It's hard to think about Katrina. I had a very moving, interesting experience at Reliant Arena when I volunteered there one night four or five days after the evacuees began arriving in Houston. The day after I volunteered, I sent the following email out to my family and friends. It's a long account, but one that is very unique, involving a lost little girl who I protected and mothered for nine hours. I came home and wept and wept afterwards. It made me teary to read it again:
Dear friends,
I've been back to the dome, this time with success. I think just about all of you know about my adolescent sleep habits - my preference to sleep from 4 a.m. to noon. Well, this got turned around even worse on Saturday, when I literally almost slept all day to catch up on sleep after hosting the health ed conference all week. I know myself well enough to know I wouldn't be able to sleep that night, so I decided that I'd try to go volunteer at the dome during the overnight hours. I arrived at 2 a.m. along with a handful of other night owls. All of us were alarmingly energetic and ready to go. We were assigned to the Reliant Arena, where about 6000 evacuees are housed. On the way over we passed the Astrodome, and looked down into an opening down a ramp onto the floor of the dome and saw a sea of thousands and thousands of cots. Really, quite a shocking sight for anyone who has ever been in the dome for any reason.
I was warned by the guy that eventually ended up being my partner, Charlie, with a Thai last name that I can't spell, who had volunteered a couple of other times already, that the Red Cross was not exactly a well oiled machine. So we did some waiting around, but eventually we were oriented and paired up and Charlie and I were assigned to walk the arena area which was filled with sleeping evacuees on cots. Rows and rows and rows of tightly spaced cots, many with mommas with 2-3 little kids curled up with them. It was freezing cold in there, so one thing we did, was adjust blankets when asked or get more blankets. There were people in there sleeping with oxygen tanks and people in wheel chairs. People of all ages and most of them were african american. We just kind of picked up trash as we walked the rows, took care of any needs of anyone who woke up and had requests, etc.
At one point, I went out to the eating area (a well stocked area with tons of soft drinks and water on ice, plus snacks 24/7) to get some water and I ran into a couple of people with interesting stories. One woman was trying to make coffee at about 4 a.m. The evacuees were given a welcome kit and in it were some instant coffee granules. She wanted to know if there was some hot water. I went off in search of a Red Cross volunteer. These are the people in charge of the whole shelter/relief effort and absolutely the only ones with any answers at all. They wear distinctive vests. There are very few of them. I found the one guy in charge and he said that while he had never run a shelter anywhere in the world without coffee, this shelter did not have coffee nor hot water. (Hello: Word to starbucks, get these people some damn coffee!!!) But, this woman was content to use hot water from the tap. She just wanted my assurance that the water was safe because she had spent many days at the superdome where that was not the case. She said the super dome was crazy. She said people developed creative opportunities in the dome. If people had 3 cigarettes, they'd sell them for $5 each. One guy busted into a vending machine and was bleeding all down his back, but he was running around selling those cokes for $5 each. She said she went to the dome with the understanding that it was the safest structure in New Orleans. When the hurricane went over, the building shook, made awful noises and it was obvious something was happening to the roof. She happened to be sitting right in the section where the roof opened up and the water poured in, so she simply got up and moved her seat. She said she spent a lot of time from that point on wondering what had happened to New Orleans if all of that had happened to the dome, which was a steel structure. She didn't find out more until she was bused out and could see some neighborhoods out of the windows, including her own which was not as badly hit as others. She said it was surreal being trapped in there with no news and with all of the "creative entrepreneurship" going on. She was really just a sweet, funny, normal, young grandma type person. Oh, she still had a superdome mentality. She wanted to know how she was going to get her coffee back into the arena area without being mobbed. She said if anyone had coffee in the superdome, they would have been attacked. It took me awhile to convince her she was in Houston, and she had left her superdome experience behind. It was VERY orderly in the Reliant Arena.
I met another woman, maybe around 50 years old, who looked familiar. She told me she had been in a hospital in New Orleans, had been evacuated from there and dumped on a bridge on I-10 (yall have seen the coverage of this on the news - ridiculous, pathetic, example of the ineptitude of the rescue effort) and finally - after a ridiculous amount of waiting - was put on a bus to San Antonio. Then she bought her own bus ticket to Houston and had just arrived. She was desperately looking for her 4 kids who had been with her mother when the hurricane hit. She had heard multiple times from neighbors that they had been rescued by boat, but she didn't know where they were. I look at her kind of puzzled and said, you know, I saw a very similar story on TV, Geraldo, I thought. She said, "I'm that woman." Sure enough, she was the woman I had just seen on TV a few hours before.
