Carolina Peace - NEW ORLEANS TODAY:

NEW ORLEANS TODAY:

Written by Administrator

Sunday, 27 November 2005

By Melanie Knight
On November 15th, Judy Turnipseed of the Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship in Columbia sent out an emergency e-mail. A couple of evacuees from Hurricane Katrina (who were relocated here) had been told by their landlady that they were being evicted, and their possessions would be thrown out of their apartment by the 18th. Similar evictions are occurring throughout the devastated area. Don Mohr of the UU offered to drive down and salvage as many of their belongings as possible. The UUFC, who had adopted the couple, offered to pay costs. NOLA UU minister Jim Vanderweele helped by gaining entrance and sending pictures of what might be feasible to rescue.

I had wanted to do something to help the people of New Orleans since seeing the horrific pictures on the news. Maybe we couldn't save someone's life, but hopefully we could rescue their memories. I also wanted to document conditions, since the subject seems to have shifted to the back burner as far as the national media and government are concerned.

The following is an account of the journey:

Wednesday is spent in transit, crossing SC, Georgia, and Alabama in a truck with a U-Haul trailer attached. We find out en route that FEMA, which had promised that evacuees could stay in motels for a year, is now telling them they have to be out in TWO WEEKS!

Don: "As incompetent as FEMA is, it's worse than incompetent. It's incompetent and uncaring. I was in a meeting and the guy said 'FEMA is not a social services agency.' Well, you don't need to be a social service agency, but you need to be able to count and figure out what's going on in the real world... In Columbia, we (have between) 500 (to) 700 people left in motels. There is no way anybody is going to be able to relocate these people to permanent apartments, houses, or whatever, in two weeks.... One of the things I hope is that this has got the attention of enough people... (who) are going to begin actively working on fixing things for the homeless
people in Columbia."

On Thursday, after Mobile, we begin seeing the first signs of storm damage: destroyed road signs and billboards. Cars at a dealerships are covered with a weird crud. There are huge piles of debris being mulched to take up less space. The front windows of a Wal-Mart are blown out. It's the only time I've ever seen a deserted Wal-Mart. A woman who works at the visitors center is showing photos of her damaged house: they took 12 feet of water. She comments on the evictions, saying it's a terrible thing.

We cross Lake Pontchartrain on the one remaining half of Highway 10. There are two bridges-one to come and one to go, but one is now missing not only the sides, but in places the road itself, leaving only the upright supports. The remaining bridge has been turned into a two-way road.

We pass lower income neighbourhoods, where there's been a tremendous amount of wind damage-almost all of the roofs are covered with blue tarps. It isn't possible to tell from the road if there's water damage here. We pass condos with similar damage, and destroyed trees. On one roof is the word HELP. Did help come in time?

, the water came up Canal Street. It wasn't deep by the time it got that far, but there was still major flooding. The damage appears to be mostly interior. Long chutes are coming out of windows of most of the buildings, allowing debris to be channeled out. There are people here, but most appear to be construction workers, emergency personnel, and people who work in the

area (hotels, souvenir shoppes, and bars). It's not like a typical day in New Orleans, although I imagine this will be the norm for some time to come. There are a number of signs offering house gutting and other repair services. Lots of blocked streets and emergency vehicles. A couple of military vehicles. There's music playing in the French Quarter, though, wafting out of a corner building. A sign says wi-fi is available.

We arrive at the house, which is located in a section of the Garden District, where there was wind damage, but no flooding. The couple whose possessions we had come for are not rich by any means, but had been allowed to live in a small apartment there at a lower rent, because the woman had been friends with the previous owner (who passed away this year). The house is a camel-back double, and was converted to apartments in the late 1940's. The apt. belonging to our couple had originally been a porch.

At first, we think the electricity is off, but I notice a small electrical light on, and we turn on other lights (and heat-it's FREEZING). The residents had remained through the storm, during which the roof of their bathroom had caved in. There is some mold (a wide-spread problem), and the
place is very musty from being shut up for weeks. An unfinished casserole is on the table. The couple was forced to evacuate quickly, and only allowed to take a plastic shopping bag of possessions with them. They did not know where they were going until they reached Columbia. Jill, the daughter-in-law of the current landlady, says that the government hadn't told anyone where they were going, "because they didn't want them to say, 'Oh, I don't want to go there.'"

