Photos..

So I've finally taken the time to get my photos online..

http://www.kodakgallery.com/Slideshow.jsp?mode=fromshare&Uc=5ti3wm4.q4tup0o&Uy=-sw9njx&Ux=0

Hopefully that link works.

3 hours, Plus 29

I will never rent do business with National Car Rental again. Or Alamo. They or, but aren’t they same company. Because of a few things with them, I missed my flight out of Gulfport. After some difficulty, I then rented my car from National a third time on Thursday. Same exact car. I then drove that car to Washington, DC, because all the ticket counter agents laughed at me when I asked them about going standby on a flight to DC. There was hardly a chance of my getting on a flight within the next week because of overbooking.

So I drove 1,034 miles. The entire way, I followed tropical depression Tammy, which dropped unceasing rain on my car. I also followed the track of hurricane Katrina, evidenced by the wrecked trees along the highways and occasional signs on storefronts begging costumers to bear with them as the proprietors mend from the effects of Katrina

The trees told the story the best. When a tree falls, it snaps – you can see which side of the trunk gave way. But when a hurricane takes down a tree, it is different. Hurricanes seem to twist a tree, so when the tree can’t bear it anymore, there’s a splintery explosion that goes in every direction. Shards of wood, pointing everywhere, the top of the tree laying nearby, sometimes still connected. It’s messy. I saw these trees at least a hundred miles beyond the coast.

When I finally got home, I took a shower which didn’t seem to get the gulf coast gunk off out of my skin and armpits, and then I slept for thirteen hours. Oscar’s been complaining of the muggy, wet weather, and while I do agree that the constant rain outside is wet…it feels like fall to me, reminiscent of Humboldt county. It’s a great time to be in DC, whereas New Orleans still has the hot and nasty. I think next time I feel that the weather in DC has turned to something oppressive, I’ll just head down to New Orleans where things just get worse. I bet a weekend down there would make DC feel like Shangri-la.

The short of it all, is that I’m back in DC, and I still have a fair amount of work before me. A lot of straightening out as well, as I take a look at the past two weeks. But that’s all for another time: I’m watching The Maltese Falcon.

An Observation

You might think that there are droves of rats in New Orleans. With all the trash everywhere, the stench, the free-reign they’d have of the city, etc. I haven’t seen a single one. In DC, I see them all the time, but none here. Before coming here, I’d heard talk about the cockroaches – I’ve seen three. Very few birds. I figure the floods and toxicity did them in. However, there are lots of cats, and some stray dogs. Lots of dogs that have been hit by cars.

A house alarm is going off somewhere in the neighborhood. It’s really loud. Obnoxious too. I wish the looter knew how to turn it off.

Driving home last night, after a long, extremely busy day creating maps and some tools for the New Orleans Public Health Department, I was talking to Hilary on the phone. I made a few comments about how surprising it was that I hadn’t been pulled over yet for curfew enforcement, as well as driving through “closed” neighborhoods. I haven’t been pulled over yet by a Humvee, and New Orleans might be one of the few opportunities where I could achieve that, since the military has been patrolling the city. Almost immediately after saying that, I noticed a strange person walking in the street about a block ahead of me. It was a little after midnight, and the person had stepped out from behind a tree, and was wearing hunting clothing. Immediately, I thought something weird was going on, and became a little nervous as I was driving down a very narrow street, and the person was at the oncoming intersection. I slowed down a little as I continued to approach, and that’s when I noticed the gun. A large, very large gun. And another person. Two men, with guns. It took some time to click, but by the time I was commanded to stop, I had just barely realized that these were two soldiers. And there were two Humvees that then blocked the road.

Luckily, they were nice guys and didn’t shoot me. I was still a little weirded out by it.

It had been a long day at the New Orleans Emergency Operation Center. People need maps for meetings, and I wanted to finish up two maps to distribute to the public. On top of all that, I didn’t want to leave the folks I was working with there high and dry. My hopes are that they’ll keep some of the maps updated after I leave, and continue to communicating with aid agencies and departments so that information is consistent and available to the public. As it was left, two of the maps will be sent to the printers for immediate, mass distribution!

