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On September 10 Joan Clingan and Frank Cardamone left for Texas and Louisiana to join the Food Not Bombs efforts in Baton Rouge and help where they can. They are driving a donated van carrying more donations, all to be left with those who have lost their homes.
To read about the return visit in June 2006, please go here:
2006 Visit—June 13 - 27, 2006
September 25, 2005
September 24, 2005
September 23, 2005
September 22, 2005
September 21, 2005
September 20, 2005
September 19, 2005
September 18, 2005
Week 1, September 8 - 16, 2005
September 25, 2005, 4:30 p.m.—Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a plane. Solomon and Iris just dropped us off at the airport in their new Plymouth Voyager. We have given away everything that was sent with us and used all of the cash donations to get the van here and provide needed supplies to folks, and we are on our way home empty handed and full of heart.
When we talk about what we can write here about these two weeks and the people we have met, we keep coming to the same conclusion—there just aren’t words to express what this journey has been like or has meant to us. It feels incredible to have made a little difference in the lives of a few folks here. And it is overwhelming to consider some of the contradictions and injustices we have observed as the people of our nation seem so united in our desire to help. But the sense of gratitude and appreciation we feel is as enormous as are our feelings of bewilderment and sorrow and sadness at saying goodbye. So rather than try to explain, we will share stories as we let our hearts and thoughts simmer and brew for a while.
The last two days were more of the same kinds of services of running errands and doing small favors and of course providing juggling lessons to the kids and ears to anyone who wants that. There continue to be folks coming in from Katrina as well as new folks from Rita. Yesterday two different single men came with stories of spending the last three weeks on the streets trying to get here. Each had stories of families who were unresponsive to their needs—one had an aunt who told him that if he had only told her earlier she could have made arrangements for him to stay there; the other had a brother who said that he had messed up again by living in a neighborhood that flooded. Each walked and hitchhiked over the past three weeks to find themselves now here at Bethany. And each was welcomed by the other residents, spaces made, beds created, and lots of willing folks to sit and listen as they shared about their journeys.
Two weeks of juggling has resulted in a number of kids who are really good and are also teaching each other. Frankie left sets of balls with those kids who were most interested and we imagine some will continue on as lifetime jugglers. Jordan and Ryan, cousins of around 16 or 17, started just a couple of days ago. Jordan took to it immediately and has been practicing a lot. Last night Frankie taught him to pass, which he also took right to. He and Ryan are going to keep working on it and will soon be passing with each other. Troyanna, who is around 10 or 12, has been juggling now since the first few days after we arrived. She was very happy to receive a set of Koosh balls to keep. It’s fun to come back every day and see kids juggling all around the room, or have lots of kids run up to Frank yelling “Juggling man, can we juggle now?”
One of our colleagues in this lovely service is a young man named IV (pronounced ivy, as he is Archie the IV) who came here from California shortly after the hurricane and has been living in the shelter throughout this time. His calm and loving presence has been a real gift to us as it has been to many of the residents here—he talks of his purpose and doing whatever is needed and holding a place of peace and loving (based on his own personal spiritual beliefs about service). Another young man, and somehow we never exchanged names, has also been living here in the shelter and volunteering his service. He had been traveling when the hurricane struck, but New Orleans was his home, so he returned to help. He is the person who made sure everyone had mattresses the night all the new Rita evacuees arrived. As has been true for us, these two young men work hard to hold onto their sense of service and be here for those in need, while not getting in the way of the order of the CityTeam folks. No one wants to create any conflict in any way, so it was a fine balance to do what is right for the evacuees and stay out of the way of the disaster relief team and keep up with the rules so we would not unknowingly break any.
Now that we have left the shelter we’ve had a chance to look up Bethany Church and the CityTeam. There is information there about the work of CityTeam; apparently they are there to provide counseling, education, help find housing, and on and on. Although we didn’t witness that, we hope that it is happening somehow. There is also info on Bethany’s page about the work the church is doing and also the work of CityTeam. Over the next weeks once we are home we will figure out exactly how we can continue to assist the folks we met at Bethany. Please come back here for more information on how you can help to provide direct support to the folks staying there.
