Press. voanews.com.
"The smell
is horrendous," says Kevin White, who has been working on flood relief for
the past week in St. Amant, Louisiana. "Rotting roadkill. It's worse than
that. It's incredible." White, a Baton Rouge-area cinematographer, is
housing a flooded-out family. His home was unharmed by last week's floods, when
as much as 75 centimeters of rain fell over the course of 48 hours.
While the water
soon drained from city streets, it flowed south and has now settled in St.
Amant and surrounding areas. More than 100,000 homes have been damaged. The
total of their worth is estimated at $21 billion. "The
problem is that we're in a bowl," says White, noting that the area is much
like New Orleans, where floods devastated the city after Hurricane Katrina in
2005. "The water comes here, and it just sits, and it's got nowhere to
go."
This flood is
actually worse than Katrina. WeatherBell Analytics calculated the amount of
rainfall at 7.1 trillion gallons of water over the entire state of Louisiana,
compared to 2.3 trillion gallons during Hurricane Katrina. Meteorologist Ryan
Maue told the Washington Post that the amount is enough to fill Lake
Ponchartrain — a 1,600-square-kilometer estuary near New Orleans — four times.
Yet, residents
say, while the flooding has been on the national news daily, the severity of
the situation has gone unrecognized. Not to mention
the amount of work that needs to be done. Louisianans affected by this flood
pride themselves on taking care of their own, but they say they could really
use some outside help.
Sewage and
stench
White is housing
a family of four who were flooded out of their own home. They have spent the
past few days at their soggy house, tearing out walls and throwing out anything
inside the house that has been damaged by water — which is nearly everything.
"You have
to vent the house," White says. "They've thrown the furniture out,
the floor is rotten, they're going to have to replace all their
appliances." That's a scene
that is being repeated all over the low-lying areas south of Baton Rouge, where
floodwaters are expected to take a week or more to drain. And conditions for
those still surrounded by water and sandbag barriers are worse.
The water is not
safe.
"The people
[who are sand] bagging, they're walking knee-deep in sewage," White says.
He says fire
ants — insects that both sting and bite, and can kill small animals — float on
top of the water, whole mounds at a time. Full of sewage, stagnant for days,
the water carries bacteria, making it essential for people to decontaminate
themselves before they re-enter their homes after a day of flood work.
Houses still
waterlogged by the rotting muck cannot be cleaned out yet, which puts them at
risk of developing mold and mildew that can never be fully eliminated. Graham Kinchen,
one of the residents who has been forced to keep watch night and day over
sandbag barriers in his back yard, has managed to keep his sense of humor.
Kinchen says his
house, as well as many others in his neighborhood, is surrounded by water
measuring anywhere from knee-deep to waist-deep. A photograph looking out his
front door shows floodwaters coming right up to his front porch. He and his
wife, Denise, use a boat to get from their door to the road, where they can
pick up sandbags provided by the local government and food that other community
members drop off.
Flood angels
The Kinchens had
a scare late Sunday, when one of their sandbag walls started to erode. Word
went out on Facebook and via telephone, and within five minutes, Denise Kinchen
says, several friends had gathered to help fortify the sandbag levee. The
barrier was restored and, for the night, the house was saved.
Some flood
victims are referring to their helpers as angels: people ready and willing to
pitch in on the sudden emergencies that arise during the uneasy days and nights
while the floodwaters still threaten.
In addition to
water pressure pushing on the sandbag barriers, residents whose houses have
been spared so far still have to worry about more rain, which is typical for
the area in August. Kinchen says another significant rainfall would be
"catastrophic. If that happens, we'll lose everything."
However dire the
situation, residents are taking courage in helping each other. Dustin Clouatre
is a member of the self-titled "Cajun Navy," a group of civilians who
used Facebook to organize a fleet of privately-owned boats to help rescue
people and ferry aid where it is needed.
"Everybody
has a boat here," Clouatre says. "If you say, 'Let's go out in the
boat,' you have to say, 'Which boat?'" Clouatre says he
spent four days in his boat last week picking up people and taking them to
higher ground, even just putting them into trucks and other vehicles that sat
high off the ground to get them out of reach of the water.
Debris in the
water was a constant distraction.
But there were
moments of grace. "Me and my uncle had just gotten a family out of a house
and something got caught in the motor," Clouatre says. It was a sign that
said "Love is All You Need." A photograph of the sign, posted online,
has gone viral.
Those doing the
heavy work out in the floodwaters have not gone hungry. White says people have
been showing their appreciation by bringing comfort food to the workers,
Louisiana-style — spaghetti with venison and the local specialty, jambalaya. At least one
crew of volunteers has been traveling around St. Amant on a trailer with
coolers full of food and a working grill, delivering fresh meals.
Chad Bourgeois
took a photo of the grill team and posted it on Facebook with the caption: "Only in
Louisiana could you be gutting out a house in a flooded out neighborhood when
kind people drive up grilling on a trailer and delivering free food :) love
where I live," he said. Many agree that
this crisis has brought out the best in their community, as neighbors help
neighbors. But the recovery period will be long — and this week's forecast
includes more rain.
:::::::::::::
Donate Now With Web Site Senderos de Apure.
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=J56SNTP4DS5UY