Wednesday was spent with hippy kids. Houma, is turns out, wasn’t all it was hyped up to be. In fact, Houma seemed normal as we drove through. The community we ended up in was Dulac, LA. Low population density, minimal wind damage, and some flood damage. Not the large Native American population, nor the Vietnamese. There were a few, but it was just a diverse community, coping as well as they could. Most everyone had plenty of water and food. Many had their electricity and gas restored already, and were most concerned with the mud which the flood waters left in their houses. In this area, the flood waters were about four feet high. Many of the homes were already prepared, and had been built on ten foot high stilts. It’s the Mississippi flood plain after all! Everyone wanted bleach, mops, push brooms, cleansers and scrub brushes. The truck that was brought left with a few cans of food in it, and nothing else.

While most of the aid distribution was going on, I hopped back in my car and drove down the road further, assessing the damage and looking for more aid services. I found two additional locations, which is enough to make a useful map. I’ll probably do it as I sit in the airport today, waiting for my plane.

It’s been a tumultuous final set of days. Between all the hard work, I’ve been going for two weeks straight with no breaks. My head is a little full, I want to change my clothes, and I wouldn’t mind a break. I spent over three hours last night hunting for food. At first I wanted some good local food. A catfish po’boy or some gumbo. Towards the end, I was upset when McDonald’s wasn’t open. I criss-crossed New Orleans and Jefferson Parish, the east bank and the west bank. Nothing, until my second time back in downtown New Orleans someone recommended trying such and such place in Metairie – they might be open. So I sped away, and found the place. It was open. All the served, on any day, were chicken fingers, toast and fries. I ordered two boxes. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was starving. The chicken wasn’t bad either, not great, but at that time, it was tasty. Problem was that I’m slightly allergic to chicken. After eating one, my throat began to swell up, my ears felt pressure – anaphylactic shock. I tolerated it, chocked down three more chicken fingers, and figured that if it got bad enough, I could make it to one of the military check points and they’d have an epi shot to give me. Thankfully, it didn’t get that bad. Now, I have that second box of chicken wings, toast and French fries sitting in the other room, and I’m very tempted to crack into it!

I think I was about to describe the additional pressure of the last two days. The big thing occurred on Tuesday morning. A GIS group I’d been volunteering with before coming to New Orleans, in which I was helping track down the best available and most recent data for the gulf coast region, contacted me with an opportunity. On October 8th, a day and a half after I’d leave New Orleans, they needed a GIS instructor/documentation writer for a training session with a landmine removal organization. There was a scheduling conflict, and they needed someone good right away. The training was to be in Beirut, Lebanon. So like any decent person, I jumped at it. It would be for three weeks, paid nicely each day, and all my travel would be covered. I started making the necessary phone calls, I was accepted, and while the plane tickets were being discussed and purchased on Wednesday, the training was cancelled. No need for me, and all my excitement was for naught. Yep, I was disappointed. Very disappointed. However, their chairman called me up, and requested I come by their office in Washington, DC when I returned, and introduce myself to the folks there – they’d like to see how they can fit me in to some other landmine projects they have around the world.

Anyways, its something to look forward to. Just like my two or three hour drive to the airport. Speaking of that, I got to get a move on!

Broken Fabric, Loose Ends

Today, I feel I learned more about showering that I have in the past 26 years. By the time I leave, I might get pretty good at showering. Since the water in all of DC is highly toxic and not being purified right now, I took a shower today using bottled water. It was a great outside shower, in a backyard surrounded by luscious plants, tall oaks (I think they’re oaks, but I haven’t actually looked), and fallen tree limbs. Had my soap, had my shampoo, and I had that definite stench which forced me to clean myself. The difficult part was that I only had 2.5 quarts of water divided amongst 5 0.5 quart bottles. I’d fashioned a shower head using one of the bottle cps and a wine opener, and my holes were a little too big but that’s all I could find. A little sprinkle here, a little sprinkle there, a little soap, a little scrub and a little sprinkle again. Water goes quickly. I know I grew up in the drought stricken Los Angeles basin, But I have no idea how much water my showers typically take! I’m going to guess I surpass 10 gallons by the time I start thinking about soap!

I don’t know how much all the trouble was worth, because I’m just going to put on the same clothes I’ve been wearing for almost a week straight…and they stink.

I’m headed back into the EOC again today, to finish cranking out a set of maps they’ll be distributing to the general public, clinics, and emergency services. If all goes well, I’ll be giving them a crash course in GIS mapping, research skills, and setting them up with a simple infrastructure to continue with. It looks like tomorrow I’ll be headed down to Houma, LA, which is a disenfranchised Native American area down in the bayou. Old fishing villages, with an influx of Vietnamese (or so I’ve heard). From my anti-establishment contacts at the Common Ground Collective Free Clinic and Distribution House, the Houma community is not receiving aid yet. Its October 4th, six and a half weeks after Katrina made landfall.

