Second Line Rescue: Improvised Responses to Katrina and Rita

A New Orleans Life: Sharing Marie Barney’s Story

110 I came to Houston with my family on August 29, 2005, fleeing New Orleans because of Hurricane Katrina. Houston was our destination because we have relatives here. We caravanned in three cars. The exodus spanned nineteen hours. To give you an idea of the snail’s pace at which we crept, there were people walking their dogs, passing up the cars in which they were passengers in the bumper-to-bumper traffic all along the highways. By the time we reached my aunt’s home, it was nearly seven the next morning, but we were too wound up to sleep. Still there was little energy to do anything more than sit in front of the TV. We watched CNN all day and for days to follow, to see what was going on in New Orleans. This was not our first evacuation from New Orleans, but it felt different to me, so I waited expecting that things might be bad at home. Still, with only the flip- flops and jeans that I wore and a few pairs of shorts and a pair of sandals, I thought it might be a few days or a week before I returned. This was an excuse to go shopping and to be with my cousins. What I thought would be days, quickly turned into a month. We were passing through survival mode like visitors in a museum. Surreal is the SHARI L. SMOTHERS A New Orleans Life Sharing Marie Barney’s Story A New Orleans Life: Sharing Marie Barney’s Story 111 word by which I and many others named the experience. Every day was about taking another step to survive away from home a little longer. Houston extended much-needed assistance to those of us who had managed to get here. We were given food allowances, which was most critical. Health assistance and many other benefits were extended in the short term. My family decided to stay here, especially after learning what had happened to our homes. It was a month before we really knew anything. The news media coverage we all found suspect, and at best it was inadequate to the task of addressing every individual’s home. October 2, 2005, was the first time any of us was able to get as far as my parents’ home. I returned to New Orleans for the first time that day with a friend to see how bad or good things were. My friend’s house fared the best. My home was devastated by rising water and roof damage, too. My parents’ home was in bad condition from what I could see outside. I couldn’t get inside because I’d forgotten my keys; I only saw the water lines etched around the house on the brick and the windows. I looked over their fence at the destruction of their yard and the oddly positioned things in the sunroom. Across the street I saw a tree that had fallen on a neighbor’s house. I was taken aback by the sight of the city as we drove through; the desolation and destruction seemed to be mourning the devastation dealt out by Hurricane Katrina and, to a much lesser extent, by Hurricane Rita. I didn’t see any animals or birds. The traffic signals that were still standing were dark. Instead, stop signs sat low on the corners propped up by makeshift stands. Some areas, like New Orleans East, where my parents’ home was, still smelled awful even from the streets. Shari Smothers. Photo courtesy of Shari Smothers. 112 Shari L. Smothers When I went to my home, I opened the door and the mold assaulted my nose even through my facemask. My friend was not able to go in with me because the smell so overwhelmed him. We returned to Houston the same day. I reported to my family what I had seen, with pictures and with the resolve that I was going to stay right here. In New Orleans I was a renter, so I didn’t have the responsibility of managing the owner affairs that my parents and others had to deal with. There were a few things that I wanted to try to salvage from my home. The rest of my plan was to work and get a place to live because I wasn’t going back any time soon. October 8, 2005, I...