Sorry, to go on so long, but things got more interesting.
About this time, I got talking to a guy who was going to university in the Valley, but had flown in to volunteer and had driven straight to the dome, when I was called over to man the entrance to the arena sleeping area while a cot was changed out. This was at 5 a.m. They need someone to stand at the entrance to each sleeping area to be sure food doesn't go in and out and to just kind of keep a presence and keep order. I had been there all of 30 seconds when I turned around to face the darkened room with the sea of cots to find a little girl stumbling towards me - just right there in front of me. I right away knew we were in trouble if she didn't know which cot she was from, because every cot looked the same and everyone looked the same - a lump covered from head to toe by a gray blanket. She was VERY sleepy and couldn't talk much. I got her to walk around a bit with me, and asked her to help me find her mom and her cot, but there was no way she was going to figure that out. So, I got Charlie to pick her up and off we went in search of a Red Cross person in charge. We were very fortunate to run into a Red Cross volunteer who basically said, wait a minute, let me look at her, I just checked in her and her whole family an hour or so ago (in other words, they just arrived in Houston). He was able to find a scrap piece of paper with all of their names on it. This was not their official check in papers. I want to say right now that no one was EVER able to find their official papers for me no matter how many times I asked or who I asked. I was NOT happy about this. I have some serious, serious issues with the way they are checking in people and keeping up with people. This child had nothing on her person identifying her. Also, they had NO official way of dealing with missing children. She was sick - coughing and eventually throwing up. When she was awake and lucid, I was able to run through some of the names on the paper - are you Makayla? NO, she said. Are you Tameka? NO! "My NAME is PARIS!!!" She said this kind of like, good lord, are you the dumbest woman on the planet or what? Quite a feisty little gal (later when she was hydrated, had slept and was in a great mood, she told me she was four years old). Smart and feisty. Fortunately, I am raising the archetype feisty/smart girl in my own home, so this girl and I were well matched.
We got a cot for her out away from the sleeping area and I immediately got a crew to start making and posting signs about where to find Paris. I decided to take her to the medic area, so all the signs had instructions to find her there. Note that these signs went up at 5:30 a.m. In the medic area, which was EXTREMELY well organized (bravo Houston medical community) and very extensive, they became very concerned about her. They gave her an IV to hydrate her and a breathing treatment, none of which she liked at all. I stayed with her and held her hand. The nurses asked me to stay with her the whole time she was back in the medic area to serve as the one person she would recognize through all of this. Little did I know what a long haul that would be. Paris cried and cried for her mom. I tried to calm her down. I finally sang songs to her and she fell asleep.
When she woke up about an hour later, I went to the clothing area and picked her out all cute new clothes - purple from head to toe - which made her VERY happy. She really felt better after the hydration and sleep and she talked to me about her one year old brother and when I told her I had an eleven year old daughter, she told me, well, I have a SEVEN year old sister (kind of like, well, take that!) During this time, I had people make more signs about this child. Where was her mom? By this time, she had identified her mom on the list of names, so we knew who she was. I had people holding signs with her name all over the area. I had people going through the sleeping and eating areas asking if they knew Paris. I made a couple of rounds. Nothing. But I guarantee you, by the time this was all over, just about every volunteer and evacuee knew we were looking for Paris' family, but where was anyone who cared about her?
I ended up holding Paris in my arms in a chair in the medic area while she slept for about two hours and the whole time, social workers and others came back to talk with me and get this girl's story. It got to be 11 a.m. (please note I thought I'd be back at home long before that time) and we began to wonder if she had been abandoned. Paris was convinced her family was looking for her. About this time, someone saw one of our signs and said they knew that Paris' aunt was staying in the Ramada Inn in Houston. We got that number and called. This person called my cell and things got weird fast. The aunt was the sister of the dad - the dad? Paris had specifically acted like there was no dad when I asked about him - and this aunt said she said she had custody of Paris. I had enough at this point. A police officer was passing through the medic area and I said, find me a police officer who can help me and find me a CPS case worker NOW. It got to be funny back in medic, because everyone knew at that point I was not letting Paris leave with anyone. No damn way.
