I lost everything in an Aug. 31, 2018 fire at Hopkins Apartments on Capitol Hill, which completely gutted my unit.
“The cat that I was babysitting saved my life, seriously,” I told the Hill Rag at the time. “Otherwise, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”
I was asleep on the couch at home that Friday. The cat woke me up by gently clawing my neck and chest. I couldn’t see anything through the haze while lying there. It only got worse when I plunged into thick smoke as I stood up. Realizing my apartment was on fire, I ran out. But the cat didn’t follow me. Once I noticed, I ran back into where the fire was. It was filled with so much black smoke that I had to feel my way around. I felt the cat by my foot, reached out to grab it, and made my way out as I was gasping to breathe.
The D.C. Fire and Emergency Medical Services were on their way to put out the fire but the two fire trucks collided into each other. Blocks away from where we needed them, one of the trucks jumped a curb and crashed into someone’s front yard.
When they finally arrived, the paramedics found me unconscious in a stairwell, lying there with the cat. They later told me they had to revive me twice. My memory is unclear, but I believe it based on how my ribcage ached. People tell me that I am lucky my ribs were not cracked or broken when the paramedics pumped my chest during their rescue efforts. I’m glad that I’m alive and I thank God every day that I am still here.
The cause of the fire was ruled as “undetermined,” according to D.C. Fire and EMS. It completely gutted my apartment and temporarily displaced tenants from four other apartments due to the smoke and water damage.
I want to share with all the readers of Street Sense the insight, wisdom, and courage that I inherited from this tragedy. I want to help anyone who has gone through hardships and loss to the point of giving up.
I lost much more than physical possessions
I gave a lot to that community. I was the president of the Hopkins Resident Council and a resident in the complex for over four years. I spearheaded programs to contribute to the growth and strength of our neighbors. Shortly after moving to Hopkins, I formed a team of children to help keep the community clean and free of debris. We started meeting on Sundays as the “Green Clean Up Team” to pick up litter in the neighborhood. With this same group of youth, in the small living room of my apartment, I started a 4-H Club, a book club, a cooking club, and a poetry-writing group that collaborated with visual artists, dance, and drumming. The youth loved it. They started inviting other youths to come to “Ms. Abby’s,” which is what they started calling me.
I was able to form a partnership with the 11th Street Bridge Project and the University of the District of Columbia (UDC) to pilot a community garden project. I got the residents engaged in planting kale, tomatoes, corn, turnips, okra, cabbage, herbs, and fruit trees. The garden boxes were painted by groups of community children with the assistance of an internationally known artist, Rafiki Morris. These were all efforts to foster positive activities and healthy habits in the community.
The passion grew in me to provide a free summer meal program to the children, so I took an all-day food-handling certification class and passed. As I went through the course, I was inspired to bring the certificate opportunity to other community residents to help them get employment or start their own food-service businesses. If nothing else, the credential usually gives you an advantage when applying for restaurant jobs. I persuaded UDC to offer free food-handling classes to Hopkins residents.
You have to offer programs that will truly empower people in your community. Programs that both educate and lead to employment. I refused to listen to others who said that the residents did not want to work for themselves and would not show up if we provided a resource like this. Well, let me tell you that more people than could fit in the class arrived early, and all but one passed the exam.
After all that, I saw my life turn to dust. I lost everything. Yes, I miss some of my belongings: the gowns that I wore in the American Classic Woman of the Year Pageant, for which I was second runner up in 2017; my classic LPs; and my collection of African art. But what I really mourned was the loss of irreplaceable items: a video of my now-grown daughter experiencing snow for the first time, baby pictures of her and her brother, and photos of my great-great grandparents.
I also lost all the video footage of my poetry performances at The Kaffa House where I founded The Poet’s Den, an open-mic platform for spoken-word artists, musicians, storytellers, and playwrights from the age of 5 to 95. A review in the Washington Post once said Kaffa House was “where the underground poetry scene in D.C. began.”
