Beds crowd the floor of the evacuee shelter, lined up side-by-side. Day and night seem to stretch endlessly under the harsh artificial light. People pass the time agonizing over all they have lost in the flood and worrying about the future. For the victims of Hurricane Katrina, these shelters mark the beginning of an unexpected journey. Their return to full recovery will be full of fear, uncertainty, and hardship, but Tzu Chi's love and care will accompany them all the way on their long road home.

The lights and the air conditioners are always on in the huge indoor area of the George R. Brown Convention Center in Houston, Texas. Air mattresses on metal frames hide the meager luggage that has been stuffed underneath. Women wearing spiritless expressions stare out from under the blankets. Some comforters cover the innocent forms of sleeping children. A few toys are scattered here and there, showing the warmth of parents helping their children through this difficult ordeal.

We arrived at this evacuation shelter 12 days after the hurricane. Looking around, we saw a sea of faces, mostly African-American, all of them lined with fatigue and worry. For many, the evacuation was the first time they had ever left their homes. Although they didn't know each other, the thousands of people here were united by three tragic circumstances: they were all from New Orleans, they had nowhere else to go, and they had no one they could turn to for help.

From poverty to destitution

For many, the trip out from the disaster area was the first time they had been away from home. The airplane ride itself left an indelible mark on their lives.

The New Orleans metropolis has a population of over one million, most of them living below the poverty line. Although the local government encouraged people to evacuate ahead of the storm, many simply did not have the means to leave. With no money, no cars, and no friends or relatives outside New Orleans, the poorest of the city could only hope to ride the hurricane out in their homes. Those that survived were first-hand witnesses to the horrifying power of Hurricane Katrina.

The true extent of Katrina's damage became apparent only after the storm had passed. Due to the extensive damage and public health concerns, officials ordered the complete evacuation of the city. Over 270,000 people who had not evacuated before the storm were forced to move to over 600 shelters in 12 states. The state of Texas alone offered over 130 public shelters and took in nearly 140,000 people.

We visited a few of these shelters and talked to the people living there. One of the places we visited was the Reliant Center in Houston. The Reliant Center is part of Reliant Park, Houston's top trade show, convention, sports, and entertainment campus. Four thousand people were still living there, two weeks after the evacuation. Tired and worried, they shared their stories with us.

As the evacuees arrived from New Orleans, dazed and disoriented, their baggage was searched by authorities at the entrance. They were directed to different areas of the shelter based upon their gender, marital status, and whether they had children. Even pets were taken care of in a specific area. Although the emphasis on safety and organization was strictly enforced, the evacuees were processed in an efficient and considerate manner. Many of the evacuees had lost everything in the disaster, so each volunteer in the shelter was conscious to treat each one with kindness and dignity.

The Astrodome, a sports arena located in Houston, was also turned into a gigantic shelter. The Astrodome sheltered nearly 25,000 people in the first days after the disaster, so it was easy for us to imagine how chaotic the living conditions were. Many of the evacuees that originally stayed in the Astrodome had since been moved to shelters that could better accommodate them. Even so, nearly 2,000 people remained in the stadium two weeks later.

Generous people from around Texas donated food, drinks, clothes, phones, and Internet services to those living in the shelters. Due to the outpouring of support, relief supplies were abundant. In addition to food, water and clothing, the shelters also provided information about free places to stay, local job opportunities, updates on missing persons or pets, assistance with buying airline or bus tickets, getting vaccinations, enrolling children in local schools, and applying for medical insurance or submitting claims. The types of assistance offered were so diverse that evacuees could apply for a wide range of social services without even leaving the shelters.

In the shelter, evacuees went from booth to booth to pick up food, drinks, or daily necessities. When they were thirsty, cold drinks were available. Some shelters had special places for children to play, paint, or run around. There were always long lines of people waiting to apply for federal subsidies. The elevators, stairs, washrooms, and makeshift showers were in use 24 hours a day.

The number of volunteers at the shelters was amazing. People from a variety of ethnic backgrounds volunteered to receive a six-hour training course from the Red Cross. Afterwards, they were able to help with evacuee registration, assist people to apply for aid, push wheelchairs around, or just chat and keep company with survivors.

Barbara Anderson was a volunteer at the Astrodome shelter. She had previously lived in New Orleans and was very upset about the plight of the city. She said that even before the disaster, many residents were poor and homeless and had limited access to food. Never in their lives had they left Louisiana, let alone taken an airplane. Now they had been forced to leave their homes for an area of the country they had only heard about. Many were evacuated by air, thanks to free tickets provided by airline companies. In the shelters, they had access to all the food they wanted.

Melinda Word was a volunteer from Sacramento, California. She said that her husband was touched by her coming here, her mother was worried about her, and her daughter could not forgive her for going away. But she believed it was her mission as a Christian to embrace the evacuees and help them during this difficult time.

