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>> LARRY BRADSHAW and LORRIE BETH SLONSKY are emergency medical >> services (EMS) workers from San Francisco and contributors to >> Socialist Worker. They were attending an EMS conference in New >> Orleans when Hurricane Katrina struck. Here, they tell their >> story. The source is http://www.socialistworker.org/ >> 2005-2/556/556_04_RealHeroes.shtml. >> >> >> Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the >> Walgreen's store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets >> remained locked. The airy display case was clearly visible through >> the widows. It was now 48 hours without electricity, running >> water, plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to >> spoil in the 90-degree heat. The owners and managers had locked up >> the food, water, pampers, and prescriptions and fled the City. >> Outside Walgreen's windows, residents and tourists grew >> increasingly thirsty and hungry. >> >> The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized >> and the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was >> an alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and >> distributed the nuts, fruit juices, and bottle water in an >> organized and systematic manner But they did not. Instead they >> spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the >> looters. >> >> We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and >> arrived home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the >> TV coverage or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that >> there were no video images or front-page pictures of European or >> affluent white tourists looting the Walgreen's in the French Quarter. >> >> We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" >> images of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling >> to help the "victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but >> what we witnessed,were the real heroes and sheroes of the >> hurricane relief effort: the working class of New Orleans. The >> maintenance workers who used a fork lift to carry the sick and >> disabled. The engineers, who rigged, nurtured and kept the >> generators running. The electricians who improvised thick >> extension cords stretching over blocks to share the little >> electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on rooftop parking >> lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and spent >> many hours on end manually forcing air into the lungs of >> unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks >> stuck in elevators. Refinery workers who broke into boat yards, >> "stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their roofs >> in flood waters. Mechanics who helped hot-wire any car that could >> be found to ferry people out of the City. And the food service >> workers who scoured the commercial kitchens improvising communal >> meals for hundreds of those stranded. Most of these workers had >> lost their homes, and had not heard from members of their >> families, yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for >> the 20% of New Orleans that was not under water. On Day 2, there >> were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in the French >> Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees >> like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for safety >> and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with >> family and friends outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly told >> that all sorts of resources including the National Guard and >> scores of buses were pouring in to the City. The buses and the >> other resources must have been invisible because none of us had >> seen them. We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our >> money and came up with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us >> out of the City. Those who did not have the requisite $45.00 for a >> ticket were subsidized by those who did have extra money. We >> waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the last 12 hours >> standing outside, sharing the limited water, food, and clothes we >> had. We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly and >> new born babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent" >> arrival of the buses. The buses never arrived. We later learned >> that the minute the arrived to the City limits, they were >> commandeered by the military. >> >> By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was >> dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased, >> street crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels >> turned us out and locked their doors, telling us that the >> "officials" told us to report to the convention center to wait for >> more buses. As we entered the center of the City, we finally >> encountered the National Guard. The Guards told us we would not be >> allowed into the Superdome as the City's primary shelter had >> descended into a humanitarian and health hellhole. The guards >> further told us that the City's only other shelter, the >> >> Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and squalor and >> that the police were not allowing anyone else in. Quite naturally, >> we asked, "If we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the City, what >> was our alternative?" The guards told us that that was our >> problem, and no they did not have extra water to give to us. This >> would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and >> hostile "law enforcement". We walked to the police command center >> at Harrah's on Canal Street and were told the same thing, that we >> were on our own, and no they did not have water to give us. We now >> numbered several hundred. We held a mass >> >> meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside >> the police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media >> and would constitute a highly visible embarrassment to the City >> officials. The police told us that we could not stay. Regardless, >> we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order, the police >> commander came across the street to address our group. He told us >> he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway >> and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge where the police had >> buses lined up to take us out of the City. The crowed cheered and >> began to move. We called everyone back and explained to the >> commander that there had been lots of misinformation and wrong >> information and was he sure that there were buses waiting for us. >> The commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I >> swear to you that the buses are there." >> >> We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge >> with great excitement and hope. As we marched pasted the >> convention center, many locals saw our determined and optimistic >> group and asked where we were headed. We told them about the great >> news. Families immediately grabbed their few belongings and >> quickly our numbers doubled and then doubled again. Babies in >> strollers now joined us, people using crutches, elderly clasping >> walkers and others people in wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles >> to the freeway and up the steep incline to the Bridge. It now >> began to pour down rain, but it did not dampen our enthusiasm. As >> we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line >> across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to >> speak, they began >> >> firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing >> in various directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a >> few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the >> sheriffs in conversation. We told them of our conversation with >> the police commander and of the commander's assurances. The >> sheriffs informed us there were no buses waiting. The commander >> had lied to us to get us to move. We questioned why we couldn't >> cross the bridge anyway, especially as there was little traffic on >> the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not >> going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in >> their City. These were code words for if you are poor and black, >> you are not crossing the Mississippi River and you were not >> getting out of New Orleans. >> >> Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter >> from the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the >> end decided to build an encampment in the middle of the >> Ponchartrain Expressway on the center divide, between the O'Keefe >> and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we would be visible to >> everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated freeway >> and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be seen >> buses. >> >> All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make >> the same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, >> only to be turned away. Some chased away with gunfire, others >> simply told no, others to be verbally berated and humiliated. >> Thousands of New Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self- >> evacuating the City on foot. Meanwhile, the only two City shelters >> sank further into squalor and disrepair. The only way across the >> bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers stealing trucks, buses, >> moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could be hotwired. All >> were packed with people trying to escape the misery New Orleans >> had become. >> >> Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water >> delivery truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! >> A mile or so down the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of >> pallets of C-rations on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to >> our camp in shopping carts. Now secure with the two necessities, >> food and water; cooperation, community, and creativity flowered. >> We organized a clean up and hung garbage bags from the rebar >> poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We designated >> a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids built an elaborate >> enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas, and other >> scraps. We even organized a food recycling system where >> individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for >> babies and candies for kids!). >> >> This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. >> When individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant >> looking out for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to >> find water for your kids or food for your parents. When these >> basic needs were met, people began to look out for each other, >> working together and constructing a community. >> >> If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and >> water in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration >> and the ugliness would not have set in. >> >> Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing >> families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our >> encampment grew to 80 or 90 people. From a woman with a battery >> powered radio we learned that the media was >> >> talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and >> news organizations saw us on their way into the City. Officials >> were being asked what they were going to do about all those >> families living up on the freeway? The officials responded they >> were going to take care of us. Some of us got a sinking feeling. >> "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to it.Unfortunately, our >> sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was correct. Just as >> dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of his patrol >> vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get off the >> fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its >> blades to blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the >> sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water.Once again, at >> gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law. enforcement >> agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or congealed into >> groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they saw >> "mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay >> together" was impossible because the agencies would force us into >> small atomized groups. >> >> In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we >> scattered once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the >> dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the >> freeway on Cilo Street. We were hiding from possible criminal >> elements but equally and definitely, we were hiding from the >> police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to- >> kill policies. >> >> The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact >> with New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out >> by an urban search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the >> airport and managed to catch a ride with the National Guard. The >> two young guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the >> Louisiana guards. They explained that a large section of their >> unit was in Iraq and that meant they were shorthanded and were >> unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned. >> >> We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. >> The airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a >> press of humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while >> George Bush landed briefly at the airport for a photo op. After >> being evacuated on a coast guard cargo plane, we arrived in San >> Antonio, Texas. There the humiliation and dehumanization of the >> official relief effort continued. We were placed on buses and >> driven to a large field where we were forced to sit for hours and >> hours. Some of the buses did not have air-conditioners. In the >> dark, hundreds if us were forced to share two filthy overflowing >> porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with any >> possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) we >> were subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches. >> >> Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been >> confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal >> detectors. Yet, no food had been provided to the men, women, >> children, elderly, disabled as they sat for hours waiting to be >> "medically screened" to make sure we were not carrying any >> communicable diseases. This official treatment was in sharp >> contrast to the warm, heart-felt reception given to us by the >> ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker give her shoes to >> someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered us money >> and toiletries with words of welcome. Throughout, the official >> relief effort was callous, inept, and racist. There was more >> suffering than need be. Lives were lost that did not need to be lost. >> >> >