Power and communication lines lay broken in the tide while animals, people, personal belongings, homes, and vehicles were swept away. The wetlands vanished in the hurricane’s wrath and over 80% of New Orleans was virtually under water.  People clung to rooftops, branches of trees, and each other in desperation, as rescue attempts were made. From the poorest to the rich and famous, Katrina made no discrimination. Those with no vehicles, no money, and not even a TV to warn them of the mandatory evacuation watched in horror as their few possessions and loved ones were swept away. The few who chose to remain could only watch the widespread devastation in helpless frustration, a tragedy beyond their control. At the convention center in New Orleans, crowds of people filled the arena until the roof began to leak, sanitary facilities became inoperable, and people were turned away at the front doors. Highways became roadways of more disaster, as people fled inland to higher ground. Others stood in line for hours in stifling heat, without water and food, fighting for seats on emergency buses, as shelters and hospitals overflowed. The National Guard was sent in to control the looting and the drug-related violence, as people panicked in the streets and fought for food and survival. We listened to the urgent pleas for help in finding the missing and opened our homes and our hearts to thousands of displaced people, doing what we could to somehow ease their grief and suffering.

In the aftermath of Katrina, suicide rates tripled and stories of more grief and sadness began to surface, the people left behind, too ill to evacuate, unconfirmed reports of mercy killings in hospitals, bodies in coffins awaiting identification, and families separated from their loved ones. Slow progress is being made toward recovery, as people return to grieve their losses. Many others have no way to return and 60 percent of the residents of New Orleans remain in exile. In some towns and cities, optimism and resilience have replaced despair, but in so many others, the shock, the agony, and the emptiness still remain.

While New Orleans’ huge tourist industry collapsed following Katrina, there were a few who wanted to see the destruction with their own eyes. The bars, restaurants, and souvenir shops are now open to tourists, eager to view the scene of a tragedy. While the sounds of jazz fill the streets of the French Quarter, the plaintive sound of a trumpet echoes somewhere in the darkness and desolation of the Big Easy.

The Katrina Memorial in Biloxi Mississippi, dedicated to those who perished in the tragedy, opened February 15, 2006 at a candlelight vigil. At the time of its opening to visitors, piles of debris and damaged buildings still lay on the ground. Within the 12-foot high Memorial stands a glass-enclosed case containing objects collected by the survivors, a faded photograph, a watch that no longer runs, a string of pearls, bits and pieces of a lifetime. In time, the names of the victims, many still missing and unaccounted for, will be inscribed on the Memorial. The National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C. plans to open an exhibit in 2008 displaying 60 artifacts from Katrina, including a parking lot exit sign from New Orlean’s flooded 7th Ward, a blue and white hurricane sign posted on Broad Street with an arrow to safety, and a rosary used by a weathercaster forced to abandon his station. 

Much of the grief we feel is in the failure of the government to act responsibly, the lack of accountability, and the apparent miscommunications. Somehow, the apologies and excuses we listen to do little to lessen the sadness that we feel. A year later, as another hurricane season approaches, we hear that some levees have been repaired and rebuilt and some towns have resumed some semblance of normalcy. Yet, the people along the Gulf Coast live in fear, wondering if they really are any better prepared than they were last year, or will it be the same tale of grief and sorrow. Buildings and towns can be rebuilt and floodwaters can be drained, but we are left to ponder in our grief the words of Rabbi Wolpe, “those who only watched the devastation must remember the vivid images of lives upended, dreams shattered, homes and hearts swept up in the storm. Those who lived through it have the far harder task of clinging to what does last: to memory, to hope, to each other.”

Sharon L. Slayton

In the aftermath of the tsunami, many of the first visitors returning to Phuket in 2005 found complete devastation of fishing villages, fishing boats, and beachside property extending inland approximately 400 yards or more from the waterfront.  .  Thatched roof huts lay like broken matchsticks on the ground, along with wrecked boats and the ruins of shops, restaurants, and bars.  The air was filled with the sounds of hammers and saws as makeshift shelters were being built from driftwood and smashed boats.  Hundreds of women and children were living in relief camps or tents, while fishermen mourned the loss of their livelihood and volunteer divers recovered tons of debris from the beach and the sea.  A beach resort near Patong, where waves had flooded ground floor rooms, smashed tiled swimming pools, and uprooted trees, was under reconstruction.  At Khao Lak, a village on Phuket that suffered extensive damage, visitors discovered wrecked boats, uprooted trees, grass brown with seawater, and mere shells of hotels were all that remained between the village and the sea.  In a world where tragedy buys tourism, the morbidly curious and the bargain hunter mingled with grieving relatives and friends, seeking information and identification of their loved ones. Although it is estimated that over 1,000 people were severely injured, 200 died, and 700 were among the missing on the first day of the tsunami, there is no possible way to estimate the amount of suffering and grief that resulted from this disaster

The ongoing recovery of Phuket since December 2004 is due to the remarkable perseverance of the Thai people.  Some of the beaches and resorts were restored within a day, and others, such as Kata, Patong, and Karon, in less than a year.  Hotels are showing a 90% occupancy and airlines are meeting the increased demand for more direct international flights.  Tourists returning to Phuket today, expecting to find a scene of complete disaster and loss, are discovering that the seas are clearer than ever before, marine life has returned, and the warmth and hospitality of the Thai people still prevails.

Sharon L. Slayton