I’ve been working on a project for Habitat for Humanity. The mission has been to survey homebuyers that have gone through the Habitat program and have moved into their new home. Doing this has taken me into neighborhoods that even the cops don’t like to visit. What a revelation. I like to think I don’t stereotype people, but if I did, this experience would have fixed that. I thought I had a grasp of what “poor” meant; I discovered I had no idea. I thought I had been through some tough times but my worst days don’t compare to the reality that others have faced. I thought the only dreams in these neighborhoods were nightmares but some of these people have lived a nightmare and can still dream.
On city blocks where half the homes are burned out, boarded up or simply need to be demolished, there are islands. Now without question, the Habitat homes are truly gemstones in a neighborhood of barely livable homes and vast piles of debris that seem destined to decompose where they lay. But there are other islands, not necessarily the castles among the ruins that the Habitat homes are, but homes that are cared for and exhibit pride, albeit within the limits of their impoverished occupants. Amongst the tattered neighborhoods you see homes with neatly trimmed yards, fresh paint applied to weathered wood, restored porches and the occasional flower or vegetable garden.
In front of these homes you see fathers teaching their kids to ride bikes, and neighbor working with neighbor to fix a fence or an ancient lawnmower. You see families enjoying doing what families do. I could paint you a picture of some of the darker attributes of these neighborhoods, but like me, you are already acquainted with those (you watch TV). I couldn’t help but note that when the media covers these areas they never seem to see the islands; perhaps because the islands are lost in a tsunami of the dilapidated and neglected.
I have met some pretty amazing and truthfully, inspiring people on this project. All of them know what they had and what they now have. All of them contributed hours of work toward their new home and appreciate the opportunity to make mortgage payment toward their own home. All of them understand they are not just islands but are in some way a start for others. It is interesting to look around the Habitat homes. In many cases their neighbors’ homes reflect attempts to improve their appearance. Maybe the islands are infectious.
In some neighborhoods a few run down homes can become a catalyst for the collapse of the entire neighborhood. However, if the neighborhood has already hit the bottom, it appears the opposite might be true. When islands of quality homes and pride of ownership appear in a neighborhood, it just might be that the neighbor’s dreams are rekindled, and a step by step process of revitalization begins.
On what will likely be my final visit to the West Dallas neighborhood, I had the opportunity to visit with two families with a commonality that I had not anticipated. I mentioned before, some people dream nightmares and others live them. The last two families I interviewed were clearly living a wonderful dream. But both had struggled to attain that dream by fighting to free themselves from a life in refugee camps. One family spent years in a refugee camp in Thailand and the other in a camp in Batswana having fled the terror of the tribal wars in Uganda. Driving home from those interviews, I could not help but wonder if their dreams in that refugee camp had been more about survival than some day owning a real home in the US. If you want to understand how wonderful the American Dream is, don’t ask some talking head on TV to tell you, simply visit an island.
