Waiting.

It’s 11:36 am and I’m anxious. While I’ve gotten some good work done, it hasn’t been enough. Spent most of the morning integrating changes for our Bay St. Louis and Waveland area map, because the Hancock County Emergency Operation Center didn’t get their updated list of assistance locations to us until yesterday. As I’ve addressed before, things are in a definite state of flux. Last week, Bayou Talla Church’s distribution assistance was going full steam. Earlier this week, it closed down permanently. Yesterday, it opened back up. This is happening everywhere! No matter what, ours maps won’t be 100% accurate, and there are going to be some frustrated people out there who will go seeking help only to find the place closed. All we can hope for is that they go to the next place. That’s a difficult request though, because of nearly everyone’s financial situations down here. Gas is expensive; gas stations often don’t have gas, so a drive of a few extra miles isn’t as easy as it could be.

I’ve also been doing some research to assist the Dedeaux community. Not that they need much help. When we stopped by last night, I was thoroughly impressed. These people, the ones who have taken aid attainment into their own hands since the officials and aid organizations have failed them, are now creating a community map, paying special interest to the location of typically disenfranchised groups. This map will be used as proof to obtain the aid the community needs (and that these more at-risk groups need first), and to ensure that the people are checked in on: old ladies will be brought medication, infants diapers, food for the financial troubled, etc.

I walked into their school use that has been transformed into impromptu aid distribution point, medical triage unit, and shelter. On a table were spread a collection of maps of their area (Mrs. Nancy, one of the matriarchs of the community, went down to the EOC and demanded them), phone books, and piles of interview results. I had my doubts on if this project would be embraced by more than just one or two people, but those two had assembled a team of 10, with an age range of over 60 years. The youngest, by the end of the night, not only taught me about which country music stars she’d die for, but she was anxiously using my GIS software to locate addresses that the rest of her team weren’t sure about. Most college students can’t pick up the software that easily, let alone get excited about using it! She was a little disappointed that I wasn’t leaving my laptop with her so she could continue working! The rest of the group were busy working on deciphering the interview writing, confirming addresses and phone numbers by cross-referencing phonebooks, delineating the area of interest for the map (thus defining the “Dedeaux” which hasn’t yet been clearly defined), determining which roads are their primary access roads, which are secondary roads, and naming the unnamed roads on the map. On top of all this, they began creating the solutions the phase us out of the bulk of their work. This is actually wonderful, and what we want to have happen, but their progress has far exceeded our expectations and confidence. We’ll continue to play a role in their project, but solely as support, or technical expertise in special circumstances. One of the tasks I’m working on right now is to obtain the most recent satellite imagery of their community, so we can count the residences, thereby establishing a baseline for their interview returns.

Now, I’m anxious because I want to get back on the streets. Orleans Parish is slowly opening up, and we’ve been giving permission to go wherever we want, despite police or National Guard road blocks. I’m stuck waiting on my partner, who is dealing with some funding issues for Global MapAid. I don’t really want to wait anymore, because the sooner we can get out there, the sooner we can make the necessary connections with aid organizations, police, etc., to make our job easier, and to put more maps out there. I have less than a week left here, so if we want to achieve anything in New Orleans, it has to be done now.

I’m going to go and tell him if he’s not ready, he can stay here and I’ve got work to do. I have the car keys after all.

Oh, and I would like everyone to kmow that Bella, my niece, is much older than 7 and 8 months. She's 8 years old.

Eyes grown heavy.

Slept two hours last night. Exhausted. Went to Algiers, got carte blanche to go wherever I want in Orleans now even if it is closed. Might get a federal disaster recovery taskforce ID. Heard there are bars open in the French Quarter. Too tired to type more. Will try in the morning.

Fostering Certain Things

Before starting today’s blog, I’d like to point something out that some folks may have missed. The other day, after my vast expression of anger at the situation down here, my niece Isabella Raincloud made a comment. I was surprised to see that she reads what I have to say. She’s seven now. Seven and eight months, and she’s angry. I think she’ll do some great things. She’s seven and can already think of an excuse for nearly everything, and can probably use a computer more adeptly that many other people reading this. She’s creative, because she’s given me some absolutely weird presents which I don’t understand (but I was very glad to receive liquor bottle pour tops one Christmas). I hope she grows up to fully understand sympathy. If you take those three qualities, intelligence, creativity and sympathy, and combine that with anger and well chosen direction, Great things can be changed. But still, FEMA, Red Cross, Bush, internationalaid.org, I don’t care who you are, don’t piss off my niece because I don’t like that.

