FEMA’s absence, rural and small-town Cajuns organized the only relief efforts they would encounter. Houma tribal members, likewise, looked out over stagnant floodwaters for a month but saw no emergency federal aid.

At Momma D’s home in the Seventh Ward of New Orleans, a network of generators and car batteries powers several houses, a radio station, and—at night—a string of lights spanning the street between two live oaks. They’re the only lights for blocks in a pitch-dark, eerie cityscape, strung in effort to stop police harassment. A curfew restricts people to their homes after dark in unlighted areas; electricity has not been restored to the mostly Black and Black Creole Seventh Ward. Momma D—Diane Frenchcoat—has lived in her grandmother’s house on Dorgenois Street since the early 1950s. She’s worked for decades to protect her neighborhood from police brutality and redevelopment, and after 1965’s Hurricane Betsy, she organized her neighbors to survive and rebuild. Bringing  back her flooded neighborhood this time around will be complicated by new, unprecedented toxic contamination.

Most people here assume that Coastal Louisiana’s longstanding toxicity has worsened in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Testing by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and independent scientists confirms their fears. Lead, a severe hazard to children’s development, was stirred up and moved around by the floodwaters. Arsenic, highly carcinogenic, leached from car batteries, pressure-treated wood and disturbed landfills. In St. Bernard Parish, a giant storage tank ruptured, and 800,000 gallons of crude oil spilled into the town of Mereaux. The oil-slicked floodwaters released carcinogenic volatile gases, including benzene and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons.

The Louisiana Bucket Brigade, the Deep South Environmental Center and the Louisiana Environmental Action Network  (LEAN) have demanded that the EPA and other federal agencies manage the toxic deluge’s aftermath and monitor and treat exposed residents scattered by the evacuation. The EPA’s inadequate and, some suspect, distorted sampling and public information has contributed to a situation where rebuilding continues without sufficient attention to toxicity or protection especially for poor people of color—a situation not that different from what it was before. Given the health risks of exposure to toxic substances, and the unknown danger of their combined burden in human bodies, frustrated advocates suspect the EPA is refraining from more extensive sampling to minimize its liability from any public health issues caused by quick reoccupation.

Compounded Damage

In New Orleans’s low-lying neighborhoods, vile floodwaters, so thick with sewage, chemicals and rotting flesh as barely to qualify as water, twisted through houses for weeks after the hurricane. Once the floodwaters were pumped out, houses stood empty for more weeks by official fiat. Closed up, the houses festered in the heat. A quick response could have prevented this compounded disaster, but by the time residents were permitted to return, near-irreparable damage was ensured.

Walking into a flooded house, you choke on the air and it takes your eyes some time to adjust. The windows—boarded-up, or obscured with residue—don’t let in much light. Anything water soaked into now crawls with mold. Spores have spread and fruited, crept up walls from the waterline to the ceiling.  Roaches, gnats and flies swarm over swollen cans and soaked dry goods. Reeking floodwater fills shoes, pots and pans, tubs and toilets. Particleboard has disintegrated and dresser drawers have swollen shut; papers and books are stinking gray pulp.

The landfill flooded seven feet deep after Katrina. Any houses reclaimed in the area will have to be gutted up to the waterline.

As the water rose, garages and kitchens hosted their own small toxic spill. Bleach, gasoline, rat poison—any toxins with compromised containers—now saturate or slick the rooms. Some of the mold the wet houses incubate is deadly, and all of it is irritating.

Information on how to enter this toxic and bewildering mess is hard to come by. The Red Cross hands out brooms and bleach, but no warnings about the dust clouds or poisonous fumes caused by their use. One flyer issued by the Centers for Disease Control warns of lead and asbestos present in residual dust, then suggests to “consider wearing a dust mask” while cleaning—when no mask could protect against those dusts. Respirators and chemical-proof gloves had sold out for miles around.