Reflections on Katrina
by Tamara Butler
Last night in Berkeley, at a gathering of poets and attentive listeners, an elder Black man, "one of Berkeley's most beloved Slam Poets", took the stage and with a quivering yet eloquent voice spoke of his family, of his home in New Orleans. Baritone and raspy this voice spoke of his solitary state here in Berkeley while his many children, brothers, and sisters were dealing with the the woeful ramifications of the hurricane. He reckoned himself "a solitary pecan tree" whose branches have "spread far and wide". He said when he first heard of the evacuations he called his sister and asked, "What are you going to do?" She replied, "We're gonna stay. We're gonna ride it out." He told us that she takes care of their elderly and enfeebled step-father, 87 years of age, who insisted, "We've survived hurricanes before. I'm not leavin!" He called one of his sons and asked "What are you going to do?" The son, his youngest, replied "I'm goin g to the airport." He said,"Everybody laughed at my son; said "He crazy!". But that's just what he did. He went to the airport. And you know what? He was the safest out of all of 'em. Let them laugh, I said but he was the safest 'cuz once the storm hit they couldn't throw him out." For three days after that he couldn't get any news of his family because phone lines were down. He was beside himself with worry for three days. Until finally he received a call telling him that his family was alright.
You could feel a collective, "Thank God" rise from the hearts of those listening. As he walked off stage a young Caucasian woman ran up to him and threw her arms around him. He accepted this comfort graciously. As he drew near me, I extended a hand to him. He grasped it with the same urgency that one would a life-saver. I was too overcome with emotion to utter a word. I simply enclosed his hand between both of mine and held and with sympathetic eyes, tried to fill the space between us with as much love as possible.
The ironic thing is that the storm hit the day I had decided that it was time to plan a trip to New Orleans. Now, I fear, it is as Frederick Smock wrote, that the New Orleans of our imaginations is lost to us, forever. I grieve for the city and for the people I will never know.
Best,
Tamara
Last night in Berkeley, at a gathering of poets and attentive listeners, an elder Black man, "one of Berkeley's most beloved Slam Poets", took the stage and with a quivering yet eloquent voice spoke of his family, of his home in New Orleans. Baritone and raspy this voice spoke of his solitary state here in Berkeley while his many children, brothers, and sisters were dealing with the the woeful ramifications of the hurricane. He reckoned himself "a solitary pecan tree" whose branches have "spread far and wide". He said when he first heard of the evacuations he called his sister and asked, "What are you going to do?" She replied, "We're gonna stay. We're gonna ride it out." He told us that she takes care of their elderly and enfeebled step-father, 87 years of age, who insisted, "We've survived hurricanes before. I'm not leavin!" He called one of his sons and asked "What are you going to do?" The son, his youngest, replied "I'm goin g to the airport." He said,"Everybody laughed at my son; said "He crazy!". But that's just what he did. He went to the airport. And you know what? He was the safest out of all of 'em. Let them laugh, I said but he was the safest 'cuz once the storm hit they couldn't throw him out." For three days after that he couldn't get any news of his family because phone lines were down. He was beside himself with worry for three days. Until finally he received a call telling him that his family was alright.
You could feel a collective, "Thank God" rise from the hearts of those listening. As he walked off stage a young Caucasian woman ran up to him and threw her arms around him. He accepted this comfort graciously. As he drew near me, I extended a hand to him. He grasped it with the same urgency that one would a life-saver. I was too overcome with emotion to utter a word. I simply enclosed his hand between both of mine and held and with sympathetic eyes, tried to fill the space between us with as much love as possible.
The ironic thing is that the storm hit the day I had decided that it was time to plan a trip to New Orleans. Now, I fear, it is as Frederick Smock wrote, that the New Orleans of our imaginations is lost to us, forever. I grieve for the city and for the people I will never know.
Best,
Tamara
posted by Jon at 12:54 PM
1 Comments:
I had hoped to be able to include more coherent thoughts by now, but I still haven't reflected all the way through this issue yet. I preface my comments with these thoughts in mind to acknowledge they are evolving and that I am seeking constructive feedback.
It's been awhile since we, as a country, have faced such a natural disaster. From here, it is difficult to really gauge its effect, only able to live it vicariously through the media--a pretty helpless feeling, given that we rarely ever get the whole story through our news outlets.
I want to be critical of the relief efforts; I want to be critical of the evacuation efforts; I want to be critical of the preparation for the hurricane, but I first want to acknowledge that other than sending money (which I will do through collections here at BU), I've not done much, personally. Second, I want to acknowledge the incredible acts of courage and, no doubt, selfless compassion that have (and will continue to) occur throughout these unfolding events.
This second issue, I guess, provides as good a jumping off point as any. Because what it does is highlight is the difference between the structural and the individual. While the individual acts of courage and compassion will comfort many; while the US citizens will rally around each other in the face of a disaster (as we also did on 9/11/01); and while these individual actors will only see people (not color or class or citizenship) in the face of immediate, dire need, much of this could have been prevented had more structural considerations been made ahead of time.
It is becoming pretty evident that no evacuation was possible for the city’s poorest (who also tended to be the city’s people of color). People with cars could get out of town. People with families out of town or credit cards had places to go to safely sit out the storm. In a recent editorial by Michael Parenti, he recounts Cuba’s experience with last year’s hurricane that devastated the island. The Cuban gov’t was able to evacuate 1.3 million people (10 % of the total population) from the wrath of the hurricane before it hit, losing no lives in this natural disaster. Why didn’t we have the same plan in place? Our death toll will probably top 1000.
It also appears the relief efforts have been feeble, ill-planned, and disorganized. Certainly, a plan must have been in place. While getting supplies to some in the matter of a few days, given the circumstances, may seem like good turn-around time, I certainly wouldn’t want to the be the one waiting. Some are still waiting more than a week afterward.
Finally, it is clear that city planners had been worried about this levy situation and had continued to seek more money from the federal government. As Parenti and Maureen Dowd (in today’s CJ) points out, their budget continued to be cut. It was so sad to hear from an engineer in the Netherlands (which has a vast portion of their land below sea level) talk about the kind of money they have spent on their infrastructure, figuring that its better to spend the money now then spend so much later in dollars and lives if the big one hits. But our country falls easier prey to the nature of the market economy, often gambling—and it has often been at the expense of our most vulnerable, those without a voice in the gambling decision. Now, as we watch the poor and black faces on the news, will we be moved to do more structurally (once the news coverage dies down) after we give, individually? I was left with a hope after 9/11/01 that we might all take stock and make some changes. I’d be foolish to say I have seen any kind of substantive change. Am I foolish to think change is possible this time?
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