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CURRENT
ISSUE: March 6, 2006
VOL.
44, NO. 5Oakland,
CA
Katrina evacuee’s trauma yields compassion
for fellow survivors he’s now hired to help
When Katrina
evacuees pour out their stories to Catholic Charities case manager Kenneth
Bazile, they find more than a willing helper – they find a colleague,
a fellow native of the Gulf Coast, a man who has struggled just as they
have to build a new life in the Bay Area.
Bazile, like hundreds of others, came to Oakland traumatized by loss and
drawn by family ties, and like many of the evacuees, he turned to Catholic
Charities of the East Bay in his efforts to find a job and permanent housing.
He visited CCEB daily, sending out faxes and emails, contacting prospective
employers. “I was looking for all kinds of work,” he said,
“from executive level to I-need-to-eat kind of work.”
He landed dozens of interviews, but everyone turned him down. It wasn’t
lack of experience that did him in; it was too much. Bazile had been director
of operations for the Boys and Girls Club of New Orleans and earned a
six figure salary. He also had a master’s degree in public administration
from Ohio State University.
Employers insisted that he was overqualified and wouldn’t last at
a job beneath his skills, but he was willing to do anything that paid.
“All I wanted to do was eat, and I don’t want to beg,”
he said. “I’ve had to humble myself a lot.”
By mid-January he had reached a point of desperation. “It was like
I don’t know if I can hold my breath and tread water anymore,”
he said, and then his own case worker at CCEB, Jamie Manalang, spoke up
on his behalf.
The agency had received a grant to employ case managers for Katrina evacuees,
and she put in a word for hiring Bazile. “The next thing I was being
interviewed,” he said, and he got the job. “It was so ironic.
I was coming here every day trying to find a job.”
Bazile started as a case manager in mid-February, with a deep sense of
gratitude. “I feel so blessed to be able to do what I’m doing.
It’s a wonderful blessing to be a blessing to others and get paid.”
His work has been “an eye opener,” he said. He was surprised
to find how many evacuees are in the area and how many still need help.
“There are 250 cases split between the three of us,” he said.
Clients are looking for jobs, housing, food, clothing, furniture or simply
for help with utility bills.
The agency faced a “wave” of clients when evacuees were put
out of hotels last month and was expecting another wave when more would
be forced to leave on March 1. But the good news, Bazile said, is that
so many people are willing to help.
Back in New Orleans, he said, some residents have become mean-spirited
during the recovery effort, objecting, for instance, when returnees put
up trailers in their neighborhoods. But Bazile said he has found a generous
response here. “I want to tell the folk of the Bay Area thank you,
as someone who sees it from both sides,” he said.
He does not plan to return to New Orleans. He lost three houses, two vehicles
and his job. His two children, a daughter aged 21 and a son, 6, are in
Houston and will rejoin him in June. His mother, grandparents and great
aunts were evacuated from a rooftop and now live near Knoxville, Tenn.
Another brother, Mark, followed Bazile to the East Bay, where their eldest
brother, Leo, has served as vice mayor of Oakland.
His parish, St. Monica in New Orleans, remains closed as well as the parish
school, another loss that has left him adrift. He was active at St. Monica,
singing in the choir and directing the church’s Catholic Youth Organization,
and now he is looking for a new parish community.
The destruction of New Orleans, the loss of his home and career, he said,
are “horrible. But what could you do? It is what it is.” And
even though his experience has been traumatic, he said, “I was blessed
to come here to a city where I wasn’t a stranger, with family members.”
His work reminds him of how much he has. “Every time I start to
have a little bout of self pity, I look up and see people worse off, and
there’s always somebody willing to help in some kind of way.”
Parish groups, local churches, and individuals step forward to sponsor
families and make donations.
As a case worker, Bazile helps evacuees connect with the help they need.
“To right the ship,” he said, “get them back on track.”
He knows what it is like to need shelter, to depend on relatives and to
be face disappointment week after week in a frustrating search for employment.
“Quite a few” clients are ready to return to the Gulf Coast,
he said, and CCEB has already sent some back. But others remain and need
the support Bazile and his fellow case workers provide.
Bazile visited his former home earlier this year and found “total
disruption,” but he also caught sight of a sign on a New Orleans
church that summed up his own experience – his losses, his gains
and his joy in helping others.
He recites it precisely from memory: “I have everything I gave.
I lost everything I kept.”
Kenneth Bazile