The Kaffa House has long been closed but The Poet’s Den, like me, lives on. There are still venues that want The Poet’s Den vibes and, when asked, I bring together some great poets of all ages to present a culturally stimulating, musical, and poetic storytelling program. I’ve brought together artists from the D.C. metro area and beyond. Poets have come in from Atlanta, Chicago, St. Louis, Memphis, and other cities. Some even came from as far as Africa and Europe. Over the years, this incredible project has been featured in Howard University newspaper, the Washington Informer, the Washington Sun (whose last stories were published in 2018), the Metro Herald (which shut down in 2018), the Afro, and many more. I used to have clippings from every single article. While some were lost, others survived the fire because, thankfully, I didn’t save all of them in the same photobook.
That apartment was my home and it contained a lifetime of memories. I thought I was safe and secure, but I had become homeless.
Help from my community
Kelly Waud, an ANC commissioner at the time who I had worked with before, was a life saver. She set up a GoFundMe page to help when the District of Columbia Housing Authority (DCHA), which owns the Hopkins Apartments, said they could no longer pay for my hotel lodging.
[Editor’s note: When asked about the fire, and resources provided to tenants in its wake, DCHA said “The District of Columbia Housing Authority does not comment on personal information of any of its customers. In general, when a unit is affected by fire, the customer is housed by the authority and given a per diem. DCHA offers available units to meet the customer’s family size and needs. If DCHA is found to be responsible for the cause of the fire, as stated by D.C. Fire and Emergency Medical Services professionals, the agency will compensate the customer further, if necessary.”]
“Mama Abena is a staple to Chocolate City. May you find comfort in knowing you are appreciated and loved,” wrote one contributor to the campaign, which raised a total of $6,201.It was because of Mrs. Waud’s call to action and other residents that knew of my community work that I was able to focus on trying to get my affairs in order.. I am at the top of my health now, but after the fire I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which I attribute both to the incident and the stress that was involved when trying unsuccessfully to receive compensation from DCHA for my losses.
I was also diagnosed with a breathing issue because of all the smoke inhalation. I thank God for that GoFundMe, which enabled me to pay for lodging in an Airbnb for a time and to immediately buy some more clothes and shoes to wear. I was without a stable place to call home for five months, which seems like a year when you are living out of two suitcases and constantly moving.
This was so very difficult until a neighbor found me and said she and her husband wanted me to stay with them until I found a place to live.
“You do not know me,” I said.
But their response was simply, “We know of you, and we are here to help you.”
I cried with relief and gratitude that there were people who did not know me and were willing to open their home to me. I tried to give them money, but they would not take it. I now live in Adams Morgan in a very nice community which I happen to love. When I signed the lease and was given a key, I rushed to open the door to sit on the floor and pray as I inhaled blessings and exhaled gratitude. Everything is so very accessible where I live now. I can walk to the grocery store, cleaners, restaurants, and the drug store. Living here, you do not need a car.
When I first moved into my new apartment, I could not sleep in my bed because of the nightmares of the fire and how I narrowly escaped. I felt like if a fire happens, then I will be by the door to escape. I jumped every time I heard a fire siren. It was all so stressful. It was then that I realized that I had not healed from that devastation. I always questioned in the back of my mind, “Is it safe here?” I still talk to many of the residents at Hopkins. I still get calls asking for resources that are needed to help them in their lives, and I still counsel the youth about school and the stress they are feeling with COVID-19 and so many other things. I feel like they are my children too. One mother, Ms. Rachael, revealed to me when I went back that her son cried many times because no one reported to the residents that I had survived. The youth and many others thought that I had died. I loved my community because of the people, and their work with me to make it a better community to live in.
Lessons from my journey
Never give up, even when you really do not know what to expect from day-to-day. I needed to focus on what was most important, and that was rebuilding my health and finding a new home. I had to put everything aside, but I kept writing. I realized that to have a passion for something is essential, it is life-saving mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. That passion to write kept me more focused, and kept me more hopeful for whatever the outcome could be.