With all that said, today’s been a break from mapping. We’ve spent the morning and afternoon cross-crossing Jefferson Parish, passing out 10,000 maps to various organizations. After the last few days, where the failures of assistance down here keep rearing their heads and when I’ve begun to feel all the stress, I’ve lost focus on the point of my efforts here. I’d hand over a stack a maps, and each time, be it a police officer, Red Cross food distributor, charge nurse, national guardsmen with an M-16 directing traffic, or a pastor, each time I’ve been met with a face of sincere gratitude, thanking me, as if I’d really done something. Despite all the failures, I still don’t feel like I’ve been doing it. I click around on my computer, drive around collecting addresses and making notes, talking with people, but I’m not in the fray of things like most other volunteers here.

There’s a reason I’ve seen so much frustration in other people, bubbling to the surface in anger…because of what these people face everyday. They stand in the direct heat, in the middle of traffic, and with hundreds thousands of people coming to them asking them to give not only diapers, water, food and brooms, but asking them to give of themselves. Sympathy often can be mighty, but it’s a weight that can get heavy.

Yesterday, I was working on a map at the church we’re staying at, clicking away at a table near where a few Red Cross coordinators were working. Where I’m at is a volunteer shelter, and out in the parking lot there’s a group of Baptists that cook and prepare food to be distributed on Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicles. While this facility is not directly a food distribution point, it looks like one from the street. There had been a few walk-ins throughout the morning, but I hadn’t been paying attention. Then I did. A woman probably 32 came in, by herself. She went to the Red Cross worker, and for some food. The worker explained, as best she could, and that this place didn’t give out any food or donations, and the food outside was reserved for the vehicles. She apologized for not being able to help any more than that. In response, the young woman began to explain her situation: Section 8 housing, flooded and forced to leave, just the clothes on her back, water damaged car…nothing else, no where to go. And the Red Cross worker couldn’t help her, couldn’t direct her elsewhere, because she only knew what was right in her parking lot, nothing more.

I’d already begun walking back to my room so I could grab some of the spare maps off the cot. I hurried back. The Red Cross worker and the woman were outside, and she was turning towards her car, distraught. She was still trying to explain that she had nowhere else to go, no family, no money, no other hope left. I quickly caught up and handed the woman a map. She was from Slidell, the town on the map. She didn’t know that there was help available to her there. In Slidell, there’s a nice Red Cross shelter, which has WiFi, there are food distribution areas, places to can get clothes for free. Just the basics, but enough to survive. She didn’t know these places were there, and available to her. She didn’t know that there were opportunities for her. The map I made brought those opportunities to her. The map I made caused her to cry. Not because she lost everything, but because she had something.

Of course, all this is balanced. I went today to give a stack of maps to an Army Corps of Engineers distribution point, where giant blue tarps were handed out to act as temporary roofs. This was operated by civilians, and the one in charge, who I was offering the maps to, refused to give them to the disaster victims as they came in to seek help. She refused to have them on premises. Why you might ask? “If we gave those out here, it might be seen as if we were fostering certain things.”

WHAT? Fostering certain things…like what? That you might actually like to help someone who needs help??

I said that this day has been a break from mapping. It’s after 1am now, and its time to get tomorrow’s maps ready.

Too tired to think of a title.

Another day. I’ve been cranking out this Bay St. Louis and Waveland map most of the day. It’s a pain coming into a project midway through, especially when the person responsible for compiling the research has left. Numerous pieces of paper that often times make no sense, and then you try to integrate that with concurrent research…and Brody just gets a big headache.

All in all, I’m a little less angry today, but still angry enough. Last Thursday, we dropped off 5,000 maps to the Red Cross, which specifically requested that many so they could pass them out to communities with their food mobiles. It took them four days to actually do that, and only because we stopped by to check on them. Again, no communication, not even within the same office.

Had a great experience again back in Dedeaux, my first involvement in participatory mapping. I’ll explain more tomorrow. I’m feeling a little dead now. These 20 hour days are taking their toll.

"People Have Learned Their Lesson From..."