How, did I, a simple volunteer, get involved in a custody dispute just because the Red Cross can't keep up with the people they registered into their shelter? Sure enough, the dad, the aunt and the mom all show up before CPS and the cop wants to hand Paris over to the dad. No. No damn way. Over my dead body. Not until CPS arrived. So, about that time, CPS arrived - thank God - a competent, nice woman - and they let Paris' mom come back to where Paris and I were. Paris didn't even go to her mom. The mom didn't even touch Paris. The mom was very young and very upset. She had some convoluted story about leaving Paris with her mom and her mom left her in the arena with a woman named Linda. This is when Paris wandered away looking for her mom. I mistakenly thought she had wandered off a cot that contained her mom. Oh, mom had PARIS tattooed on her arm. Later, the doc joked with me that she could tell that I was skeptical that this was the mom until she showed me the tattoo.
Then, CPS let's the dad come back. Paris wasn't too sure about him at first, but then latched on to him and wouldn't leave him. She NEVER touched her mom the whole time I was there. The dad had driven down from Dallas because someone had seen the signs in the arena and called him. I gave the CPS person my account of things and my name and phone number and I was able to leave, finally at 2 p.m. twelve hours after I arrived. I had really wanted to leave around 10 a.m., but that was about the time Paris became obviously very attached to me to the point that she had to have me in sight.
Her parents argued right in front of her about her custody - curse words flying - Paris was crying. It was sad. Oh, I had looked both parents in the eye and said, you need to know that starting at 5 a.m. until right now, I served as Paris' momma (Paris nodded). I cleaned up your baby's throw up, I held her hand while she cried when she got an IV, I sang her to sleep, I held her for two hours while she slept, I got her cute new clothes, I played with her, she pretended she was the doctor and I was her patient (she says I am OK because I am breathing) and I tried to answer her questions about where you were. They had the good sense to cry and thank me. In case you are counting, I was her mom for nine hours. I left Paris not knowing what happened to her. There is the possibility she was taken into CPS custody. No one's story matched and no one was stepping up to the plate as a responsible parent. I can hardly stand to think about it.
Anyway, I got back to the house, got a couple of hours of sleep and am good to go.
When I was holding Paris and I was so tired and wanted to go home, I got to thinking about all of the good people in New Orleans who always threw in the lagniappe whenever I visited their unique city. Always. Whether it was a little extra treat at dinner or a little extra story or a little extra, unexpected fun, the lagniappe was always happening at every turn in New Orleans. I knew I had to do it for that little girl. Most of the people I met today are good folks who are in great need. I suggest you do what you can and then throw in some lagniappe on top of that.
laissez les bon temps roulez,
Martha
howieklein @ 5
Rick: We’ve got to get back to the basics of “We the People.” We all must answer the call to service for our state and nation for the common good.
Dembones @ 22
Rick: FISA is about Repubs again using fear as a political motivator. It’s unfortunate that we relinquish liberty to folks like our administration and the Attorney General. We need people in DC that have walked the walk and can speak with credibility on these issues without being afraid.
martha @ 40
Rick: Great grassroots support from all over the state. I am telling folks that I am working to EARN their support based on my voting record, years of public service etc.
When I return from Ft. Benning our campaign will share some of the more public endorsements.
TexasEllen @ 43
Rick: The current leadership believes that you lead by dividing people. I believe we need new leadership that calls out to people to work together.
LS @ 63
Rick: We need an interstate in RGV. Ports on the west coast are over loaded. Mexico building two more on the their W. Coast. Panama Canal will be expanded. Real opportunity to expand our import/export traffic thru TX ports.
However, we need infrastructure to move goods to market. Process of how Perry and co. wanted to privatize road system really violated trust with the people in working our land deals.
WestHoustonDem @ 112
Rick: 100% voting record with TARAL/NARAL. I’ve witnessed in Afghanistan when a government tells women what they can and cannot do, what they can and cannot wear.
This is not the role of government. Women’s rights are continuously under siege.
It is another deliberate distracter, or wedge issue by the far right.
refinish69 @ 144
Rick: I’ve voted for all hate crime leg. in the TX House. I was one of 13? votes against HJR 6 in TX.
I hate bullies. Folks that gratuitously “other” people like the Repubs often do violate my vision of We the People.
Melissa Noriega (that's Council Member Melissa Noriega!) joined in, also. There's much more over at firedoglake. Check it out.