Houston Democrats - Katrina aftermath

Falls Creek is like a small town that is closed down about 9 months out of the year. It is made up of cabins that range from small and humble to large and grandiose, according to how much money the church who owns the cabin has. Each cabin has full kitchen facilities, bathrooms and usually have two large bunkrooms - one for women and one for men. The occupancy of the cabins varies according to the church. This past week the Southern Baptist association of Oklahoma offered the facility as a place to house refugees from the Katrina disaster. Each church owning a cabin was then called to find out if they would make their cabin available. Churches across the state agreed.

I started my journey by loading six large trash bags full of clothes in the back of my beetle buggy. I then went to the local Dollar General and purchased various hygiene products, snacks and even a set of dominoes and a deck of cards. I had my daughter take her own shopping cart and go and select her own items that she wanted to take. I told her to imagine herself without anything in the world and then select what she would need to live every day.

We then met up with my elderly parents who had gone to the Dollar Store themselves, and to the grocery store and had spent WAY too much of their limited social security on the venture. But that's okay. We ended up having to take both vehicles on the 150 mile round trip because they were both pretty full. My son showed up and wanted to go. He drove my parents while my daughter and I rode in my car.

To say we all left with excitement would be appropriate. My 78 year old mother is a "fixer". She loves to help people and she absolutely needs some one to dote over. That she was about to be able to help some people who had lost all in their lives had her feeling physically healthier than I've seen her in days. I was glad to get the chance to actively do something other than donate what little I can to some faceless charity hoping it would get to the people who needed it. I felt glad I could do some small something that might cut through the helplessness I've felt over this situation. Both of my kids were eager to assist.

The only odd thing that occurred prior to setting off happened while I was gassing up in our small town. My daughter was pumping the gas and a lady she knew pulled up to an adjacent pump. My daughter started telling her where we were going and that we were taking things to the refugees. The lady told my daughter that she had been told the Red Cross was not allowing any one to deliver supplies.

When I returned to the car from paying for the gas my daughter informed of this. I told her that the Red Cross would not be preventing the members of our church from entering our own cabin, so it really didn't matter. It was at that point we decided to stop back by the house and get my daughter's camera so that she could take pictures if required.

From the moment I heard about Falls Creek being scheduled to receive refugees I had two thoughts run through my mind:
1. What a beautiful place to be able to stay while trying to get your life back in order.
2. What a terrible location to be when you're trying to get your life back in order.

The first thought is because Falls Creek is nestled in the Arbuckle Mountains of south central Oklahoma. One of the more beautiful regions of the state. It would be a peaceful and beautiful place to try to start mending emotionally, and begin to figure what you're going to do next.

The second thought comes because Falls Creek is very secluded and absolutely no where near a population center. The closest route from Falls Creek to a connecting road is three miles on a winding narrow road called "High Road" (It gets that name for two reasons - it's goes over the mountain instead of around it like "Low Road" does, and it's where the teenagers of the area go to party). The road has not a single home on it for over 3 miles. After battling that 3 miles over mountains, you'll find yourself about 5 miles from the nearest town, Davis, Oklahoma, population ca. 2000.

This is no place to start a new life.

A few pictures headed toward Falls Creek over High Road to give you a feel of the seclusion.















All of sudden the landscape changed from picturesque mountainous rural America, to something foreign to me as we approached the rear gate of the camp. Two Oklahoma State Patrol vehicles and four Oklahoma Troopers guarded the gate. We started through and they stopped us.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"I informed him we're here to deliver supplies to *our church's name* cabin. He stood silent and stared at me. My daughter turned and snapped a picture of his vehicle - very conspicuously.

I smiled at him and he asked, "Do you know where that cabin is located?" I informed him I did. He looked at me a bit longer and then said, "Ok" and stepped away from the car. They stopped my parents' vehicle as well,
but I assume my son informed them he was with us. They let them pass.

We made our way through the narrow streets toward our church's cabin.

We noticed that the various church cabins had numbered placards on them that normally weren't there.

