Cracking Up: Post Katrina New Orleans

 By Kalamu ya Salaam

Our driveway is cracking. Horribly. Really cracking.  Just saying “cracking” is an understatement. One ridge sticks up two or three inches higher than the rest. And the door that leads from the den to the washroom (which itself is just a small extension behind the garage), that door does not fully close. Above the door sill inside the den there are very, very ugly, highly visible cracks in the wall. And we're lucky. Our house did not receive flood waters.

The phone has been ringing daily with requests. Right now there are three or so interviews to do (or not do) this week—we'll see how I'm feeling when the time comes.

The thing is people don't want to know the real deal. It's too depressing. I usually don't bother even talking about it. It bothers me when I talk about it, so I know what it does to others.

Right now I've got a good idea of how the people of Fallujah feel—it's been how long? Almost two years and their stuff still ain't reconstructed. Yesterday some government official was bragging about the oil production was about to reach pre-invasion levels, like that's some great achievement. Iraq was under siege and broke before the invasion. New Orleans was falling to pieces before Katrina.

So anyway our current home was suppose to be the last time we moved. I hate moving. Trying to pack up when you haven't even fully unpacked from the previous packing. This house was recently remodeled, was in move-in mint condition. Beautiful. Comfortable. A retirement squat with plenty of room for grandchildren and friends to visit. And now the ground is shifting. Literally.

Last week the daily paper ran a feature on the water supply problem. Seems that two thirds of the potable water that is produced is leaking into the ground. Wait, it gets better (or worse-depending on your disposition, cynic or sarcastic; they don't have too many pollyannas running around New Orleans these days). The city figures they are losing something like $200,000 a day. They didn't even have to dig a hole to throw the money in, they just let it leak into the ground. Plus, to add insult to injury, they have to keep pumping more and more water because if they don't, the water pressure will fall too low.

Ok? Now here comes the kicker: fire and shit! Once again, I mean that literally.

First the fire. The fire department has been having a tough, tough time fighting fires. The water pressure thingy. Plus, many of the fires ignite and get going roaring good before anyone in deserted neighborhoods notifies the fire department, and then all of the fire stations are not back up yet, and the fire personnel are overworked, and—well you get the idea. The bible promises “no more water, the fire next time.” Well, we've had the water and currently we've got major fires burning up the city.

Now, as for the shit; the name of the agency that is responsible for the water is the “Sewerage & Water Board.” If the water is leaking into the ground because Katrina did a number on the underground water infrastructure, then it's axiomatic that the sewerage pipes are also leaking. That's right, raw sewerage leaking into the ground, and nobody has a clue as to the rate of the leaks or at least nobody is owning up to knowing.

Just like smart bombs doing dumb damage in Iraq, I'm pretty sure Katrina didn't just crack the fresh water pipes. But who knows, I could be totally wrong about that. Right now there's no way to confirm or debunk that.

What I do know for sure is that the streets are falling apart, a long term result of first, Katrina flooding, and currently a result of drought conditions that are prevailing: water and fire. I may not know for sure why, but I do know for sure there are craters appearing seemingly overnight—I said “craters” because I didn't mean your garden-variety, average urban city pothole; I mean axle-busting, big-ass holes in the asphalt. I'm telling you what I know from experience driving these machine-eating streets. I know once I get home and pull into the driveway, I've got to be extra careful. And I know I can't fully close the den door. That's what I know for sure.

I also now know for sure why “they” say ignorance is bliss. It's because knowing what we now know ain't nothing nice. Don't be upset if you call and I don't answer or that if I answer and you ask how I'm doing, don't be surprised if I mumble “ok” or “alright” and change the subject. It takes a lot of energy to keep from cracking up.