The New New Orleans

On Wednesday, residents of the Ninth Ward, the area most damaged by flood, were allowed back in. Wednesday I, too, was sent back into New Orleans (for work) with obviously a lot less trepidation than actual residents. I did have a chance to see the city for the first time since the storm. It was completely overwhelming and unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

Cleanup
- The cleanup effort is enormous. I’m in an area of Metairie that has already been “cleaned up” and yet there are still piles of trash lining the roads like mini levees.

- Refrigerators stand outside every house like guards. And, as a West Bank native explained to me yesterday, one tool has emerged as indispensable: you guessed it, duct tape. Because citizens were away from their homes for weeks, everything in their fridges ruined, and the rancid smell is overpowering. Homeowners are duct taping their curbside refrigerators shut to try to minimize the odor.


Sights around the Area Known as Fat City
- Red Cross vehicles are set up in grocery parking lots as people line up outside waiting for relief.
- This is minor compared to everything else, but finding lunch is more of a challenge now, which is weird for a city so food-oriented. Many restaurants are not back up yet. And many of the ones that are up are in a cash-only mode.

Jobs
- A friend informed (and New Orleans talk radio confirmed) that Burger King is offering a $6,000 signing bonus and $10/hour in an effort to lure workers. Many other businesses trying to start back up are in the same boat and are making similar offers. They can’t get people who want to work because many New Orleans residents haven’t come back to the city yet. Many aren’t sure they want to.

Traffic
- The traffic is out of control. I thought when I came down that at least traffic wouldn’t be bad since a lot of the city is still not fully in swing. Not the case. Apparently many workers are driving back and forth to Baton Rouge like me. That whole one-way-in-one-way-out factor is kicking in. What used to be a one hour fifteen minute drive is now a two hour commute. Surface street travel is also impaired because piles of rubble line the roads so heavily that most residential roads are for all intents and purposes one lane.

My Firsthand Account – The Sights
On Wednesday, I was only in Metairie, and the streets I saw had been “cleaned.” While the wind damage was obvious, I still was left with a false impression—I had seen the side of Veterans that didn’t get flooded. So today I ventured to the east side that was flooded by the 17th Street Canal breach. I was warned it would be heartbreaking, but I was in no way prepared.

I crossed the canal on Veterans and as the nose of my car topped the overpass, I first noticed these objects sitting in the median and on the side of the boulevard. And then it hit me—it’s upside down boats that have settled here and there when the water receded. And then I realized how high the water had been. And something hit me and I literally couldn’t breathe. And I was choking back tears and not breathing all at the same time. And I was overwhelmed with brown. Everything is just brown. Brown and dead. For as far as you can see the minute you top the canal bridge and cross into the flooded area.

I turned quickly onto a side street, but it was worse because then I saw all the condemned houses and the rubble piled outside of them. The silt left behind from the flood is now a layer of gray-orange-brown dust. Finally I looked up, and about eight or nine feet up where the flood waters stopped, the tree leaves are green and pretty and normal. But when you look back out at the world in front of you, all the vegetation is dead. And everything is just brown.

I saw contracting teams starting on demolition. In some yards, families with rubber boats and face masks were sifting through the remains of their mold-covered belongings. The doors of houses were spray painted with a bright orange X – signifying patrols had checked for bodies. Numbers beside the X followed by an A indicate the number of survivors. If patrols found no survivors, a number with a D indicates the body count.

I left quickly because I was too overwhelmed and because I didn’t think they needed the company of an outside spectator adding to their misery. But it’s burned in my brain. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been through a flood myself, but I don’t think anybody who hasn’t seen that firsthand can understand how devastating Katrina was to New Orleans. I’m trying to be optimistic, but even so, I don’t think the Crescent City will ever be the same.

My Firsthand Account – The Stories
- I listened to stories of people coming to get their insurance checks today. In Chalmette it’s bad. One lady described watching an elderly lady drown. They talked about the water rising so fast that people could barely get to the attic in time. They described the currents of the floodwaters being so powerful that cars were swirling in funnels. One of the workers I’m training mentioned staying in the Superdome and the mud that covered everything. I just didn’t have the heart—or stomach—to ask about details.

So the city is struggling. Some of the people are back, but it’s hard. I still haven’t even seen the Ninth Ward, and for safety reasons, I probably never will. But the whole city has been warped. I can only pray, all the more desperately now, for the people of New Orleans rebuilding, and the people of the Gulf coast who face similar challenges.

Tradition Planned to Continue
Yet New Orleans is determined to come back. Officials declared Wednesday that the show must go on. That’s right—plans are in the works to try to continue with Mardi Gras 2006. I can’t imagine how after seeing what I’ve seen, but I put nothing past the Crescent City.