We arrived at our cabin and started toting the clothes in. We finally found a group of men upstairs in the dorms trying to do something alien to them - make beds. They had almost completed the room of bunk beds and told us we could go over to the ladies' dorm room and start on it. We lugged our sacks of clothes back down the stairs. Then we got the first negative message. "You can't bring any clothes in. FEMA has stated they will accept no more clothes. They've had 30 people sorting clothes for days. They don't want anymore." My mind couldn't help but go back over the news articles that have accused FEMA of refusing water in to Jefferson Parrish, or turning fuel away.
We lugged the bags of clothes back to the car. We then turned to bringing in our personal hygiene products. That's when we learned our cabin had been designated a "male only" cabin. Approximately 40 men, ranging from age 13 on up would be housed there. We started resacking the female products and sorted out everything that would be useful for men.

We lugged the bags of female products back to the car. We asked if they knew of a cabin that had been designated for women. The "host" (the hosts are Oklahoma civilians who have been employeed??? by FEMA to reside at each cabin and have already gone through at least one "orientation" meeting conducted by FEMA at "BASE" which is some unknown but repetitively referred location within the camp) told us he believed McAlester cabin was dedicated to females. He then explained there were male, female and family cabins designated.
We then started lugging in our food products. The foods I had purchased were mainly snacks, but my mother - God bless her soul - had gone all out with fresh vegetables, fruits, canned goods, breakfast cereals, rice, and pancake fixings. That's when we got the next message: They will not be able to use the kitchen.

Excuse me? I asked incredulously. FEMA will not allow any of the kitchen facilities in any of the cabins to be used by the occupants due to fire hazards. FEMA will deliver meals to the cabins. The refugees will be given two meals per day by FEMA. They will not be able to cook. In fact, the "host" goes on to explain, some churches had already enquired about whether they could come in on weekends and fix meals for the people staying in their cabin. FEMA won't allow it because there could be a situation where one cabin gets steaks and another gets hot dogs - and...it could cause a riot.

It gets worse.

He then precedes to tell us that some churches had already enquired into whether they could send a van or bus on Sundays to pick up any occupants of their cabins who might be interested in attending church. FEMA will not allow this. The occupants of the camp cannot leave the camp for any reason. If they leave the camp they may never return. They will be issued FEMA identification cards and "a sum of money" and they will remain within the camp for the next 5 months.

My son looks at me and mumbles "Welcome to Krakow." My mother then asked if the churches would be allowed to come to their cabin and conduct services if the occupants wanted to attend. The response was "No ma'am. You don't understand. Your church no longer owns this building. This building is now owned by FEMA and the Oklahoma Highway Patrol. They have it for the next 5 months." This scares my mother who asks "Do you mean they have leased it?" The man replies, "Yes, ma'am...lock, stock and barrel. They have taken over everything that pertains to this facility for the next 5 months."

We then lug all food products requiring cooking back to the car. We start unloading our snacks. Mom appeared to have cornered the market in five counties on pop-tarts and apparently that was an acceptable snack so the guy started shoving them under the counter. He said these would be good to tied people over in between their two meals a day. But he tells my mother she must take all the breakfast cereal back. My mother protests that cereal requires no cooking. "There will be no milk, ma'am." My mother points to the huge industrial double-wide refrigerator the church had just purchased in the past year. "Ma'am, you don't understand...
It could cause a riot."

He then points to the vegetables and fruit. "You'll have to take that back as well. It looks like you've got about 10 apples there. I'm about to bring in 40 men. What would we do then?" My mother, in her sweet, soft voice says, "Quarter them?"

"No ma'am. FEMA said no... It could cause a riot. You don't understand the type of people that are about to come here...."
I turn and walk out of the room...lugging all the healthy stuff back to the car. My son later tells me the man went on to say "We've already been told of teenage girls delivering fetuses on buses." My son steps toward him and says "That's because they've almost been starved to death, haven't had a decent place to get a good night's sleep, and their bodies can't keep a baby alive. I'm not sure that's any evidence some one should be using to show these are 'bad people'."