For the past 11 days, Word had been working at the busiest service station in the shelter. She worked anywhere from 12 to 14 hours a day. Although the evacuees often took out their frustrations at her, she understood their anger.

"The embraces and gratitude from the evacuees are my biggest reward," said Word. For example, a girl had received a check and an airline ticket from her that morning. Holding Melinda's hands, she had said happily, "Now I can go to my brother's home in Ohio." The girl would be able to live with her brother until she was able to return home to New Orleans.

Meeting urgent needs

With nothing left, it was as though the evacuees had been robbed of everything by the hurricane. Emergency cash and relief supplies can make their lives a bit easier.

It was September 11 at the Astrodome in Houston, and Tzu Chi volunteers were holding the hands of Michael Allen, 48, and listening to his plight. He had come to look for assistance at the service centers in the Astrodome.

With a dull look in his eyes, he told the volunteers that when the floods came, he and his family ran to the second floor of his apartment, and then to the third. As the waters continued to rise, they were forced to climb onto the roof. Finally, they were rescued by a military helicopter and transferred to Houston by bus.

"My 66-year-old mother was in good health, except for high blood pressure. Her first trip in the helicopter was too much for her. She suffered a heart attack. She was rushed to a hospital after we landed, but she died 45 minutes later." He wept sadly while recounting the event. The funeral had been held the previous day, and his grief was still extremely deep.

All 17 members of his family were staying in the Crown Hotel in Houston. Although it was a five-star hotel, there were so many other evacuees staying there that he feared for his safety. With obvious concern in his voice, he said that young people nowadays did not believe in God and had no respect for nature. He felt this disaster was a warning from God not to live an aimless life anymore.

In several large shelters, evacuees seemed to visit the Tzu Chi volunteers last to receive assistance, even though the most practical subsidies and care could be found at the Tzu Chi booths.

In their signature uniform of blue shirts and white pants, Tzu Chi volunteers were always very polite while assisting evacuees. As the evacuees signed their names, the volunteers handed them relief checks and bowed to them with respect. Helping others was so gratifying that the volunteers left the shelters each day with a smile.

Before anyone else began to provide hurricane survivors with emergency cash, Tzu Chi was providing $200 cashier's checks or gift cards valid for purchases at Wal-Mart. Although the government issued food stamps in the early stages of the disaster, Tzu Chi's gift cards proved more useful in helping purchase daily necessities. Finally, on September 7, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) even started distributing $2,000 to each family that could not produce a property damage report, normally required to get any aid at all.

In monetary terms, the benefits from Tzu Chi were dwarfed by the assistance provided by the federal government. However, the $200 cashier's checks from Tzu Chi proved very useful before the other money was distributed. Volunteers certainly received a lot of smiles in return.

Tzu Chi also distributed goods in a Chinese area of Houston. As news spread that Tzu Chi was distributing relief goods, evacuees from Taiwan, Vietnam and China gathered at the Hong Kong Market to pick up donated clothes or food. The business became like a mini rescue center. Volunteers who were fluent in English helped those less fluent to complete application forms for social benefits.

Living arrangements were also handled at the market. Gao Jun-fen, from China, found an apartment in Houston that allowed her to stay rent-free for six months. Tzu Chi gave her a cashier's check that she used to buy a variety of necessities. Not all evacuees were as fortunate as Gao. Her friend, Li Fen, could only find a hotel that would take her for a month. Afterwards, she would have to find another place to stay.

Between pride and reality

Robbed of everything by the hurricane, standing in line to receive food, and being assisted by people who cared made for an unforgettable experience for the evacuees.

Finding a place to live was a torment to the evacuees and a never-ending cause for concern. For example, we found a Vietnamese man and his family of 14 that were paying US$200 a day for four rooms in a motel. After just four days, they realized they would not move back to New Orleans in the near future and they could not afford to stay in the motel. The father had to set aside his pride and ask one of his friends to take all 15 of them in.

Meng Qing-xun emigrated from China to New Orleans five years ago. After the hurricane, he and his family drove to a friend's home in Houston. After three days, Meng felt too embarrassed to stay longer, so he rented a small apartment for his family. He soon learned the landlord had taken advantage of his dire situation by doubling the rent to $800 a month. He was bitterly disappointed that he had been gouged when he needed help the most.

Fortunately, Meng was soon able to find a smaller apartment with a more reasonable rent of $400 a month. It was close to Houston's Chinatown, where he could stay informed of services for evacuees. It was here that he heard about the Tzu Chi distribution site at the Chinese Culture Center in Houston. Meng told us that the $200 from Tzu Chi was very helpful. Because his new apartment came unfurnished, he used the money to buy pots and pans for cooking.

