--- In CaNdY-for-the-BrAiN@yahoogroups.com, "Lucifer"
<rodlucifer@y...> wrote:
"Let Us All Endeavour So To Live, That When We Come To Die, Even The
UnderTaker Will Be Sorry." -Mark
Twain


--- In CaNdY-for-the-BrAiN@yahoogroups.com, "Al" <dockzef@y...> wrote:
> Please send the enclosed testimony to everyone who you know to serve
> as a wake-up call.
>
> -Bruce P.
>
>
>
> Sept 5, 2005
>
> Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreen's
> store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets remained locked.
> The dairy display case was clearly visible through the widows. It
was
> now 48 hours without electricity, running water, plumbing. The milk,
> yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat.
> The owners and managers had locked up the food, water, pampers, and
> prescriptions and fled the City. Outside Walgreen's windows,
> residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty and hungry.
>
> The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized
and
> the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was an
> alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and
> distributed the nuts, fruit juices, and bottle water in an organized
> and systematic manner. But they did not. Instead they spent hours
> playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the looters.
>
> We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and
arrived
> home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the TV coverage
> or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no
> video images or front-page pictures of European or affluent white
> tourists looting the Walgreen's in the French Quarter.
>
> We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero"
images
> of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling to help
> the "victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but what we
> witnessed, were the real heroes and sheroes of the hurricane relief
> effort: the working class of New Orleans. The maintenance workers
who
> used a fork lift to carry the sick and disabled. The engineers, who
> rigged, nurtured and kept the generators running. The electricians
> who
> improvised thick extension cords stretching over blocks to share the
> little electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on rooftop
> parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and
> spent many hours on end manually forcing air into the lungs of
> unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks
> stuck in elevators. Refinery workers who broke into boat
> yards, "stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their
> roofs in flood waters. Mechanics who helped hot-wire any car that
> could be found to ferry people out of the City. And the food service
> workers who scoured the commercial kitchens improvising communal
> meals for hundreds of those stranded. Most of these workers had lost
> their homes, and had not heard from members of their families, yet
> they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20% of New
> Orleans that was not under water.
>
> On Day 2, there were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in
> the
> French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference
> attendees like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for
> safety and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact
> with family and friends outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly
> told that all sorts of resources including the National Guard and
> scores of buses were pouring in to the City. The buses and the other
> resources must have been invisible because none of us had seen them.
>
> We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came
> up with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the City.
> Those who did not have the requisite $45.00 for a ticket were
> subsidized by those who did have extra money. We waited for 48 hours
> for the buses, spending the last 12 hours standing outside, sharing
> the limited water, food, and clothes we had. We created a priority
> boarding area for the sick, elderly and new born babies. We waited
> late into the night for the "imminent" arrival of the buses. The
> buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute the arrived at
> the City limits, they were commandeered by the military.
>
> By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was
> dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased,
street
> crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us
out
> and locked their doors, telling us that the "officials" told us to
> report to the convention center to wait for more buses. As we
entered
> the center of the City, we finally encountered the National Guard.
> The
> Guards told us we would not be allowed into the Superdome as the
> City's primary shelter had descended into a humanitarian and health
> hellhole. The guards further told us that the City's only other
> shelter, the Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and
> squalor and that the police were not allowing anyone else in. Quite
> naturally, we asked, "If we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the
> City, what was our alternative?" The guards told us that was our
> problem, and no they did not have extra water to give to us. This
> would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and
> hostile "law enforcement".
>
> We walked to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street
> and
> were told the same thing, that we were on our own, and no they did
> not
> have water to give us. We now numbered several hundred. We held a
> mass
> meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the
> police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media and
> would constitute a highly visible embarrassment to the City
> officials. The police told us that we could not stay.
>
> Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order,
> the
> police commander came across the street to address our group. He
told
> us he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway
> and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge where the police had buses
> lined up to take us out of the City. The crowd cheered and began to
> move. We called everyone back and explained to the commander that
> there had been lots of misinformation and wrong information and was
> he sure that there were buses waiting for us. The commander turned
to
> the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you that the buses
are
> there."
>
> We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with
> great excitement and hope. As we marched past the convention center,
> many locals saw our determined and optimistic group and asked where
> we
> were headed. We told them about the great news. Families immediately
> grabbed their few belongings and quickly our numbers doubled and
then
> doubled again. Babies in strollers now joined us, people using
> crutches, elderly clasping walkers and others people in wheelchairs.