Tonight, I Write From New Orleans

It is interesting being the only person on the block. Going outside, I can hear things. Things you usually can’t hear in the city. Simple things, that you could take for granted if you heard them all the time. Distinct insects, the crackling of dry leaves, branches creaking. Unfortunately, I can also feel the thick, lukewarm air, interrupted only by the occasional, slight, very slight breeze. Only the back of my neck can feel those changes of air, but I wish they wouldn’t stop.

How people existed without air conditioners just baffles me. Now I see why ice is in such hot demand down here. Going to the distribution centers, everyone wants ice. Tons of it. I wish I could lie on some ice right now. I remember backpacking up San Gorgonio when I was younger. We spent two days just climbing upwards in the summer sun. All day long, that heat was just killing. On very rare occasions, we pass a substantial chunk of compacted snow. Hard as a rock, but still cold. I wanted to lay on it and just relish the irradiating coldness. It was never comfortable enough to stay on for more than a few seconds, plus they were filthy. I would give anything to have that pile of snow right now. Even just cold water. From the car, I brought in one water bottle (of the many that roll around the backseat). Its warm, but it helps out so much. It almost feels cold in my mouth. It’s also this cheap bottle stuff from one of the distribution points I’ve stopped in it. The plastic bottle is imparting a really strong taste. The stamp says it was bottle less than three months ago, but it is really nasty. I’ll keep drinking it though, because this bottle, and those in the car, is all I have until I head back into the EOC tomorrow. This air is making me stink too, so I’m not too sure what I’ll do about a shower tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll have to use toilet water.

Today I continued where I left off yesterday: volunteering at the EOC. Specifically, I’ve been working with the New Orleans Public Health Department. For all intensive purposes, this department doesn’t exist anymore and is being rebuilt from scratch. I showed up because the work I’d been doing, of cataloging and mapping assistance locations, is quite similar to an endeavor of theirs, which is to locate and assess healthcare locations across New Orleans. Most of this, I’ve already achieved. See, New Orleans proper, that section on the east bank of the Mississippi has all about been destroyed. The west bank, Algiers, is the foundation of the New Orleans health system right now: 3 clinics. One of those is a parking lot. On the east bank, there’s one clinic, two pharmacies, and a very large Army MASH hospital set up in the Convention Center. Oh, and the USS Comfort, a naval hospital ship down across town, in Ward 9 (the hardest hit part of the city).

There’s a huge amount of work which needs to be done. For any progress to be achieved in this city, people need to come back. But people won’t come back unless there are serviced provided to them. You can’t expect a family to return to their toxic, flooded home to salvage the remnants of their life and not have food to serve them, water they can use, ice, healthcare and first-aid, psychological support, cleaning supplies, whatever. People will be coming back, if at least for closure or to pick up some pieces. The city is wide open for it, but not at all prepared.

Much of that responsibility starts with public health. It’s an exciting time to be there, seeing how it unfolds, and helping it to do so.

Invited Inside

Today, a big thing happened. I’d been driving around New Orleans in the afternoon, scoping out any aid assistance locations. I wasn’t finding anything, but I kept driving. I became distracted by destruction. One of the areas I was driving through had obviously been hit by the flooding. The lawns and sidewalks, even some of the streets, were caked with thick mud, baking into hard, faceted bricks. Everything was dirty, mostly covered in dried mud. Water marks 5-8 feet high. Spray paint on buildings, marking if they’d been searched by any number of people: home inspectors, police, dead body finders, animal rescue, drug enforcement agency, whoever. I have no idea what any of their symbols mean, but some have obvious messages scrawled across the walls. Devastated. Very much a Wild West feeling. When you don’t see another car or person for a long time, and all off a sudden you can make out a car driving towards you, through the debris and what not, you start to wonder. Why is there a car headed towards me? Should I run away??

Right now, New Orleans seems to be a city with no laws. One could easily be nailed by a car blowing through an intersection, and not stopping, nay, not even slowing down, because the traffic light is out. At the same time, I must say, I felt really pathetic hitting every red light that was operational.

After driving around, a came across a health clinic. Once insides, I was quickly directed to another person working in the Emergency Operations Center (EOC) for New Orleans. I headed over there, introduced myself to my contact there, and began asking questions. To keep things short, since I’m exhausted again, they really want to work with me. The data I’ve been gathering is exactly what they’ve been wanting to do, but haven’t been able to.