We have a list of possessions to pick up, and begin going through the apartment, looking for them. After a while, I feel like a looter-going through cabinets and drawers, picking through someone's possessions for the most important stuff... Although in this case, it's looting FOR the owner, not a crime against them. When I come upon some photos of playful kittens, and an old pet collar, I choke up. I picture what it would be like to be in that situation, and be losing almost everything you had. Not because it was destroyed, but because it couldn't be recovered. I know the lives are the important thing, but it would still be devastating to lose everything that made up one's home, esp. one's family photos (which we DID find and save). I get everything on the list I can find, and throw in some other stuff I hope they'll like getting back: some huge Christmas candles with the 12 Days of X-mas on them, because they'd be spending the holiday away from home, in a strange place. They probably won't feel like celebrating this year, but some day they might. We've been told not to bother taking any of the clothes, as they'll get new ones, but I pick out a tie-dyed robe and scarf, so she'll have a couple of girly things of her own. I want to save it all for them, but it just isn't possible (lack of space and time).

Jill and her husband Richard help us tremendously-first by going to Parasols' and getting us lunch. Richard said when he'd asked them for a veggie po' boy (for me), the restaurant guy had GROWLED at him! Jill, her mother, sister, nephew, and Richard evacuated to Baton Rouge before the storm, and could only get a one-bed hotel room. They had been forced to leave their large dogs behind with a self-feeder and water. I'm afraid to ask what happened to the dogs, and Jill doesn't elaborate.

After the residents had been evacuated, someone had broken in, and used the apt. to store stolen booze-and 6 FOUR-POUND jars of maraschino cherries! The bar down the street, the Rendezvous, identifies the bottles without seeing them, so we know it's theirs. They give me one of the jars of cherries as a finder's fee, although I hadn't technically found them. The tavern lost about $80,000 in merchandise; it isn't all here, but at least they've recovered something.

the heavy lifting to stronger backs. There's a very neighbourhood-y feeling to the area. People from the tavern and pawn shop know the couple we're recovering things for, and ask about them. It's very nice to see a sense of community. The young woman at the pawn shop, originally from Monroe, NC, says her brother works at a school in East New Orleans, and told her this weekend 150 people are coming from different states to clean up the school. "Isn't that nice?" she asks.

You can't get into the 9th Ward, where the heaviest damage was-it's restricted. But we see some of the downtown, lower-income business district, and historic area, as well as some hospitals and Tulane University.

Jill points out the waterlines, several feet from the ground, on the houses we pass. (Later found out--from Dave Lippman, who visited the area a week later--that these are actually subsidence lines. The water went up much higher, then came down to that line and sat until they pumped the city out.) Luckily, many of these houses had second floors, so the people were able to survive. Some people are camped out in houses where there's running water, but no electricity, using camp stoves and car batteries for cooking. There are cars that were swept into the medians by the flood waters, still there. There are piles of rubble, but also appliances and furniture, some still
good. Goodwill is not accepting ANYTHING, and the city isn't doing recycling. There's a tremendous lot of waste going on, but I guess it can't be helped, as there are other things to worry about. Crews are coming through with fork lifts and huge trucks and scooping up the junk; they're telling people to put it away from their homes, in the medians, so the big equipment can get to it without knocking down additional trees or damaging sidewalks.

There are lots of crews, and probably individual owners, at work in protective gear, cleaning and gutting houses and other buildings, and dragging stuff outside. Things are covered in dust... "there's lead pain in there," Jill says, "asbestos." Houses were marked with symbols and letters, esp. TFW, sometimes words like "no pets inside." (Dave: The symbols on the walls are TFW for Toxic Flood Water, the name of the agency inspecting, the number of bodies, and whether they entered or not.) Some people are afraid to do anything until they get insurance money and find out if they can rebuild.

