Read: Zeitoun, by Dave Eggers

15 09 2010

So it has now become obvious to me that I dealt with the 5th anniversary of the hurricane by reading 5 books about it, one right after the other, starting the weekend of the anniversary and ending last night. It wasn’t something I really planned out, but just felt compelled to do. And no, the “5″ thing wasn’t on purpose either. I had one of the books and bought the other 4 at a book signing on Saturday, August 28th. I enjoyed and would recommend them all, especially Zeitoun, which I’ll talk about first.

1. Zeitoun, by Dave Eggers
Zeitoun is much more than a book about Hurricane Katrina. It’s a book about human rights and compassion and being open to understanding one another, and it’s a book about doing the right thing. The story of Abdulrahman and Kathy Zeitoun is a true one, rendered beautifully and heart-wrenchingly by Eggers into a tale I literally could not put down. More than once, I looked up, shocked by what I was reading, tears in my eyes. Knowing it’s real makes it all the more painful, and all the more necessary for as many people as possible to read it.

Abdulrahman Zeitoun is from Syria and has lived here in New Orleans for years (and is now an American citizen), running a successful house-painting and construction company. He’s a father of 5 (4 at the time of the hurricane) and a good-hearted, hard-working man. His wife, Kathy, is from Baton Rouge and helps run the company with him. They are both Muslim. This shouldn’t matter, but apparently it does.

Kathy evacuated with their children before the storm hit. Zeitoun, as he is known to everyone, stayed behind to watch over their home and business and rental properties. When the flooding began, he used a canoe to rescue several elderly neighbors, and he helped everyone he could, including going into houses across the street from him nightly to feed and water 4 dogs that were left behind to fend for themselves.

His thanks for this, for his unselfish acts of heroism? He is arrested on suspicion of terrorism in the chaotic days after the storm and locked up for a month in a maximum security jail, where he is repeatedly denied a phone call, he isn’t read his rights once, and he is never told of the supposed charges against him. I won’t say more so as not to give anything else away, but this is by far one of the most compelling books I have read in a long, long time. Read it.

2. Nine Lives, by Dan Baum
This is also a book about much more than the hurricane, and is also based on the lives of real New Orleanians. Dan Baum is a journalist who was in town to cover the storm and its aftermath and found himself wanting to tell the story of this strange place and its citizens. This book is his attempt to do so, and I think it’s a damn fine one.

Cleverly using Hurricane Betsy in 1965 as one sort of bookend to the story, and Hurricane Katrina in 2005 as the other, he fills in the in-between gaps in time by talking about the lives of, yes, 9 people. We learn about them as they go through the years and face challenges, experience joy, change, and grow. They are as varied as a Mardi Gras Indian Chief, the Orleans Parish coroner, an NOPD cop, a worker on the streetcar lines, an Uptown lawyer who becomes King of Rex, and a downtown high school band leader.

I learned so much about New Orleans history, culture, and people from this book. He covers immense ground here. I love, too, that the characters don’t necessary know one another or interact. He didn’t choose them for that reason. As this is such a small town, though, it is inevitable that some of their paths do cross, but it’s not one of those contrived things. It just happens, as does so much of life here.

3. 1 Dead in Attack, by Chris Rose
Now, unlike the first two, this is purely a book about the hurricane and what it was like to live here in the days, months, and years afterward. And let me say, Chris Rose paints a picture at turns sad and horrific and at others surreal and amusing. A columnist with the Times-Picayune at the time of Katrina, he was back in the city right after the storm and he documented it all in his columns for the paper. This book is a collection of those columns.

He talks about the challenges of being away from your family (his then-wife and children stayed in Maryland that fall with his folks), and he talks about the challenges of living in a war zone. He also lays himself bare and raw, talking about the difficulties he had dealing with a lot of it — difficulties many here after the storm faced. He is colorful and funny and has a voice all his own. He makes you feel, as much as is humanly possible, what it was like to be here back then. His title refers to one of the markings he saw on a house that had been searched after the storm. It’s poignant and painful, just as his book often is.

4. A.D./New Orleans After the Deluge, by Josh Neufeld
This a graphic novel about the hurricane — the first graphic novel I’ve ever read, actually. And it was incredibly moving, much more so than I’d expected. Using drawings to tell the stories of several residents, some who evacuated, and some who stayed, he created scenes that I’d only imagined but had never actually seen myself. And what a remarkable job he did. With dignity and care, he recreated something horrible and turned it into something beautiful and touching.

