need.