A Gospel and Granola Bond - Los Angeles Times

As the village mushroomed, the health tent Stone launched became a full-scale clinic, featuring massage and herbal remedies along with a well-stocked pharmacy. Nearby, the evangelicals set up a "store" to provide free supplies and clothing for storm victims. Everything was donated — another miracle, the Texas volunteers say.

Each day, to keep up the giddy buzz inside the geodesic dome cafe, a Rainbow Family volunteer known as Sister Soup had the whole tent sing "Happy Birthday" to some nonexistent person.

Impromptu concerts occurred most evenings, sometimes when someone just felt like singing. Movie nights focused on comedies, or escapist fare like "Star Wars."

On "Freaky Fridays," Rainbow Family volunteers raided the clothing donation bins and donned the weirdest outfits they could create. That meant burly men in billowing dresses and women in maybe six skirts at once.

"You feel relaxed here," said Betty Celino, who lost almost everything when Katrina swept five feet of water through her house. "Everybody is nice and friendly. Strangers hug you and ask you how your day is and if you need anything."

Celino, 38, looked down at a plate filled with pulled pork, coleslaw, potatoes and something decidedly green. "Plus," Celino said cheerfully, "you get seaweed."

The seaweed made its way to Waveland via Ramona Rubin of the Rainbow Family. When she left Santa Cruz, a woman at the farmers' market there handed her a suitcase to take to Mississippi, filled with lustrous green kelp. Rubin, 28, is now known as Sister Seaweed.

"Very nutritious, helps you to detoxify," she said, spooning a hearty helping onto a diner's plate. She looked up and admitted: "I'm absolutely amazed that people are eating this. There is just this real openness."

With a graduate degree in public health, Rubin also has gathered epidemiological data on hurricane victims, and presented her preliminary findings to a council that included a U.S. Army officer.

"Pretty amazing," she said. "Me and a colonel."

Standing next to her in the lunch service line, Siemon reminded her of another unlikely encounter at Waveland Village.

"The first week we were here," he said, "we had a guy from the Pentagon sitting in a circle with us, chanting 'Om.' It was pretty cool."

Still, the organizers of Waveland Village say it is time to move on. Traditional stores and restaurants are reopening here, and though the landscape remains decimated, a shaky new normality is taking hold.

"Our purpose is not to detract from the local economy," Pete Jones said.

Siemon said he would be returning to his organic farm with far more than he brought to Waveland.

"What have I gained from this? Everything," he said. "I've gained the experience of working with other humans in a wall-less, prejudice-less environment where the sole purpose is to help other humanity.

"That's something not many people get to do."

latimes.com : National News