in the bayou, in the shadows
when i first went back to new orleans, it was in mid september. people were not allowed in new orleans yet but all of the evacuee's were gone. my dreams were filled with visions of our house with swelled ceilings and mold. everyone was not sure what to expect and people were still in shock. imagine, if you will, everyone you know, their parents, and their extended family all having to consider their house likely ruined, their job gone, and/or moving their company. people had a look in their eyes that i have only seen in the eyes of soldiers... the walking wounded. no one can understand or ease this pain and it can only be likened to being runover by steam roller, slow and painful.
on our first trip in to new orleans, we had already been briefed on what to expect by npr crews. it was different to them though because this was not their home. while they were kind, this was a story that they were there to photograph and report. true to their descriptions, the lines to get into new orleans were terribly long and their was a curfew in effect, so you had to move quickly. we passed the first checkpoint and my fiance and i were dressed like government. i was in the passenger seat with my earbud in, my glasses on, and laptop up and running to act the part.
the second checkpoint was on the westbank and not quite as rigorous as the one reported about on river road. we entered the city and our eyes could not stay on the road in front of us. they scanned the surroundings for the familiar that had been marred and the unfamiliar damage. i focused... just get to the house.
the path to the house was open and so silent. we were one of maybe 5,000 or so people remaining in new orleans. as we drove to our house, a strange odor greeted our nostrils. it was not the usual urine, vomit, alcohol smell of bourbon street but one of feces, mold, and something totally unfamiliar... death.
i started thinking about this drive in to new orleans the other day because i was once again transistioning myself to a new life in a new city. the 6th move in the last year. as i was taking a run along the creeks by pease park, i came to a new area where sharp cliffs jutted out. perhaps emboldened by the cliffs, a sharp smell also greated my nose. it was familiar but different. i noticed a mother and her two children ahead walking towards me. could they not smell this awful smell? i can only liken it to the lion cages at a zoo. the smell of rotting flesh.
i felt a chill run up my spine and i felt unsafe. i did not know at that time exactly what it was i smelled other than it was bad and i suddenly felt unsafe. it was as if the cracks and crevices in the cliff, the dark places, had eyes. i ran hard out of there and went a different way home. i discovered the next day on the news what a body had been found in the bayou/creek bed below where i had been. it was a humbling feeling to have death, again, so close.
on our first trip in to new orleans, we had already been briefed on what to expect by npr crews. it was different to them though because this was not their home. while they were kind, this was a story that they were there to photograph and report. true to their descriptions, the lines to get into new orleans were terribly long and their was a curfew in effect, so you had to move quickly. we passed the first checkpoint and my fiance and i were dressed like government. i was in the passenger seat with my earbud in, my glasses on, and laptop up and running to act the part.
the second checkpoint was on the westbank and not quite as rigorous as the one reported about on river road. we entered the city and our eyes could not stay on the road in front of us. they scanned the surroundings for the familiar that had been marred and the unfamiliar damage. i focused... just get to the house.
the path to the house was open and so silent. we were one of maybe 5,000 or so people remaining in new orleans. as we drove to our house, a strange odor greeted our nostrils. it was not the usual urine, vomit, alcohol smell of bourbon street but one of feces, mold, and something totally unfamiliar... death.
i started thinking about this drive in to new orleans the other day because i was once again transistioning myself to a new life in a new city. the 6th move in the last year. as i was taking a run along the creeks by pease park, i came to a new area where sharp cliffs jutted out. perhaps emboldened by the cliffs, a sharp smell also greated my nose. it was familiar but different. i noticed a mother and her two children ahead walking towards me. could they not smell this awful smell? i can only liken it to the lion cages at a zoo. the smell of rotting flesh.
i felt a chill run up my spine and i felt unsafe. i did not know at that time exactly what it was i smelled other than it was bad and i suddenly felt unsafe. it was as if the cracks and crevices in the cliff, the dark places, had eyes. i ran hard out of there and went a different way home. i discovered the next day on the news what a body had been found in the bayou/creek bed below where i had been. it was a humbling feeling to have death, again, so close.
posted by was at 11:31 PM
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