Hurricane Tail
(Relatives)
E, M and B have lived all their lives in the New Orleans area. M & B, sister and brother, are my wife’s mother’s cousins.
Life hasn’t been easy for them of late. In their 50s, they’re in poor health and disabled. M isn’t able to work. After being fleeced by his own boss in a financial scam, B recently lost his security guard job at a methadone clinic near their apartment in Gretna, just across the river from New Orleans in Jefferson Parish. E is married to M, and in a sense provides personal health care to the siblings.
Last week, as Hurricane Katrina charged toward shore, Christi’s mom called to see if they were packed and ready to get out of town. There’d been no evacuation order yet, and the three were skeptical of the need to go, but were thinking about it. Christi’s mom wired them money and urged them to leave.
But by Saturday, when the evacuation order came, they had decided to stay. B had the only vehicle among them, and they were afraid it couldn’t be driven at interstate highway speeds. They were afraid their prescriptions would run out and they’d have no doctor to renew the medications. They were afraid to fight the traffic out of town. They were afraid of the coming storm, too, but those other fears won out.
It was probably the same all across New Orleans. The “mandatory” evacuation was mostly for those who could afford it. As far as I’ve been able to tell, no public agencies lined up transportation for people too poor to own cars, or too infirm to drive. The upper and middle economic classes left in their minivans and SUVs, and the poor were left to fend for themselves.
As the storm began pounding the city, E drove M and B to B’s former employer, where they took shelter with 10 other people inside the three-story methadone clinic. The building held on Sunday. They survived the brunt of the storm.
But on Monday, the roof collapsed. So they waded through waist-deep water to check on the car. Amazingly, it was on high enough ground that it hadn’t filled with water. They were able to negotiate through the debris back to their apartment building.
In another stroke of good fortune, they found the building intact, and their belongings were fine. They had some food in the cupboards, but no electricity and no water. Still, not knowing the extent of the disaster around them, they thought they’d stick it out.
That night, the first of the roving gangs of looters appeared.
The balance of their fears tipped in the other direction, and on Tuesday they fled. In a third piece of extraordinary luck, the car held together, and they were able to make their way through the flotsam, get on the highway and get out of town.
They’re staying at my inlaws now. All that’s left to do is start their lives over. New Orleans held little for them to begin with. They have no intention of ever going back.
→ B.Dunn, Sep 02, 2005, 08 36 am
