Yesterday, I wrote of S and D going back into Slidell to salvage S’s belongings that have been in a storage unit and were ruined in the flooding during Katrina. Unfortunately, Shannon’s insurance will pay for none of the damage. D assesses the impact on the worst-hit zones:
“It’s not a happy place. Things are far from normal in the damaged areas. Unless you bring your own support system, including your own clean water, your own food and your own place to stay, you are a drain on the resources that are already there. Unless you’re there as a member of Red Cross or an organized relief group, you will not help the situation. Unless you have a magic wand that will put together all of the destroyed homes, then you’re just in the way, someone else who needs to be cared for. I can’t say this strongly enough – if you really want to help the affected areas, you need to be prepared to live in mud, debris and basic sanitation. Join the Red Cross or a group that has the infrastructure to support your presence. If you know a home or business owner who specifically wants your help, then go and help. If you don’t meet the above criteria, I strongly recommend staying away.
“Until we got to Baton Rouge, there was no visible damage. The traffic was moderate, more than expected, headed down I-12. Stopping to eat on the east side of Baton Rouge, I talked with a Second Harvest Food Bank volunteer. She said that SH takes a semi-load of food to the Slidell area everyday and they wish they could take more. She said, ‘Even though we go there once a day, the destruction is really hard to take.’ As we approached Slidell, we noticed the randomness of the damage. Some street signs were perfectly fine, while ones close by were twisted into cylinders. Most shopping centers and landmarks looked just as I remember them, but it was when we entered the city of Slidell on Highway 11 that the massive, eerily-random destruction became apparent. It looks like a war zone.
“We could tell who had been back to their homes and businesses (haphazardly cleaned-up properties and huge piles of trash bags) and the true military presence. We were behind a military convoy that stopped and waved us around – the reason they pulled over was a Canadian military contingent ahead of them with three inflatable Zodiacs (Jacques Cousteau to the rescue!) and SUVs. At this point, I wanted to take a picture and rolled the window down – between the overwhelming smell of decay and the haunted look on the locals’ faces, I just couldn’t do it. That’s when I began to cry and felt like a ghastly and disrespectful tourist – why none of my pictures have people in them.
“S’s storage facility had cars parked outside with water lines up to their roofs. There was no place to park as the regular parking lot was filled with trailers for the owners and employees, and dumpsters for the contents of the storage units. Once we got out of the truck, the smell was almost overpowering; it was a combination of swamp muck, rotten eggs and sewage. We walked in the storage building and saw that the entire facility had been wiped out to the ceiling. The owners were preparing to throw everything out anyway, so were glad to see S.
“At this point, not knowing how to proceed, we drove to the Allstate Insurance office. As S talked with one of the agents, I overheard the story of one family who had been passed from adjustor to adjustor while desperately trying to get someone to assess their damaged house before they tore out the insides ASAP, so as to lessen the growing mold damage. The homeowner said, ‘Everyday, I see the mold spreading rapidly through my home. Can someone please just come look, do I take pictures or what? I don’t want to lose the whole house.’ The only thing he receives from the insurance reps is the same request to wait. Meanwhile, S was told politely that the insurance company will not cover any of his loss – his flood insurance would cover items actually present in a house but not in storage. As he was between homes, he was not covered at all.
“We returned to the storage unit to save what we could. S’s well-organized stack of belongings were now in a big, wet heap. Most of it was destroyed and we wheelbarrowed it through the mud into the dumpster. Each one of his Rubbermaid containers was filled with pungent slime – we almost threw up on opening one of them. No masks were available, so we made do with gloves. It took us a couple of hours to get the storage unit emptied, collecting the little that could be saved in a small, dry corner of the storage facility. The owners came by at 6:30PM and advised us of the 8PM Slidell curfew.
“With each successive trip to the dumpster, I saw another part of someone’s life that you don’t expect to see in the trash. Ruined pictures, well-worn stuffed animals and a lot of things that, no doubt, held many memories for a lot of people. Worse were the different stages of mourning that people wore on their faces – fear, anger, frustration, anguish and resignation. Conspicuous because of its absence was laughter. We did, however, see several tired smiles and one optimistic car-dealer’s sign spraypainted on a piece of plywood: Fresh Cars & Trucks Coming In Now!
“Tired, stinky and emotionally exhausted, we headed out of town fifteen minutes before the curfew, and thought it best to get a room for the night. We were both tired, but, more importantly, we wanted to wash the slime off our bodies and clothes. According to our internet resources and the 800 numbers we called, there are no available hotel rooms in the state of Louisiana. The first vacancy was 20 miles east of Houston. At 3AM, we reached Houston.
“The one thing not brought up on the news is the long-lasting, life-changing emotional impact that this disaster has had on people who completely lost their homes, as opposed to the residents of Uptown, the Garden District and other spared portions of New Orleans. I got the impression from people I talked with that, psychologically, they will never again be the same. It’s not too soon to tell.”