In the past few days, he had been busy filling out applications for unemployment insurance and to transfer his daughter to a new school. However, his most pressing concern was finding a job and regaining a steady income for his family. "Our lives face great challenges when there is no money each day," he reflected.

Tzu Chi volunteer Yang Fang-zi and her husband, Lin Fei-hu, own an apartment building in Houston. When evacuees began moving out of the big shelters, they signed an agreement with the city government to accept them for free.

Their apartments were in Chinatown, so almost all of the applicants were Chinese. In their cramped and crowded office, the couple's staff helped those who did not understand English fill out application forms for social benefits.

Wu Xiao-qin was a new tenant in the apartments. We talked to her as she waited for her husband to finish an application form. She said that a few days before, she and her daughter had waited in line with other evacuees to eat a free supper in a church. After the supper, her daughter told her, "Mom, let's not come here again--it made me feel like we were beggars." Wu respected her daughter's feelings and promised her they would go somewhere else.

When emergency rescue comes to an end

Evacuees cannot live in shelters permanently, nor can they return to their homes yet. The path to full recovery will be long and hard, and it is just beginning.

During the initial stage of resettling evacuees coming out of New Orleans, the American emergency rescue system was very efficient and private groups did not need to intervene. FEMA and the Red Cross were in charge of relief work. But now that the evacuees are moving out of the larger shelters, the burden of assisting the evacuees is falling more and more to private charity organizations, generous businesses, and compassionate individuals.

For example, the first place that allowed Tzu Chi to use its premises to distribute relief supplies was the Beaumont Shelter, about two hours from downtown Houston. Joseph D. Deshotel, a local congressman, told us that the shelter would be emptied in mid-September and that the state and city governments had arranged for the evacuees to move into privately owned apartments. Because these apartments are unfurnished, he will help arrange for churches and private groups to provide furniture for the evacuees.

As the shelters close one by one, Tzu Chi's short-term emergency response to the disaster will also come to an end. However, its mid- and long-term relief plans are already being implemented. Foundation representatives have already started working with the mayor of Houston and the director of the Housing and Community Development Department to help in reconstruction efforts. They have also traveled to New Orleans and Baton Rouge to further inspect the damage.

Having engaged in charity work in the United States for the past 15 years, Tzu Chi has earned recognition and respect from individuals, local governments, and other disaster relief groups. For example, after Hurricane Allison hit Houston in 2004, Tzu Chi's rapid response to the Red Cross' call for help made a good impression on the local community. Volunteers have also participated in other high-profile rescue efforts, such as the September 11 terrorist attacks in New York and the forest fires in southern California.

After Hurricane Katrina, Tzu Chi established close contacts with FEMA and the Red Cross. Eventually, volunteers were allowed to set up booths in the shelters and provide services to evacuees.

Tzu Chi volunteers from around the United States and Canada paid their own air fares to travel to Houston and took turns to help. Evacuees who moved to Dallas, New York, New Jersey, Chicago, Kansas, Phoenix, and other cities have received similar help from local Tzu Chi people in those locales.

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For 10 days, from September 9 to September 19, Tzu Chi volunteers delivered checks to 6,265 people in 2,681 families as they moved from the large shelters into apartments, hotels, or relatives' homes in other cities. A total of $535,000 was distributed.

Uncertainty accompanies the evacuees as they disperse. There are so many unanswered questions: Will there be any reconstruction in those areas of New Orleans that are lower than sea level? If so, when will it begin? When will it be finished? When will all the garbage and debris be removed from the city? Will the more than 200,000 jobs lost in and around New Orleans ever be restored? How will evacuees survive in the meantime? Unfortunately, no one has the answers to these questions. The only thing that is known with certainty is that the road back to full recovery will be a long one.

After we had seen the disaster areas and the shelters, we were awed by the power of nature and the tragic consequences that Hurricane Katrina brought to the region. Many evacuees had to suffer the loss of their loved ones or of everything they owned. Even being a citizen of the wealthiest nation in the world offered no protection. I recalled Master Cheng Yen's vivid description of Hurricane Katrina: "The destruction was like a giant blowing out a candle; the whole world became dark with just one light puff."

A gentle breeze blowing across the warm ocean can rapidly accumulate energy and grow into a super hurricane. Katrina has made an impact on the United States that will be felt for years to come. The disaster has also reminded people to think about taking precautions before the next one strikes.

Austin Tsao, CEO of the Tzu Chi Foundation USA, summed up the organization's commitment to help the victims of this disaster: "It will take a long time and an enormous amount of resources for people to get back on their own feet. I've been inside the Astrodome and I've seen the desperate looks on people's faces. Tzu Chi will continue to work closely with local agencies and charity organizations to help with the recovery effort."