Notes on New Orleans

from our friend Louis:
The following was sent yesterday by Ned Sublette, author of “Cuba and its
Music: From the First Drums to the Mambo," who was raised during part of his
youth in Louisiana and who recently spent nine months in New Orleans doing
research on popular music, history and culture there and their relationship
to the rest of the Caribbean.

“Below is an e-mail by a rescue worker that was forwarded to me. I'm leery
of forwarding unattributed material because wild tales spread via internet,
but this comes from a good source.

I have refrained from any political commentary (in news items that he has
sent) thus far, but I will say this, re. the penultimate paragraph:

The poorest 20% (you can argue with the number -- 10%? 18%? No one knows) of
the city was left behind to drown. Period. And this was the plan. Forget the
sanctimonious bullshit about the bullheaded people who wouldn't leave. The
evacuation plan was strictly laissez-faire. It depended on privately owned
vehicles, and on having ready cash to fund an evacuation. The planners knew
full well that the poor, who in New Orleans are overwhelmingly black,
wouldn't be able to get out. The resources -- meaning, the political will --
weren't there to get them out.

White per capita income in Orleans parish, 2000 census: $31,971 Black per
capita: $11,332. Median household income in B.W. Cooper (Calliope) Housing
Projects, 2000: $13,263.

And now here's the rescue worker, whose name I don't know:”
* * *
There are dead animals floating in the water, pets left behind. Surely
people thought they would be back to collect the pets. Not so. The rescuers
smell like gas when they come back in; there's gas in all of the water that
consumes the area. Fires are burning all over the place. Our teams are tired
and they are thirsty and they are hungry. And they have a place to sleep and
water to drink and food to eat. I can only imagine how the people without
these "luxuries" are feeling right now.

Each night will be a race against time. When night falls, people can't get
picked up from roofs, the rescuers can't chop into people's roofs to check
the attics for anyone alive or for anyone dead (sadly, there are dead). At
night we can't see power lines we can't see obstacles, we can't see any of
the things that will bring down a helicopter or pose a danger to boats
rescuers.

One of the teams came in today after having been out for hours at a time.
One particular rescuer went straight to a corner and collapsed into tears. I
went directly to him and just held his hand. What else could I do?

I said nothing. He said it all. They lowered him 26 times and he pulled 26
people to safety. He wants to be back out there but there are mandatory rest
periods. His tears are tears of frustration.

Entire teams are working on nothing but evacuating the hospitals. All four
of the major hospitals are beginning to flood. Critical patients have to get
out or surely they will be lost. Generators cannot run forever; that's just
the way it is. There are limited facilities to take those that are rescued
and those that need to be evacuated. Anything that leaves by air leaves by
helicopter. There are no runways for planes that aren't under water. Only
one drivable way in and out.

Water everywhere and more keeps coming. Until they can do something about
the three levees that are broken, more water will come and more water will
kill. The water poses major health threats. Anyone with even a small open
cut is prone to infection. Anyone who touches this water and touches his
eyes, nose or mouth without find a way to "clean" himself first will be sick
with stomach problems before long. It's bad and it's getting worse. It's not
going to be anything better than devastating for days or weeks at best.

I wish I could tell you that I'll check in again soon. I can't. I don't know
when my next message will get out. We'll be leaving where we are within just
an hour or so.