This morning we joined many of the shelter residents at Bethany’s Sunday service. The pastor talked about the work they are doing around the world and listed the number of folks who have been converted to Christianity by their network of churches and missionaries this year—400,000 people in an unidentified Arab country; 500,000 people in China; 30,000 in India; and 1,200 new Baptist Churches have been "planted" in the world. After they took up their collection—we were told that this is a 10,000 person congregation and looked to us like the auditorium was 60-75% filled to capacity—the pastor said in great joy that every penny collected today will be going to support the church’s missionary work. It was very painful to hear this and to remain seated. Our personal spiritual beliefs have always supported any faith or process that keeps one focused on a positive relationship with spirit, God, nature, or whatever one identifies as the connection to life and goodness. We support everyone’s rights to their spiritual beliefs; our own church is ecumenical and includes folks from all over the world of all faiths, so we certainly support the choices of those who participate in this faith at Bethany. Yet it was very painful to hear that every penny of the money collected by this church is going to be used to convert Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus to Christianity, while there are 300 people sleeping on filthy, wet, dumpster mattresses over in the church’s school-cafeteria three hundred feet from where we sat. We know this church has given a lot to help, and we have seen some of the leaders of the church working right in the shelter. We can imagine that it is costing them money to house and feed folks here. But from this 10,000 person congregation, in our two weeks we only met three members of the congregation who were volunteering there. We see almost no evidence of any real services being provided to the residents other than food, two phone lines for local calls, and a morning clinic (that writes but does not fill prescriptions). We did not see any demonstration of concern following the flooding the night of Hurricane Rita that many of the residents are now sleeping on wet mattresses and their belongings are sitting in wet cardboard boxes. The CityTeam and Bethany folks just watched us as we worked to clean and dry out the huge cardboard boxes now filled with wet toys.
We have been talking about how different it would be if an organization like the Heartfelt Foundation was here working one-on-one with evacuees. This morning we got a message from someone at Heartfelt saying they want to connect directly to families who need help and are being overlooked. We are thrilled that perhaps we can connect them and others in our lives and communities with the people in Bethany. Again, please come back here after we are home again as we will be organizing ways that all of us/you can provide some of the direct assistance needed by the individuals in private, non-Red Cross shelters like this one at Bethany.
After the church service we said our goodbyes to those families and individuals who we made strong connections with. We gave them our contact information and took cell phone numbers from those who have them. It was very hard to leave knowing they cannot leave, they don’t know when they will be able to leave, and when they do it won’t be to return to their previous homes and communities. To use the word home—as in, “We’re going home now”—was painful.
One of the last things we did was to talk to Solomon and Iris, a couple with two children who have been there for several weeks, and the only ones we met there who are without a vehicle, and tell them that we would be leaving the van with them. It was an incredible blessing to be able to provide this well-loved family van to its new family. Solomon has been walking the streets looking for work and a place to move his family and they can now look for a home together and he can more easily seek work.
That’s the end of this part of our journey. We finally saw Red Cross volunteers in massive numbers—they were here at the airports in Baton Rouge and Houston, Texas. Oh well. There is more to come. This story won’t be over until every resident of Louisiana and Texas are in homes and jobs again. Please keep that desire you have to help strong in your hearts, and please take clear and direct action to help. There is a lot to do!! We’ve only just begun our journey.
With immense gratitude for this opportunity,
Frank and Joan
top of pageSeptember 24, 2005, noon—A storm unlike anything we’ve experienced in Arizona began two nights ago and has continued day and night bringing down rain close to Prescott’s annual rainfall totals. Locals are calling this “beyond bizarre” and “unlike any weather I’ve ever seen in my life in this area” referring to the back to back high intensity hurricanes and the levees being breached and topped. We are grateful to have been able to sleep in the shelter as there would have been no chance to have a window open even a crack during the night.
It was a most interesting night. As we settled down in a huge room with a couple hundred people on mattresses on the floor, we told ourselves to think of it as a meditation retreat. We were so exhausted that within minutes we were asleep but in a half sleep listening to extreme winds and rain all night. At around 2:00 a.m. we were awoken by a burst of activity and talking only to discover that the power was out and that the shelter had taken on major water. About a quarter of the room was flooded with a few inches of water that had blown in the back door. About twenty or so folks had to move as their beds were now in the water. It was another one of those amazing moments where dozens of folks just jumped up and got brooms and buckets and mops and did whatever it took to get the water out, call the fire department to bring in sandbags, and move folks from the flooded area.
The parking lot outside between shelter two and shelter three had also flooded and created a huge lake. Lots of folks (including us) had to go out in the storm and move our vehicles to the other side of the church.
Because the power was out the air conditioning was off, which meant high heat and humidity, and although the majority of the water was out of the building, the whole room soon became wet. Here these folks were again with everything they owned getting wet, and yet they were laughing and making jokes and offering to help anyone who needed it. Giving each other dry sheets and blankets and moving belongings. At around three a.m. one of the men who hadn’t noticed that we were sleeping here saw us and called out to the room, "Hey, the store lady’s here. Does anyone need any potato chips? Cough drops?”
We have a flight home tomorrow night and will spend our last two days saying goodbyes and offering support. (We’ll be back in our tent tonight to enjoy more of Rita’s winds.) There is one family here who does not have a vehicle. The first day we arrived as we were asking if there was anything we could do, the father, Solomon, said “Yes, you can get me a car and a home.” We are looking forward to being able to leave the Cook-Menefee minivan with Solomon and Iris and their children tomorrow.
