So it's a year later. Watching films of Katrina and "Year Later" news coverage is not easy. It's so hard to convey the way it makes me feel. The only thing that I can use as an analogy that even resembles it is 9/11. For New Yorkers, the feeling of seeing a huge hole in the skyline has got to be similar to seeing a city you love and are close to completely inundated by water. These are places I have been many, many times. These are streets I have driven down. This is a city in which member of my family have lived and do live. A year later, many things are better than they might have been; many things are not as good as they could be. So, I think that I should break this into more than one post, for the sake of my reading public. haha. This post will be a...collage of what I wrote at the time, of some deeper thoughts in looking back. I'll post later on what I see happening now. I'll do a separate post of pictures. It is very hard to write about this without seeming melodramatic or apathetic. I will try to just be honest about what it was like here, less that 80 miles away, the closest city on the evacuation route, a city also wounded by the storm but trying to help.
August 28th
The day after my 27th birthday. I don't feel 27. How is one supposed to feel at 27? I still feel 20 and unsure of myself so much of the time. At any rate, my sister and her friends (some of whom are on the basketball team I coach) spent the last two weeks planning a surprise party for me that was held during youth group tonight. They were upset that more people couldn't come--they invited a ton--because Katrina is now headed our way. In fact, it started wind-ing and raining during youth. This one is big--N.O. has been evacuating since yesterday, today they're under a mandatory evacuation.
No one really thought the storm would be as dangerous as it was. After all, most of the people there have grown up weathering storms in the city without evacuation. Why should they worry now? The southern Parishes--Plaquemines and St.Bernard--have been steadily emptying the last couple of days. Most New Orleanians probably figure they'll just get stuck on the highway anyway. There aren't many rooms left in Baton Rouge.
At some point Sunday night, I really got into it with some guys on a forum. They were all full of ideas about what ought have been done, and when people ought to have evacuated. They've never even been here.
They have no idea what it's like here--that there's only one way out of south-east Louisiana and it's through New Orleans. A mandatory evacuation too soon would just clog the roads with people doomed to ride out the storm in their cars on the side of the road. And many New Orleanians are like New Yorkers--their identity comes from where they live, they don't want to leave, and kick up a fuss when forced to; it's better to let the southern parishes get out first.
August 29th
The storm started in the night--wind just whipping through the trees. If we had had a tornado, you'd never hear it over the wind that's pummeling everything around. I can't imagine what it's like near the eye. These are just 80ish winds with gusting--155 is hard to comprehend. The power went out early this morning; this afternoon we discovered it's because the line is down. In case you are wondering, it isn't because we didn't look out the windows, it's because with the wind and rain, we couldn't see out the windows.The wind is just fierce--it never stops. This evening it started dieing down. The silence is unnerving. Once you get used to the sound of the wind, not hearing sounds ominous. Power is out all around. Mom is listening to the battery operated radio that all good south-Louisianians have. We just want to hear word of New Orleans. Maw-maw is in Maryland at my aunt and uncle's, but we're worried about her house. Dad picked up her car on his way here Saturday after they shut the oil field in, but we don't know--she lives only two blocks from Lake Pontechartrain and with a storm like this, we're really afraid her neighborhood might have flooded.
It is so hard not to know anything. Sitting in the dark, listening to newscasters who only know what people call in and tell them. One woman called and complained for 20 minutes that her Cox Cable was still out. We were just flabbergasted. Here no one knows if an entire city has managed to survive the storm, and this woman is complaining about her cable being out. Frankly, the rest of the country probably knows more about what's happening in New Orleans than we do.
August 30th
This morning we learned that the levees broke. The city is just inundated. We don't know where Tommy is. Danny and Lynn went to Houston, but we haven't heard from Tommy at all. We don't even know where exactly the flooding is. We heard that French Quarter and Chalmette is flooded. We aren't sure about Bywater.
Later. From what we're hearing, not only is Metarie flooded (thanks to the 17th Street canal levee, etc.), but the 9th ward is flooded, too. I'm sure he evacuated, but without word. . . .There's no power anywhere, trees over roads, all of St. Bernard and Plaquemines parishes are under water. St. Tammany may be, but nobody has heard since there isn't any communication. All the cell phones are dead and land-lines are gone.
You don't really realize how important cell phones have become until you can't use them. All of these people who managed to grab their cell phones before evacuating, or climbing to the second floor, and it won't do them any good bacause all the towers are gone. Fragile. It's all so fragile.
September 1st
Tommy is in Arkansas, soon to be in North Carolina. My whole family breathed a collective sigh of relief.
