My Darlin' New Orleans

by Riggsveda of Recording Katrina

In September, we were notified that we would be released on civil leave to work up to three weeks for hurricane relief. I wrestled with the idea for a few days, then told my husband I wanted to go. He stared at me as if I were mad. A day or two later, as we sat in the dark watching the images flicker past on the screen with tears rolling down our faces, he turned to me and said, “Go.”

I did.

-- <> --

August 29th has become the accepted anniversary of the Katrina disaster. One year later, popular media is alive with the rediscovery that hundreds of thousands of the original estimated 1 million people displaced by the storm are still in limbo:

According to Bob Howard of the Red Cross Hurricane Recovery Program, as of April 2006—the last time such figures were compiled—there were still 750,000 people displaced by Katrina and the two hurricanes that followed, Rita and Wilma. Katrina was not just a New Orleans tragedy: the entire nation was affected by the disaster that was broadcast on all channels of the media.

Day after day, I watched the television in helpless horror. I read seemingly endless reports of the spiraling ante of deaths, horrors, and bureaucratic ineptitude. My posting at that time here, on Corrente, and The American Street was as much an attempt to make sense of the events as it was to gather and transmit information—yet strangely, the more I posted, the less sense it made.

I remember most clearly how George Bush played the fool.  For days, while people died, Bushed feigned ignorance, then puffed out his chest and rejected international offers of aid (purely out of personal pride and vanity, that is) until Condi slapped him around a little. We all know now how well he handled it on his own: just about as well as he handles everything else. (See Think Progess’ excellent Katrina Timeline.)

It was my great fortune to have an employer who gave its people a chance to volunteer our services to the Red Cross for disaster relief. In September, we were notified that we would be released on civil leave to work up to three weeks for hurricane relief. I wrestled with the idea for a few days, then told my husband I wanted to go. He stared at me as if I was mad. A day or two later, as we sat in the dark watching the images flicker past on the screen with tears rolling down our faces, he turned to me and said, “Go.”

I did.

Little did I know how long it would take for me to get there. The ensuing struggle to get enrolled as a volunteer that eventually led to my training and subsequent deployment took several weeks, but I was finally called up to serve and took a flight out of Philadelphia on October 9, 2005.

At the staging area in Baton Rouge, I was in-processed and assigned to “feeding.” The next day, I was sent to a volunteer shelter in Kenner and set up in a local gym. For the next three weeks, I served food from trucks to residents in the Jefferson and Orleans Parishes. I was part of the first Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicle teams to enter New Orleans.

As of August 29 this year, and for as long as it takes thereafter, I’ll be re-posting the writing I did in the run-up to my deployment and the diary I kept while working in NOLA (identities will be protected). I’ll also intersperse my posts with photos I shot while there. I hope it may offer some additional piece in the puzzle that understanding Katrina has become.

(Piece reprinted with gracious permission by Recording Katrina. Image from flickr.)