We’ve all been watching the news for a week. We’ve witnessed the disaster, the destruction, the desperation and chaos; we’ve felt sympathy, horror and revulsion. One week ago today Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and the Gulf Coast – nobody imagined it would be this bad, but at the same time everybody knew it very well could be.
The news of the sheer scale of the destruction hit me like a ton of bricks, surprising me with the powerful mix of conflicting emotions that it brought to the surface. While I sat glued to the television watching the first reports of the crisis, I couldn’t help but project myself backwards in time to analyze my own reactions when a very similar crisis threatened. Just about exactly seven years ago an identical scenario was on the brink of playing itself out: a major hurricane was threatening the Gulf Coast, its projected path was taking it right over New Orleans, and voices from every corner were warning about the potential catastrophic damage a powerful storm surge would cause. The only difference was that I was living there, and like many other residents, I didn’t take the warnings too seriously. I was a poor student at the time, far away from any family and lacking transportation and money to put myself up in a hotel somewhere, so I hunkered down and decided to ride it out. My housemates were staying too, and between us we came up with many rationalizations as to why it wasn’t necessary to evacuate: the city had been through hurricanes before, our house was old and sturdy and likewise had survived previous storms, if it was really necessary for everyone to evacuate they would have made sure we all had a way out… My housemates and I boarded up the windows and bought some canned food (enough cold beans and clam chowder for about three days) and filled the bathtub with water. Then we just sat and waited. The power went out as the winds picked up, we went to bed with candles and our mattresses pushed as far from the windows as possible, and hoped we would be able to sleep when the storm hit in the dead of night. But it never did – we all woke up to sunny skies, the hurricane having made a last-minute turn eastward and hitting the coasts of Mississippi and Alabama instead. We breathed a sigh of relief, patted ourselves on the back for having decided to stick it out, and went back to our normal lives. I berate myself now for having been so foolish to stay, but we, like the tens of thousands of lower-income people in the city, didn’t really have another option, and anyway we assumed the city would have relief on hand should we need it. Luckily we didn’t have the chance to find out if that was true. Unfortunately this time people weren’t so lucky.
The aftermath of the hurricane that finally hit has in many ways been worse than even the most dire forecasts. The meteorologists and engineers could concoct as many scenarios as they liked about water levels rising, levees breaking and whole neighborhoods drowning. What they couldn’t predict was the human element: the lawlessness and anarchy, the misery and desperation, the complete lack of coordination and the snail’s pace of relief that has undoubtedly caused far more trauma and death than there need have been. The worse the reports get, the more difficulty I have swallowing them. I try to picture the streets I know so well, leafy boulevards lined with stately homes and neighborhoods of aging shotgun houses that always had someone friendly sitting on the porch, and I absolutely can’t imagine what they look like today. What does my own former street look like half-submerged in fetid water, the sounds of gunshots piercing the background as armed gangs run unbridled through the streets, looting and terrorizing? What do downtown and the French Quarter look like ransacked and empty, like some kind of post-apocalyptic nightmare? I absolutely can’t imagine it, nor can I imagine what a living hell it must have been for those who were there, whether they stayed home or sought shelter in places like the woefully underequipped Superdome. No one should have had to endure these things even if they did choose to stay – and it was only the luck of the draw that this was the storm for which all the worst-case scenarios came true.
Now that the cleanup and damage assessment has begun, the thing that I find the most distressing are the speculations from various sources that New Orleans might not survive this disaster – that the South’s most beautiful and cosmopolitan city should be abandoned and forgotten instead of rebuilt. I know how difficult restoring the city will be, but I simply cannot accept that this might be allowed to happen. Despite the precarious environmental situation that surrounds it, and despite the often difficult conditions locals have to endure to live there, New Orleans is a city that is so fiercely loved by residents and visitors alike, and has so much to offer in terms of ideas, culture and cuisine that it deserves the right to be rebuilt – whatever the cost. Of course careful planning must go into its reconstruction, and comprehensive plans must be made for evacuating and responding to future hurricanes (the lack of which strongly contributed to the human tragedy of this one), but there’s no reason that shouldn’t be possible. After all, generations more people deserve to have the experience of sitting on an Uptown balcony in the soft humid night air surrounded by the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine; they deserve to be able to catch Mardi Gras beads and have crawfish boils and spend lazy spring days listening to world-class music at Jazzfest. And certainly the phenomenal cuisine – many say the country’s best – that has been refined over centuries by the many cultures to inhabit New Orleans, deserves the right to continue thriving on its native soil.
