The Big Easy needs your help.

I didn't know to what extent that was true until I went down to New Orleans and saw it for myself.

MSU's Alternative Spring Break sent 23 people there, including myself, to gut three houses severely damaged by Hurricane Katrina.

When the storm hit last August, homes were flooded, destroyed and washed away. Our group explored the Ninth Ward, a poor area near where the levees broke. It was a whole town razed and obliterated. It looked as if a bomb had hit it.

Entire houses were smashed into other houses. Clothes were stuck in tree branches. Houses were perched on top of cars. Giant trees were knocked to the ground. Porch steps led up to houses that didn't exist anymore. Half a year later, this is what the Big Easy looks like.

The Ninth Ward was home to quite a few elderly people, many who couldn't escape. We spoke with a Federal Emergency Management Agency worker in the area, a nice man who seemed disillusioned by the massive scale of the wreckage. They are still looking for bodies, he said.

In other parts of the city, thousands of houses are still standing, decaying with mold due to water damage. Some houses are salvageable once gutted and stripped down to the frame.

Soggy carpeting must be ripped out, furniture must be thrown away and moldy walls must be knocked down before rebuilding can occur. And because many were (and still are) displaced after Katrina, personal items such as clothes, photographs, bedding and food in refrigerators are still left in the houses, rotting away.

The task ahead of my group was intimidating. The stench of the mold was overwhelming. But we entered the houses donning our protective masks, gloves and Tyvek suits, and worked until all that was left was the shell of what once was someone's beloved home.

"It's ripping you apart piece by piece," remarked the woman who lived in the last house we gutted, about watching us hammer away at her home. She had lived there since 1989, where she raised three children with her husband.

But even though it was hard, even though she hadn't been in her house since the hurricane hit, she put her emotions aside and worked alongside us to destroy the insides of her home.

She sang Motown songs with us while we worked, tearfully embraced us when we left and told us we were the first bright spot in her life since before Katrina.

We created massive trash piles on the sidewalks outside each house. While throwing things out, I couldn't help but notice the woman's son, about my age, standing and staring at the heap. Just staring. I can't imagine what he was thinking. His whole life was in that pile.

Another 21-year-old recounted what it was like when the water started to rise in his city. He said it was a jolting experience to see people crying and screaming but not be able to help them because he had to worry about his own survival.

His family was displaced, along with so many in New Orleans, to states such as Texas, New York and Florida. They are still there. I was told only about 20 percent of the people came back. I asked him why he did.

"I got homesick," he answered.

I couldn't blame him. New Orleans is an enchanting place. It is the birthplace of our country's great indigenous art form, jazz. Music is in the air, literally, wherever you go. The French Quarter, which was not heavily hit, is alive with passionate musicians, skillfully performing improvised, energized jazz music every night.

These days, many of them are nomads and travel between their New Orleans homes and their "after-Katrina" residences.

The sense of humor and positivity New Orleanians exhibit in the face of the devastation is powerful. For some, Katrina has left little hope. For others, New Orleans is a home they are itching to return to, but reconstruction is occurring at a painfully slow pace.

In St. Bernard Parish, where the eye of the hurricane hit, homeowners spray-painted on slabs of wood, "We Will Rebuild With Courage, Strength, Time, and Patience …"

I agree with them. While New Orleanians wait on local, state and federal help, volunteers can help pick up the pace of New Orleans' rebuilding. This is a devastating, drawn-out situation right in our own country.

I've seen how much a small group of people can accomplish. Imagine if everyone made an effort.

Sonia Khaleel is a State News copy editor.