You may ask what one such as myself, gone to the Orleans area, has to do with Mobile. According to some people, Mobile is in Alabama. This is true. It's so far Alabama it is almost in Florida! And I was there today, since another volunteer was leaving today, from the Mobile Municipal Airport. It is a long drive. However, due to the wonderful benefits of technology, I'm quite capable of multitasking while driving. Why should I be content to simply steer and gas, when I could be restoring lives with maps? So, as I drove, I was downloading fresh data from the internet onto my laptop (broadband wireless cards are amazing!), converting finished maps into low-resolution images that could be downloaded by people with dial-up internet, keeping up on email, making a great connection with a professor at the University of New Orleans, and, brainstorming with Oscar, and chatting with Hilary. Oh, and I even said hi to my mom. Surprisingly, my mom was the only one that didn't immediately tell me to never sue the internet and drive at the same time. All together, today was unfortunately not a day of direct action. Yes, it is past 3am and I just finished working, but it’s been more a day of prep work for the next few days. That and driving to Mobile took all day. Most of today's work has been reanalyzing the research and mapping strategy. I've got some ideas on streamlining the process, and tying in some simple digital solutions that can help automate the workload. My last bunch of hours was spent creating a database, which will be utilized with an influx of student volunteers we are hoping to get through the local universities. Additionally, I've been hashing out some ideas to recreate Global MapAid's internet presence, in order to heavily feature the maps we're producing and the data we're collecting in a way that will be accessible by affected persons within the disaster area, and by aid workers. On top of this, I've been working with Rupert, the head of the organization, on some funding opportunities. As of now, the organization is supported almost entirely by volunteer donations of time, energy, and money. Vodaphone has given some financial support, and maybe a small handful of other companies, but not nearly enough to take Global Map Aid to the level of becoming self-sus …

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Around 3:30am, on Saturday, I’d finished writing my blog. I reread it a few times, looking for typos and what not. I then decided, that I wrote a really good piece. It had bee a long day and I’d seen a lot. I got my first glimpses of the hardest hit areas in Mississippi. Stood in a bank like with a woman who had her home flooded with 4 feet of water, most of which came out through her pipes, and who had been told earlier in the day that her insurance was not going to cover her damages, and another older man whose wife was slowly dying in a hospital which he did not have the resources to move her from. I also wrote on the place we’ve been staying, in Covington, LA. Then the power went out. The wind had been picking up all night long, and a few pieces of the roof had come undone. It wasn’t much really. I’d taken a break to walk around outside, and it was quite comfortable. The outcome of it all was the power went out before I could save the file, so I lost it all.

My intentions were to rewrite everything, but I’m not going to do that. See, I’m pretty pissed off right now. I’ve had two long days, and I’ve seen some important things. Perhaps life changing things. Most of it were things I think you folks should hear about. Stuff you need to know, about how things work down here. My language might get foul in a spot or two, but bear with me, because if you were there, you’d be angry too.

With that said, if you aren’t angry after this installment, you should go read someone else’s blog. I don’t mean to sound so harsh, but its high time things start changing. If anger is good for one thing, it’s for change. Apathy doesn’t do humanity any good.

Here’s what happened.

On Saturday, we finally had heo opportunity to head towards one of the areas where hurricane Katrina did the most damage. Not New Orleans, but the Bay Saint Louis, Gulfport & Waveland area of Mississippi. These cities are right on the coast, and had the eastern wall of the hurricane eye pass right over. The eastern part of the hurricane is what hurts the most – more rain, in addition to the wind and storm surge. We spent the afternoon in Waveland. Turning off I-10, we headed south on Highway 603. Immediately, the devastation was evident. The road wasn’t flooded, but all along the road it was. I lost count of the abandoned cars, partially submerged in the water. Many of quite beaten look. I saw an old Astrovan, which I recognized only by the bumper and grill, because that’s all I could see.

Everywhere was debris, trees snapped in half, trash and busted out windows. Highway 603 intersects and dies at Highway 90, which parallels the coast and crosses the bay, continuing over to Gulfport. That bridge which crosses the bay isn’t there anymore. The downtown, which is on the waterfront, is just walls. Empty shells. No broken glass anywhere. The coastal road, obliterated.

