(Primarily written for and published in Madison’s Isthmus Weekly – DailyPage.com)
This morning, I received a note from the captain of my Mardi Gras krewe with a request from Al Johnson, whom we crowned king of the 2005 Krewe du Vieux parade and celebration. Famous for his popular “Carnival Time,” the singer/performer “is stuck in Houston and in despair over not being able to come back home to New Orleans … he lost his house and car in the Lower Night Ward [as did Fats Domino] and also has a lot of credit card debt as a result of renovations to his house before the storm. Al cannot return to his home in New Orleans, but wants desperately to come back since New Orleans is his home.” This note went out to almost a thousand New Orleans residents and supporters; by next week, I am sure Mr. Johnson will have a place to stay in New Orleans. Three months after Hurricane Katrina kicked off the tragic sequence of devastation that left this great city wet, naked and hurting, such a letter epitomizes its current state. So much and many have gone never to return. Yet a lot thrives and, more importantly, wants to thrive. Many around the city have lost homes, family members, friends, jobs and whole ways of life, but want to come back and believe in their city enough to rely on the goodness of friends and strangers.
As a temporary resident of Houston until March of 2006, the question that arises in almost every one of my conversations with local Texans, transplanted Louisianans and the like is “Do you want to go back?” My immediate reply is “Of course, I do! But …”
But what? But, so much:
– What about next year and the year after that, especially given that Gulf of Mexico hurricanes will only intensify over the next dozen years, as suggested by several studies? If, by June 2006, the Army Corps of Engineers plans to restore our system of levees to their condition prior to Hurricane Katrina, we are now going to have to evacuate for lower-Category storms. How often must we flee? Do I trust the New Orleans Levee Board now? When I posed this question to a former Wisconsin resident who now lives in New Orleans, he replied, “We knew what we were up against when we moved here. We live in a hurricane-prone region. If we wish to continue living here, evacuation is the price to pay.” In this sense, I wish to give New Orleans another chance before it is too much to handle.
– How safe am I going to be as a woman living in a city with diminished law enforcement? New Orleans wasn’t called Murder Capital, USA before for nothing, but that ilk of crime contained itself within gangs and their neighborhoods. That was before the storm, and the city has seen only two murders in the last three months. Yet, what new incarnation of crime will spring up in the place of what existed before? Even as neighbors move back in and new faces show up around the block, how safe am I in my home and in my city, whether it is the commute to and from work, shopping, dinner or a night out with friends? How long will shell-shocked eyes and nervous laughter propel the city’s current residents through their everyday? Despite the fear, New Orleans goes on. “We will ride!” Mardi Gras krewes proclaim, Tulane University and many private schools are set to re-open in January, and a number of medium- and large-sized corporations, including mine, are moving back to New Orleans by the second quarter of 2006. All is not lost.
– Speaking of friends, how many will I see again? During my last four trips back home, I’ve run into a number of familiar faces on my block, neighborhood, favorite haunts and parties/meetings. However, a good chunk of friends who lived in Lakeview, Gentilly and New Orleans East are not coming back. Willingly or not, they have found new lives in Texas, Florida, New York and various other spots around the country. Some cringe and wonder out loud why they would want to return to “that stinking cesspool,” while others cry that a job and a roof over their heads are the only things that stop them from running back home.
– How will the city develop? Is city/Parish administration going to pour funds into putting trailers and homes in Lakeview, Lower Ninth Ward and New Orleans East, areas that are 5 or more feet below sea level, only to find that many aren’t coming back? While more affluent Lakeview residents rebuild, sell or relinquish their homes and lots using insurance money, income and savings, will the city be sentimentally daft enough to rebuild in areas such as the more impoverished northeastern New Orleans with no backing? Again, what’s more ethical: allowing marsh land to reclaim its rightful share, which forces people off their old spaces, or reconstructing previous neighborhoods, at the expense of badly-needed storm buffers? This New York Times interactive graphic neatly summarizes the problems facing the region (as an example, click on the Elevation Information radio button to see places at risk). Incidentally, it wasn’t until the early part of the 20th century that currently flood-devastated parts of New Orleans were pumped dry to make room for the city’s population growth.
– How hard will life be there, especially for friends and colleagues with illnesses, older parents, children and pets? With two of the city’s major hospitals condemned (one of them should have been axed a long time ago) and medical professionals relocated to other parts of the nation, how timely and accessible will medical care be? Can an ambulance reach the home of my friend whose son suffers from severe asthma that requires frequent hospitalization? A callous someone remarked that this kid and his mother should just stay in Texas and not return home. This brings up another troubling point not everyone who fled New Orleans can stay in temporary or permanent exile. They have to return for jobs, schools, and family or, in this boy’s case, because his mother’s job returns to NO early next year and his Texan school terminated his enrollment as of the beginning of 2006.
While thanking our host cities for their hospitality, we recognize that we remain guests here. Whether one has lived in a spot for three months or thirty years, home is home, and a sense of relative permanence and place is important to a healthy sense of being and growth. Besides, the cordiality of our neighbors is only as long as their attention span, and indifference sets in. After a while, we are loads on the system, even while working here and providing towards the local economy. For all of these reasons and the simple fact that New Orleans, even in its debilitated state, holds a load of promise and cheer for me and a whole host of its biological and adopted children, staying away is not an option. Not now, not like this. A lot of us want to return, get to know our city again and stay a while. If and when we do leave, it will be our choice to go and on our terms. Returning to New Orleans is not about sentimentality baked into a crust of nostalgia, it’s all about autonomy, self-actualization and not letting a hurricane or a negligent government get in the way of our freedom to choose how and where we live.
Disappointment doesn’t begin to cover what I feel in response to our federal, state and local officials“ response to an emergency that pales in relation to the Southeast Asian earthquake and tsunami or the recent earthquake in Pakistan. Last month, a cyclone and accompanying flood hit Chennai, India“s largest southern city, which left 200,000 families marooned and 300,000 people (~75% of New Orleans“ population prior to Katrina) in shelters. The city and state government in a nation almost synonymous with “corruption” took care of the problem promptly, while efficiency and progress are only slightly better three months after one of the worst natural disasters to hit our nation. When America knew of the imminence of the Perfect Storm, why were we so unrealistic, unprepared and uncaring? To make lemonade out of this situation, I hope that the rest of the nation and world now understand the horrible circumstances under which some Americans lived until the storm, encouraged by a vicious cycle of government corruption and citizen apathy.
I hope that the children of the displaced poor find better lives and, crucially, better educations in their new homes. If our only salvation is to look to the future after learning from the past, let us hope that the leaders of the New Orleanian tomorrow are educated and self-reliant visionaries who care more about fixing their city’s problems than making money on the side.
Today marks the first day of hurricane-free season. As Tropical Storm Epsilon rushes past Newfoundland, Gulf Coast residents breathe a collective sigh of relief. Another cycle of hurricanes looms in the not-so-distant future of next year, but for now, enough. What long, strange three months these have been. From devastation and dislocation to recovery and planning, we have sailed far on this sea of uncertainty and hope. But, ours is not the only sadness that troubles and teaches the world.
I close with some wisdom recently offered by a friend. The words refer to death, but are very readily applicable to the loss and renewal surrounding tragedies like Katrina: “How can the future be a better place when those you love are gone? It can be a better place because you miss them and you carry on living. It can be a better place because you can live life not in spite of your loss but because of it.”