Peace,
Joan and Frank
September 25
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September 23, 2005, 7:00 a.m.—The wind was really beautiful all night long—a mixed blessing since this lovely wind here means that the hurricane is getting closer to doing her thing on land. Today should be our last day if our flight goes out as planned tomorrow.
10:00 a.m.—We learned early today that all flights out of Baton Rouge tomorrow have been canceled, so we’re here until further notice and likely can fly out on Sunday or Monday. We don’t have access to news right now as internet access is now as inconsistent as cell phones have been. It’s hard to know that flooding is happening again in New Orleans and not have much of a sense of whether folks are there or not. We were able to reach colleagues and we know that the AZ FNB group has left NO for the duration.
11:00 p.m.—Tonight as Baton Rouge experiences a tropical storm, and people all around the country are watching to learn what exactly Rita will decide to do, we (along with our air mattress, sleeping bags, and pillows) have joined displaced residents of New Orleans in a spot on the floor at Bethany Church. The welcome has been very gracious and we have received offers for clean sheets or to move beds or otherwise help. Of course, we only want a space under the roof, and don’t want to take anything from anyone here. Yet their offers are so heartfelt it seems like it would have been more appropriate to say yes, even though we felt that we needed nothing.
We have grown a bit weary of and saddened by the disaster relief team from CityTeam Ministries because it is so unclear what their purpose is and there is so little evidence of an intention of service. They seem very good at maintaining control, and the word “authority” is used here far more than we’ve ever experienced it. For example when a question about where we had set up our bed came up (in the spot in “shelter two” as we were told to do by a brother from the church), the folks from CityTeam wanted to sign us in as emergency evacuees and move us to the gym; but they did it with an air of command and told us they were answering to a higher authority. We don’t know what that meant as frequent deferrals to God’s authority and will are the call of the day here. A strained power struggle arises as soon as any shelter resident has a question for the CityTeam people, complete with sudden reference to or deference to authority. There is a sense of policing and power that feels to us far more militaristic than anything we experienced from the Oregon National Guard in the ninth ward. (The brother who told us to stay in the shelter came by at that point and we were allowed to stay where we were.)
One of the jobs we have done here has been to staff the supply station where folks can come and ask for toiletries or other necessities (still badly in need of new clothes and shoes if you’re so inspired). When we arrived there was a resident of the shelter helping some Katrina evacuees who had just arrived (15 more since yesterday). She apologized repeatedly and kept telling us that she was asked by Brother Foster to do this. She was clearly concerned about being reprimanded and it took us several times of telling her that we are not with the group who is “managing” this before she relaxed and began to chat with us.
The gymnasium has once again become living quarters, as folks from the border area of Louisiana and Texas have come here seeking shelter from Rita. Those folks (given red wrist bands) have been told that they cannot come into shelter two—where the supplies and cafeteria are; likewise, residents of the shelter (who have been wearing green wrist bands for three weeks) were told they can no longer go into the gym—which is the space where the locker rooms/showers and bathrooms are. There is confusion and frustration. The new short term residents have not been given any mattresses or bedding, but rather were told they could only come in if they had bedding. We asked Mike, the person from CityTeam who seems to be in charge, if they could get mattresses and were told that the “short term residents” were not being served in the same way as the long term residents and that besides the mattresses had already been all picked through. It was hard to understand, but everyone just accepts these decisions as being from an authority. One three-week resident of the shelter took it upon himself to go around this authority and he asked long term residents if they’d be willing to give up any second mattresses for a night or two; of course enough mattresses became available to provide them to all the new folks.
Although there are horrible conditions here and we feel so for these folks who will be here or otherwise displaced for months or years, they are in the most amazing spirits. We are blessed beyond words to be among this group of people. As is true of any crisis, this one has brought out the worst of some folks and the very best of most. The joy and humor is delightful. Laughter abounds about holidays to come that may be in this auditorium or may be in a mobile home in hurricane territory—and where they can go to get a fried turkey delivered here. We hope that our humor, joy, and faith will sustain us in any crisis we might ever face, and if we lose sight of it we will recall these days here and the inspiration we have been privileged to witness.
