Stay atop the toilets --Cart Weiland

“Hi there, maam, my name is Cart Weiland. I work for a New Orleans planning and architecture firm, and I’d like to speak with someone about toilets.”

Yes, the toilets, maam. It’s kind of urgent.

And so began another day in the office. The firm I work for is engaged in a high-profile “green” building project, and I have been assigned to do the bulk of the research regarding eco-friendly building materials that the work requires. Dual-flush toilets apparently use significantly less water than normal ones. Who knew?

But dual-flush toilets and green building supplies in general, I have learned, are considerably more expensive than your everyday, run-of-the-mill ones. And herein lies the problem. As I asked folks about their toilets, my mind wandered. Are we really worrying about the right things here in NOLA? I mean…toilets? Do displaced residents really care if their toilet conserves water? Is the extra money and extra time people are spending on finding solar energy panels, reclaimed lumber, and green roofing really worth the effort? Do long-run benefits really exceed costs?

My first three weeks have taught me that New Orleans is rebuilding, albeit slowly. But what I guess I ultimately was wondering during toilet time was this: Is New Orleans rebuilding “right?” Are the right priorities in place? Are the right people involved?

That’s when the second-guessing started. Eighteen Duke students and I are down here for the summer, but are we accomplishing anything? Should we be down here? We have already fallen into daily and weekly routines (work, work out, eat, go out, sleep), so it is tempting to lose sight of why we are here. I am an intern, and some of the work I do is pretty basic. I make phone calls, build spreadsheets, carry out research, and try to contribute in as many meaningful ways as possible. But I can’t escape the fact that what I do in the office doesn’t feel like anything more than a little three letter word that isn’t particularly noble: a J-O-B.

Before I came down here, I subconsciously said to myself, “I’m going to New Orleans to help a city rebuild. How cool, man! Way to go!” Now, I’m beginning to see the conceited error of my ways. I was wrong to think that coming to NOLA for a summer would be a feel-good, self-aggrandizing experience.

I’d like to think that most of us down here are still idealists. “Saving the world” (and New Orleans, specifically) hasn’t yet become an impossible dream of naiveté, but simply a more abstract idea with a million layers of complexity. I will leave New Orleans in a month without having solved any monumental problems. There will be no farewell parades, no pomp and ceremony, and the overwhelming majority of people here will have no idea that we inhabited The Big Easy for eight weeks. So, let’s leave the congratulatory remarks behind. No recognition is deserved. We are here, and we’ve got jobs to do.

“Hi there, maam, my name is Cart Weiland. I work for a New Orleans planning and architecture firm, and I’d like to speak with someone about toilets.”