Tomorrow, bright and early, I’m headed back, to see how we can work off one another.

A Change

So the issue I wrote about in my last installment, the frustration of being forced to wait as I could be making maps, was the tip of the iceberg. During the last week, there had been both small and large issues developing which brought aggravation to the volunteering I’d been doing with Global MapAid. I’ve been extremely excited about the work I’m doing, and the amount, but I’ve been disappointed about the disparity of quality and quantity of work I’ve been doing and what my partner was contributing. It has taken great patience in the mornings, and in the field to tolerate not performing the field research as efficiently and quickly as possible. I’ve developed integral contacts and worked despite skepticism on some projects, which do not contribute to the immediate need of the communities here. I’ve dealt with his disorganized efforts, the fact that he is extremely unprepared to be here, and a poorly defined direction for the project at hand. But I persevered through it, dealing with the problems internally while also carefully expressing means of improvement.

The short of it, is that on Thursday, after bringing up my desire to get out and do field research earlier in the day, my simple and well-founded request was met with a heated argument, erratic behavior, uncouth insults and general disrespect. I spent the rest of the day waving these things aside, continuing with my work. At the end of the day, as I drove across the Causeway, my partner began another barrage of the unwelcome behavior.

He’s been here for three weeks, and it’s been obvious that the fatigue has gotten to him. I am volunteering for his organization. Neither of those two reasons put me in a position to have to tolerate his recent behavior. With that in mind, my thoughts turned to seeing common ground between the negatives of large organizations like FEMA and Red Cross. But how could that be? Our team here is only two people! I then analyzed how productive I could be on my own, and the answer quickly became evident: I am no longer volunteering with Global MapAid. There’s far too much work here to be bogged down by the issues I’ve faced. I've come here with the sole reason to make maps, and to work extremely diligently at that. I have not come to help establish someone's company, or to be told not only that I am their servant, but my happiness depends on them. Sorry, but I have a little more respect for myself, and respect for the people I have come to help.

When I first made that decision, I actually did think that I could just change my flight and be gone. Which I could have – I still could. But after some encouragement and looking back at the real work I’ve been doing, I have another week here to make a strong difference. I’m staying.

Yesterday was my most productive day here. I not only finished the Algiers research I’d started, but then delved into the communities of Gretna and Terrytown, finding hidden and obscure assistance locations which I hadn’t yet heard about. I had an appointment with an Army colonel. Had one, but it never really happened as to some contrary opinions as to if I should be where I was, and I was subsequently escorted back out. In the process, I’ve discovered the only operating hospital, or MASH, and pharmacy in New Orleans. I made contacts to do work down in Houma, a largely Native American community in the bayous that was hit quite hard. I even went to the French Quarter, which surprisingly, seemed as normal as it could be. Tons of bars open, a live band in each, restaurants serving food, and plenty of people having a good time. I’ve never been there before, but I am anxious to return, maybe at a time after the trash has been picked up. The place truly smells nasty. A combination of feces, rotting fish, mildew, and spoilt fruit. And I’ll never forget the stoplight I was stuck at, at the intersection that had a hidden cesspool of raw sewage or pile of human excrement somewhere, strong enough to make a grown man gag with the windows up and AC on.

In between all the driving on Friday, I was constantly on the phone, trying to cover my last remaining need. These maps I’ve been creating will need to be printed. 10,000 cost about $700, an expense I wasn’t expecting previously, as Global MapAid was able to scrounge up the money. The angle I’m trying to develop is corporate sponsoring. I believe that large companies, somehow tied into redeveloping the region and individual homes, would be the best bet. Home Depot, GIS software companies, Costco, Ace Hardwares, Wal-Marts, K-Marts, unions, etc., as well as Kinkos (for the obvious printing reasons). If a company were interested in helping to cover the printing expenses, their logo and store location could be included on the map. Simple. My business partner, Oscar Larson has been graciously emailing and calling companies for the last day, but with no bites so far. I was able to stop in at a Home Depot, but their store manager was on vacation. If there’s anyone out there with some contacts in these companies, or similar ones, I’d love to hear about them. Ideas too!

Regardless, the maps will be made. I’ve already been distributing maps to churches and other organizations by way of my website, www.cartisan.com, and email. This avenue will continue. One of the aid locations I visited yesterday, part of the Common Ground Collective, offered me limited use of their laser printer. So somehow, through someone’s good graces, these maps will get into the hands of another 30,000 in the next week!