This day that ended in such a place of peace began with us listening to a very different perspective from those we have been hearing from displaced New Orleanians in the shelter, or returning residents in the ninth ward, or any of the miscellaneous folks around here talking about their efforts to escape or provide relief for the effects of Hurricane Katrina or the following floods. We began this morning at 7:00 a.m. at Farr Park campground, outside of the showers and laundry room, listening to a racist rant from someone who, like many of us in the US, “has never been one to be prejudiced, but…”
As she was telling us where she lived and about the condition of her home (St. Bernard Parish, first floor flooded), she talked about downtown New Orleans before the hurricane as being a place running with wild animals and where she would never go and put her life in her hands. She said that it is dangerous and filled with criminals. Of course she was talking to us about a place we love and come to every year to celebrate and immerse ourselves in a wonderfully diverse and vibrant culture; the only times we’ve ever felt at all unsafe were around drunk tourists if we had to cross over Bourbon Street at night. She talked about Mayor Nagin’s comment that his people are being tattooed and she said “His people should be tattooed, and strung together, and locked in a cage.” It was unreal to listen to this and to see how old and ingrained her feelings were. Although difficult, we felt it would be important to hear a perspective so different from our own, so we listened and asked thoughtful questions when we could.
She presented her experience of getting out of New Orleans. She, like most folks around here, had not evacuated in years past as the hurricanes always just miss New Orleans, so they’ve learned to ignore the warnings, but rather go to hotels and make a big party out of it. This time she stayed in a hotel where a relative worked and like others got trapped there once the flooding began. This time, it was black folks who decided to make a party out of the wait in this hotel and partied loudly throughout the nights. Now, even though she’s not prejudiced, she will never stay again since she has seen what monsters these people are. One of the most often spoken phrases we hear from white folks here is “Oh, I know, it’s not all of them.” Yet there is no chance that they will see that any group of folks is going to have all kinds—as Jeanne Cashin always says, ten percent of any group is crazy and sometimes more—or that they would care to critically examine why there is a larger percentage of poverty and crime among black people in the United States than there is among some other ethnic groups. As we look into these unmindful faces, feeling completely lost at how ingrained this thinking is in our country, we want to offer a reading assignment of Richard Wright’s Native Son, or at least the defense arguments. That our country has created and encourages this oppressive social structure and yet takes no responsibility for it—oh we know, it’s not all of us—is disgraceful.
As she talked two of the workers from the campground came over—working class women of color—the tone changed dramatically. Not the story, just the tone. She told of her days in the hotel and the kids with guns running wild and taking boats out and returning with alcohol and DVD players from Wal-Mart (and we asked if they ever approached them in any way—no they did not) and of her fear for her life and the red SOS on a sheet her husband hung out the window and their family’s escape at dawn from the roof of the hotel. She told of going to an RV dealership and getting instant credit and driving away with a new truck and a new RV (with a GIS system so she could take back streets and avoid the crowds leaving the area) and how she found a beautiful RV park in Morgan City to stay until her home is available to her again.
One of the workers said that it doesn’t matter who you are or what color you are, when this kind of disaster hits, it hits everyone. We talked about the differences though between the kind of rescue and instant new home that this woman and her family experienced, and the “rescue” experiences of these families of 2, 5, or 20 that included days- and week-long waits in the heat to get out of NO, followed by living in a shelter with 300 other people, where they are treated like they are in prison camp, while they wait for someone to bring them a mobile home where they can live together and wait until new housing is built, since their neighborhoods will likely be bulldozed. It may hit everyone without discretion, but the experiences certainly were different even for these two versions of being trapped in New Orleans following the flooding. And interestingly, in our limited experiences here, those who had the far more uncomfortable experience are the ones laughing and joking and thanking the lord and talking of getting on with their lives. This woman with the new RV home and a GIS system was angry and bitter and said she’d never get over this trauma—and she was not referring to the weather related disaster.
September 24
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September 22, 2005, 11:00 p.m.—Today was to be the first day of the RGC Conference at SUNO. We got an email from Jean saying that they were supposed to leave San Antonio for Baton Rouge tomorrow, but that now the highway from Houston to BR might be closed and they might be delayed.
We began the day by making some calls about a walker for Lucy and found one at an orthopedic and surgical supply place near the uptown hospital. Again thanks to your wonderful donations, Miss Lucy Washington now has a Cadillac walker where she can walk a bit, sit a bit, and walk some more. She was thrilled to receive it. Frankie continues to work with her on strengthening her legs and we hope to see her walking a bit before we leave.
Our day at the shelter was spent doing whatever we could for whoever we could. Frankie has quite the crew of jugglers working on their skills in the gymnasium. The gym had been roped off and unavailable after they stopped using it as living space for evacuees. We think the CityTeam folks got the Bethany folks to agree to let them open it up under supervision. The basketball courts had what looked like a couple of games going on with players of all ages and genders, kids running around the outside of the court, and juggling by the bleachers. Joan has become the prescription courier and bought needed supplies for individuals, including everything from markers and school supplies to Desitin and cough drops to Zapp’s potato chips!