September 2nd
My brother and sister and I went to a movie tonight. We've been sharing a two-bedroom, one bath trailer with a couple we vaguely know who evacuated Slidell (their house is on the north shore of Lake Pontechartrain). There is a lot of news watching--basically all the time--and I just can't take it anymore. My heart is so sickened at what people are having to endure. I'm just so overwhelmed. I needed a movie. I feel so selfish wishing for power; complaining at having to share this trailer with practical strangers. At least we have that. At least we have our own home to return to once the power goes back on. But I can't help it. Human nature winning over better impulses. I can't even imagine what it would be like to share to shelter with thousands of complete strangers; to only own a masked off square and the clothes on my back. Even for those who have homes to return to, I can't imagine the frustration of knowing that everything you own is in a flooded house that you won't be able to get back to for at least a month. Today was the day I boiled over. I reached the end of my heart. Watching these people go through another day of heat and confusion and desperation was too much for me. I stood in the shower this morning and just sobbed. What really kills me is the should-have-dones and the would-have-dones. Right. Because standing outside is just like being there. Everyone, looking back or in, has the best vision, the best plan, the best strategy.
I understand that for many people conjecturing and proclamating is the only way they can process what they are seeing. But it just makes me angry--especially when the people yipping have no idea what's really going on and who we really are. You know, the people who think Louisiana= bayous and moss, and New Orleans=Bourbon Street and jazz. It seems to be a sickness of sorts: nobody jumps on the downed cities and leaders of other places when disasters happen, but when it happens here the fault is obviously because we're stupid and don't plan anything. Of course, my response is to want to curl up in a whole, watch the news, and cry.
I've discovered through this that the news media, even to a certain extent the local news media, is like a pack that jumps on a wounded animal. There is some kind of perverse pleasure gained from only showing the bad angle, the mistake, the bad judgment call, the consequences of not planning for whatever minute detail they think should have been planned for. It would, in many ways, be much different had this not been a natural disaster. Then there would be some type of excuse, I guess. it is jsut so disheartening, though, to see the "kick 'em while they're down" attitude. Perhaps if you aren't from here, you couldn't see it so well. Instead you would see the look of sorrow and pity while a somber newscaster listed the horrible atrocities that were or might be occurring. But think about it: how many times did you hear about ineptness and then ensuing personal disasters, as opposed to things that did go right and would have gone right had the levees not broken. What few realize is that New Orleans did survive the storm. The pumps kept the city from flooding throughout the storm. Forseeing the levee breaks was beyond the powers of anyone concerned, so newscasters and others can sit around and preach what they would have done had they been there, but in reality, they would have done the same thing because they aren't psychic either.
September 4th
It appears that Tommy's house is definitely flooded. We heard that Metarie and Kenner are "drying up." That pretty much means that Maw-maw's house has had water in it. The question is how much. My aunt and uncle keep bugging Dad about them coming down with Maw-maw to check things out, etc. Dad keeps telling them there isn't anything we can do right now anyway. And no-one is going to be let in unless they have a Jefferson Parish i.d., so what exactly is the point? Plus, there isn't any power. I think it really bothers Dad that he's trying to help keep Maw-maw out of the worry zone and Ted and Lisa aren't helping. LIke any of us need the hassle of family arguments right now. Danny and Lynn have decided to go back to Maryland for now--hopefully he can get into a college up there to finish out the semester.
It seems to me that people's ideas of what has happened are either hyperbolic or understated. Either they have no idea the magnitude of the disaster, or they think it was the Apocalypse and riots of murderous gansters are roving through the waters taking over everything. Can I find someone to blame for that? Probably not. I have a feeling that a large part of that is that people often hear/see what they do through their own desired perceptions. Ted and Lisa want to believe that this was no big deal and Maw-maw will just have to air things out abit and then she'll be able to come home, so that's what they hear. After two rather long conversations, I still don't think Dad has convinced them how wrong they are.
September 6th
Well. Yesterday my siblings and I went to help out at a shelter here. We played with kids so parents could catch a break. I have so much respect for the people in this shelter. They've got nothing--many are from the inner city--yet you can see the hope and new-found pride they have. The realization that so many people want to help them has made an impact in their lives.
I was talking to a friend the other day (who was very glad that every one in my family was okay) and noting how so many poor black people have been robbed by their own "leaders." For so long they've been told that they deserve the government's help, that any problems they have are not their fault and the goverment should fix them, instead of being taught how to pick themselves up and make their own way. Now I know there are poor of all ethnicities, and many of them don't do for themselves as they ought--but black leaders have spent years crippling their own people with this dogma. Now, in a time a terrible disaster, all many of them know to do is just wait for the government. Not all, though. My favourite story is of a black man who saw an empty 18-wheeler sitting by the road, "commandeered" it, loaded as many people as he could into the back of it, and drove to Baton Rouge. That's leadership. Like he said, he knows you aren't supposed to steal a truck, but he had to start getting people out. And that if the owners wanted to get the truck back, it was right here at the gas station, they didn't need it anymore.
I continue to get so angry with the media footage--how many times can they show the same exact footage of the same looters? And you know what--most of the people are just taking food and necessities, why continuously show the ones who aren't? Why not show people grabbing water and sharing it with others over and over? Why not show the footage of volunteers with boats helping old ladies off of balocnies over and over? Why not show the 4,000 National Guard troops that have been there since the day of the storm helping people? Why do they always have to show the bad stuff over and over? Why do they only talk about the problems over and over? suddenly the media illness that has plagued the troops in Iraq (lets talk about dead bodies instead of troops helping and being helped) has struck here. I'm ranting a little I know. I'm just fed up.