We then went to the second dorm room and made up beds. When we got through and were headed outside the host says to me and my daughter, "How did you get in here?" I told him we came in through the back gate. He replies, "No, HOW did you get in here? No one who doesn't have credentials showing is supposed to be in here." (I had noticed all the "hosts" had two or three badges hanging around their necks.) I told him it might have had something to do with the fact my daughter was snapping pictures of the OHP presence at the gate. He then tells us, "Well, starting in the morning NO ONE comes in. So if you have further goods you want to donate you will have to take them to your local church. They will collect them until they have a full load and then bring them to the front gate."

Me and my two kids then walked over the hill to the camp's amphitheater.

First - just another OHP car...

The amphitheater is full of clothes (but I'm not sure I'm seeing enough for 5000 people for 5 months).

But there was more...an Oklahoma Department of Safety truck and a military vehicle...

and a cell phone tower (which fretling didn't get a pic of...grrr). Falls Creek, because it sits in a "bowl" surrounded by mountains, is notorious for no cell phone coverage.

There were buses coming in the front gate at about a rate of 1 every 2 or 3 minutes. We could hear them below us as we walked back up the hill. We could also see their white tops through the trees. We figured these were busloads of refugees arriving, but we never saw these buses in the camps, nor were any refugees visible at the camp while we were there.

We then loaded back into our vehicles and headed toward the cabin we had been told was for women so that we could off-load our appropriate products. When we arrived there was no one in the cabin so we preceded to unload our vehicles and take the merchandise in to the cabin. A horde of "hosts" who had been hovering at a nearby cabin head toward us. "Can we help you?"

I explained to them what we were doing. "Uhh... you can't just leave donated goods in the cabins. FEMA has stated they want all supplies to go to their central warehouse. They said they have had far too many supplies come in and they need to handle them. You can't leave ANY clothes."

I just stared at them. One chubby-checker, after several moments of pregnant pause broken only by the sound of my 82 year old dad continuing to shuffle boxes out of the back of his car (GO DAD!), says "I'll call "BASE" and confirm what should happen here."

I continue to stare. He pounds out the number on his cell phone and when some one picks up he chickens out and just asks "I need to verify that cabin 11 is a female only facility." When he hangs up he says that it is and I respond, "Well, good, we'll get on with this then." It's at that point my son pulls me aside and says, "Every damned one of them have the same phone. That's what the comm tower is for at the amphitheater. Now we know how FEMA runs through billions, they've given every one of these people a Cingular phone when walkie-talkies would have worked just fine."

We off-load our goods into the McAlester cabin. Fretling takes pics of the buckets of toys that have been donated by citizens for the kiddos coming this way.

And a dorm room:



We then start out of the camp. I tell my daughter I want to go out the main gate this time. Here is what we saw on the way out:
Just another OHP car...

This cabin was apparently commandeered by a group of people in navy blue jumpsuits with insignias all over them. You can see them in the left side of this pic. But they were standing all over the place on both sides of the narrow street.

This is just one OHP car in a long line of them parked along the side of the street.

Three firetrucks parked along the river.

Talk about a surreal moment...troops (unknown if Regular or National Guard) have taken up residency in the Durant First Baptist Church cabin very near the main gate of the camp.

Two things to point out in the pictures above...we passed a row of about 6 or 8 ambulances parked in the street just in front of the troop cabin, and the large tent on the top of the hill...we have no idea what that is for.

Main gate completely blocked by OHP vehicles as we approach:

More OHP vehicles parked at the rear gate as we pass by:

Now I'm starting to understand why it doesn't matter that this location is not conducive to starting a new life.

Posted by Lyn Wall at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBack

September 10, 2005

Guess who's gonna rebuild New Orleans with your tax dollars. Go ahead, guess.

Give up? I don't blame you. No way you'd ever guess this. It's Halliburton and Bechtel.

"What the-" you must be saying. "How on earth did those companies get their bids in so fast on those federal reconstruction contracts?" Silly reader, there weren't any bids.

