Lo's Journal Entry #3: Disaster Up Close (10/13/2005)
After our fifth straight day of caring for the displaced dogs at Pasado's shelter in Raceland, we decided to go into New Orleans to take a look for ourselves in order to gain some perspective on this whole disaster.
Although we had already driven through downtown New Orleans via the expressway, we were now going into some of the most heavily flooded neighborhoods – the ones often shown on CNN and other major news networks – at ground level. We were setting off to New Orleans with some serious apprehensions as to what we would see, whether it would be safe, and whether we even wanted to really witness firsthand what we had seen on our televisions from our quiet, safe living rooms.
We decided to head into the 9th Ward. The 9th Ward is a predominantly black neighborhood located just below the levee systems. We were told that the military had a huge presence there and that some parts, mainly the lower 9th Ward, were inaccessible to the public since bodies were still being recovered.
Our 'visit' of New Orleans, however, would not just be to gawk at the destruction and see what so many people had lost. We heard people's dogs and cats were still running around loose in these neighborhoods and that they did not have access to food and water besides what the animal rescue/care shelters were periodically dropping off while trying to capture/rescue additional pets. So we packed our rental car as full as possible – grabbing the largest dog and cat food bags we could find amongst Pasado's stock pile, and three five-gallon water jugs, dog treats, and water trays. We headed off to New Orleans via Highway 90East with our not so detailed maps with pen marked notes – 9th Ward, St. Bernard Parish, French Quarter…
As we arrived into New Orleans, it became unclear as to when we should get off the highway – which was our high ground – and go down below the depths that New Orleans had once (if not twice) sat under water.
We exited at what we thought would take us to the 9th Ward, but we found ourselves in the marina district. Instantly we saw large sailing and fishing boats sitting along the roadside waiting for water to reach their bows once again. There were warehouses ripped apart, and cars laying around in complete destruction. We followed the road along the Marina until we could enter the neighboring neighborhood behind a short 6 foot retaining wall. We then found ourselves in Gentilly, a neighborhood just across a small canal from the 9th Ward.
There were huge trees laying on their sides, some on top of houses and cars, boats that had been parked in people's driveways flipped over standing vertically against trees, cars flipped over, twisted, crushed, resting in people's yards or on top of fences.
The depth, and following receding flood lines, were displayed readily across the exterior of each house -- like chalk lines placed on the inside of a door jam marking your growth spurts throughout your childhood – 4 feet, 6 feet, 8 feet, 11... The houses in Gentilly, as are most of the houses in the 9th Ward, are all one story houses. The water line was right up the top of the window sills, right up to the ceiling, leaving only the attics possibly dry. Seeing these lines brought horrid images. Can you imagine what it would be like to be in one of these houses as the flood water line began to rise to these depths? Can you imagine what it would be like if you were a dog or cat, possibly locked up in one of these houses, swimming for your life? It is gut wrenching to see this weighty line of despair chalked across all the houses, like a measuring stick – how flooded was my house versus yours?
As we drove around this quiet and abandoned neighborhood, we spotted several houses where the military has spray painted on the walls – Searched 10/27, 0 bodies found. There were also marking stating whether a dog or cat had been seen, and when food and water had last been left – 2 dogs seen, F/W (food/water) 10/9. We stopped at many of these houses, looked around, whistled/whispered (pss, pss, psst…), to see if we could attract any animals, any movement, any sign of life. Then we would leave some water and food in hopes of extending the chance of these pets' survival. Now and then we would spot a house with, Dog DOA (dead on arrival) 9/29. The horrid images would then resurface, and we would both remain silent and continue driving slowly along the deserted, ruined neighborhood streets.
We then spotted a beautiful, small, German Shepard looking dog with a black collar sitting underneath a mangled truck in what probably used to be a nice neighborhood park (Ponchatrain Park) next to what probably used to be a nice public golf course. As we approached, the dog, weary of our presence, ran off from underneath the truck, stopping a little ways off to see what we were up to. We threw out a bag of food and a tray full of water, and backed off a bit to see if the pooch would be attracted enough by our offerings to warm up to our presence. On survival mode, the dog could not resist and finally came in to eat some food, but each time we tried to approach it would run off again, maintaining a distant viewpoint. We called in some of the Pasado folks who were making rounds nearby with dog catching equipment; however they had no more luck than we did, so the dog was left in the park to fend for itself – but at least it now had an ample supply of kibble and water to bide it some time.
We then set off for the 9th Ward. As we approached the bridge to access this neighborhood, we explained to the military officer at the check point that we were just going in to drop off food and water for the pets. He reminded us of the 6pm curfew, which we replied that we would be out of here long before then. He waved us along and said, 'thank you'. I'm not sure if the thank you was in response to us readily offering to abide by the curfew so as not to give them any trouble, or whether it was because he appreciated that we were coming to help out with the abandoned pets that still resided in the area. Regardless, the drawbridge had been raised, and we crossed the canal into the 9th Ward.