So while we donate and pray that people find their loved ones and manage to pull their lives back together, I’ll leave you with a recipe reminder of just how sweet and delicious life can be in New Orleans. For those of you who have been there or live there, hopefully it will bring back a memory or two of wonderful meals and happier times. And for all of you who have never been to the Big Easy, consider it a preview of all the amazing things you will taste when one day you make it to this magnificent city.
If you haven’t already, please consider making a donation to the Red Cross or America’s Second Harvest. You can see a tally of all the funds raised by bloggers over this past weekend as part of the Blog for Relief Weekend by clicking here. Also, don’t forget to prepare yourself for a potential disaster, as Louisa wisely reminds us.
Source: inspired by Emeril’s recipe here (The original Bananas Foster comes from Brennan’s Restaurant)
4 tablespoons butter (unsalted is traditional, I like salted)
3/4 cup dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
1/4 cup banana liqueur (such as crème de banane)
4 ripe bananas, cut lengthwise into quarters
1/2 cup dark rum
1 pint premium vanilla ice cream
Heat a frying pan over m
edium heat. Add the butter, and when it melts completely stir in the sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. Let it cook for a moment, then stir in the banana liqueur. Add the bananas in a single layer, shaking the pan so that they’re basted with the sauce. Stir in the rum and very carefully (keeping your face, clothing and cupboards at a safe distance) ignite with a match. When the flames die down continue shaking the pan until the sauce has reduced to a thick glaze and the bananas are soft. Remove from the heat and serve on top of vanilla ice cream.
9 thoughts on “New Orleans”
Beautiful post, Melissa.
Melissa–This post brought me to tears. I’ve been watching the news, brokenhearted as though I am one of the residents of New Orleans (because these are human beings, and we are all one of them). But I’ve never been there, neve even been to the South, and I regret that deeply now. But I know I’ll be there one day. That’s a given, because New Orleans will rebuild. And maybe this time it will be even better, more equitable for all the residents there. Thank you for your personal account.
Beautifully written Melissa, you have an exceptional gift in your ability to express yourself. Your post was truly touching..
I’m glad nothing happened to you while you were in New Orleans during the hurricane. Thanks for the recipe, links, and your own personal viewpoint on the state and what has happened.Paz
Melissa, I’ve been waiting to see what you would write about the nightmare in New Orleans. Your Mother and I are so grateful Katrina didn’t strike when you were there at school. I expected you to be erudite as always, and as always I stand in some awe of what an excellent writer you have become, and what a wonderful human being. I love you.
A very heartfelt and thoughtful post – thanks for sharing…
Hey!First off – bananas foster is one of my all time favourite desserts, and so perfectly French Quarter, New Orleans…wonderful.secondly (and this has nothing to do with yourvery appropriate post but still needs to be said) congrats on winning the DMBLGIT for August. As they say, that shot really is frikkin’ cool. Keep writing and showing us the world through your eyes.cheersJ
Melissa, I hadn’t come across your blog until today and I’m so happy I did. Thank you for sharing your thoughts about New Orleans, and your experiences when you lived there. None of us can even come close to fathom what was really going on down there. The only way I’ve known it is through the my job, working for a cable news company. We’ve been seeing things a lot of other eople were not. Our reporters were telling us things they were seeing on the phone..things they were seeing that couldn’t even be aired. Some of our reporters were even getting in fights with anchors back here in the NY bureau b/c how could they report on stuff when they weren’t experiencing it!?!? It is beyond my comprehension how this was happening in a country so wealthy and advanced as ours. We are so vulnerable and we don’t even know it until these horrific events happen.I was in New York on 9/11 and yesterday brought on an immense feeling of sadness remembering that day. Reading your post about your just escaping the hurricane reminded me of an email I sent out to friends from my office that very morning, telling everyone I was ok. Anyway, sorry for the long comment…M
Melissa, hi… I originally wrote the following song about 9/11, but it seems to fit here too…. here it goes:No I don’t feel like being cheerfulSee, on this day it is essential….It is the day the sky almost fellThe day the world almost crumbledAnd ain’t that close enough now?Can someone tell me how time flies?it’s like it almost never happenedI want to celebrate the factThat we are still alive, but…I can’t shake off the memoriesNo this image won’t leave meAnd on this dayOn this dayThe helplessness, the painthey rush back in my veinsIt is on this dayAnd now, todayI’m going out to danceI may come back home, I may notAnd I can’t help my thinking….
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