Tanjalynn came along on the shopping trip and helped to distribute sunflower seeds and white-board markers to the kids (a community in Canada had donated a bunch of small white-boards). Like the other kids here she is having a pretty hard time at school. She shared that one of the teachers said ‘I don’t know how you kids can be so ignorant. I don’t know where y’all came from.’ And Tanjalynn said 'She knows where we came from, we all have to wear these arm bands so she knows we come from the shelter and from New Orleans." People are talking a lot about the fact that Mayor Nagin of NO said that his people are being tattooed, but you can certainly see how that is being played out with kids in the shelters. There is such a stigma—we have heard so many people here in the area say things like they can’t believe how many people stayed in NO after the evacuation order. It’s as though they don’t know or don’t care about the reality, which is that most folks who got stuck there had no access to a way out. And the people at shelters here in Baton Rouge mostly did drive out in their own cars. But their homes have been destroyed and until some temporary or permanent new housing is available to them they will remain in the shelters with arm bands that tell everyone around them who they are and where they come from.
With the Hurricane in the gulf, Baton Rouge will be seeing a lot of rain and wind, but nothing that poses a threat here. We were told by John Foster of Bethany that we could stay at the shelter since tent camping and storms don’t go well together. We’re grateful for that offer, but for tonight will stay in the campground since the skies are very clear and the wind shouldn’t bother a tent with nearly 300 pounds of people in it.
Joan and Frank
September 23
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September 21, 2005, 10:30 p.m.—This morning we got Kra, the van, her 3,000 mile tune-up so she’s ready for her new family. We also made our plane reservations to come home on Saturday morning, September 24—a date that is special for us personally.
When we arrived at the shelter there were Red Cross volunteers everywhere. This is the first time we’ve seen any anywhere at all since San Antonio. They were helping folks to fill applications and do other work needed to create their next steps. They also had a flier that had all sorts of resources listed on it. The person we talked to only had one copy and couldn’t make more since “This is not a Red Cross shelter.” We offered to take the flier and ask the folks at Bethany if they could make us some copies. They graciously did and would not accept any money for them. The flier included information about how to get medical support, so while Frankie did some body work on Lucy to help her legs feel better, Joan went out looking for a walker for her.
Joan asked each of the older folks if they needed anything from the pharmacy or hospital, and following the instructions from Red Cross, went out to get a walker for Lucy, as well as insulin and other prescriptions for a few of the people. (Also picked up a few more juggling balls at each drug store stop.) Of course, the information about services—including what and where things are available—changes by the hour, so each place said that the place to go was somewhere else. It took about five stops to get the prescriptions dropped off (it would take 4 hours to have them filled) and no one had the kind of walker that has a seat, and the story line was that even we could find one, no one was providing those for evacuees. Several pharmacies said that they are not participating in the Katrina efforts because they were advised not to by the national something or other of pharmacists, since FEMA will not reimburse them. Other large pharmacies like Walgreen’s, that had been providing Katrina relief (mostly in the form of giving out 30 day prescriptions without co-pays or delays), said they aren’t doing that anymore—that stopped last week. At the end of the day we had all the prescriptions handled. Still no walker, but some phone numbers to call in the morning.
We had to go back out in the evening to pick up the last prescriptions and decided to try and find some dinner. We’ve been eating out of our ice chest or at the grocery store since we got here. As we drove around this neighborhood, we talked about how completely class segregated Baton Rouge is, and though less so, also by race/ethnicity. The campground where we showered the first week we were here is on the other side of town and is very middle and upper class. There is a Whole Foods Market (bigger than any we’ve ever seen - where we ate many of our meals) and lots of high end shops and restaurants. Here in Baker around Bethany the residents are mostly working class and most stores and food available seem to be very low quality. Many of the stores are very old and small, and provide very limited choices (except of course for Wal-Mart and one Albertsons). We haven’t seen any produce like what we’re used to at regular grocery stores on this side of town. As we were grumbling to each other about the fact that there are Krispy Kremes, Popeyes, and McDonalds, but no good restaurants and deciding to return to our cheese and crackers in our ice-chest, we passed a place called Tony’s Seafood. We could see lines of people inside and the parking lot was overflowing. We went in to find a place that had catfish swimming at one end and fried at the other, and most every kind of Cajun food you could want—from groceries you can cook at home to hot food ready to take out and eat. We joined well over one hundred people, mostly evacuees from New Orleans, and got a take-out dinner of fried catfish and shrimp, crawfish etouffee, mustard greens, red beans, green beans—and a first for us, shrimp and crab Boudin.
Hurricane Rita is on the way to Texas it seems so our flight plans may be changed. We are to leave Baton Rouge at 7:00 a.m. Saturday for Houston. We’ll see how that goes.
Frank and Joan
September 22
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September 20, 2005, 11:30 p.m.—We arrived back in Baton Rouge last night and found Farr Park, a campground in the city that had spaces for tent campers—not too many tent campers in Louisiana right now. This morning we had “a day at the office,” courtesy of the LSU Library, and then went back to the Bethany Church shelter where we had been volunteering last week.