Highway 90 is where most of the aid distribution areas are, or PODs (Point Of Distribution). That’s were you go to get clothing, cooked food, food to take home (usually MRE and pork and beans), ice, water, brooms, bleach, medical treatment, whatever. Sometimes these PODs are small, others are large. Highway 90 had 3 large PODs, bigger than I’ve seen elsewhere. We stopped at them to collect information for our maps. One of these had a group of folks I hadn’t seen elsewhere. Burnt out hippies and your dreadloch kids. Not that I mean this in any derogatory way, because these guys were great. Their whole thing was to cook fresh, good meals and provide basic first aid. They did both quite well and even made sure I had lunch before handing me a cellphone. Surprisingly, I was being interviewed by a radio station, http://www.indybay.org/. I’ll try to find the link to the interview but I haven’t found it yet. Unfortunately, it was early in the day when that happened.

After going to these major camps, we went to another one we’d heard about, just down the road. This POD had about 8 refrigerator trucks, with FEMA and Red Cross logos on the side. There were also some Southern Baptist Convention trailers, and more Red Cross vehicles. Palettes of the usual items. We walked up to ask someone some questions, but had a hard time figuring out who that would be – there didn’t seem to be any volunteers around. Most distribution centers are crawling with workers, but this one had two. The woman came over to us, anxious to talk. She and her friend had been there for five days. Four days ago, all the FEMA, Red Cross, and Southern Baptists left. Didn’t say when they were coming back. They kept giving away items though, because people needed them. A FEMA representative came by one day and taped off the entire parking lot, so cars couldn’t get in. There were still palettes of items, so cars just drove through the tape. The police did too. Other than aid seekers, we were the first people she’d spoken to in days. She needed to know what was going on. They’d run out of food to give away, but she also knew what was in those trailers parked right next to her: food and ice. Each day FEMA and the Red Cross pay the fuel tanks to be topped off, so the items inside could be kept cold. These trailers are locked. The day we showed up there, these volunteers convinced a FEMA representative with a key to open one of the trailers, so ice could be distributed. I’m talking about large trailers here, 52 feet long. The trailer was full of ice. The volunteer was only allowed to take only four palettes of ice – a small fraction of what was inside. There were two bags of ice left when we were there. That food? It is still locked inside those trailers.

FEMA, Red Cross, what the hell do you think you are doing? People in that area are in need of food, and you are NOT giving it to them. Get your head out of your asses and start helping.

When we were there talking to the woman, someone near the palettes asked if she had any food.

She could only say “No.”

I’m quickly starting to realize the competitive nature of aid work. Aid organizations manipulate the disasters to better their situations, through statistics, turf pissing, or the denial of goods. Aid organizations like FEMA and the Red Cross depend on large funding sources, and they will do whatever it takes to obtain that funding, so that they can distribute it through their massive bureaucracy. I’m going to do my best to demonstrate how often this is done in a manner which has a very negative impact on the lives that have been devastated by disasters such as hurricane Katrina.

It puts aid workers in a very difficult position, no matter who they work for. I firmly believe that 99.9% of people in this world, if allowed to operate independently and in a near vacuum would strive to better the situation of their fellows. This manifests itself in other ways too, such as the minimal communication which often takes place within and between aid organizations. Example 1: This woman we were speaking with had no idea if anyone was coming to replace her. She was leaving in two days, and the people who had the answers, had left 4 days ago. She wasn’t told where they were going or if they were coming back. Example 2: I’m housed with a contingent of Red Cross Emergency Response Vehicle (or, ERV) drivers. ERVs drive around neighborhoods announcing that they have free food to give away. People come up, and they are handed a hot meal. Almost every single one of the ERV drivers here is pissed. The Red Cross is mandating that they drive in specific neighborhoods…which no longer need their assistance. These neighborhoods have gas, electricity, and are taking care of themselves. These drivers have asked to service other communities which either need more help, or have no help. The Red Cross powers that be have told these drivers:”No. You will drive where we tell you to drive.”

To continue, we eventually made it down to the waterfront area, which was nailed with a 30 foot storm surge. A storm surge is caused by the extreme low pressure within the eye of a hurricane, which lifts the water out of ocean, driving it along with it. Think of a glass in a sink that is upside down in the water. If you lift that glass upwards you’ll see water move with it, being lifted out of the surrounding water by a suction effect. It’s practically the same thing with a storm surge. This water was carried on land, thrown against the building with the 150+ winds, devastating everything.