Here's how CNN explains it:

At least two major corporate clients of lobbyist Joe Allbaugh, President Bush's former campaign manager and a former head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, have already been tapped to start recovery work along the battered Gulf Coast.

One is Shaw Group Inc. and the other is Halliburton Co. subsidiary Kellogg Brown and Root. Vice President Dick Cheney is a former head of Halliburton.

Bechtel National Inc., a unit of San Francisco-based Bechtel Corp., has also been selected by FEMA to provide short-term housing for people displaced by the hurricane. Bush named Bechtel's CEO to his Export Council and put the former CEO of Bechtel Energy in charge of the Overseas Private Investment Corporation.

So for all you critics out there who've been saying the Bush administration can't respond fast in a crisis... read 'em and weep!

Posted by Bucky at 08:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 08, 2005

Forget the Alamo

Immigration is one of the few political issues that seems to cut so cleanly across party lines--with roughly equal halves among Republicans and Democrats either favoring or opposing immigration--primarily with immigration from Mexico evoking the strongest feelings among both parties. The arguments are clear: either you believe that America as a nation of immigrants is always strongest when it brings fresh blood into our work force, or you see new immigrants as low income wage earners taking jobs away from American workers and depressing our labor markets. Obviously it's a pretty emotional topic. That's why it struck me when I saw this headline:

Heads turn as Mexican troops roll into US with aid

By Jim Forsyth

SAN ANTONIO, Texas, Sept 8 - A Mexican army convoy rolled into the United States on Thursday with food and medicine for Hurricane Katrina victims, its first military operation on U.S. soil since the mid-19th century.

A 44-vehicle convoy of 200 unarmed troops flew Mexico's red, white and green national flag from every cab as it moved into San Antonio, where Mexican forces killed 189 rebels in the famous Battle of the Alamo in 1836 during the Texas revolution against Mexican rule.

It was the first time a regular Mexican army brigade was on U.S. soil since 1846 when, during a full-blown war, the United States took what are now its southwestern states from Mexico.

The last time a Mexican military force of any type was in the United States was when revolutionary Gen. Francisco "Pancho" Villa staged a small raid into New Mexico in 1916. His forces killed several people, prompting Washington to send a larger force south of the border in retaliation.

To me, the obvious question is this: Are these Mexican rescue workers coming into the United States going to take jobs away from American rescue workers? Or, conversely, is this simply another case of Mexican nationals coming up here to take on the challenging jobs that Americans aren't willing to do? Based on how Mr Bush performed upon realizing a massive storm was threatening the Gulf Coast, I'd have to guess that this is simply the kind of work at least our federal government thinks is beneath them.

Maybe someone should hang a "help wanted" sign outside of FEMA. That might at least distract the Minute Men from showing up in Houston for a while.

Posted by Bucky at 08:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 06, 2005

Keith Olbermann Nails It

If you missed Countdown With Keith Olbermann last night, you missed the most eloquent expression of the rage we're all feeling I've seen. After you read the transcript go here to read the truth about Bush's visit. (Thanks to Phillip McNutt for this link)

Here's the transcript.

September 5, 2005

The "city" of Louisiana (Keith Olbermann)

SECAUCUS - Secretary of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff said it all, starting his news briefing Saturday afternoon: "Louisiana is a city that is largely underwater..."

Well there's your problem right there.

If ever a slip-of-the-tongue defined a government's response to a crisis, this was it.

The seeming definition of our time and our leaders had been their insistence on slashing federal budgets for projects that might've saved New Orleans. The seeming characterization of our government that it was on vacation when the city was lost, and could barely tear itself away from commemorating V.J. Day and watching Monty Python's Flying Circus, to at least pretend to get back to work. The seeming identification of these hapless bureaucrats: their pathetic use of the future tense in terms of relief they could've brought last Monday and Tuesday - like the President, whose statements have looked like they're being transmitted to us by some kind of four-day tape-delay.