It was wonderful to see folks again. People responded gratefully to familiar faces and were anxious to share enthusiastic stories of finding jobs or places to go, or frustrations of not having found any leads yet, and appreciation for changes in services they were getting at the shelter. Lots of the kids shared that school is not good. Adults looked over their shoulders and quietly said, “You know how it is with kids teasing, but I guess it’s a little worse now.” One parent told us that a teacher said she wanted to kill these kids. It’s disturbing to be coming from a place of celebrating the generosity of this country and all of us here who want to reach out and help and yet to see the same old “but not in my backyard” stuff that our country is so famous for.
Things have changed at Bethany with the arrival of a large group called CityTeam from San Jose California that is here to run the shelter as long as is needed. Some of those folks are committed to be here for up to a year. There was a newsletter created by Bethany that told folks how to get certain services and told of some things to come, like a laundry room that will be set up in a portable building. There is now clinic support in the cafeteria each morning, where folks can get checked and get prescriptions and such—if they have transportation or someone who can take them to get filled. The CityTeam volunteers seem primarily interested in keeping order, but at least there are lots of faces around where questions can be taken.
We spent most of the evening just hanging out and talking with folks. A person named Ernest told us that he was trying to find work but was not having any luck yet. He mentioned that he was trying to get a bike so he could get around. This was the first time anyone said they needed a bike so we were thrilled to be able to offer him the adult bike that Joel Hiller donated. We also gave away the rest of the kid’s bicycles to some of the new jugglers. Harry LeFever’s bike went to Kyanté and her niece Shanique who are around ten and twelve years old. Shanique’s little brother Mark, who is three years old, got the little bike from Taylor Goffena. And Tanjalynn, also twelve, got the other bike that Joel donated. We had bought locks for all the bikes and helmets for the kids. It was a real pleasure to share these gifts with the kids and also to be able to provide Ernest with a way to get some work. We only wish we could have brought a bike in for every child there—anyone out there feeling inspired? Find a way to send more kids bikes with locks and helmets to Bethany shelter.
We talked to Joyce and her 83 year old mother Lucy about their experience getting out of the city. Joyce works at a Holiday Inn in New Orleans. They had invited their employees to come be in the hotel to wait out the hurricane, so Joyce took her mom and other relatives to the hotel. After the levees were breached the hotel flooded and they had to be evacuated through the flooded first floor. Lucy, who prior to the hurricane had been able to walk well around her home with her walker, had to be carried down eleven floors in a make-shift gurney of blankets. Joyce shared that in the three weeks since then Lucy has not been able to walk because her arthritis has gotten worse and her legs have been hurting a lot. We told her about the kind of walker that has a seat so you sit down when you need a break; Frankie’s mom uses one and calls it her Cadillac. Joyce said that would be perfect for Lucy and might help her to try the long walks from their space to the showers. We’re going to see if we can figure out how to get one of those.
A lot of the folks here are just hoping that when the trailers come in that have been promised, they will be able to move their families there. It seems that everyone who is still here wants to stay in this area. So many have left for Texas, Arkansas, and Arizona.
Right now we’re sitting here at the campground doing laundry along side some folks from the EPA who are here helping people to sort out the toxic stuff from the rest of the debris so that the clean-up crews can easily identify things that need to be safely removed. We had a good conversation about how we have let the wetlands decrease too much, and how our care to not allow natural floods has created a situation where massive flooding like this happens. Sounds very much like our Smokey the Bear work in the southwest that has created dry tinderboxes throughout our states. Hearing these EPA workers talk about this gives us hope that the people are catching on that the planet knows how to take care of herself without our help if we let her.
Gratitude.
Joan and Frank
September 21
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September 19, 2005, 4:00 p.m.—This morning we assisted Camilla, a person who grew up in New Orleans and whose home had been flooded, so she could return to her home to try and save a few things. She has been away for three weeks and came back yesterday to stay at Leenie’s house and support the Common Ground Collective here. The water lines in her house were up about four or five feet from the floor and almost nothing was salvageable. In her neighborhood, which is in the seventh ward just above Treme, a few people here and there have come in to try and salvage personal belongings, but other than that the streets in these areas are still deserted except for the National Guard. The Guard folks here are from Oregon and have made Leenie’s house and the FNB kitchen their coffee spot. This morning several men came in and said this was the first cup of coffee they’d had since September 3. Last night they came by to kindly warn us to be more careful, as the people were coming back into the ward and not all of them were like us, some were more dangerous types.