> We marched the 2-3 miles to the freeway and up the steep incline to
> the Bridge. It now began to pour down rain, but it did not dampen
our
> enthusiasm.
>
> As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line
> across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak,
> they began firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd
> fleeing in various directions. As the crowd scattered and
dissipated,
> a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the
sheriffs
> in conversation. We told them of our conversation with the police
> commander and of the commander's assurances. The sheriffs informed
us
> there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us
> to move.
>
> We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as
> there was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that
> the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be
> no Superdomes in their City. These were code words for if you are
> poor and black, you are not crossing the Mississippi River and you
> were not getting out of New Orleans.
>
> Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from
> the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the end
> decided to build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain
> Expressway on the center divide, between the O'Keefe and
> Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we would be visible to everyone, we
> would have some security being on an elevated freeway and we could
> wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be seen buses.
>
> All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the
> same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to
> be
> turned away. Some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no,
> others to be verbally berated and humiliated. Thousands of New
> Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the
City
> on foot.
>
> Meanwhile, the only two City shelters sank further into squalor and
> disrepair. The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw
> workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car
> that could be hotwired. All were packed with people trying to escape
> the misery New Orleans had become.
>
> Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water
> delivery
> truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! A mile or
> so
> down the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-
rations
> on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in shopping
> carts.
>
> Now secure with the two necessities, food and water; cooperation,
> community, and creativity flowered. We organized a clean up and hung
> garbage bags from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets
and
> cardboard. We designated a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids
> built an elaborate enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken
> umbrellas, and other scraps. We even organized a food recycling
> system
> where individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for
> babies and candies for kids!).
>
> This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina.
> When
> individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out
> for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to find water for
> your kids or food for your parents. When these basic needs were met,
> people began to look out for each other, working together and
> constructing a community.
>
> If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and
> water
> in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration and the
> ugliness would not have set in. Flush with the necessities, we
> offered
> food and water to passing families and individuals. Many decided to
> stay and join us. Our encampment grew to 80 or 90 people.
>
> From a woman with a battery powered radio we learned that the media
> was talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief
> and news organizations saw us on their way into the City. Officials
> were being asked what they were going to do about all those families
> living up on the freeway? The officials responded they were going to
> take care of us. Some of us got a sinking feeling. "Taking care of
> us" had an ominous tone to it.
>
> Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was
> correct. Just as dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out
> of his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get
> off the fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind
from
> its blades to blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the
> sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water. Once again, at
> gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law enforcement
> agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or congealed into
> groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they
> saw "mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay
> together" was impossible because the agencies would force us into
> small atomized groups.
>
> In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we
> scattered once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the
> dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway
> on Cilo Street. We were hiding from possible criminal elements but
> equally and definitely, we were hiding from the police and sheriffs
> with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to-kill policies.
>
> The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact
> with New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out
by
> an urban search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the
airport
> and managed to catch a ride with the National Guard. The two young
> guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the Louisiana
> guards. They explained that a large section of their unit was in
Iraq
> and that meant they were shorthanded and were unable to complete all
> the tasks they were assigned.
>
> We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun.
The
> airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a press of
> humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while George Bush
> landed briefly at the airport for a photo op. After being evacuated
> on a coast guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.
>
> There the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief
> effort
> continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where
> we were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses did not
> have air-conditioners. In the dark, hundreds if us were forced to
> share two filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to
make
> it out with any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered
> plastic bags) we were subjected to two different dog-sniffing
> searches.
>
> Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been
> confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal
> detectors. Yet, no food had been provided to the men, women,
> children,
> elderly, disabled as they sat for hours waiting to be "medically
> screened" to make sure we were not carrying any communicable
> diseases.
>
> This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart-
felt
> reception given to us by the ordinary Texans. We saw one airline
> worker give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the
> street offered us money and toiletries with words of welcome.
> Throughout, the official relief effort was callous, inept, and
> racist. There was more suffering than need be. Lives were lost that
> did not need to be lost.
>
> Lyn H. Lofland
> Research Professor
> Department of Sociology University of California, Davis
> One Shields Avenue
> Davis, California 95616 USA
> Telephone: 530-756-8699/752-1585
> FAX: 530-752-0783
> e-mail: lhlofland
> ucdavis.edu
--- End forwarded message ---