New Orleans: The Ground Below Zero
Posted: Tue Aug 29, 2006 3:25 am
People are still drowning in New Orleans. It's a year later and the waters have receded but those of us who waded through it carry the flood in our eyes. Driving through New Orleans, I see dry streets, clean cars, and people walking and catch myself blinking back memory that seems more real than sight. Few can forget but some, like me, can't, and we remember too much to even breathe.
I came back to review Spike Lee's documentary When the Levees Broke. Over 12,000 people gathered in the New Orleans Arena where a red-carpet led inside. Survivors and celebrities shook hands and hugged. The camera flash made visible the victims who in the borrowed light of fame become part of history.
In between the hellos and trading of business cards there was nervousness. As Lee introduced the film, we wondered, what would we see? The screen lit up and it was like a door opened in the dark and Hurricane Katrina swept us with wet winds into the past. We saw ourselves sloshing through chest-high water, screaming for help on roofs, fainting in the hallways. In the theater people wept and laughed and prayed.
After the movie, Reverend Willie who guided me through the flood was guiding me again. He introduced me to actors, politicians and survivors then brought me to Mayor Nagin. Reporters held microphones to his face. In the crush of questions, I asked if we could have an interview about the 9th Ward and the thousands of homeless left in the trailers. He never answered.
The next day, I went to the FEMA Diamond site to find the answer. Rows of white trailers shined in the sun. A few weeks ago I could not have come here. FEMA blocked reporters from talking to evacuees. If a family had a complaint it was kept inside the fences. After public pressure, FEMA reversed its policy and allowed reporters in the camps but by then the media had moved on to Iraq and Lebanon.
I parked and saw there were no public phones. Evacuees walked around aimlessly in the heat. Few people have cars and those that do drive them in slow circles. There is nothing to do and no where to go except the bottom of a can of beer. “A lot of them hang out and get drunk,â€
I came back to review Spike Lee's documentary When the Levees Broke. Over 12,000 people gathered in the New Orleans Arena where a red-carpet led inside. Survivors and celebrities shook hands and hugged. The camera flash made visible the victims who in the borrowed light of fame become part of history.
In between the hellos and trading of business cards there was nervousness. As Lee introduced the film, we wondered, what would we see? The screen lit up and it was like a door opened in the dark and Hurricane Katrina swept us with wet winds into the past. We saw ourselves sloshing through chest-high water, screaming for help on roofs, fainting in the hallways. In the theater people wept and laughed and prayed.
After the movie, Reverend Willie who guided me through the flood was guiding me again. He introduced me to actors, politicians and survivors then brought me to Mayor Nagin. Reporters held microphones to his face. In the crush of questions, I asked if we could have an interview about the 9th Ward and the thousands of homeless left in the trailers. He never answered.
The next day, I went to the FEMA Diamond site to find the answer. Rows of white trailers shined in the sun. A few weeks ago I could not have come here. FEMA blocked reporters from talking to evacuees. If a family had a complaint it was kept inside the fences. After public pressure, FEMA reversed its policy and allowed reporters in the camps but by then the media had moved on to Iraq and Lebanon.
I parked and saw there were no public phones. Evacuees walked around aimlessly in the heat. Few people have cars and those that do drive them in slow circles. There is nothing to do and no where to go except the bottom of a can of beer. “A lot of them hang out and get drunk,â€