Mennonite Central Committee

Newly married couple finds life altered by Hurricane Katrina

Marla Pierson Lester
February 2, 2006

It wasn't the getaway they had planned.

The last weekend in August, as the fury of Hurricane Katrina bore down on the U.S. Gulf Coast, Henry and Kenia Aragón, married exactly three weeks, were settling into their apartment, still anticipating the honeymoon they planned to take soon.

As the storm approached this New Orleans suburb, they found themselves on a very different journey — one that is continuing to shape their life together and their faith.

"I have learned so much from this experience," said Henry, 32. "My heart has learned."

It was Henry's heart that led him to New Orleans in the first place. A professional musician, Henry met Kenia while playing a concert at her church, Amor Viviente, in Metairie. Henry moved to Baton Rouge, enrolling in Louisiana State University to be closer to Kenia.

In August, their life together was truly beginning.

They married Aug. 5. Henry finished his undergraduate degree and was starting a master's program at Loyola University, in the heart of New Orleans. Henry, born in Honduras, dreamed of creating a Hispanic orchestra that would play baroque, jazz and Latin American folk music.

Henry and Kenia began the last weekend in August by working on their apartment. "We were just excited and happy to be together," Henry said. Kenia spent every available moment finding places for wedding gifts and decorating their new space. Henry lifted and moved furniture. They rearranged the living room three times.

As they worked, Hurricane Katrina, which had moved through Florida, was gathering tremendous force in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Through the weekend, the forecasts for the New Orleans area grew more dire.

Fleeing the storm

Before dawn on Aug. 28, a sweltering Sunday morning, the Aragóns joined the stream of evacuees fleeing toward Houston, wishing that their 1993 Toyota had airconditioning as they traveled.

The Aragóns knew the grim predictions that a monstrous hurricane would swamp New Orleans. Like so many other residents, they didn't think it would be this one. They grabbed enough clothes, food and water for a couple of days.

Henry left his most valuable possession, a viola, behind — more concerned about how the instrument would fare in the heat and humidity on the highway than what might happen to it during the storm. They would come back to a different world.

Counting the costs

It was a week and a half after the storm hit before Henry and Kenia Aragón were able to visit their apartment.

The storm's high winds tore into the roof of a third-floor unit above their apartment. Water seeped down, causing the ceiling of their second-floor apartment to collapse.

The apartment was dank. Mold had spread. Kenia felt overwhelmed from the moment she saw the torn ceiling. Henry was more calm — until he opened the case holding his viola. The instrument, which belonged to a teacher and which he had been borrowing, had cracked in the humidity.

Aragón lost an antique organ but was able to save a collection of sheet music, including South American arrangements for string quartet dating to the 19th century. They were able to salvage some wedding gifts and some clothes but many were lost.

Memories of the stinking, wet apartment close upon them, Kenia found herself drawing on her faith. "I realized that you can lose whatever you have in one minute and that it is not Katrina (that) gives or takes away," Kenia said. The power, she said, is in God's hands and by keeping a focus on God, "you are safe and nothing will take your salvation away."

The hand of God

In the midst of loss, they found themselves unexpectedly blessed.

"Everywhere we went, everything we did, there was somebody to help us," Henry remembers of their stay in Houston. "We saw the hand of God."

Never, said Aragón, did he and Kenia feel forgotten.

They were able to find housing. A church in Houston connected Henry with a craftsman who repaired his viola, taking on the more than $1,000 job for free. The shop even put in new strings and a new shoulder rest.

As many people struggled to find employment in New Orleans or outside of it, Kenia, who watches children for a New Orleans family, found her employer begging her to return. Blanca Mackay, a friend and church member who is serving as an MCC hurricane response worker, invited the Aragóns and another couple to live with her.

"Blanca was kind enough to say 'our house is yours ... We want to offer this house to you and it's a privilege. Let us serve you,'" Henry remembers.

Amor Viviente, living love

In Blanca's house, the couple's lives became intertwined with the Mackays and the Rodriguezes, another couple whose home was damaged. They prepared dinners together and shared household tasks. After dinner, Henry would often play the viola, his thanks to the Mackays.

"We laugh. We joke around. We eat like crazy. It's been a blessing," Aragón said.

Another blessing is the congregation of Amor Viviente, whose name means "living love." Henry describes how fellow church members lost everything they had built up over years but are still able to give thanks and praise to God.

"I'm just proud to be part of this church and learn the way we should face life in these situations," Henry said. "It's been amazing."

During services, Henry says, the pastor keeps turning members to the promises of God. From every angle, he injects joy into the congregation — and it spreads, members gaining strength from God, from their leaders and from one another.

"You know how contagious things can be," Henry said. "It's like a chain reaction."

The Aragóns have had their struggles. Losing nearly the entire contents of an apartment can't help but breed stress, even in couples married for decades. Spending the first months of marriage in someone else's home is tough.

But Henry and Kenia say the experience has changed their lives and opened their hearts.

Sometimes, Henry said, "we see people needing help and we just ignore it. When it happens to you, you realize the real value of help."

Moving on

In December, the couple was able to get away for a brief honeymoon in Dallas. In January they moved into their own apartment.

Henry started classes at Loyola University. He says he doesn't have strength for the orchestra project now and expects it would be tough to find funding. He wonders what more destruction the weather may bring to Louisiana and watches unseasonably warm winter temperatures with unease.

"Sometimes I meditate and I think about what do I want to remember when this is all in the past. What do I want to tell my children? What do I want to share?" he said.

He could talk about how much he lost or his work that was interrupted. He could talk about the stumbling blocks families are facing in rebuilding or injustices, like a friend paying $1,000 a month for an apartment without electricity.

He doesn't believe he will. "I want my story to be different from everybody else. I want to share a testimony."

The memories he stores up from this time are not about destruction, but about what remains — the beginnings of his life with Kenia, the laughs and shared meals at Blanca's, the congregation that he's seen come together and raise hands to God in thanks and praise.

"As a Christian, God is your priority," he said. "Enjoy life and try to be happy regardless of what's going on."