After the Storm
AFSCME members who suffered the wrath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita are slowly rebuilding their lives, with help from their union sisters and brothers.
By Jon Melegrito
Four months after back-to-back hurricanes that displaced close to a million people along the Gulf Coast, survivors continue to struggle to regain some normalcy in their lives. Most of our 800 New Orleans members have relocated temporarily to towns and cities across the country. They are reuniting with their families, taking care of each other's needs and making sure their kids don't miss school — trying as Daren Stacker of Local 872 puts it, "to move on with our lives one step at a time."
Many prefer to return and help rebuild the communities they love. Perhaps not right away, but eventually. A lot depends on how the federal and state governments deal with the enormous damage. Repairing it will cost billions of dollars. Both New Orleans and the state of Louisiana are now deeply in the red, grappling with huge deficits, cutbacks in health care and services, and funding for public schools. Only the federal government can underwrite such a massive reconstruction. But the Bush administration and its congressional allies are instead pushing through cuts to vital services and even more tax breaks for the rich. AFSCME has launched a nationwide campaign to reverse those horrendous priorities (see Page 15).
In addition, to assist our members and their families as they recover, the International raised $447,000 with lots of help from councils, affiliates and individual members. Last December, checks in the amount of $5,000 each were given to our neediest brothers and sisters — including all the members interviewed here.
"It is impossible to know when all our affected members will be able to return to their homes, much less resume work," says President McEntee. "It will be a long time before their lives return to normal. But AFSCME will continue to work with Council 17 and with state and local governments to help our members get back on their feet."
'You Just Pick Yourself Up'
Nancy Davis bought her three-bedroom home in Kenner, a New Orleans suburb, 33 years ago. When a combination of sludge and sewer water inundated the New Orleans neighborhood, she lost everything but a few clothes and a school bus she owns and operates: "I drove a school bus because it allowed me to bring my kids while I was picking up and dropping off other children." Her daughter and two sons — now in their 30s — "loved those bus rides. All three are pitching in to help me rebuild my house."
In the wake of the storm, Davis (a member of Local 3091) remains optimistic: "You just pick yourself up, brush yourself off and start all over again."
Meanwhile, Davis has purchased a trailer — parked in front of the house, along with the school bus — because she couldn't wait for FEMA to get her one.
"We're really fortunate because we still have our jobs, and the pay checks were never discontinued," says Davis. She's concerned, however, about the fate of displaced co-workers. Of the 350 bus drivers, less than 200 reported for work on opening day last October.
'We're Going to Make It!'
Sometimes at night, Oveal Jackson (a member of Local 1991) sees images of Big Charity, the public hospital in New Orleans where she and her co-workers were marooned for six days. She still worries about her children and grandchildren — some waded in dangerous waters towards safety and became separated from her for weeks. Her 24-year-old daughter, Graceland, can't sleep until daybreak, afraid of water rising in the dark.
"I try to assure all my children that it's going to be all right," Jackson says. "We're survivors. We're going to make it."
The Jacksons, along with her parents and a sister, settled in a three-bedroom house in the outskirts of Alexandria, La. "This is where we're going to raise our kids," Jackson declares, noting a school bus-stop sign across the street. "This is going to be our new home."
One Step at a Time
Sitting at their dining room table in the Houston neighborhood where they're renting a three-bedroom house, Council 17's Daren Stacker and wife Michelle are expressing their frustrations and counting their blessings.
Fleeing both hurricanes, the Stacker family endured two evacuations and stayed in shelters and other people's homes. Faced with mounting bills, Daren's car was repossessed. By far the worst: his 78-year-old stepfather drowned, asleep in his East New Orleans bedroom while floodwaters rose.
Michelle winces and says, "There's always something that reminds you of what happened. Like the other day, when it rained. Our youngest son, Christen, saw the water pouring down, and started trembling." Daren is also worried about his job search. "It tears you up inside when you can't provide for your family.
"Still," he adds, "we're better off than a lot of people who haven't even gotten assistance. We have a place we can call home. ... There's at least a semblance of normalcy now." He is pleased that the children are doing well in their new school.
Out in the front yard, flowers that daughter Destinae planted now bloom among the gladiolas. She says she's looking forward to doing more gardening with her mom in the spring. "It's one way of getting back some of the things we've lost," Daren points out, as he wraps his arm around his daughter.
Closer Together
Before Hurricane Katrina scattered Janet Thomas and her family into shelters across Louisiana and Pennsylvania, they would meet regularly for dinner at her home in the lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, where she'd lived for 15 years. Daughters Toshemia, 23, and Chiante, 32, would buy the groceries; eldest son John, 27, would cook; daughters Dominic, 20, and Lakisha, 19, would prepare the table. After dinner, they would all gather in the living room and play with one-year-old granddaughter Danay.
"That's what I missed the most," says Thomas of the several weeks she spent in a church shelter in Smyrna, La. "Also, it was hard sharing a room with strangers and not eating your favorite, home-cooked meals."
But things are a little better now. Two months after the storm, Thomas — a New Orleans public school custodial worker who belongs to Local 872 — is reunited with her children in Houston. They have all decided to settle there. Thomas is sharing an apartment with Lakisha and hopes to find a job soon. The apartment doubles as the family's meeting place for weekend dinners of gumbo and stuffed peppers.
"We survived, that's what matters," says Thomas, reflecting on her family's plight. "It brought us even closer together."
