Columnist
“And the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth; and all the high hills, that were under the whole heaven, were covered.”
Thus was it written in the Book of Genesis, Chapter 7, about the Great Flood in the biblical time of Noah. “And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hundred and 50 days.”
It is nigh on 365 days, and though the waters are gone, the wrath of Katrina still prevails upon the city that was New Orleans. Only half the population has returned to this mostly inhabitable Crescent City, whose children are scattered and shops are ruined and joy may be gone forever.
In the exclusive niches of New Orleans, the wealthy are restoring their homes. Other prime sections are letting million-dollar contracts to conglomerate builders envisioning a new city as sterile as a hospital ward completely without soul.
Meanwhile, the uninhabitable wards are inching back on the brave shoulders of underprivileged residents who themselves are beset by a virulent, human pathogen hell-bent on pimping, selling drugs and thuggery.
Asked about a flood-conjoined house and car lingering in the 9th Ward, Mayor Ray Nagin replied; “You guys in New York can’t get a hole in the ground fixed and it’s five years later. So let’s be fair.”
The terrible blow from nature and the manmade September strike with jet planes were different in almost every conceivable way. So were the reactions, too different, really, to mount an intelligent discussion. But I think we all know what the defensive Mayor Nagin had in mind with his tale of two cities.
My son Jamal has experienced both.
With the 150 mph winds of Katrina beating up the Gulf of Mexico last Aug. 29, he evacuated by car to St. Louis. Three times since Katrina, the Long Island native has returned to his adopted home from New York City. Each visit was painful, and after the last one last month he put down his thoughts in a piece, fatherly condensed here, titled: “What It Means to Miss New Orleans.”
“I thought I knew what it meant to miss New Orleans until I was met by a chorus of unanswered screams of silence. Upon spanning the lake leading into the Big Easy, I knew this trip would not be that way. I traveled by land that just 11 months ago was a route to higher ground and safety. I almost didn’t recognize the city when I first saw her. My voracious research had ill-prepared me for this. Could my beloved New Orleans have been reduced to this?
“But this is who she is now. The signature of Katrina is on everything.
“Those houses still standing are virtually empty. I didn’t find many familiar signs of life in New Orleans East. Some folks were trying to rebuild, or at least re-evaluate. There were FEMA trailers unsecured on wheels. Owners debated whether to stay or leave. Rebuild or sell? Only time will tell about the repaired levees.
“Uptown, my old stamping ground, is up and running. My old residence high and dry and inhabited by Mexicans. The Lone Star flags flew proudly on cars with Texas plates. The tejano music, so familiar from visits to El Paso, confirmed the 9th Ward’s post-Katrina fears. Black labor has been traded in for brown.
“This city of 250,000 people is being served now by two major hospitals, both scrambling to replace or retrieve somewhere in the neighborhood of 10,000 medical professionals. Power surges abound, burning some houses to the ground. Life here is dangerous, it’s not Easy.
“New Orleans is in a very bad place, regardless of one’s class, heritage, ethnicity or race. The city will suffer for some time to come. The people on the Gulf Coast need our support; they need us: the U.S.
“I miss New Orleans.”
Even the biblical city of Noah’s came back after the flood. So there is hope, and more than hope, for New Orleans. Still, Nagin shouldn’t revile New York with envy, nor should the Big Apple respond with pride. While Twin Tower terrorists are relentless, the force behind Katrina tends toward mercy.
“God gave Noah the rainbow sign,” as the hymn goes.