From there, we went to the county Emergency Operating Center and a few more assistance points, before deciding to check out the final location we’d learned of, 45 minutes north of Waveland: Dedeaux School.

When we got there the parking lot was full. Cars double and triple parked, people hustling everywhere, getting shirts and items from boxes on palettes. We asked to speak to the person in charge, and were told to wait inside, in a makeshift medical room. We spent the rest of the evening hearing the community’s story…

The surrounding area also had the eastern wall of the hurricane’s eye pass over. This community was inland, and on higher ground, so minimal flooding occurred. Instead, significant wind damage took its place. Giant oaks were downed, and other trees smashed just the same. Trees blocked roads, driveways, fell on houses and cars, boats, power lines, telephone lines. Everywhere were downed trees. All the homes lost power, and many people were stranded. The community did what they could. They cut the trees out of the way, and brought as many people as possible under their own roofs. Some started feeding dozens of people out of their own pocket. They did what they could, by themselves, but no one else came along to help. No FEMA, no Red Cross, no National Guard…no one.

Until two guys from out of down showed up one had a medical background, but wasn’t a doctor or nurse. The other lost everything he had when Katrina hit Florida. They both decided to go help the Gulf States recover, and their paths crossed, and then they began traveling together, form community to community, helped them receive what they needed.

They’d been at the Dedeaux School for 22 days. In that time, they set up a pharmaceutical courier service, in which they went into the community found the people who were running out of medications, and then went and got those prescriptions filled, and brought back the pills. They also setup a triage center back at the school, and spread the word that it was there. Locals began pouring in with infections, broken legs, burns, etc. They’d do what they could to stabilize each one and then send them to the appropriate professional.

In 22 days, they received no outside help, other than the doctors and pharmacists who worked with them, often bending the laws to help the community. No FEMA, no Red Cross.

On Saturday, when we rolled into that parking lot, something big had happened. Earlier in the day, a Red Cross truck driver, with a 52’ tractor trailer offered his services. Not as part of Red Cross. In fact, if Red Cross knew, he might lose his job. However, this man was better than that. The leaders in the community drew up a list of items needed: food, medical supplies, cleaning supplies, clothing, etc. Then they went down to the Emergency Operations Center (EOC) for the county, which controls the flow of aid throughout the county. At the EOC, there are warehouses and stockyards, full of aid products. They drove the truck down there to pick up supplies, and were told they couldn’t. It was Saturday, and the place was closed – no aid pickups. No wasn’t an appropriate answer, and they eventually got that point across. I believe it had something to do with handing the guy a copy of the invoice, and finding a forklift with a key in the ignition. They loaded that trailer up with everything they had come for, as the warehouse worker spoke with his supervisor on the phone trying to determine what to do. Didn’t matter, because they loaded the trailer up as quickly as they could, and left just as fast.

They drove the trailer back to the school, and unloaded it around 3pm. When I arrived, at around 6pm, there were only 5 palettes of items left- everything else was in the hands of the community.

That was the first aid shipment the area had received.

It wasn’t the responsibility of FEMA or the Red Cross. The only way that happened, was because that community was fed up and needed help which no one was bringing. So they took it upon themselves.

Isn’t government setup to provide for their citizens? To protect? To shelter in times of needs? Where the hell are our taxes going? Where the hell are the people that we’ve voted for, or not voted for? Can they truly stand up and say that they are helping enough?

I challenge anyone out there to tell me again that the government, our aid organizations, and even we as a common people have learned jack shit from this disaster. Say it, and I swear I hope you too can begin to rot someplace, stuck with no help, until I can come and show you how things are really working down here. Because you know what? I wouldn’t come. I would leave you there. I would let you listen to the radio, and hear over and over how help was coming, and the problem was being solved.

You’d probably die like many people did in the Dedeaux community of something quite simple. Something that could have been resolved, but wasn’t.

As you may have guessed, I’m angry right now. Most aid workers are. The longer they stay, the angrier they get. There is not enough help here. There is no comprehensive strategy. There is no indication of a change for the better.

I’m going back to Dedeaux tomorrow for a meeting, and to begin making maps which will be used to get this community, the aid they desperately need. As opposed to a returnee map, in which we try to educate as many people as possible on where to obtain aid, this map will be sent to officials aid organizations, emergency coordinators…to show them they need to make a change in their aid distribution methods. It’s not working. It is failing.