Jill: "The Army or National Guard or whatnot went through and they marked every house, princes and paupers alike. With the dates that they went through and if they found any people alive who had to be evacuated, anybody that had an animal, and they spray painted it on all the front doors or side porches or what-have-you." Some have cleaned it off or painted over it. If
not, it usually means somebody's not living there.

The areas where the canals broke and there was a lot of flooding are empty of people. Electricity has not been restored there, and gas and water have been cut off. Jill says it's partly because the government doesn't want squatters in there, and partly because they're worried about fires if there's a gas leak. She hasn't been out there. Whole neighbourhoods by the lake are "completely blotto."

More businesses are open now. "For a while, the only thing that was open was Walgreen's, and it was very short hours." We pass a hospital that's open (Truro Infirmary?). Memorial Baptist is in an area that was flooded, and is still closed. They start with the least damaged building, and open that first. A lot of medical offices were flooded. The street cars aren't running at present, as there's crud all over the tracks, and there aren't enough people to work on that now. No public schools in the parish are open. Some of the private ones have reopened. On the other side of the river (still NOLA), none of the schools were flooded, and they could have been opened, but the school board is fighting over who's got the say-so to do what. You see signs now saying "we're open" or opening on such-and-such a date. More traffic lights are working (at least blinking) now than 2 weeks ago. There are fewer people running red lights now. Some roads are blocked, often with heavy machinery, so it was hard getting around.

Jill's daughter was at Tulane Univ. (about a block and a half from the apt.), where there was flooding, but she was in an upper room in the student housing, so she was okay. The lower floor took about 6 feet of water. "This was not nature damage," Jill says, "this is man-made damage, because they're going into it and they're finding that the levees were not built they way they were supposed to have been." Her daughter's roommate had to go and rescue equipment from the art studio. Some buildings flooded, and others didn't. Students had to come back and get their stuff by a certain date, so crews could go through and clean things, so the school can be opened in January. The daughter is out in NM right now. She came back two weeks ago to see what it was like. Jill says that "two or three days just gets you in shock mode. After you've been here a little bit longer, and you see the parts of the city that are doing better, then you figure, 'I can handle this.' And it's pretty intensive when you first come in." She calls New Orleans "a city of blue roofs."

Some people are living in city parks, camping out. Some people are collecting trash and taking it to where it's being dumped. Out by the lake, they have a park that's got piles of trash 30 or 40 feet high. Two weeks ago, there were public clean-ups advertised in the newspaper: come out,
bring your rakes, brooms, trash bags, because businesses wanted to re-open, and couldn't with all the trash that was out. It's more than aesthetics and convenience: it's important to prevent rats and mold.

Jill: "I watch the hour-long newscasts at night, because they've expanded some of the stations. It's like picking at a scab. It makes me cry. I just get real emotional. I'll read stuff in the paper and it's crazy. (It messes) with everybody's head, even if you weren't sitting there, watching the water rise. That must have been truly horrible."

I want to ask more questions of more people, but there just isn't time. I'm grateful for the opportunity to help out. Just wish I could do more.

According to USA TODAY, 6644 people are still unaccounted for after Hurricane Katrina. The death toll could be much higher than the 1306 recorded so far in Louisiana and Mississippi. More than a month after the official search was called off, the death toll in Louisiana has risen by 104, as returning families in the New Orleans area continue to find bodies, many of elderly people who sought refuge in their attics and upper floors of their homes in the 9th Ward. The decision to end the official search has triggered harsh criticism. Sheriff Jack Stephens of St. Bernard Parish says some of the most heavily damaged areas were never completely searched. Hurricane Katrina struck the Gulf Coast on August 29th.

See www.commongroundrelief.org for information on relief efforts. Common Ground is a local, community-run organization offering assistance, mutual aid, and support to NOLA communities that have been historically neglected and underserved. Their mission is to provide short-term relief for Gulf Coast hurricane victims, and long-term support in rebuilding the communities, with input from the members of the affected communities. Their work aims to give hope and stability to communities by working with them, providing materials, money, information, and people working together to rebuild their lives in just and sustainable ways.

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3.25 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."