5. Why New Orleans Matters, by Tom Piazza
This book was written shortly after the hurricane, in part as a response to those stupid and short-sighted enough to say things like, “Why should we rebuild New Orleans?” It’s also a love letter to the city and its special culture. You can learn lots about the history of New Orleans music and food from this book, as well as about other cultural touchstones like our love for a parade.

Whew. This was some pretty heavy reading, all in all, but they were all good. On to some fiction for me now, though…





So, here’s where I write about Katrina

27 08 2010

The French Quarter last night was pure magic and mystery, deserted, silent, spooky, and beautiful. We walked over to eat at Bennachin, an African restaurant on Royal Street. (See, it’s not ALWAYS gumbo and poboys down here…) Finding the restaurant full, and the night pleasantly warm but not stifling, we ordered food to go and took a walk for the 30 minutes it took for it to be prepared. I can’t remember when I’ve seen the Quarter so quiet. Almost eerie. Now, granted, we were on the end of the Quarter very near Esplanade, so it’s always more residential there than touristy, but nonetheless the quiet moment afforded me the time to appreciate the beauty all around me. And to be thankful, once again, for the opportunity and the privilege it is to live here in New Orleans, a place I have loved so deeply since I was a little girl.

I’d gone back and forth in my mind about writing about the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina here. On the one hand, I didn’t live here at the time, so what do I have to say that could possibly matter? That could resonate, could begin to approach the pain and sorrow those who did felt? On the other hand,  my sister’s home  in the Broadmoor neighborhood of Nola flooded and my mother’s home on 2nd St. in Gulfport, Mississippi was nearly swept away. So, while I was spared, my immediate family was not, and their pain is mine, and my pain is everyone’s who watched, as I did, in absolute horror at what looked like something post-apocalyptic unfolding day by day, those horrible days after the storm. I remember thinking, “Can it get any worse? It can’t get any worse.” And then it would.

As an aside, I would vote for Lt. General Russel Honore for mayor, or governor, or senator, or President, or king of the universe, or whatever that man might want to run for. Even now when I see him on TV, the emotions well up. The dignity and calm he brought to a chaotic situation are other-wordly.

My primary plea to everyone as we come upon this fifth anniversary, and the attendant media rush and rancor about it, is to just remember, please, that this was a human tragedy. That’s someone’s sister, someone’s brother, someone’s son, someone’s mother you see there, in that old footage, standing atop houses pleading for help amidst acres of hot filth and dirty water. Those are people with dreams and hopes and fears experiencing unimaginable loss. And no one deserves to go through what the people here and on the Mississippi Gulf Coast went through.

Think about the people you love, and your home, and your neighbors, and your neighborhood. Think about your daily routine, running to the drug store down the street, going off to work, returning home at the end of the day, to sink into your bed, surrounded by everything you know and love. Now, try to imagine it all gone. All of it. Imagine the anxious uncertainty, the sadness, the despair, the fear.

I know. It’s hard for me to imagine it, too. But I try, because I don’t want to forget, I don’t want any of us to forget, that that is what we are talking about here. PEOPLE.  I understand the need and the desire to figure out who’s at fault, who’s to blame, to figure it all out so we hopefully prevent something like this from happening again. I understand the need to get political about it, and to get angry. I really do. It’s just that, for me anyway, I want to honor the fact that actual human beings persevered against a situation so overwhelming, so seemingly impossible. To me, that is the best way to commemorate the fifth anniversary, by remembering that this happened to people, your fellow Americans, people just like you and just like me, and to be amazed that the folks here and along the Coast were able to come back from it.

Has it been easy? Is everything ok now? Of course not. I’m not suggesting it is. We have a long way to go, to be sure. There are still New Orleanians scattered across the country who want to come home and can’t. Across the street from my mother’s house in Gulfport, there are three big empty spaces, where her neighbors were left, literally, with slabs for homes and they haven’t built back and likely won’t. Five years later, she’s living in a ghost town for a neighborhood block, as many here are also doing.

My point is only that as you watch all the coverage this weekend and hear all the talking heads on TV, take a breath and remember the people involved here. Remember the people. Make it about the people. Be a little kinder. Show compassion to everyone around you. And be thankful for everything that you have, for your loved ones, and even for the daily annoyances that challenge you. Trust me, you’ve got it good.








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