I’m not even going to reread or proof this one.


ps. Amongst all that, here's a list of things you should be angry at that I've presented:
Your government and social relief structures have failed big.
Down here, no one knows what is going on
Aid is being sent to communities that have an abundance of aid already, while ignoring other communities
The situation is getting better for a few but not for most
Residents are angry with the combination of the above
The relief effort is dominated by large bureaucratic structures who are most concerned with their status, and not of those they are here to help
Officials and aid organizations are failing to communicate external, internally, and to eachother

Partially Cloudy

Flying into New Orleans, I wondered what the big deal was.

When I board a plane, I sit down and I start to do something productive like read a book or write a letter. Today, my goal was to put the final touches on a few mapping files. I starting doing some work, and then became distracted by what was going on around me. I’d noticed it as I walked towards the back of the plane to my seat, but it didn’t hit me until I’d been sitting for nearly 10 minutes. I was the only one on the plane not going home. All around me stranger was talking to stranger, about damage, about homes, about water, about rot, about wind, about lost/dead pets, about how they were lucky to make it out the way they did. There was also talk about how prepared the government and organizations were getting for Rita and Galveston. Talk about how it was too late New Orleans. Eventually, the talk quieted down and a somber silence filled the void.

I began to try to be productive, working on those maps, but like I tend to do, I fell asleep. I woke up as we started our descent into New Orleans with calm skies. Peering out the window, I quickly picked up that we were tracing the Mississippi, flying south, over a land of some scrubby trees, with a few towns scattered about. This eventually gave way to something I hadn’t seen before: bayou.

The bayou is beautiful from above. Similar, in some weird way, to a giant, ethereal elk wallow. Don’t ask me to explain that but that’s what I thought it all looked like. I didn’t take a picture though, so pretend.

Now on to more important matters. After getting picked up from the airport by the Global Map Aid team, it was quickly decided that I should rent a car. I was anticipating renting a car for one week, not for two, but luckily I got a decent deal over the internet, via a phone call to Oscar, as I also talked to the counter agent. Advice: never walk up to the counter and rent a car. If you’re in the lobby, call the 800 number or hit up their website. That’s a tangent though. Any of you that watch the media over this whole Katrina thing, don’t trust all you read. For example, The Causeway, one of the major routes across Lake Pontchartrain, and one of the weirdest driving experiences I’ve had, did not collapse. After a long drive, we ended up in Slidell, a community which we’ve been mapping over the past week.

Before I arrived, my colleagues picked up 10,000 copies of our Slidell map, fresh from the printer – we were to spend the afternoon distributing the maps to aid organizations, shelters, and community officials. Timing wasn’t on our side, amongst other more complicated issues. First, the long arms of a fat hurricane were crossing over head, and beginning to dump buckets of rain. The aid distribution sites are all outside, sometimes with some wimpy tents and shelters. The workers, well, they are stuck out there in it all, heat or rain. Today was rain, and the rain was not pleasing the workers. Second, many aid organizations are already packing up and leaving, in order to follow Hurricane Rita. We’ve put these organizations on our map, and they told us they wanted to pass out copies of our maps. Third, it’s quite obvious that many aid workers are getting fatigued, run thin through all the help they are giving and the havoc they’ve seen. Patience is short, and tempers are everywhere. It took more effort than we were expecting, but we passed out all 10,000 of our maps.

To celebrate, we got po’boys. I like myself some shrimp po’boy. The first place we tried to get dinner, a crab shack, was the only one in the area still open – all the other establishments were flooded out. This place, however, was out of seafood, so we went to a joint the proprietor recommended. It’s interesting to be in a situation where one can evaluate the human spirit from an external viewpoint. My experience has been limited, but no one has given up. From the woman digging through wet clothing in an abandoned aid center, to the owner of the po’boy joint refusing to charge tax. People find ways. And I found my first po’boy.

But now, I am disparate for sleep. As you may have guessed, I got none last night. In addition, tomorrow is going to be a tough day, as we’re headed out to some of the hardest hit areas, out towards Gulfport. These towns were right on the shore, and got nailed with a fifteen foot storm surge. Not much is left, but we’re going to map it.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about the neighborhoods of gutted houses we drove through today. And we didn’t see the part of Slidell that was hit hard.