The French Quarter looks almost untouched. Just very empty. There are crews doing cleanup and lots of military. There are bars and sandwich places that are open for business and a couple of tourists stopped us looking for Bourbon Street. One bar never closed throughout the entire time. We saw signs in the store windows that said by order of the NOPD they were closed until law and order were restored and that folks should go to the convention center for food and water. As we drove around delivering Food Not Bombs fliers we saw many places where whole neighborhoods were cordoned off with barbed wire and armed National Guard, but no one ever stopped us and the Guard often waved politely at us.
Except for the shelter in San Antonio, we have not seen a single official anywhere who is here to provide aid. We have seen lots of grassroots efforts to help and of course lots of military to keep order. We have not seen one single Red Cross or FEMA person. No local churches are open or providing support and the locals are asking us where to find ministerial support. But it appears to us that here in New Orleans and elsewhere in Louisiana there is no official support. No food, water, gas, or anything is being brought in (though rumor is that the Garden District was to have trash pick-up today). We heard from the National Guard visitors that the roads will be open for residents to come back today. Water is working though not potable or touchable depending on whose reports you like. Gas is underground but has been shut off at each house. It will be a long time before any power is available, though there are generators running Bourbon Street and areas where major clean up is underway, like on Canal. It’s an odd place to be. And it’s not our place to be right now. We are going to return to Baton Rouge to support the folks there in the shelter as best we can. We’re on our way out of the city with a couple of the FNB folks in tow, taking them back to the camp in Covington. The checkpoint on the causeway coming into NO has a line at least a mile long. We feel blessed that yesterday there was no traffic on the causeway and we were simply waived through at the checkpoint. General consensus in the city was that we were waived through because we’re middle aged and white and we look middle-class.
Peace.
Joan and Frank
September 20
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September 18, 2005, 10:00 p.m.—Today is the day we were to fly in to New Orleans for the Race, Gender, and Class conference and one of our favorite annual vacations, where we ride flea-market bikes or Plan B co-op bikes around New Orleans for a week. Instead we found ourselves driving into New Orleans across the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway with a van loaded down with water, bleach, batteries, ice, and fresh produce. Last night we drove from Baton Rouge to Covington and connected with the Veterans for Peace and Food Not Bombs groups that have been stationed at a campground here since shortly after the hurricane. So much focus has been on the flooding in New Orleans that we can forget that a class 5 hurricane came through this area. We have seen trees, power-lines, and buildings down everywhere. We’re reminded by these amazing people who are working here that in many places on the coast in Mississippi there are very few buildings left standing anywhere at all. A lot of folks are still stranded and without food and water and most folks in the area will be without power for a long time.
In Covington, at Camp Casey III, an amazing and fluctuating group of volunteers (made up of individuals like us and of folks with groups like Veterans for Peace) are doing everything you can imagine for folks around southern Louisiana and Mississippi, from cooking meals to rebuilding roofs to providing medical support (there are a number of doctors and nurses here who have been setting up clinics around the area). This morning all of the worker-campers met to debrief some of what they found—which roads are open, what areas are risky, who is still not being reached, and so on—and make their plans for today. There is a group that includes George Seaman from Prescott that has set up camp in Houma and is working with the indigenous folks there helping as they begin to rebuild. Most of those houses are still under water and apparently the Houma people are not eligible for federal relief as they are not a federally recognized nation. Others are going into Mississippi and taking food, water, and supplies to areas that are completely without. The Hartford FNB group has been working in Waveland, Mississippi and the Arizona FNB bus is working from the Bywater area of New Orleans’ Ninth Ward; each providing meals to both local folks and workers who are here to help clean up and rebuild. In New Orleans this also includes serving the Oregon National Guard folks who are patrolling the area.
It is very heartening to see the grassroots efforts of folks from all over the country, helping in any way they can. And again, the question of sustainability is on everyone’s mind. Hands and hearts willing to work are going to be needed here for a long time. Money that comes directly into these communities and is not funneled through agencies like the Red Cross will be important. (Red Cross support was important in the beginning, but Red Cross does not support rebuilding—just emergency relief of shelter, food, and water.) Please remember to support those groups that are directly serving the neighborhoods and people that have been affected—some are listed here on our pages, and they can easily be found by searching on the internet.
After the meeting folks went off in many directions to do their work, and we loaded up with supplies and left to join Randall and Geoff and the AZ FNB group who began serving meals yesterday from 714 Desire—running a street kitchen named Desire. They are set up at the home of Leenie who like many of her neighbors was concerned about plans to bulldoze some of the working-class neighborhoods that were under water. They are working with a group that has grown out of Algiers called Common Grounds Collective, which has already begun efforts to rebuild. Neighborhoods throughout NO are participating in efforts to rebuild their neighborhood using intentional and green/sustainable methods. NO is known for reuse in building—many of the houses built early in the century were made from barge wood and the large granite stones that made up the old cobbled roads were ballast that came off of ships coming into port. You can read about their work and their concerns through Randall’s updates.