The 9th Ward was even worse than what we had already witnessed. We slowly drove along in despair, still amazed at the flood lines, the amount of silt that lay on the sidewalks – in cracked patty cakes like you see in a dry muddy riverbed. The cars white and dusty, with flood lines streaked along their sides. We entered a church that was completely in ruins. The floor was soft, and buckled. There was a heavy stench of mold, and the flood lines dashed across the Ten Commandments – somewhere between the fourth and fifth commandment – proudly displayed on the wall. It was going to take a long time for these communities to rebuild themselves – a lot of faith, hard work, and probably much prayer. Maybe this church will provide hope for these people, and lead the way in rebuilding these communities. Who else will?
It was approaching 5pm, so we decided to start heading home. We dropped in on the French Quarter to see how things were there, and to appropriately have a drink. We were pleased to find many restaurants and bars open for business. The French Quarter had not flooded, but without the drunken tourists with their blurry eyes and cash filled wallets, I was not sure how well many of these businesses would be fairing. We stopped for a drink, and ate a plate of Jambalaya, and sensed the vibrant spirit of New Orleans – hmmm, jubilee.
We then made one last pit stop, at a bar a friend used to work at for several years – The Maple Leaf. The Maple Leaf is in Uptown, an area that was flooded by about 3-4 feet. The bar was open for business, and we settled ourselves at the bar and ordered a round. As we sipped our beers and marveled over the day…week, we struck up conversation with some of the patrons that were sitting at the bar next to us. One guy wore a t-shirt, "Come On New Orleans, Let's Rebuild'. They all shared their stories – whether it was evacuating with the 9 birds and 2 cats in a small Toyota Camry, or coming back to find their houses in complete destruction – and we sipped our drinks.
We had finally found some New Orlanders. And as the alcohol began to flood through our veins, inching up toward our heads, returning the smiles and laughter among us, we left The Maple Leaf reassured that New Orleans will be rebuilt (again), in the slow, steady pace that the South is known for. It was at this moment that I became proud that we came down here and played a small role in restoring this great, lively, rich, festive southern city of New Orleans.
Vive New Orleans!
I hoped you enjoyed reading my journal entries of our experience coming down here to help out with the Katrina-Rita Hurricane relief efforts. We thank many of you for your financial and emotional support. And I hope that our words and images will inspire you to pitch in your small part in rebuilding this great city and surrounding neighborhoods.
Lo
p.s. Please stay tuned for some more photos and Katie's final entry.
Although we had already driven through downtown New Orleans via the expressway, we were now going into some of the most heavily flooded neighborhoods – the ones often shown on CNN and other major news networks – at ground level. We were setting off to New Orleans with some serious apprehensions as to what we would see, whether it would be safe, and whether we even wanted to really witness firsthand what we had seen on our televisions from our quiet, safe living rooms.
We decided to head into the 9th Ward. The 9th Ward is a predominantly black neighborhood located just below the levee systems. We were told that the military had a huge presence there and that some parts, mainly the lower 9th Ward, were inaccessible to the public since bodies were still being recovered.
Our 'visit' of New Orleans, however, would not just be to gawk at the destruction and see what so many people had lost. We heard people's dogs and cats were still running around loose in these neighborhoods and that they did not have access to food and water besides what the animal rescue/care shelters were periodically dropping off while trying to capture/rescue additional pets. So we packed our rental car as full as possible – grabbing the largest dog and cat food bags we could find amongst Pasado's stock pile, and three five-gallon water jugs, dog treats, and water trays. We headed off to New Orleans via Highway 90East with our not so detailed maps with pen marked notes – 9th Ward, St. Bernard Parish, French Quarter…
As we arrived into New Orleans, it became unclear as to when we should get off the highway – which was our high ground – and go down below the depths that New Orleans had once (if not twice) sat under water.
We exited at what we thought would take us to the 9th Ward, but we found ourselves in the marina district. Instantly we saw large sailing and fishing boats sitting along the roadside waiting for water to reach their bows once again. There were warehouses ripped apart, and cars laying around in complete destruction. We followed the road along the Marina until we could enter the neighboring neighborhood behind a short 6 foot retaining wall. We then found ourselves in Gentilly, a neighborhood just across a small canal from the 9th Ward.
There were huge trees laying on their sides, some on top of houses and cars, boats that had been parked in people's driveways flipped over standing vertically against trees, cars flipped over, twisted, crushed, resting in people's yards or on top of fences.
The depth, and following receding flood lines, were displayed readily across the exterior of each house -- like chalk lines placed on the inside of a door jam marking your growth spurts throughout your childhood – 4 feet, 6 feet, 8 feet, 11... The houses in Gentilly, as are most of the houses in the 9th Ward, are all one story houses. The water line was right up the top of the window sills, right up to the ceiling, leaving only the attics possibly dry. Seeing these lines brought horrid images. Can you imagine what it would be like to be in one of these houses as the flood water line began to rise to these depths? Can you imagine what it would be like if you were a dog or cat, possibly locked up in one of these houses, swimming for your life? It is gut wrenching to see this weighty line of despair chalked across all the houses, like a measuring stick – how flooded was my house versus yours?