But no. The incompetence and the ludicrous prioritization will forever be symbolized by one gaffe by of the head of what is ironically called 'The Department of Homeland Security': "Louisiana is a city"

Politician after politician - Republican and Democrat alike - has paraded before us, unwilling or unable to shut off the "I-Me" switch in their heads, condescendingly telling us about how moved they were or how devastated they were - congenitally incapable of telling the difference between the destruction of a city and the opening of a supermarket.

And as that sorry recital of self-absorption dragged on, I have resisted editorial comment. The focus needed to be on the efforts to save the stranded - even the internet's meager powers were correctly devoted to telling the stories of the twin disasters, natural... and government-made.

But now, at least, it is has stopped getting exponentially worse in Mississippi and Alabama and New Orleans and Louisiana (the state, not the city). And, having given our leaders what we know now is the week or so they need to get their act together, that period of editorial silence I mentioned, should come to an end.

No one is suggesting that mayors or governors in the afflicted areas, nor the federal government, should be able to stop hurricanes. Lord knows, no one is suggesting that we should ever prioritize levee improvement for a below-sea-level city, ahead of $454 million worth of trophy bridges for the politicians of Alaska.

But, nationally, these are leaders who won re-election last year largely by portraying their opponents as incapable of keeping the country safe. These are leaders who regularly pressure the news media in this country to report the reopening of a school or a power ation in Iraq, and defies its citizens not to stand up and cheer. Yet they couldn't even keep one school or power station from being devastated by infrastructure collapse in New Orleans - even though the government had heard all the "chatter" from the scientists and city planners and hurricane centers and some group whose purposes the government couldn't quite discern... a group called The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

And most chillingly of all, this is the Law and Order and Terror government. It promised protection - or at least amelioration - against all threats: conventional, radiological, or biological.

It has just proved that it cannot save its citizens from a biological weapon called standing water.

Mr. Bush has now twice insisted that, "we are not satisfied," with the response to the manifold tragedies along the Gulf Coast. I wonder which "we" he thinks he's speaking for on this point. Perhaps it's the administration, although we still don't know where some of them are. Anybody seen the Vice President lately? The man whose message this time last year was, 'I'll Protect You, The Other Guy Will Let You Die'?

I don't know which 'we' Mr. Bush meant.

For many of this country's citizens, the mantra has been - as we were taught in Social Studies it should always be - whether or not I voted for this President - he is still my President. I suspect anybody who had to give him that benefit of the doubt stopped doing so last week. I suspect a lot of his supporters, looking ahead to '08, are wondering how they can distance themselves from the two words which will define his government 'our government' "New Orleans."

For him, it is a shame - in all senses of the word. A few changes of pronouns in there, and he might not have looked so much like a 21st Century Marie Antoinette. All that was needed was just a quick "I'm not satisfied with my government's response." Instead of hiding behind phrases like "no one could have foreseen," had he only remembered Winston Churchill's quote from the 1930's. "The responsibility," of government, Churchill told the British Parliament "for the public safety is absolute and requires no mandate. It is in fact, the prime object for which governments come into existence."

In forgetting that, the current administration did not merely damage itself - it damaged our confidence in our ability to rely on whoever is in the White House.

As we emphasized to you here all last week, the realities of the region are such that New Orleans is going to be largely uninhabitable for a lot longer than anybody is yet willing to recognize. Lord knows when the last body will be found, or the last artifact of the levee break, dug up. Could be next March. Could be 2100. By then, in the muck and toxic mire of New Orleans, they may even find our government's credibility.

Somewhere, in the City of Louisiana.

Posted by Lyn Wall at 08:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

A hurricane journal

An excerpt from "Don't Let New Orleans Die", by Jordan Flaherty:

Saturday, August 27

I'm in New Orleans, and there's word of a hurricane approaching. I don't consider leaving. Why? Because I don't have a car, and all the airlines and car rental companies are sold out. Because the last two hurricanes were false alarms, despite the shrill and vacuous media alarms. Because I have a sturdy, second floor apartment, food, water, flashlights, and supplies.

Because there is not much of an evacuation plan. Friends of mine who evacuated last time sat in their cars, moving 50 miles in 12 hours.

