(Now then... we were talking about charities
By Billy Gunn
(318) 487-6378
It's been a week since Hurricane Katrina evacuees started arriving,
dazed
and heartbroken, fearing for loved ones and what the future holds. Many
escaped with little clothing, their kids and pets in tow, not much
money in
their pockets, jobs vanquished.
They grew roots quickly wherever in Cenla they landed: small churches
and
campgrounds, at least one hotel that let them live in lobbies and fed
them.
It was the closest thing to home they've had, and Central Louisiana
welcomed
them with bountiful generosity.
However, some of the refugees and those who have helped them are
frustrated
with the Red Cross and its intractable bureaucracy, its tendency to
look to
the rule book before taking a step, whether it be registering evacuees
for
shelters and getting help from sorely needed volunteers.
Also, the Red Cross-mandated migrating of evacuees from small shelters
to
large is ripping some from the small venues where they feel safe to
much
larger ones where people are placed hundreds to a room with no privacy
and a
shortage of bathrooms.
Leann Murphy, CEO of the American Red Cross of Central Louisiana, said
her
agency is in "crisis mode," they're doing the best they can and that
she
understands the frustrations of evacuees and volunteers alike.
Just walk in the Red Cross' command central on Jackson Street, and one
encounters a house almost mad: volunteers dodging each other, cellular
phones' different tones sing, a closed door for a much-needed private
moment.
But the enormity of the crisis, the influx of refugees (on Saturday the
number at approved Red Cross shelters in Central Louisiana was 6,000,
with
thousands more staying elsewhere), doesn't seem to bring a change in
Red
Cross procedures.
'Ridiculous' "The Red Cross, they are ridiculous," said Tim Murry, a
manager
at Alexandria's Holiday Inn Convention Center, where 100 to 200
evacuees
have lived since Katrina's landfall. The hotel, like many other places
with
no Red Cross assistance, has sheltered and fed the southeastern
Louisiana
residents, or former residents, since they arrived: some yesterday,
some a
week ago.
Murry said he and Raj Patel, whose family owns the inn, on Friday tried
to
get the temporary tenants registered with the Red Cross but were met
with
resistance because of the emergency agency's steadfast adherence to its
rules.
Before registering, the hotel would have to demand that evacuees leave,
then
they'd have to find a registration center and fill out a form supplied
by a
certified Red Cross volunteer, Murry said.
As a compromise, Murry and Patel offered to bring registration forms to
the
hotel and have evacuees fill them out there to keep their tenants, many
of
whom have not a buck for gasoline, off the road.
And, they said, the Alexandria Riverfront Center is connected to the
Holiday
Inn, just steps away.
The Riverfront is one of four big Red Cross shelters in Rapides Parish
that
continues to take on evacuees; two busloads of New Orleans evacuees
arrived
Friday night.
But those staying at the Holiday Inn, where in banquet rooms they've
made
makeshift beds out of chairs, couldn't walk up stairs and register,
Murry
said.
"I just said screw it. I'm keeping them," Patel said. "The important
thing
is that they register with FEMA."
FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, is a critical link to
those
displaced and needing federal assistance.
Evacuees at the Holiday Inn said Red Cross volunteers did come and tell
them
about the procedures and what the agency required.
It wasn't a good exchange, said those who've constructed boundaries
where
families can keep a semblance of privacy in the inn's banquet room.
The Red Cross volunteer "came barging in here and said that we're
destructing the hotel," said Christina Rosa of Metairie, who didn't
remember
the volunteer's name. "They said the hotel does not want you."
"We had problems with the Red Cross being kinda rude to us," said
Sharon Sam
of New Orleans.
Both women said the generosity of Central Louisiana and especially
Patel and
the Holiday Inn staff was a godsend: all were fed, local pastors came
by to
see check on them, local Salvation Army volunteers supplemented their
needs,
they felt safe.
But, Marco Sosa said, "This changed a lot of people's mind about the
Red
Cross."
Riverfront Center In the Riverfront Center, hundreds lay on cots and
milled
around in the over-cooled complex Saturday, and Marion Smith missed the
smaller confines of Northwood Elementary, where she and other St.
Bernard
Parish evacuees had stayed. "I loved it there," she said. "It's so
crowded
here."
Then Cynthia Jate, who drove the St. Bernard bus passengers to safety,
told
Smith, "I got hold of your son. Pack your bags, he's coming (from
Houston)
to get you."
Stunned and teary, Smith said nothing, just listened.
"He said he's been to Marksville to Mississippi, Lafayette, lookin' for
you," Jate said. "He's so tickled."
Jate told other St. Bernard residents "anything's better than here. You
don't know these people.
"All the St. Bernard people, I'm trying to get them out," said Jate,
clearly
in charge.
A volunteer Leatha Basco also is mad at the Red Cross. Though disabled,
she
thought she could do something, anything, for refugees pouring in from
the
southeastern part of the state.
So, she left Forest Hill Friday morning and drove to the Rapides Parish
Coliseum's Exhibition Hall, one of the big-venue Red Cross shelters,
the one
landmark she knew how to get to.
She put in a couple of hours, cleaning the restrooms and helping by
lending
her cellular phones to refugees desperate to find loved ones and
wanting
news on their homes.
Basco then attended training, where "they said that if you can't put in
eight, 12, 24 hours (at a time), they don't want you. I just got up and
walked out."
"There's a lot of people out there that give a little time," she said.
"I
guess I'm good enough to clean the toilet but not good enough for
anything
else."
Murphy, the Red Cross CEO, said her manpower resources are stretched
thin,
and that might deviate from agency rules and let volunteers work
shorter
hours.
The minimum-hours rule, she said, is in place for more orderly
scheduling.
Town Talk reporter Mandy Goodnight contributed to this article.
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