Matter of Life and Death

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Matter of Life and Death

Written by / Community Columnist

Saturday, 29 November 2008

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Irrigator - patterson,ca,USA

Red Cross volunteer tackles challenge of hurricane

aftermath

Editor's note: resident , a Red Cross

volunteer, traveled to Louisiana in response to hurricanes Gustav

and Ike in September. This is her report.

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Photo courtesy of Louisiana was bracing for what was

supposed to be the biggest hurricane since Katrina, and while it did

not turn out to be the mother of all storms, it certainly created

its share of damage.

The first thing to get my attention as I disembarked from the

airplane was the humidity. It was like a blast to the face, but it

was not entirely unpleasant.

The lobby of the airport was crowded with people standing around,

sprawled on seats or camped on the floor. Everyone wanted to get out

of New Orleans, and the airport was going to close in a few hours.

Outside the airport was another story — no humanity whatsoever,

except for the National Guard, and they were blocking all streets

into downtown New Orleans. It was eerily quiet.

There were no cars, shuttles or taxis. All incoming passengers had

to walk to the car rental stations, only to discover that they were

all closed and boarded up except one — Hertz. The manager of Hertz

and one other employee were trying to attend to the needs of all the

Red Cross workers who were flooding into the city.

After getting cars, we drove to the American Red Cross headquarters

to receive our assignments. I spent the first night in the staff

shelter, a rusted and decayed school building that looked like a

relic from World War II. There we spent the first night on cots,

each person defining their territory with suitcases. All water had

to be boiled if you wanted to drink it or brush your teeth with it.

My first assigned shelter was in Pearl View at Riverside Elementary

School. After setting up the shelter, we received about 200 people.

We were to spend the next week or so together with no electricity,

no showers, and just dry food like chips, cookies and granola bars

for meals.

We weathered Hurricane Gustav together.

Difficult conditions

We used the inner hallways as sleeping quarters, putting single

people down one hallway and families down another. Army cots lined

the hallways like freight cars, all in a row. Without electricity,

the hallways were dark, and the windowless bathrooms were even

darker. We taped thick emergency glow sticks to the mirrors in the

bathrooms to get the most from the reflected light.

Photo courtesy of The staff and I slept in the library

between the book stacks and away from windows. It was both

breathtaking and exhilarating to observe Gustav's fury — the howling

wind and the driving rain bending trees, knocking down poles and

tossing debris everywhere.

We were without communication for several days after. There were no

phone lines. There was no cell phone reception. There were no cars

able to move from one point to another.

So we were unaware that six tornados had set down less than a mile

from us. Our ignorance was bliss.

We had a minor celebrity in our shelter. Jack Fine, a well-known and

respected trumpet player in New Orleans, played for us to lighten

our spirits and give us a taste of blues and jazz.

The humidity in our shelter was so high that the floors and walls

were covered with water. The walls were sweating, and it was

dangerous to walk on tile or vinyl. If you laid anything on the

cafeteria table, it was instantly soaked. Clothes were moist and

damp continually. One advantage — our hair and skin felt good, very

moist and very soft.

At a corner near us was a little seafood restaurant. The owner was

losing all the food in his refrigerator because of the lack of

electricity, so he was forced to cook everything he had in there. He

donated the cooked food to our shelter, and our clients were treated

to a meal of fried catfish, potato balls and potato salad. He also

later donated three sandwich-style turkey breasts.

The school may not have had electricity, but it did have a two-

burner gas stove, and two of us decided to use that to our

advantage. We emptied the school's refrigerator and made some

delicious meals for our 200 hungry guests, who were tired of chips

and cookies.

Combining shelters

Our shelter was later combined with another one at a middle school

just down the road, Creekside Middle School. This shelter had a

heavy police presence, and they made lots of threats to our clients

that if they got out of line, they would use their Tasers to regain

control. It was very oppressive, but my Red Cross team was an upbeat

team, and we quickly integrated ourselves with their leaders and

clients and produced a much more humane and comfortable atmosphere.

Photo courtesy of This group had been without food, and

the strain was unbearable for them. Two of us convinced the owner of

a nearby closed grocery store to let us in to purchase some of his

food. We combined the purchased food with what was available in the

school's refrigerator, and — this time with electricity — we were

able to produce some really good meals.

Everyone was a lot happier with a few good meals under their belts.