Sunday, August 28

As the storm approaches and grows larger, everyone I know is calling. "Are you staying or going? where are you staying? Are you bringing your pets? What should I do?" Governor Blanco urges us to "pray the hurricane down" to a level 2.

I relent to pressure somewhat and relocate to a more sturdy location, an apartment complex built out of an old can factory in the midcity neighborhood. The building is five stories high, built of concrete and brick. There are seven of us in the apartment, with four cats.

Monday, August 29

It's morning, the storm is over, and we survey the streets outside. There has been some flooding. A few of us explore the neighborhood in boats, and we see extensive damage, but overall we feel as if New Orleans has once again escaped fate.

Later in the day, we hear some reports of much greater flooding in destruction in the ninth ward and lower ninth ward neighborhoods, New Orleans' most overexploited communities.

Tomorrow, we decide, the water will lower and we'll walk home. We expect power will start coming on in a week or so.

There are many relaxed and friendly conversations, especially on the roof.

With all of the lights in the city out, the night sky is beautiful. We lie on our backs and watch shooting stars.

Tuesday, August 30

We wake up to discover that the water level has risen several feet. Panic begins to set in among some. We inventory our food and find that, if we ration it tightly, we have enough for five days. As we discuss it, we repeatedly say, "not that we'll be here that long, but if we had to..."

We continue to explore the area by boat, helping people when possible. The atmosphere outside is a sort of post-apocalyptic, threatening world of obscure danger, where the streets are empty and the future seems cloudy. The water is a repellent mix of sewage, gas, oil, trash and worse.

We meet some of our neighbors. Most of the building is empty. Of at least 250 apartments, there are maybe 200 people in the building, about half white and half Black. Many people, like us, are crowded 7 or 10 to an apartment. Like us, many people came here for safety from the storm. Some have no food and water. A few folks break open the building candy machine and distribute the contents. We talk about breaking into the cafe attached to the building and distributing the food.

We turn on a battery-powered tv and radio, and then turn it off in disgust. No solid information, just rumor and conjecture and fear. Throughout this time, there is no reliable source of information, compounding and multiplying the crisis.

Tomorrow, the news announces, the water level will continue to rise, perhaps 12-15 feet. Governor Blanco calls for a day of prayer.

Wednesday, August 31

White people in the building start whispering about their fears of "them." One woman complains of people in the building "from the projects and hoarding food." There is talk of gangs in the streets, shooting, robbing, and lawless anarchy. I feel like there is a struggle in people's minds between compassion and panic, between empathy and fear.

However, we witness many folks traveling around in boats, bringing food or giving lifts or sharing information.

But the overwhelming atmosphere is one of fear. People fear they wont be able to leave, they fear disease, hunger, and crime. There is talk of a soldier shot in the head by looters, of bodies floating in the ninth ward, flooding in Charity Hospital, and huge masses (including police) emptying Wal-Mart and the electronic stores on Canal Street. There are fires visible in the distance. A particularly large fire seems to be nearby - we think it's at the projects at Orleans and Claiborne. Helicopters drop army MREs and water, and people rush forward to grab as many as they can.

After the third air drop, people in the building start organizing a more even distribution.

Across the street is a spot of land, and helicopters begin landing there and picking people up. Hundreds of people from the nearby hospital make their way there, many wearing only flimsy gowns, waiting in the sun. As more helicopters come, people start arriving from every direction, straggling in, swimming or coming by boat.

A helicopter hovers over our roof, and a soldier comes down and announces that tomorrow everyone in the building will be evacuated.

Across the street, at least two hundred people spend the night huddled on a tiny patch of land, waiting for evacuation.

Read the rest here.

Posted by Guest Blogger PDiddie at 05:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 05, 2005

Inside the Astrodome

I've got some observations of my own that are still a little too raw (and frankly I'm having trouble finding the right words).