The Bywater area is just down river from the French Quarter and like much of that area is above sea level and remained dry. Yet neighborhoods all around vary—some have water lines that go halfway up the houses and over cars, and others have evidence of hurricane damage but not flooding. The French Quarter was planted on the area’s highest ground by folks well familiar with hurricanes and the majority of homes and businesses look largely the same as they always do. We drove around delivering fliers about the meals and support available from FNB on Desire. Throughout the areas that did not take on water we found lots of folks who have either returned to their homes or who stuck it out and stayed through it all. Those areas that did have water are empty.
It was very sad to see how the neighborhoods with the highest level of poverty are also the ones at the lowest elevations. Treme is the neighborhood just northwest of the French Quarter. We discovered it on or first visit and each year ride our bikes up there to see the African American History museum and just look at the beautiful old houses (it’s also the place we go for groceries while we’re here). Treme was the first free-black community and remains the longest inhabited black neighborhood in New Orleans. In Iberville, on the edge between the Quarter and Treme, are many rows of housing projects that were built in the 1940s. On our annual visits here we ride our bikes around Treme because of the kids riding around there too and the houses with folks sitting on stoops who would call friendly greetings to us. It was truly unreal to see these neighborhood be completely empty of all life. Water lines went far up on the cars and houses there. It seems unlikely that anyone will be able to return to many of these houses due to the mold and other problems from this flooding. We don’t know what will happen to neighborhoods like these, and these are the places that make New Orleans the amazing place it is.
We also went through the Marigny neighborhood, where we stay in little hotels every year. Like the Bywater area, which is just down river from it, this area was not under water though there was a lot of hurricane damage to trees. Most of the older houses in New Orleans were built to withstand hurricane winds, and unless the trees land on them, they mostly did. We saw a lot of folks here who stuck it out and have been here throughout. They were all very happy to learn of the meals available from the Desire house kitchen.
Down river from the Bywater are the Lower Ninth Ward and St. Bernard Parish. These areas took on some of the worst flooding and are still completely shut off by the National Guard. Years ago when we came to our first RGC conference we learned from a presenter that when Hurricane Betsy happened in 1965 the city and state officials made a decision to blow the levee there to take pressure off of the levees further upriver--a procedure that was set in place after the 1959 hurricane. The lower ninth ward suffered extreme flooding; photos from that hurricane are much like Katrina, with many of the black working-class residents having to break through their attics to get to the roof, and then being stranded there for days while help was unseen. The perspective of long-time working residents of New Orleans is that the levee was blown to save the Garden District, which is where all of the large antebellum mansions are on St. Charles Street. The sad truth to that is that the Garden District could have taken on some flooding easily since it is not all under sea level and since most of the houses are multi-level—and of course most if not all of the residents had vehicles. Instead the poorest neighborhood, with the least safe houses and the most folks without transportation, were flooded to levels that went over the roofs. Many folks died.
The people who are here now in Marigny and the Bywater area all talk about having heard explosions before the levees broke. They are sure that the break in the Industrial Canal, the large breach that is shown on TV and that flooded the largest and poorest parts of New Orleans, was intentional and is just part of the reality of hurricanes in New Orleans. Officials know that if the Garden District or the French Quarter are ever lost that the city loses its attraction and becomes just another port city in the south. Of course we cannot know for sure if the levees were intentionally breached, but it is clear to those who live in this area, and we have now all watched this for weeks on television, that the people in these communities are the lowest priorities to local and national officials.
We felt a lot of things driving around this city today. We love this place and have come to know it by bicycle. It was hard to be so removed from it as we sat in a van and drove through empty streets. We cannot imagine what those who have lived here for years, decades, or—as is true for so many in this city—for many generations, must be feeling as they are separated from their homes and communities. Seeing these empty and wounded streets in these beautiful neighborhoods was heart-breaking. Knowing how many folks are still sitting in shelters or sleeping on couches or even in streets, while their houses sit here in this mold is unbearable.
And the story is that this city has a life of its own. The folks who are back or who never left are working to rebuild. People came to Leenie’s house from all over the neighborhood to drop off supplies that they had in excess or pick up something they needed. And most importantly, they came to share stories. It is our stories that make our communities and it was a blessing to see that energy returning to NO. We will feel better of course when it is not only the white working-class neighborhoods or the wealthy Garden District that remained above the water level that are seeing life come back, but when all of New Orleans sees this life and community alive and well and thriving on the process of rebuilding.
Blessings,
Frank and Joan
September 19
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This page was prepared by Prescott College faculty member, Joan Clingan. Suggestions for additions or corrections are welcomed. Please check back as this page will be updated daily for as long as it is useful to do so.
Last updated September 27, 2005.
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