During this time of moving from place to place, praying that I would find a new place to live, I started back writing and promised myself I would complete my book of poetry with pictures, “Fire In The Spirit.” And last fall, almost two years to the day of this life-changing tragedy, I published that book. You can find it now on Amazon and Kindle, or get it from me directly to receive a personal autographed copy.
Poetry is therapy. Before all of this happened to me, I was contracted through a D.C.-based healing center to work with cancer patients. While the cancer patients were receiving chemotherapy, I was guiding each one through a healing process using poetry. Healing cannot take place if you cannot talk about your pain. I found that everyone will not be able to talk about it. But if you can get it out of you, whether you talk or write, the healing will begin.
I used that same process on myself and began to write everyday, which was very healing for me. I still have many thoughts and poems that I wrote which are not in the book. Perhaps that will be my next book, which will be focused more on healing. Because I focused on healing through writing, I am much stronger than before. Focusing passionately on your gifts keeps your spirit happy and makes your soul smile. This will keep you on your journey of strengthening your purpose.
I cannot tell a person how to be strong enough to weather the storms. What I am able to share is to let you know that you are never alone. There are always people out there who will assist you, encourage you, inspire you, motivate you and support your healing. But you must stay on your feet and let people into that space that has caused you so much pain, by telling your story.
Seek out those who have experienced what you are going through and call upon those who have seen you consistently doing great works in your community, or even in your own life. Success does not come from what you do occasionally, it comes from what you do consistently. On the other side of a storm is the strength that comes from being navigated through it, not just by yourself, but with the help of others who care. Yes, there will be haters that are happy to see you fail, who have been waiting and hoping one day you will fall down. So many people do love and care about you, don’t focus on the people who do not.
One of those community members who helped me in the wake of the fire I had just met at the time: Allison McGill. But she not only helped me then, we still keep up with each other today. She just drove by to purchase one of my books a couple of weeks ago.
You must be, and remain, fearless in the face of adversity. Never stop learning, use your imagination whenever possible, and remember where you came from — but never lose sight of where you are going. It is during times of pain and loss that being patient is everything. Sometimes you have to go through the worst to get to the best. Give time some time.
I also learned that people who shine from within do not need the spotlight. So, continue to radiate love and light regardless of what you are going through. Always remain thankful and grateful for everything. One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through, and it will be someone else’s light and survival guide.
On every journey in your life, inhale blessings and exhale gratitude. Never be afraid of losing — be more scared of having the wrong people around you while you are winning.
Using your past experiences to help others through their present is the most impactful, inspiring lesson of never giving up. Remember that if money and material things make you believe that you are better than others, then you are the poorest person on earth.
In closing I want you to know that there is a reason for everything. During hard and difficult times, keep pushing forward for the better times. Just maybe, you were assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.
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“Fire in the Spirit” and more information about Abena Disroe are available at
https://iamabenadisroe.godaddysites.com/
Poems by Abena Disroe
A TEAR CLEANSED BY LOVE
A tear fell
Upon my cheek
I tried to hide its presence
Pretend it was not there
A gentle touch
Upon my shoulder
Turned me around
Thoughtful fingers
Held my face
Wiped it away
I felt no disgrace
Tears cleansed by Love
Will remain eternally
Pure
and
Beautiful
DIRECT YOUR THOUGHTS
Direct your thoughts
Nothing negative will be caught
in your mind
at any given time
Focus your energy
that is the key
to gaining success
while being your Best.
THE UNEMPLOYED
Apprehension
Forlorn stares
Is there anyone who cares?
Wait in line
3 to 4 hours time
People gazing with frightened looks
Take a magazine
Why don’t you read a book
Chain Smokers
Polluting the air
Something here
Doesn’t seem quite fair.
I need a job
I’m standing in this mob, of
the unemployed.
The poor asking for more
The professional, a foot in the door.
When does it all end?
Only when the jobless
standing line
becomes thin.
Say AMEN again.
