Episcopal Press and News
Louisiana cleans up after Hurricane Gustav
Episcopal News Service. September 10, 2008 [091008-01]
Carol E. Barnwell, Communication Director in the Diocese of Texas
The city of New Orleans stood in the path of last week's Hurricane Gustav, but much of the Diocese of Louisiana is rural, woven with bayous and at the ends of narrow roads -- places such as Houma, Rosedale, Plaquemine and White Castle.
"It was hard emotionally for people who have [just] rebuilt to face Gustav on the anniversary of Katrina," said Nell Bolton, director of the Office of Disaster Relief (ODR) in the Diocese of Louisiana. Three years ago, Katrina's winds, rain and storm surge resulted in the flooding of 80 per cent of the city and more than 1,300 deaths.
As Gustav threatened, many who offered refuge to New Orleans became the victims of savage winds and flooding rain.
Episcopal church members in the tiny towns and villages stepped up to serve their neighbors almost as soon as the 95 mile-an-hour wind swept through. They cooked and fed anyone who showed up, delivered the ubiquitous blue tarps to cover exposed rafters and insulation, distributed ice, diapers and bug spray.
"We didn't have all these supplies ourselves," said Janie LeBlanc, senior warden at Church of the Holy Communion, Plaquemine, just northwest of Baton Rouge. "The supplies came from the diocese and we made sure everything got where it was most needed."
Holy Communion has an average Sunday attendance of 30 people and members served food to more than twice that many people in the early days following Gustav.
"One man told me he hadn't had a hot meal in three days," LeBlanc said. Electricity was restored to most of the town a week after the storm, just as Hurricane Ike sat building power in the Gulf of Mexico.
The Rev. Karen Gay, rector of Holy Communion, returned to her previous cure at Church of the Nativity in nearby Rosedale to deliver supplies to the local chief of police, Mike Sparks. The historic clapboard church is flanked by 200 year-old trees and came through the storm without much damage, but the town was hard hit. The city manager told diocesan officials who came that they were the only people who kept their promise. They had arrived with blue tarps the day after Gustav.
Diocesan Disaster Planning
The diocesan disaster plan has become a congregation development model that will be effective in any disaster—hurricanes, chemical spills, refinery explosions.
"Katrina showed us our blind spots," Bolton said, and provided an opportunity to rethink communications and process in a crisis. Before Gustav, diocesan staff spoke with each clergy person, retired clergy and surviving clergy spouses to make sure they had an evacuation plan and backup phone numbers and e-mails. Locations that diocesan officials have not been able to reach by phone immediately after a storm are the first to be visited.
"Our goal is to immediately assess the damage and get the resources to the parishes so they can provide the needed ministry," Bolton explained. "Gustav hit on Monday and we had help on the way by Tuesday."
Immediately following Gustav, Bishop Charles Jenkins and other diocesan officers traveled to the churches in the hardest hit areas, skirting felled trees and high water, to deliver ice, drinking water, tarps and other supplies. In the small town of Zachary, they arrived even before the National Guard or FEMA. St. Patrick's Episcopal Church in Zachary served more than 2100 meals and provided tarps and water to the community in the days immediately following Gustav.
Congregations stayed in touch
Lack of supplies, elderly church members who are especially fragile after one evacuation, endemic stress from the threat of another hurricane and another costly evacuation were recurring themes in daily conference calls, said Bishop Jenkins.
Another piece of the disaster plan is a web-based check in for church members who can fill out a form with their name, church, current location and phone number and any comments. In this way, congregations can stay in touch when everyone is forced to evacuate.
Chronic anxiety
One of the pastoral issues Bishop Jenkins faces is the chronic anxiety about the future that many people have. "A lot of people are saying enough is enough, especially people of means who can leave," he said. This has huge implications for the future of the church in Louisiana.
He said he worries about sustaining the church's ministry. Even though more than 7,500 volunteers have assisted the diocese's Office of Disaster Relief since Katrina, many residents have left Louisiana.
"The poor will be here always," he said. "While we are worried about ourselves, our families … [we have to address] the justice issues. Kids are not getting the help they need, New Orleans has lost much public housing," he explained, saying that the diocese is blessed to have had support from Episcopal Relief and Development as well as other dioceses and private donations.
"It's safe to say that New Orleans would not have come this far towards rebuilding without volunteers and non-governmental organizations' help," Bolton agreed. But there remains much to do. One in 25 people in New Orleans is homeless, living in their cars or "couch hopping" with friends and relatives. Mental health beds that were lost in Katrina have not been replaced, leaving many vulnerable people to fend for themselves.
"People are tapped out," Bolton said, adding, "Bishop Jenkins has set the course for a broader vision, inviting the whole church to participate. He is mindful that we must always stretch beyond our own needs to the needs of the poor among us."
Rebuilding efforts
Bolton is a reflection of that spirit. She joined the diocesan team to help with the rebuilding efforts, wanting what her hometown "could become with more equity and justice in which everyone can thrive." Bolton worked for Catholic Services in Nigeria as a regional advisor for justice, peace building and governance. "I experienced [Katrina] as a call to come home. There are so many social divisions that became more apparent after Katrina and there was a common purpose after the storm," she said.
Katie Mears also embodies the spirit of Bishop Jenkins broader vision. She put a wheelbarrow in the trunk of her car and drove from the Midwest to New Orleans to help rebuild after Katrina. She started gutting houses before there were mission teams to help and now heads the rebuilding efforts for ODR, managing a large warehouse and rotating interns who, in turn, guide all the volunteer teams.
Since Katrina, ODR has gutted more than 880 houses and rebuilt 50, helping to put many families back together.
"We find people on the brink when their need is more than the system can handle," Mears said. There is not a set plan for who gets helped first, it depends on whose need is most critical. Many times grandparents are raising their grandchildren in a trailer or small apartment and it's okay for a while. Then it's three years later and someone steals their money or grandpa gets sick. Then a situation that was barely sustainable unravels.
"Those are the people we help first," Mears said. Before Gustav, she and Amanda Davis, the homeowner coordinator, contacted many of their families to make sure they had an evacuation plan. "They don't want to be here for another hurricane," Davis said.
Even Bishop Jenkins has a firm grip on reality in the face of nature's wrath. He bought an axe to keep in his attic. After Katrina, many people had to hack through their roofs to escape rising water. Today, an axe in the attic is just as much a part of hurricane preparation as a case of water and a full tank of gas.