Amid a hurricane's toll,
a call to listen; journalists, take note
September 2005
In the mayhem of a catastrophe and the rush to cover
it, journalists spout numbers on damages and deaths often immune
to the full human toll. But, a volunteer at an Austin, Tex., relief
center has issued a call for Americans to take time to listen
to the stories of Katrina victims. The call has a special meaning
for journalists who may be talking to victims for stories and
may not realize the higher purpose their interviews can serve
-- meeting the needs of victims to share their experiences with
other human beings.
Clinton's article, below, is a call for journalists
all over the country, rural and urban alike, to get out there
and spend time talking to evacuees – not just to do stories,
but to use their interviewing and interpersonal skills, even on
their own time, to give these folks what they desperately need
– someone to tell their stories to. --Al Cross and Bill
Griffin, Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues
Katrina’s Ghosts
By Ryan Clinton
Last week, I worked the night shift --- 11 p.m. to 8 a.m. --
a couple of times at Austin's Red Cross shelter for hurricane
evacuees. Though the number changes daily, there were probably
around three thousand New Orleans residents remaining at the shelter
at the time. Food, clothing, phones and showers are provided for
them; all of the most basic needs are met.
What has touched me most, however, is the need of the
people there for nothing else but to be heard.
Among many others, I talked to a 90-years-young, nearly blind
widow who is terrified because she has never before been outside
of New Orleans, has no home or family, and struggles to believe
that she won't be thrown out on the streets. Her greatest hope
is that a stranger or two at the shelter will find an apartment
and take her in.
A 69-year-old caregiver of her 44-year-old son, who she watched
die before authorities arrived to evacuate them by boat. She left
her son’s body in the attic of her home. "I killed
my son," she says of her decision not to evacuate.
A 70-year-old woman who waded through chest-high water to make
it to an interstate overpass, where she spent the next 5 days
without water or food in the company of thousands.
A retired military nurse who lives on disability; he has no idea
where his friends and neighbors are, and keeps mostly to himself
at the shelter.
While I was walking around my designated "room" (of
some 1000 persons, I would estimate) of the shelter one morning,
talking to people who couldn't sleep or woke up early, I ran into
a woman who was packing her belongings. This is usually a good
sign, meaning she has found a place to go. I asked where she was
headed, and she said, "My job is relocating to Houston, so
I'm flying to Houston this morning." I asked what she did
for a living, and she answered: "I'm an attorney."
She fully concedes that she should have evacuated New Orleans.
"I got out too late," she says. As her apartment filled
with water, she located a neighbor's teenage son outside. Together
they were rescued by authorities and dropped off at the New Orleans
Convention Center, where they spent the next 5 days and nights.
She calls those days "unspeakable," but says
she must nonetheless tell the story.
It was a scene of complete lawlessness, with no police or National
Guard. The only food or water around was that provided by generous
looters, and that was not nearly enough. Armed teenagers shot
at the crowd in drive-by shootings, using the roads that the government
couldn't seem to find. There were a large number of rapes, with
women being followed into the bathrooms. Apparently, there was
also a pedophile among them, and each night in the complete darkness
inside, the screams of a mother for her missing daughter resonated
throughout. There were large, raging fights involving hundreds.
She and her neighbor slept in shifts, so that someone remained
awake at all times.
She, like many others, believed that the world had abandoned
her at the N.O. Convention Center. She saw the news helicopters
flying above, and at least took comfort in the idea that someone
was watching, even if only to report their deaths. She was actually
interviewed by a French television crew, another group able to
use the roads the government couldn't locate. After days with
little water, her feet and legs became increasingly swollen. Because
she takes medicine for blood clots, she thought it was only a
matter of time before she died. A day longer, and she says she
probably would have taken the entire, full bottle of the prescription
medicine she had in her purse. Ultimately, she was rescued from
the facility and flown to Austin.
She, of course, was one of the more fortunate ones at the shelter
because she has a job and a place to go. Those remaining in shelters
across the country will have to find new homes, new churches,
and new friends in new cities. Please take a moment today to consider
ways you might be able to help.
Ryan Clinton is an assistant solicitor general in the Texas
attorney general’s office. He is a native of Baton Rouge,
La.