So here's a few accounts from others. This was posted Saturday morning in its entirety here:

Just got back from the dome and I was overwhelmed by the shere numbers of folks they have put in there. The media was complaining that its not the 23,000 promised but in actuality there is probably close to 100,000 here throughout the Houston metroplex.It made me think of a modern day Hoovervile, by the sadness and magnitude of the trauma but the living conditions here seemed wonderful. I spent only an hour or so in the dome where around 17,000 people are living(its virtually a small US city) and was told they had just opened up the Astro Arena and that 3,500 new folks had been set up there. It felt more personal to be connecting with a mere 3500 folks. A pittance of people where I felt more comfortable. There are huge trucks rolling in with food, baby supplies and clothing and every conceivable medical supply. There are plenty of sick people but I din't sense the horible coughing and general sickness I expected to see.

For about 2 hours I got to play Santa Claus( and that's really something special for a Jewish guy) with my shopping cart of stuffed animals and small toys that seemed to light up the eyes of these kids who didn't seem to know what was going on before finally running out.

The evacuees seem orderly and polite and appreciative of the help. I spoke with numerous young men who were in construction and ran small business operations(not the so called trash folks the media seem to be fixated on) and who's home were totally gone who told me they would be staying in Houston and relocating they just couldn't stand to return. There were men wearing the same dirty socks for 5 days that appreciated fresh socks and underwear and my trying to match their shoe sizes.

Anyways the medical units set up were overwhelming. There were dozens of doctors, nurses, and residents who had arrived just when I walked in, who had been instructed by the local hospitals to volunteer 20 hrs per week there and were giving these folks top notch care. I have psychologists friends who are consulting with these folks about their emotional trauma. There were xray machines, dialysis, and chemo going on and everyone was instructed to be given vaccinations, tetnus shots I believe.

A Friday afternoon e-mail:

I don't know where to begin, how to describe what we saw last night. It's not total chaos inside, but about 2 steps from it. The smell meets you before you walk through the doors. Besides a name tag, there was little volunteer organization. 'Help wherever you can' was the order. We tried bringing food down from the upper levels, but made it back with very little. Everywhere people would stop us asking for the food, water, a cot, a blanket, clothes, phone...everything.

There was little food: only Doritos, some ham sandwiches and a little fruit. There was LITTLE clothing. We distributed what we had, but quickly ran out. People are walking around in clothing soaked in sewage. Many don't have shirts or shoes. There is a medical triage station. Many people needed medical care. Bryan came across a refugee leaning against a rail, close to passing out. Bryan discovered he was a schizophrenic w/ a heart condition and hadn't had his medication in 5 days.

There is a Lost Children section for kids who are alone and have been separated from their families. There was a good police presence. They did a great job of fanning out over the Dome. I was not concerned about safety.

My high school football team won the State Championship on that Dome field. Today, that field is covered w/ thousands of ppl desperate for just a clean pair of socks.

Friday evening:

I volunteered at the Astrodome today. It was heartbreaking to see everyone sitting on cots that are packed in so tight you can't walk between them. People were walking around shellshocked. As I walked in the Dome, I stopped to hug a woman standing outside crying.

It was a bit chaotic, but I guess I can understand. I basically just went in and registered. When I asked a Red Cross volunteer where they needed me, she said "just walk out there and someone will come up and ask you a question." I helped a little girl get some shoes. I tried to answer questions as best I could, but some I didn't know, such as "where do we find the FEMA area?" and "when can we register our children for school?" I would ask someone from the RC and they didn't know either. I do have to admit that it was nice to hear that wonderful NOLA accent and slang.

Two little boys asked me if I had any toys, so I found some for them, even though there aren't enough. Everyone seemed to have food and snacks. People were distributing drinks. I stood at a Miller Light bin loaded with soft drinks and water and handed these out to anyone that wanted it. Most people wanted ice, which we had, but no cups. I've asked friends here in Houston to donate toys and plastic cups.

