I locked the door to my new apartment in New Orleans on Aug. 25, 2005, expecting to return Sunday night to begin my junior year at Tulane University the following week. Buried on page 10 of the Thursday’s Times-Picayune, New Orleans leading newspaper, was a brief article on Hurricane Katrina’s brush with South Florida and her projected path across the panhandle. The five-day forecast predicted high 90s all week long and possible afternoon thunderstorms for Sunday and Monday.
Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast early in the morning of Aug. 29. I, who like thousands of other college students had left the region with little more then a change of clothes, was now forced to drastically change my semester plans.
I returned to New Orleans on Nov. 12, landing mid-afternoon on a gorgeous 84-degree day. My brother and I sped our rental car down I-10, awestruck by the destruction unfolding before us as we rolled down the exit ramp onto Claiborne Avenue. Behind us lay the patched roof of the Superdome, and blocks ahead, Tulane’s damaged campus.
The brown water lines stretched across the front of the buildings providing a topographical map of the city, block after block. The smell of dirt, mold and rancid garbage hung thick in the air. The curbs were piled high with gutted drywall and unsalvageable personal possessions from water-damaged houses. The streets were covered with a chalky white silt, MRE packaging and discarded belongings. The peaceful quiet of dusk was broken only by the deep rumbling of military Humvees, slowly patrolling the streets like giant tan armadillos.
Across town, the Lower Ninth Ward and Gentily neighborhoods looked like a war zone – miles of crumbling houses, burnt businesses and beached boats. Walls had collapsed spilling kitchen tables and bathroom sinks onto the street. Entire houses had been swept hundreds of yards off their foundations by the sudden rush of flood waters – unspeakable devastation as far as the eye could see.
Neon crosses marking each building bore the name of the search agency and the number of bodies waiting to be removed. It was nearly two months since the city had been drained and they were still finding human remains. Hundreds of glistening FEMA trailers sat unused in nearby parking lots. Unlike the extensive gutting and renovation hastily being carried out uptown, these neighborhoods remained dormant and untouched by government relief personnel. A handful of residents had initiated their own community efforts.
I witnessed first-hand the inequality of the recovery efforts, and the inefficiency of the current infrastructure. Citizens wishing to return to New Orleans needed adequate housing and schools and services. Days after the storm, four Tulane students launched the New Orleans Hurricane Fund, dedicated to rehabilitating the New Orleans public schools. Donations for the fund will be collected from Dec. 6-8 in the George Sherman Union. Come support students helping students and take part in the effort to rehabilitate New Orleans.