I found this story floating around Facebook this morning. There are many lessons that can be learned by reading this. Are you prepared? What's in your survival kit? Do you have several routes to evacuate your home? Are you physically fit? Do you heed warnings? What can you gain from this true story of survival?
By: Alimah S. Muhammad
It was Monday morning August 29, 2005, and I'd just woken up. I looked over the top bunk where I was lying, to find about 5 inches of water in my room. I'd heard talk of a hurricane headed for New Orleans, but I didn't pay too much attention to it. Growing up in New Orleans, I'd heard many meteorologists forecast hurricanes that, most of the time turned out to be false alarms. My dad and I decided to "ride it out". Obviously the rest of my family were not as relaxed as I was, because they'd evacuated the day before. I thought to my self "just a little flooding, no big deal," and I went back to sleep. The next time, I woke up to discover my dresser, my desk and chair, and my keyboard, upturned, floating in the midst of my clothes, shoes and other stuff in about waist-high water. The wind outside was blowing so fiercely against my window, that a huge branch on the tree in our back yard snapped clean in half, CRACK!!!!, making a piercing noise so loud, it was like I was standing right in the midst of lightening. Beginning to get worried, I acted non-nonchalantly, but I began to realize that all of my possessions were getting destroyed with each inch that the water rose. The only undestroyed thing I owned at this point, was my portable CD player and my Michael Jackson Cd's that I was listening to the night before. Everything else I owned was either completely doused in mud- colored water,or floating atop the water, but still damaged.
My dad came to the conclusion that the water was not going to recede anytime soon, so he suggested going into the attic. The only other alternative was walking out of our house into water that was about four inches higher than it was in our house. Me being afraid of cockroaches, decided that I'd rather risk walking in chest-high water, than being cramped in a room the size of a furnace closet with a whole bunch of roaches. When my dad and I prepared to leave, I walked into the living room which I had not visited all day, and found the sofa, washer and dryer, and the television floating aimlessly amongst picture frames, my karate trophies, my dad's books and other debris. In my mind I was completely devastated at the sight of this complete catastrophe, but I felt I had to be strong, for my dad's sake. My dad grabbed a flashlight, and a bag of fruit, (I secretly took my only in-tact possession, my Michael Jackson cd’s, and put the cd case that they were in, in the elastic of my pants) and we walked out of the house. I had to hold on to my dad's arm, because the current of the water almost pulled me under. Not only were me and my dad walking in chest-high water, but the sky was pitch black, and there were fallen trees and branches everywhere. We were trying to walk to the corner, directly across from my grandma's house, which took us about twenty minutes. In regular conditions, this walk would take about three minutes. Now that I think back, this scene is quite like the movie "War of the Worlds", when Tom Cruise saw the destruction outside caused by the Tri-pods, he took his children, grabbed a few supplies and ventured in to the unknown. My dad and I indeed ventured into the unknown, because we had no clue of what would become of us.
While we were walking through the water, my dad was waving his flashlight, and we noticed a little light in the distance paired with a rumbling noise, like a motor. The light and the noise approached us and we noticed it was a man on a motorized boat. "Do you need a ride?" "Yes", we said in unison. It was like a miracle. We thankfully climbed on to the boat, unaware of the identity of the man, until he said, "Elliott?", "Who is this?” Said my dad. "It's me Paul." We'd realized it was my uncle Paul, he told us that he stayed behind because he wanted to use his boat to help the people who were unable to leave the city. Uncle Paul took us as far as the boat could go, and he let us off to a place where the water was about knee-high. God knows we would have not made it very far without the miracle, as I like to call him. After we got off the boat, we thanked Uncle Paul and parted ways. He went to see if there were anymore people in the neighborhood, who needed assistance. Talk about an angel without wings!!!
We walked for about two or three minutes and we encountered some police officers with working cars, and we requested a ride to our local mosque which was about five minutes away, but unfortunately, on orders, they could not leave their post. We then encountered a young couple in a truck, and we asked them for a ride to the mosque. They obliged. During the ride, my father made small conversation and discovered that they were headed the same way as us, and expressed his astonishment at our luck.
After the couple dropped us off in front of the mosque, we thanked them and they drove off. We surveyed the mosque, and noticed that the door had been blown open, still we entered. My dad checked to see if any one had already entered, but we found that it was empty. We also found that upstairs, the sanctuary’s ceiling on the right side was partially caved in, and not to mention all of the destruction we saw downstairs. Upstairs being the safest place, we found the softest spot on the carpeted floor, on the left side under some chairs (our head protection) and found sleep in soaking wet clothes and very empty stomachs.
The next three days were spent in and out of the mosque, and by far the most memorable. The second day in the mosque, me and my dad woke up, and we realized that we did not have food. we did have a survival kit at our house, and we tried to go back, but the water had risen even higher and there was no way we could get our things, so we turned around and noticed a broken in gas station convenient store. We entered the store to find all of the merchandise scattered, some soaked, some mud splattered, and some in perfect condition. Needless to say, my dad and I gathered as much food as we could hold. When we walked back to the mosque, we feasted on Pringles, Twix, and water.
After we ate we met the people who lived across the street from the mosque, and they said they'd planned to "ride it out" like us. We went back to the mosque and slept the rest of the day. The next day we went back to the place were we got our first set of supplies, and on our way we passed up the community shopping center where we saw that every last store was broken in. The store attendant told us and the others who were there to take what we needed, as long as we did not destroy the store any further. We needed more food, a radio, and some clean underwear, so... we got some. We also got a pair of tennis shoes because I and my dad had developed calluses on our feet from all of the walking we did. We also got a radio to keep up with the news. I gathered all of these items in a shopping cart, while my dad was in the local grocery store getting food. On my way out of the store, two police officers came in the store through the back entrance with their guns drawn.
I was walking out when I came face to face with the female officer and the barrel of her gun. She shouted, "Drop all of your s**t, before I shoot all y'all motherf****rs!!!!" Fear pumped through my veins, and I dropped everything I had. I quickly walked out of the store and told my dad what happened. As soon as he saw that the police officers had left he went to retrieve what I gathered. The fear that I had, turned into rage, because the police threatened to kill me for trying to save my life. Some call it looting, but I as well as everyone, who experienced what I did call it surviving. My dad had no food, a fifteen year old daughter and a will to survive, and the United States government was definitely not helping. This angered me, and I later heard on the radio, about out of control police officers shooting harmless, citizens. In one incident there was a report of an officer who shot a mentally handicapped man, five times in the back. There were many more reports of this behavior, I of which experienced one of them first hand.
After the police incident, my dad and I spent one last day, at the mosque, when the people who lived across the street from the mosque who I like to call "our neighbors", particularly Brother Charlie, persuaded my dad to try to leave New Orleans.....on foot. The plan was to travel to a place where there were working phones so we could call relatives for some help. The closest place that had working phones was Algiers, which was....... 16 MILES AWAY!!!!!!! Yes. me a 15 year old, 5 foot 3, 120 pound, not physically fit girl to walk, WALK!!!! 16 miles. Thank God I had no clue that the walk would be 16 miles until it was over, but now that I think about it, if I did know I don't think I would have made it. Well, we gathered our possessions (and the shopping cart) and began the hike, my dad, the neighbors, and myself. We walked....and walked.....and walked. A walk that never seemed to end. As I took turns pushing the cart with my dad, what I saw absolutely devastating. One of which was an elderly man pushing an even more elderly man in a wheel chair over the I-10 bridge. They had no supplies......just each other. I'm not sure if they were brothers, or father and son, but, it was the most genuine show of family, that I had ever seen. I also saw an old woman with her grandchildren, they had very few supplies.
Nearing the end of our walk, we received a tip-off that there would be buses taking the stranded to Baton Rouge (where I had an older sister) and Houston. After waiting all night for a bus, we fell asleep on the ground, next to the Causeway Bridge with our drenched belongings and woke up to find there were not enough buses for the thousands of people waiting for a way out of the city. When we woke up, around 8 am, we waited for about three hours for a bus. The "neighbors" had found some family members, so they said goodbye, and we parted ways. Only Brother Charlie and his brother remained with us. When we finally fought our way on to a Bus that was jam- packed, we thought we had finally found salvation. We were on the way to Baton Rouge, where Brother Charlie and his brother had a sister and so did I. We were going to get to Baton Rouge and use a pay-phone to call them to come pick us up.
"Headed to Houston!!" said, the driver. "WHAT!?!” said my father.
"Do we know anyone in Houston that we could call?,Kirby lives in Houston, but I don't know the number to call him. We planned to call your sister Because you know her number by heart. Right?” said my dad, sounding a little unsure.
"Right, so what are we going to do?"
"Well I know one thing; we are not getting off of this bus, because it's going to be too hard to get on one headed for Baton Rouge. We'll just have to go to Houston”, said my dad defiantly.
As we were riding, we heard talk among the passengers that the bus drivers were ordered not to stop, except for gas. They were also not allowed to let people off during stops for gas. When the bus driver encountered some state troopers, the bus driver persuaded the state troopers to allow the passengers to get off if we chose. When the bus stopped for gas in Baton Rouge, Mr. Charlie, his brother, me and my dad got off. Mr. Charlie called his sister and told her where we were, so she could pick us up. My dad phoned my sister who was not available, so he tried his sister who lives in Birmingham, AL where the rest of my family who lived in New Orleans were. When she picked up, and realized it was my father's voice she burst into tears of happiness, and a cry of relief, she then told us to come to her house as soon as we can.
After Brother Charlies sisters brought us to her home and let us get a shower for the first time in three days, my sister came to her home and brought me and my dad to her house. I was so happy to finally see my new born nephew. I was overjoyed to see my sister, my brother-in-law, and my two older nephews. They took us to their home, where we had for the first time in three days, found a place of refuge. This was, in my opinion a triumph. A triumph of fear. The girl named Alimah, who lived in New Orleans basically all of her life, not really experiencing true destitution, would have never dreamed to experience such an ordeal. If I was not put through this, I would not know strength. Strength I drew from my father. I would never have met courage. Courage I inherited from my mother. And I would have never discovered faith. Faith I found in my self. And I would have never discovered love. The love for my dad and our loves. Love for life gave me the strength, courage and faith to survive. Survive. It's all you have to do. When you can survive, is there anything you can not do?
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