Water Line
My Family’s Journey Before, During, and After Hurricane Katrina
by
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After a few hours of sleep we woke up in the early hours of August 29 to full coverage of Hurricane Katrina. We were anxious to see if this hurricane was really the “Big One” that had been projected and what the damage would look like. We were tuned in to CNN where we viewed continuous coverage of the hurricane broadcasted from all locations where the hurricane was scheduled to hit. The news reporters were fully engaged in the most dramatic news coverage I had ever seen. Many of these action reporters tested their own human existence against the strong winds of the storm. Some stood in the midst of the rain and winds to demonstrate the difficulty of standing or walking against the elements. Others tested how objects such as street signs, glass windows, roof tops and other objects held up or were destroyed by the force of the hurricane. I was completely engaged by the reports and of the theatrical reporting. It was still early morning on August 29 and it seemed for the moment that New Orleans was OK. The winds were rough and the rain was heavy at times. Streets flooded as they had done so many times during any heavy down pour. Regular thunderstorms could cause streets to flood so the early reports about the hurricane didn’t really report anything unusual. This kind of coverage lasted for a few hours into the hurricane. Reporters were out in various places around the city interviewing people who were seeking higher ground. Again, it was very common for citizens to ride out the storm and many people honestly thought they could. No one knew what was really to come in a short while. The coverage continued showing the results of heavy winds and rain. For that moment in our hotel room in Texas, my family and I felt safe and more confident that New Orleans had dodged the “Big One.” We also felt more certain that we would be returning home in a few days. As we dwelled in the feeling of relief, I tried to get in touch with family and friends by cell phone. Some calls went through and some didn’t. Many friends and family had also traveled to Texas. Texting became a better way to communicate with family and friends. The huge influx of calling affected immediate connection. While texting I began to hear a new report about a break in one of the levees in New Orleans east. Next, I received a text from a friend saying a levee had breached. This news changed our lives. Instantly updated news reports now showed images of the breached levee. Not only was the levee breached, but there was little success fixing it. I immediately fell in a chair and began to cry. My husband sat on the bed and said “That’s it now.” We both knew hearing news of a levee break meant the city of New Orleans would flood. My husband and I sat in silence as we tried to take in and deal with what we had just learned. Our new found relief was instantly replaced with despair. New images came more frequently as the water began to rise. Waters that started at ankle and knee length quickly increased to chest level. Citizens who chose to “ride out” the storm and thought the worst of the storm was finally over urgently moved to seek higher ground. Clutching a pillow I watched hours of coverage as my city flooded in a way I had never seen before in my lifetime. I had always heard my parents and other relatives talk about Hurricane Betsy in 1965 which was before I was born. Hurricane Betsy developed into a category four hurricane and lasted from 8:00 p.m. to 4:00 a.m. During that time period, my parents lived in the Ninth Ward which is again, a low-lying level of the city. They were flooded out of their home. They would also speak about being rescued by boat from their rooftop. After Hurricane Betsy, my parents moved to a higher part of the city. Those stories always frightened me as a child. As I watched my fellow citizens wade through the high waters, I remembered those stories and wondered what would become of all of us. More time passed as parts of the city were becoming totally submerged by the water. A sky view began to show images of neighborhoods where water was up to the rooftops. Total devastation was being shown and reported. Many people drowned as a result of the high waters. Dead bodies began to surface. People were trapped in attics and on roof tops. I listened, watched and could not believe I was watching a city in the United States. To make matters worse, some TV news reporters from prominent news channels began to call the citizens who were leaving their neighborhoods seeking higher ground REFUGEES. I couldn’t believe my ears and I hoped I had heard incorrectly. The reporters continued their description of New Orleans citizens as refugees. I was outraged beyond measure. I changed the channel and heard another reporter use the word refugee as well. I had never thought of myself and my family as refugees. While traveling from New Orleans to Texas the thought of being a refugee never entered my mind. But before my eyes and ears, that’s what was being reported about us. We were refugees who were born and raised in the United States. I had always connected the word REFUGEE to mean people who escaped to a foreign country because of political indifferences. That was my immediate thought. Texas is not a foreign country. Texas is about five hours from New Orleans. It’s a state I had visited many times in the past. Maybe I was being too sensitive but later into the evening and days after, I heard voices in the African American civil rights community dispute the use of the word refugee to describe New Orleans citizens. We were immediately validated by fellow United States citizens when many disputed the use of the word REFUGEE. My parents made the decision to “ride out” a hurricane. During those times, it seemed OK. Looking back as an adult with a family, it seemed to be extremely dangerous. Relatives who lived in the lower area of New Orleans, the Ninth Ward, would travel uptown where my parents lived for a safer place to ride out the storm. Our house would be like a family reunion. The adults would catch up and reminisce about younger days and the cousins would play. Whoever was able to make it to work would still work their schedule if they could. There would be lots of delicious food to eat, warmth and laughter. When the hurricane was finally over, everyone would retreat back to their normal lives. Hurricane Katrina, however, was different. I continued to be prayerful as we hung on to every report and image displayed by the media. I was relieved when it was announced that the Superdome would be opened to house those who could not leave. Previous announcements had reported the Superdome and the arena would not be utilized as an evacuation shelter. Soon, the media began showing footage of citizens lined up entering the dome. News reports continued. The word refugee by some in the news media was soon put to rest and I never heard it again as a reference to the citizens of New Orleans.
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About the Book
Authors tell stories for many reasons. One of the reasons for telling this story is to specifically connect with those who shared the same experience. Another reason for writing this book is to provide another experience of reference for the topic. This is just one story in the amid hundreds of other stories that could also be told. The final reason for telling this story is to leave an example or a blueprint for future generations of my family to know the strength and courage of those who came before them. I want my children to teach their children and their children’s children how to manage life through difficult situations and circumstances. I want this story to be an example for one of my favorite words, “endure.” Hurricane Katrina was one of the most destructive hurricanes in recent history. Its economic loss was well into the billions during the first week. Hurricane Katrina started as a depression, then tropical storm, and in days, developed into an intimidating category 4 and 5 hurricane. Lives were heavily impacted and changed in New Orleans, Louisiana; Mobile, Alabama; and Gulfport, Mississippi, as the massive hurricane brought heavy winds, rains, and more than twenty feet of storm surge. This book is not intended to dwell or wallow in the past. It is meant to review and remember what happened in order to celebrate the victory of moving through and moving past a tragedy. I’ve learned in life that we can’t be so quick to forget overwhelming or difficult life changes without learning the lessons from them. The truth is that life happens, and we must be willing to deal with, accept, confront, plan, solve, and move forward when life’s most unexpected twists and turns occur. This book is also not meant to become deeply involved in the political issues of Hurricane Katrina. The politics have already played out and are recorded in history. Water Line is simply the story of my family’s journey before, during, and after one of life’s roughest moments while also recognizing the different experiences and levels of loss caused by one giant hurricane named Katrina.
About the Author
Patrice Joseph was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. She is the youngest of four children born to O’Neil and Bessie Woods. She graduated from the historic Xavier University Preparatory High School. She holds a degree in elementary education from Dillard University of New Orleans, Louisiana, and a master’s degree in educational leadership from Xavier University of New Orleans, Louisiana. In addition to more than twenty years of classroom teaching experience, she is also a strong advocate for teachers and students. She has strong family ties and believes family comes first. Hurricane Katrina was an experience that put her family’s faith into action. The result was a family that was still intact, that was thankful for survival, and with an action plan for building the future.