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: Never In Our Names

8/29/05 And 8/29/08

By Louisiana 1976

Following is a poem I've written to commemorate the third anniversary of Katrina and the federal flood. It is in the voice of the mother of 8-year-old and 9-year-old boys who have a disabled grandmother. While it is fiction, it's based on things people actually went through during Katrina and flood and in the aftermath.
Now we're on a bus heading who knows where

anxiously awaiting Gustav--nervously

wondering what will be there when

we get back--and when we can--memories of

the flood--wounds still raw--tearing us apart.

Those who weren't here would say about us--

we'd been warned Katrina'd come--so what

happened was our fault--but we couldn't

leave--no car, no bus--and besides we'd

thought we'd known for years our levees

would keep us safe--but they didn't--I

woke early that morning--sensed something

wasn't right--smelled shit, piss, vomit,

gas--other bad things I couldn't name--

maybe even death itself--I heard the

rushing water--got out of bed--it was

already up to my knees--and still

quickly rising--shook Noah, Jonah

awake shouting "Get upstairs--NOW!"--

Saw to Grandma 'Becca--their daddy's

mother--diabetes had robbed her of her

legs--we couldn't afford to buy her

new ones--I thanked the Lord I had

the strength to carry her--then

brought up her chair, insulin and

other meds--started going back for

food--but foul water was coming close

to the attic--found the ax I'd kept

there--cut a hole in the roof as the

boys made a flag--then each of them

and I took turns going out to wave

it--minutes turned to hours--we saw

helicopters but they didn't see us--

I'd check on 'Becca and give her her

shots and pills--it was sweltering and

I could tell that she wasn't doing

very well--and silently prayed the

Lord would see her through and that

we all be rescued--we were all hungry

and thirsty--rescue finally arrived--

asked me who all was there--"My sons

and their grandma--she's in a bad way,

you see--here's her insulin and all

the other stuff she needs."--they

took her and the boys--but not

enough room with others abroad so

they had to leave me--at first I

thanked the Lord 'Becca had been

rescued--and didn't worry thinking

the helicopter would be back soon

and that 'Becca and the boys were

going to be cared for--but it got to

be two long days before anyone came--

my city was gone--this brought tears

to my eyes--I just couldn't stop crying--

my neighborhood and much more under

water--wondering what had become of my

Mom, Dad, and sisters--had they gotten

out OK or drowned--and what about other

family, my friends, my church, the boy's

school, stores, my beauty shop--everyone

and everything else I'd known?--I just

couldn't believe what had happened to

my city, my home--where I've lived all

my life--I think I cried the whole trip

but then put myself together--they were

dropping me off on the overpass and

now I had to find 'Becca and the boys--

I first went to the Dome--but a guard

there told me it I couldn't go in.

"Well, do you remember a sick elderly

lady without legs, in a wheelchair--and

two boys--they're eight and nine?"--"No,

Ma'am," he said--"I'm sure I'd have seen 'em

had they got here on my watch."--then I

asked for food and water 'cause I hadn't

eaten for at least a week--he said they

didn't have any I could have--then said

I should go to the Convention Center--so

I did--on the way there was a store

where folks were taking what they needed

to survive--and I went in to see what I

could find--slim pickin's--hardly any

food left--but I was grateful for what

I could find--and at the same time

felt badly for having done what I'd

needed to do--so I left a note by the

register saying sometime I'd come back

and pay for what I took--finally I got

to the Convention Center where I was

turned off by the funk--in the crowds

I asked almost everyone I saw--"Have

you seen a sick older lady without

legs in a wheelchair and two school-

age boys?"--finally one man said, "I

think I seen 'em"--then took me to the

front wall of the Center where I saw

Noah and Jonah looking rather well--

aside from what they'd gone through--

but 'Becca's slumped over in her chair

covered in a blanket--each boy gives

me a silent hug--and Noah, on the

verge of tears, said, "She's gone--she

passed last night--nobody would give

her her shots or anything."--for the

second time I broke down--now only

had she been a wonderful grandma to

Noah and Jonah, she'd been like another

mother to me--soon after that was our

exile to Houston--now it's three years

later--I wish I could say our life is

cool--but both Noah and Jonah have

been having trouble in school--we've

all had nightmares, flashbacks--I've

nerves, low energy, feel very down--

overwhelmed--if I didn't know I need

to stay strong for the boys, I don't

know what I'd do--but I don't mean to

totally cry the blues--the good thing

in our life is we're back in NOLA--and

we've a home--now, it's with one of my

sisters and her remaining kids and gets

crowded--but I'm grateful we're not in

Houston where we just couldn't fit in

and got homesick rather fast--or

homeless--and though I'm saddened by

some things I see in this city--there

are other signs we're keepin' on

keepin' on in spite of everything--

those small baby steps NOLA's making

to come back--and today I pray

that we'll be able to return home

soon as now we're on the bus heading

who knows where anxiously awaiting

Gustav--nervously wondering what will be

there when we get back--and when we can....

Full post as published by Never In Our Names on September 05, 2008 (boomark / email).