Posted by Guest Blogger PDiddie at 05:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

September 04, 2005

I Met Lawrence Sherman and Willis Matthews Today

I got to the George R. Brown Convention Center about 11am. I can't speak to what's happening at the Astrodome, but everything was calm and safe and clean at the GRB. There were organizational issues, but everyone was working together to make the best of it. The evacuees range from the disadvantaged people the media is talking about to teachers, librarians and members of other professions. To a person, they are grateful and cooperative, almost embarrassed to ask for help.

Right after I signed in, they started sending volunteers to a different location. Just as I was deciding where to go, another volunteer asked me to take over caring for an Lawrence Sherman. I didn't receive the required orientation. He's an Army veteran who has little use of his right arm and leg. He was outside smoking a cigarette and someone had "borrowed" his wheelchair to help someone get off a bus.

I'm not proud to be a smoker, but today it came in handy. The evacuees are not allowed to have their own cigarettes or lighters in the GWB, but are issued 3 cigarettes when they go outside for a smoke break. I didn't see any evidence that they were given something to light them with. That's where being a smoker came in handy. After a while Lawrence was tired. I was able to find a wheelchair for him. When we got back to his bed, which was an air mattress with sheets, blankets and a pillow. The mattress was low on air, and the air pump had lost it's charge. I made the situation worse by trying to use the air pump and letting more air out. I spent the next hour trying to find a working pump with no luck. I was sent from station to station, including the command center and medical area. Another volunteer offered to help me replace Lawrence's mattress.

While Lawrence was finishing his nap, I helped out at the phone center where evacuees were trying to contact friends and relatives, register with FEMA and set up voicemail boxes. I helped Willis Matthews try to find his cousin, Gwendolyn Wright. He had been told she was at the Reliant Center but said that she wasn't well and the family wanted to bring her over the GRB. But registration information from the other sites wasn't complete, so we couldn't confirm she was there. I got him talking to the right people, but my guess is that he got on the bus, then the light rail and went to the Reliant Center himself to go look for her as soon as there was an announcement calling for people that wanted to go over there.

I found Lawrence, back in the wheelchair with another volunteer. The other volunteer was supposed to be working somewhere else so I had the pleasure of spending more time with this charming man with a sweet smile. We got him some lunch - a ham and cheese sandwich and chips. He wouldn't ask me when he needed help adding mayonnaise and mustard to the sandwich until I grabbed them from him and did it.

After lunch we went across the street to the park where there was a concert of sorts going on. It was a combination of hip-hop, heavy metal and Christian rock. There was a nice breeze. I felt guilty that my volunteering led me to a concert in the park, tapping my feet. But I felt good that Lawrence was enjoying himself. Someone was walking around handing out Wendy's hamburgers. Lawrence had really wanted a hamburger for lunch, so he enjoyed his burger. Another evacuee saw me sitting there and tried to give me one of her two burgers. It was clear I was a volunteer, but she was concerned that I get something to eat.

After a while, we'd both had enough of the hip-hop, heavy metal Christian rock and headed back inside. We were only allowed in through one entrance and on the way down there, Lawrence pointed at an empty wheelchair being wheeled by and said that that was his wheelchair. He hadn't complained about being uncomfortable in the wheelchair I'd gotten. I stopped the volunteer with the other wheelchair and we swapped the chairs. Once inside, I found a piece of paper and some tape and put Lawrence's name on the back of the chair. Before I left I found an Army soldier to help me put Lawrence on the mattress. I asked for his help making sure no one takes Lawrence's wheelchair. I told him I'll be back tomorrow and he'll answer to me if that wheelchair is gone. He gave me a good-natured "Yes Ma'am".

I got in my car and drove home. I'm home now, and showered. I just had a home cooked dinner. I sit here with my laptop watching cable TV, with as many cigarettes as I want, without having to ask someone for them. I know where my daughter is and she is well. My four cats are safe. I talked to my parents and some friends on the phone. They are well. Tonight I will have some wine and sleep on a real mattress in a dark quiet room after brushing my teeth in my private bathroom. I will continue to count my blessings and be back at the GRB tomorrow. And when I get there, Lawrence had better have his wheelchair.

Posted by Lyn Wall at 06:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack