
Photo: Melanie Stetson Freeman/CSM.
One Man Swamp Band street musician Brian Belknap performing in the French Quarter of New Orleans in April.
Here’s a story of resilience, 20 years after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Patrik Jonsson writes at the Christian Science Monitor, “When Hurricane Katrina careened into Mississippi and Louisiana 20 years ago this week … the overtopping of New Orleans’ levees caught local, state, and federal officials flat-footed in the days after the storm’s Aug. 29, 2005, landfall just east of New Orleans, near the Pearl River. …
“As I head back to New Orleans ahead of the 20th anniversary of that historic storm, looking to chronicle the growth that has taken place since that disaster threatened to wash away the soul of this vibrant city, I’m following some of the paths I took when covering the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, remembering that time, those scenes.
“Twenty years after that catastrophe, New Orleans’ larger recovery has been a complicated story of progress, ongoing challenges, and missed opportunities.
“It was still a lawless city when I arrived in 2005. As dark descended and I settled into my van for the night, so did fear. Rumors abounded – most outrageous, but some not far from the truth about the human toll. About 1,800 people are believed to have perished during Katrina and its aftermath, most from the storm surge in Mississippi and catastrophic flooding in New Orleans. The most expensive natural disaster in United States history, it caused over $200 billion in damage. …
“Communities reemerge, but they reemerge differently. People search for what once was – a piece of flatware, a boat transom, a bent-up old .22 rifle. Or an old guitar. They drag the past from the wreckage and use it to imagine the future.
This year, I’ve brought my Guild A-20 dreadnought guitar, my road companion. I’m realizing that this reporting trip is also to build a connection across the decades – maybe one as rickety and rusty as that old Huey Long – and to see the effects on communities and people, including myself, and how they recover. …
“This time I am staying in a rental, a shotgun-style short-term place near the Tremé, the city’s iconic music district.
“I go to a nearby coffeehouse the next morning, where schoolkids in uniforms are already plinking away standards on a well-tuned upright piano. Wrens are cajoling amid the Magnolia grandiflora. I sip chicory-infused coffee and chat with the shop owner about a day that’s dawning with surprising coolness.
“Afterward, I find a great, steep stoop from where I can less watch but rather consider the city. I grab my Guild and sit down, strum some cowboy chords in B major, and noodle some lines from my reporter’s notebook: ‘She’s an angel, even when she’s falling down / She’s an angel, in the wrong part of town.’ …
“Brian Belknap traded a guitar for a life in New Orleans.
“The Chicago native arrived a decade ago, well after the ravages of Katrina. Like so many before him, he fell for the languid city’s slow charms. With little money, he lived on the streets for a while, busking for change. But then he traded his 1942 Martin D-18 for a battered shotgun shack in St. Roch. …
“Every day, Mr. Belknap walks into the French Quarter in the early, cooler parts of the day, setting up the instruments that now make up his One Man Swamp Band on Royal Street.
“ ‘There’s still desperation here,’ Mr. Belknap says. ‘But out here it’s an intimate experience. The people are close. The music is everywhere. Even in hard times, the sense of joy is unmistakable.’
“To punctuate that point, he grabs an accordion, gives a kick on a high hat pedal, and rolls into an original song about folks stomping the varnish off a dance floor.
“Though he’s not a native, in some ways Mr. Belknap’s presence here is a small part of New Orleans’ recovery. The city lost a third of its population after the hurricane. But it has been bouncing back – though not to what it was before Katrina.
“There’s a new $15 billion system of levees, floodgates, and drainage canals built to better withstand storms like Katrina. The public school system, among the worst in the country before 2005, has been revamped. Today, graduation rates have risen significantly, and more New Orleans high schoolers are going straight to college than before.
“But the city continues to grapple with the lasting impacts of the initial federally funded rebuilding plan, called Road Home. Over $9 billion in federal funds was allocated for residents to rebuild – but within a tangle of Byzantine application procedures. Disbursements, too, were based on property values before Katrina struck. This left mostly Black, low-income residents with far less to rebuild, and long-standing racial disparities continue today.
“ ‘Katrina in many ways reshaped the way we think about vulnerability in disasters,’ says Jeannette Sutton, a sociologist who studies emergency preparedness at the State University of New York at Albany. Road Home and other programs, she says, have proved that ‘If you were poor before a disaster, the [disaster response] is not going to improve your well-being’. If you were barely getting by before, you’re not going to be better off with the funding in the aftermath. But those who could ‘afford’ a disaster are probably going to recover pretty well.’ …
“Gentrification has also changed the flavor of New Orleans in many ways. The city continues to debate limiting short-term and highly profitable tourist rentals – like the one I’m staying in – which create a demand for housing and cause other rents to rise. The checkerboard of empty lots in the hard-hit Lower Ninth Ward, too, still defines many of the failures of the federal rebuilding plan. …
“Liz LeFrere was 8 years old, living in New Orleans East, when Katrina struck. She thought she’d miss a day or two of school. Four months later, the family returned to live in the broken city, since her father was a police officer.
“Ten years ago, when she was a student at Tulane, the campus flooded on Aug. 29 – the Katrina anniversary. Ms. LeFrere broke down in uncontrollable tears. ‘It came out of nowhere,’ she says. ‘It’s definitely part of a communal trauma.’
“Yet the storm’s indelible impact also created a new life for her. Today, Ms. LeFrere is part of an artist collective dedicated to understanding Katrina and its aftermath through art – including massive portrait murals that now dot and define the city.
“Artists like Ms. LeFrere are committed to telling a tangibly redemptive story. ‘The art is where expression can be a catalyst for change,’ she says. The murals ‘help create a sense of people seeing themselves reflected in the face of the city. The narrative of New Orleans expanded.’ ”
There’s a lot more at the Monitor, here. Impressive photos. No paywall, but subscriptions keep responsible news coming. Reasonable prices.