As we drove around this quiet and abandoned neighborhood, we spotted several houses where the military has spray painted on the walls – Searched 10/27, 0 bodies found. There were also marking stating whether a dog or cat had been seen, and when food and water had last been left – 2 dogs seen, F/W (food/water) 10/9. We stopped at many of these houses, looked around, whistled/whispered (pss, pss, psst…), to see if we could attract any animals, any movement, any sign of life. Then we would leave some water and food in hopes of extending the chance of these pets' survival. Now and then we would spot a house with, Dog DOA (dead on arrival) 9/29. The horrid images would then resurface, and we would both remain silent and continue driving slowly along the deserted, ruined neighborhood streets.
We then spotted a beautiful, small, German Shepard looking dog with a black collar sitting underneath a mangled truck in what probably used to be a nice neighborhood park (Ponchatrain Park) next to what probably used to be a nice public golf course. As we approached, the dog, weary of our presence, ran off from underneath the truck, stopping a little ways off to see what we were up to. We threw out a bag of food and a tray full of water, and backed off a bit to see if the pooch would be attracted enough by our offerings to warm up to our presence. On survival mode, the dog could not resist and finally came in to eat some food, but each time we tried to approach it would run off again, maintaining a distant viewpoint. We called in some of the Pasado folks who were making rounds nearby with dog catching equipment; however they had no more luck than we did, so the dog was left in the park to fend for itself – but at least it now had an ample supply of kibble and water to bide it some time.
We then set off for the 9th Ward. As we approached the bridge to access this neighborhood, we explained to the military officer at the check point that we were just going in to drop off food and water for the pets. He reminded us of the 6pm curfew, which we replied that we would be out of here long before then. He waved us along and said, 'thank you'. I'm not sure if the thank you was in response to us readily offering to abide by the curfew so as not to give them any trouble, or whether it was because he appreciated that we were coming to help out with the abandoned pets that still resided in the area. Regardless, the drawbridge had been raised, and we crossed the canal into the 9th Ward.
The 9th Ward was even worse than what we had already witnessed. We slowly drove along in despair, still amazed at the flood lines, the amount of silt that lay on the sidewalks – in cracked patty cakes like you see in a dry muddy riverbed. The cars white and dusty, with flood lines streaked along their sides. We entered a church that was completely in ruins. The floor was soft, and buckled. There was a heavy stench of mold, and the flood lines dashed across the Ten Commandments – somewhere between the fourth and fifth commandment – proudly displayed on the wall. It was going to take a long time for these communities to rebuild themselves – a lot of faith, hard work, and probably much prayer. Maybe this church will provide hope for these people, and lead the way in rebuilding these communities. Who else will?
It was approaching 5pm, so we decided to start heading home. We dropped in on the French Quarter to see how things were there, and to appropriately have a drink. We were pleased to find many restaurants and bars open for business. The French Quarter had not flooded, but without the drunken tourists with their blurry eyes and cash filled wallets, I was not sure how well many of these businesses would be fairing. We stopped for a drink, and ate a plate of Jambalaya, and sensed the vibrant spirit of New Orleans – hmmm, jubilee.
We then made one last pit stop, at a bar a friend used to work at for several years – The Maple Leaf. The Maple Leaf is in Uptown, an area that was flooded by about 3-4 feet. The bar was open for business, and we settled ourselves at the bar and ordered a round. As we sipped our beers and marveled over the day…week, we struck up conversation with some of the patrons that were sitting at the bar next to us. One guy wore a t-shirt, "Come On New Orleans, Let's Rebuild'. They all shared their stories – whether it was evacuating with the 9 birds and 2 cats in a small Toyota Camry, or coming back to find their houses in complete destruction – and we sipped our drinks.
We had finally found some New Orlanders. And as the alcohol began to flood through our veins, inching up toward our heads, returning the smiles and laughter among us, we left The Maple Leaf reassured that New Orleans will be rebuilt (again), in the slow, steady pace that the South is known for. It was at this moment that I became proud that we came down here and played a small role in restoring this great, lively, rich, festive southern city of New Orleans.
Vive New Orleans!
I hoped you enjoyed reading my journal entries of our experience coming down here to help out with the Katrina-Rita Hurricane relief efforts. We thank many of you for your financial and emotional support. And I hope that our words and images will inspire you to pitch in your small part in rebuilding this great city and surrounding neighborhoods.
Lo
p.s. Please stay tuned for some more photos and Katie's final entry.
posted by Katie Davis and Laurent de Janvry | 9:06 AM
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