Not Just the Levees Broke by Phyllis Montana-Leblanc

Author:Phyllis Montana-Leblanc
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2008-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

12

Ron is worrying about his job and getting back to work. We have no transportation because his truck is under water back home. A beautiful family friend, Mr. Vernon Smith, lives in Houston, and he has begun helping everyone that he knows, as he is a native New Orleanian. He offers to rent us an automobile to get back and forth to the shelter, at Kelly USA. Kelly USA is an old airplane hanger that has been converted into a shelter for the evacuees of New Orleans. After several attempts, I am able to contact Ron’s insurance at State Farm, and they supply us with a rental. Man! You have no idea of how hard it is to get an automobile because so many evacuees are renting cars. It makes for a long waiting list. During this time we’ve also heard that funds are being distributed to evacuees, and we have to get to the center. We are able to access our checking account and take a cab to the site. The fare is almost $70. Then, when we get there, the line is blocks long. We have to stand in line outside, in the heat. Then, once inside, there are rows of chairs, and each time someone or a group of numbers is called we have to get up and move down—even though it takes about an hour or two for them to call the next group. It reminds me of playing musical chairs when I was a child. Only this time the prize is money to buy food and survive the abandonment.

The distribution site is this huge airplane warehouse. They have industrial fans blowing on us to keep us cool, and they hand out cold water. Some mothers have their babies with them and they cry and cry. You hear some people saying that you can get more money if you do this or that. Some are saying that they can’t get anything. I try to tune out the voices, but return my awareness to the present because scary voices came to my mind again, talking about drowning, starving to death. I start to remember the black water lapping against the side of the apartment when we were back in the complex, the woman calling for help, and the black water calling for me to come into it. So I choose to be in the moment with living voices. They are irritating, but safer.

After several hours of this madness, we are given a check. A check! Okay, where in the hell are we going to cash a check? Oh, the system has a solution. We go to the bank and they cash it for us. Half the damn people there lost their identifications in the storm. Oh, but the bank has a solution: if you want your check cashed, you have to open an account with them and agree to a fee. This is only the beginning of what will turn out to be an absolute exploitation of a people.

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