A Bold and Beautiful Vision

By Michael Kozart, AlterNet. Posted September 30, 2005.

What happens when your feet leave the ground? Answer: you fall down. That's the story of the U.S. government, or at least the story of how it fell flat on its face in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. In failing to connect with local communities, the government stumbled wildly in the mud and floodwaters that left tens of thousands of folks without healthcare, housing, or hope.

I learned this story from the people of Algiers, an impoverished New Orleans neighborhood on the west bank of the Mississippi River. Like he rest of New Orleans, Algiers experienced a mass exodus in the days prior to Katrina. By the time the storm arrived on August 29, only about 20 percent of the residents remained. Their faces bore the same expression of disbelief that the government could be so ineffectual at a time of unprecedented domestic crisis.

I visited Algiers at the behest of one of those who stayed behind: Malik Rahim, an ex-Black Panther and former Green Party city council candidate. Rahim stayed because he feared many of the folks left behind would be neglected, if not abandoned. Unfortunately, his fears came true.

Although Algiers was spared the floods that devastated many neighborhoods east of the river, its stores, public transit systems, and neighborhood health centers remained out of operation for nearly three weeks. Residents who stayed needed food and drinking water. Most who did not evacuate were the elderly and the frail -- folks who required frequent access to pharmacies and doctors. As Rahim waited nervously for official help to arrive, he began receiving calls from neighbors in crisis. One elderly man down the block needed pain medication for a gangrenous finger, yet he could not get to the hospital or find a doctor. He had not slept in days, the stress was making his diabetes worse, and he was close to running out of insulin.

Rahim took action, broadcasting reports from Algiers through radio and newspapers. "This is criminal," he wrote in a widely circulated essay dated September 1. "People are dying for no other reason than the lack of organization."

Some aid haltingly began to flow into Algiers in the days following the storm. The Red Cross established a number of supply stations. Folks could pick up water and emergency meal rations, if they could walk or drive to the depots -- and obviously many could not. There were no doctors, pharmacies, or open health centers. For emergencies, there was a makeshift FEMA center on the lawn of the closed West Jefferson Hospital, but few Algiers residents could get there.

Rahim envisioned a relief framework that would be radically different from that of the Red Cross, FEMA, and the Louisiana Department of Health and Hospitals (DHH). He had in mind a grassroots, humanitarian relief organization that would integrate community members at every level. This vision -- soon named Common Ground -- featured a neighborhood health clinic, efforts to help folks rebuild their homes, and satellite relief operations in other sections of the city.

Rahim secured space for the Common Ground clinic in the Masjid Bilal mosque near the southwest edge of Algiers, one the poorest neighborhoods in New Orleans. Activists from around the nation made plans to come. Getting to Algiers was difficult in the days following the storm, due in part to the enormous military and police presence in the disaster stricken region. There were many reports of black people being turned back at check-points, including a contingent of black clinicians who attempted to come in from Atlanta. Such instances of racism influenced the composition of the activists who could participate. The first caravan of independent relief activists, from the Mayday DC collective, arrived in early September and quickly got to work. By September 9, the Common Ground clinic had opened its doors for business. While the scope of medical care was initially limited by the lack of supplies and credentialed clinicians, many patients were happy simply to have someone to talk to, someone who could check their blood sugar and vital signs, and dispense useful tips on how to stay healthy.

Michael Kozart, MD, works on a psychiatric ward at San Francisco General Hospital. Liz Highleyman also contributed to this article.

The first twelve reader comments refer to a slightly different earlier version of this story.

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