This is my blog. This is for you.

Alright, so for those of you not very familiar, I'm not actually going down to New Orleans to see the sights. Bourbon Street, well, I might go there, but I'm headed out for different reasons. I'm going to make maps.

I've been making maps for over five years now, cruder ones before that, which we'll ignore for now. Over these five years, I've noticed a progression of mapping interests. At first, I just wanted to make something useful that was pleasing to the eye. Then it became wanting to meld artistic maps with the technological progression and tools of GIS.* Starting about eighteen months ago, I began to want something more: to make maps for people who need maps, not for people who just want another thing that looks good.

Maps are an interesting phenomenon. Any old yahoo can put something on a map, and you know what, you'll believe it! Maps are powerful things, more so than books, because a book isn't a representation of the earth. The earth doesn't lie, does it? It doesn't, but cartographers do!

We're lazy! If we don't want to spend the time doing something, we'll take short cuts!
We're opinionated! Honestly, the coastline Santa Catalina Island could look more interesting...and I've made it more interesting before! You'd never know though, but you probably liked what you saw!

It's a might power we have, especially since people put much trust in our work. Consider them white lies. Its not like we're out to get you...we're just out to make you a better map.

Going back to that original point, however, is the power of maps. Maps can do a tremendous amount of good, because they show information in a manner that the illiterate can typically comprehend. Often, their meaning transcend cultural boundaries. A good map, can be understood and appreciated by anyone. A good map, can do good.

That's my current bent on making maps. Doing good through a good map. I've worked in places before where the main goal is to create a map that looks amazing on a wall, or that illustrates a point to students, or that raises the property values of an already well off, typically white neighborhood. I've made some amazing maps for those groups, and in all but the latter case, I look forward to doing it again. But you know what? There are communities out there that depend on what a map shows (http://www.nativelands.org/bin/view.pl/41003.html). There are people whose existence depends on maps showing the true state of their conditions (http://www.povertymap.net/publications/doc/iucn_2004/stunting.cfm). These are people who need maps. Well done maps, which can better their situation. I like to think that I can do that.

You all have probably heard the news, and if not, a good chunk of the southern gulf region of the USA was leveled by Hurricane Katrina. This area is, was, will be again, heavily populated. Thus, there are now a lot of people who need some maps. Why do they need maps when they have nothing else? Because maps are tools. Eventually, residents will return to their homes, and they'll need to know where to get help. Its not like taking the truck down to Home Depot will be a typical Saturday afternoon trip, especially when roads have been washed out, Home Depot is closed, or what you really just need is a huge tarp to put over your house to keep some water out. Maybe what's more important is finding a pharmacy or hospital that is open. Or perhaps you need to now where the Red Cross is handing out food, because you don't have any and your electrical line has been knocked out so you have no lines of communication, other than what's in your immediate vicinity. Maps can show you where to get this stuff.

Maps can also be used to help coordinate the relief effort. The information gathered and displayed on maps often comes from a variety of groups, and can represent nearly anything. Maps can show where assistance locations are, as well as where assistance needs to be given. Thus, maps can be used by residents, and by local officials. By working with both of these groups, relief work becomes efficient, with a rapid response. GIS technology makes this possible, in that maps can be generated quickly, and adjusted to fit a variety of uses. With a few clicks of a mouse, what was once a city street map, can be transformed to show poverty levels with an overlay of open food outlets and the travel time to those outlets by the local population. Click another button, and we can display areas that were flooded, and by how much. Another click, and we can show the sources of malfunctioning water sources. The options are limited to only what data you can get your hands on, and the internet makes a lot of data available.

So this is what I'm going down to do. I got a laptop, a GPS unit, a sleeping bag, and some other stuff. I also need to get some sleep, because in about 5 hours, I'll be boarding a flight to Detroit, and then a flight to New Orleans.**

Anyways, I need to pack.

Brody.

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* If I hold your interest, you should figure out what GIS is. Its late, I need to pack, so I won't tell you right now. In the meantime, Google is totally useful.

** This may not happen as planned. There is what you might call a really huge hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico right now. It is really huge and is about to mess some stuff up. If I were a plane, I wouldn't fly towards such a thing. But hey, I got a ticket on one, so we'll see what happens.