September 8th
God bless every single person around this country who has given money, goods, and time to the people here and on the Gulf Coast. Americans are so giving. So giving.
Remember what I said earlier about stubborn New Orleanians? Notice that even now there are about 10,000 people who have refused to leave though given several chances. Nagan is pushing for a forced evacuation to prevent disease from breaking out. The water in the city. . .well, you only have to see a couple of pictures to figure it out. Search and resue is beginning to become body recovery, mainly on the gulf coast. The National Guard is still picking people off of roofs.
I have never ceased to be astonished and heart warmed by the massive influx of people with boats who rushed to the city to help rescue people. This is what humanity can be capable of when given grace. I watched the most unlikely heroes help families and individuals off of roofs and out of attics with no thoughts of race or economics. That is beautiful, and that is what we ought to be seeing more of. That is what brings me to my knees thinking about it every time.
September 10
We have power in our house again, thanks to some electric workers from Arkansas. They put up a new pole, restrung our line, and fixed the transformer. Bless them.
October 17
Two Saturdays ago I helped people from the shelters register at the FEMA trailer park in Baker, Louisiana. After five weeks in shelters, these people were ready to have their own space, even if it is just a travel trailer. There were, of course, a few people who were unsatisfied with anything they have been offered--finding fault in the trailer, wanting something different--but that is to be expected, really. For many, they are so frustrated with everything that they just don't feel like being nice about anything. And then there are just those who are never grateful no matter what happens to them. But for the most part, people were just genuinely happy to have something that is theirs--a space for them and their families, some privacy most of all. Some of these people were just heartbreakers--many people, including blacks (regardless of media frenzy), had to leave behind middle class jobs and middle class houses, decent schools for their kids--not that the losses of porr people are less dark for them, but somehow seeing a family used to a roomy house, people who had jobs to go to where they were useful, relegated to travel trailers was really hard. Maybe that makes me a classist, I don't know. Of course, I get very bothered by the media attention on only poor blacks. I'm not trying to deny that there is a segment of New Orleanian population that is poverty stricken, and that much of that population is black. That's true. The problem is it does such a disservice to the many--and I mean many--working class and upper class black families that have lost everything. You'd think black "leaders" would want to show the tragic losses of succesful black families instead of characaturing all black in N.O. as poor. But then, I suppose I'm execting too much. It's just irresponsible to ignore a large segment of the population as though their losses aren't important. Some of the greatest destruction was in working class and upper class subdivisions--where not only white, but asian and black families lived. And regardless of what the media seems to think, these losses are the worst for N.O. After all, these people live in these neighborhoods because they own businesses there. They are the employers of the city. Anyway, enough of my little rant. The poverty of N.O. is a terrible reality, but it isn't the only part of reality, either.
My parents went to check on my grandmother's house. It had had baout 2 and half feet of water or so in it. It won't need to be gutted, but it will need extensive work; and, she will need all new furniture. They also drove through the neighborhoods where they grew up (both of my parents grew up in N.O.). Dad said it was like a plague movie. Everything is dead--trees, grass. He said there weren't any cats or dogs, very few squirrels (which is really bizarre) and almost no birds. The water line on the house where my dad grew up in Gentily was just over the eaves--this is a house up on about three feet of pilings (like most houses there). The "no people, no pets" designation was spray painted on the top of the gable--because that's where the boat was when they got there to hack open the roof. The house had just been purchased and renovated by a young man for his soon-to-be wife. Now everything is gone, covered in mildew and bold. The house my great-grandmother used to live in is almost as bad--it was about a foot higher than my grandmother's old house. He said they drove through Lakeview and Bucktown--everything is covered in inches of mildew and dust. He said he seriously expected zombies to start appearing from behind the houses. Everything was just a bleak wasteland.
When I drove through New Orleans later, and Slidell, it was so surreal. The only way to conceivable describe the way it felt to me was to say that it seemed like everyone had suddenly vanished about ten years before. Like, "poof," they had just disappeared and left the city abandoned, that it had sat empty for years, and just now a few people were daring to return. Even that doesn't really catch it. It's the time factor. What I saw felt like it had happened over years--years--but it had happened in mere days. The creepiest of all was something my dad told me once he had returned to work. He drives up the west side of the Mississippi river from Venice, La., and crosses the river to go through New Orleans (that's the hurricane evacuation route for the southern parishes, as well). I don't know if any of you have ever seen a picture of New Orleans at night. It's beautiful--the curve of the river is so full of lights. I'll try to find a picture for you. He was coming back early in the morning, around 4, so it was dark outside. This time, he drove over the bridge to nothing. The city was completely dark. He said it was the most unsettling thing he had experienced in a long time.
I know this was a long post. But it was the best I could do. There is so much in my head and heart that I can't express. Perhaps more will come out later. I think it's very important for people to read what residents and neighbors went through--get a rounded picture. I'm out of words for now.
For some local news stories:
The Baton Rouge Advocate
http://www.nola.com