We made oatmeal for breakfast, homemade chili, fruit salad, hot dogs

and sandwiches with our turkey breasts. We had juice and milk for

everyone from the school's storage. Our 300 guests were doing much

better.

Since there were no showers anywhere, staff members would go into

the janitor's closet and hose ourselves down with cold water.

Roaches 2 or 3 inches long shared our hideaway. In Louisiana, they

call them palmetto bugs.

Outside, we had to watch where we walked because of the fire ant

hills. An unsuspecting smoker or a barefoot child could quickly

discover they were being eaten alive. The bites left huge red welts

that took two weeks to go away and itched like crazy.

I tried my first boiled peanuts. The police officers loved them and

would sit and munch on them while on duty. I think they are an

acquired taste. I bought two cans of boiled peanuts to take home,

but they were left behind during one of our many moves — along with

some of my luggage, my sleeping bag and all the New Orleans

souvenirs I bought for family and friends.

Another storm

My next shelter was at the St. Bernard Community Center. All around

me, there was evidence of Katrina's destruction, as well as new

damage from Gustav. This was a poor and depressed neighborhood.

Adjacent to our building was a bar, and while we were there, we

heard fights, shootings and loud music. The local police stood guard

outside our shelter day and night.

Photo courtesy of This is the building we were in when

Ike struck. Fortunately, Ike had degraded to a tropical storm, but

the winds were still enough to lift the corner of the roof on the

community center. This shelter had both showers and electricity but

no kitchen, so we lived on heater meals and MREs (meals ready to

eat).

Throughout our shelter, there was mold and decay. This created

health issues for many of the Red Cross workers, primarily

respiratory problems and sinus infections. I was one of the

fortunate ones who never developed any health issues.

At one point, the city sent in a crew to clean and disinfect. It

helped.

At this shelter I met Troynokaa, a lovely 13-year-old girl with a

smile that lights up a room. Something about her suggested to me

that she'd have a great future ahead of her if she could get beyond

having no home, no money, four siblings and a single mother. She had

a desire to learn, was extremely well mannered and carried herself

as if she were a princess. I was very impressed with her, and I

still hope that someone sees the potential in her and becomes her

mentor. Her goal in life? To be a mortician.

For many of these people, there would be no long-term help. All we

could provide was temporary shelter, medical care, food and comfort.

Their helplessness and lack of resources left me feeling frustrated.

I met many wonderful people, all with fascinating stories and

histories, hopes and dreams.

Food runs

Besides sheltering, I also had the opportunity to do mobile feeding

on one of the Emergency Response Vehicles. The Baptists would cook

up hot meals, and we would take the food out to the people, driving

up and down devastated streets like an ice cream truck.

We would sound our horn and announce that we had hot meals for

anyone who cared to have one. People would stop mucking the mud out

of their homes and wade through the water to get our meals. This was

very satisfying, and the people were so gracious and thankful for

the Red Cross help. It was a rewarding thing to do.

Many of them were Cajun people who were losing their lifestyle and

culture because of loss of Louisiana's wetlands. It was here, on

this assignment, that I truly saw destruction and devastation. In

many areas, trees stood like telephone poles, completely denuded of

leaves and branches. The swamplands were disappearing and the

vegetation was gone, leaving many fishing opportunities gone as

well.

The coastline was changing. This does not bode well for the Cajuns,

who will have difficulty assimilating themselves into the rest of

the nation. Their speech, culture and music could disappear forever.

Many of them are toothless and barefoot. It is difficult to

understand them when they speak, but there is stubbornness about

them, and they want to stay and rebuild.

Life on the bayou is different. There is a strong community feeling

among the folks who live there. It is irresistible, like a siren's

song. I felt it myself during my short stay.

Of course, at the end of my deployment, I had the opportunity to

spend a day in New Orleans proper, and I was able to go to a jazz

club. I can only describe it as pure pleasure. I can't find the

proper words to describe my feelings. Every part of my body wanted

to move.

Watching the musicians play was pleasure in itself, as they feel the

music with every fiber of their being. I discovered I really like

jazz, particularly the trumpet, bass and banjo as their players go

off on a run to showcase their talent.

Back on the West Side

It was good to come home after almost four weeks, but I left

Louisiana knowing there was more I could do. Three days after

returning home, I was called to go to Texas, which suffered badly

from Ike, but felt I needed to regroup and take care of matters on

the home front. If I am still needed later on, then I may go on to

the next adventure — Galveston.