At 10 AM Sunday morning, they announced mandatory evacuations. The airport, Amtrak, and Greyhound were all shut down, but I knew the Superdome was open. I got there at 11AM, and by evening, there were 10,000 people.
Katrina hit Monday morning. At 6:20 AM, two 20′ by 20′ panels from the roof blew off, and people began to panic. There were 400 national guardsmen carrying M-16 rifles, which I would later discover was very necessary as things began to deteriorate. We were told it was Marshall Law in New Orleans, and if we tried to escape, we would be shot.
Tuesday morning there were rumors a black man had raped a seven years old white girl. Hours later, there were rumors a white man had raped a black girl, and two black women had slit their throats. In reality, only six to ten people died in the Superdome. One guy committed suicide, jumping over the railing. I remember hearing him hit the ground, or at least I think that was what it was. The rest of the deaths were either by drug overdose or medical emergency.
The electricity had gone out, and generators only provided 50 percent light. The toilets no longer worked and there was no running water. There was only toilet paper. You had to straddle a toilet and sh** on top of a pile of sh**. The best way to describe it is living in an outhouse. The saddest thing was seeing children sleeping on urine and feces in the aisles. People were walking around with plastic bags on their feet because their shoes had been destroyed.
Tuesday afternoon I was invited to join a group of Europeans. One of the Australians was dealing with a National Guardsman, who arranged to have us smuggled next door to the sports arena. It was a weird feeling to be getting favored treatment. If anyone should have got out, it should have been the children and medical patients. Nevertheless, not a single person in our group was willing to trade places.
We were instructed not to smile, answer questions, or look happy. If anyone caught on to what was happening, a riot would have surely ensued. We followed the person in front until we were out. Conditions were better next door. We spent hours fanning medical patients and whatever else we could do to help. Eventually, we were smuggled to the Hyatt Regency.
On Friday, we were one of the first groups to be bused to Dallas. We were followed by armed guards. When we finally got in to Texas, the Rangers treated us like sh**. They were rude. We were ordered to get off the bus. They put plastic bags on the seats like we were diseased.
I grew up believing there is a safety net in America, but the Katrina levee failure was larger in scope than the Oklahoma City bombing, California wildfires, Northridge earthquake, and 9/11 combined. In all those incidents the Federal Government were there, but New Orleans was left to fend for itself. Whether we experience plague or political assassination, I see this as a sign of less compassion, more selfishness, and more scapegoating of minorities.
If ever there was a time to become a survivor; it is now.
Story and photos by Paul Harris, as told by Eric J. Leech
Paul is currently retired, and is the author of Diary From the Dome, Reflections on Fear and Privilege During Katrina.
About Dr. Eric J. Leech
Eric has written for over a decade. Then one day he created Urbasm.com, a site for every guy.
About Dr. Eric J. Leech