E-mail a friendNew Orleans: Two Years After Katrina
airdate August 28, 2007
It's been two years since New Orleans was ravaged by Hurricane Katrina. The tourists are slowly returning, and there are many events being planned to remember the day. But, many residents need only look around their neighborhoods for a vivid reminder of the impact of one of the most destructive natural disasters in U.S. history. The city struggles with neighborhood redevelopment, and there are healthcare challenges. The effects of this tragedy linger, and the need continues for volunteers, partners and donations throughout the Gulf Coast region.
Watch never-before-seen footage of Tavis' trip to New Orleans. Full show. (23:43)
New Orleans: Two Years After Katrina
Tavis: Back in May, I traveled to New Orleans with Princeton professor Cornel West to meet some of the people featured in Jonathan Demme's brilliant documentary, "Right to Return." While there, we shot more material than we could use for our initial airing of "Right to Return," so tonight some never-before-seen video of that inspiring trip which began with a community activist named Malik Rahim.
The former Black Panther lost his mother and granddaughter during Katrina, but soon after founded a community organization called Common Ground. For two years now, Malik and a legion of volunteers and residents have spent countless hours rebuilding one of the hardest-hit neighborhoods in the city.
Jonathan Demme: We came down to the hardest-hit area, which is where we are right now - this neighborhood of the Lower Ninth Ward, where the barge blew through and created a tsunami. And we noticed this blue house. Everything was devastation. It was - not a whole lot - this looks great compared to the way it was. And we found out that the blue house was run by Common Ground, and we started hearing about this man, Malik Rahim, who'd started it, a former Black Panther, and that they were the ones that were down here first to prove that you could come back.
Malik Rahim: Brother Malik Rahim.
Tavis: Pleasure to meet you (unintelligible).
Rahim: All right, (laughs) all right, (unintelligible).
Tavis: And you are some kind of example.
Rahim: Oh, thank you.
Tavis: Some kind of example. (Laughter)
Rahim: How you doing, how you doing, how you doing?
Demme: Great to see you.
Tavis: Dr. Cornel West.
(Crosstalk)
Dr. Cornel West: Yeah, (unintelligible) brother. Oh, boy, what an example you are -
Rahim: Oh, thank you, my brother.
West: - of courage, brother.
Rahim: Oh, thank you, thank you.
Tavis: Jonathan was telling me earlier that one of the things that impressed him about the work of you and Common Ground was that you were determined to get back in here as quickly as you could, in part to make statement to others about their right to return.
Rahim: Listen, if not, this would have been taken over. This would have been a land grab.
Tavis: Tell me what it's like being, like, the only person around here.
Rahim: It's sad, because my family go back in this community 95 years, and it's sad to see that this is a community that I used to come to. This is my family history; this is my people's history, so somebody had to be here. But we couldn't come, but we had dedicated young Whites that was able to put their lives on the line and their privilege as being White to make sure that we have what we couldn't provide for ourselves.
Tavis: So what do you make of that? Because when people talk about - this raises, actually, two questions. When people talk about the Lower Ninth Ward in the national media, I wonder, one, what you make of how they portray the Lower Ninth in the media right now, number one, and number two, when people talk about the Lower Ninth, you always assume that the conversation is rooted in Blackness - rooted in Black people. But I just heard you say now, though, if it hadn't been for some of these White young folk -
Rahim: That's right. That's right.
Tavis: That's pretty powerful.
Rahim: Look at what you see now. It's the idea that we have been able to do something that never existed in the Deep South - especially in New Orleans and here. Never been Whites coming into these communities (unintelligible) as oppressors or exploiters. But now to see young people coming in here changing that mix, showing that there are Whites that really care about peace and justice.
And then for Whites to understand about meeting people like Walter and others that live here that all Blacks that's come here was (unintelligible). But we try to do it in such a way that we (unintelligible). Average person around the country don't realize, but this is the first time that a natural disaster have came under Homeland Security.
And to be critical of FEMA is to take upon the wrath of Homeland Security. They never came to us to offer us any assistance. We done helped over 170,000 people - that's in direct services. And we have helped - we operate one health clinic and we helped starting five others. And we have yet to receive one dollar of local, state, or federal assistance.
That's all we have gotten from them, is they try as hard as they can to shut us down. Everything that we do, we have to do it off the generosity of people that believe in peace and justice - nothing else. We are growing cypress trees. We're growing cypress trees.
Tavis: Oh, you're growing trees again.
Rahim: Yeah.
Tavis: Oh, I see.
Rahim: We got all indigenous trees that would have been in this wetland, we got them all right here. All right, so this is where we grow right here the (unintelligible). We taking advantage of a water leak.
Tavis: You gotta take advantage of everything you can.
Rahim: (Unintelligible.)
Tavis: There's a water leak there, but they're taking advantage of it.
Rahim: And then as a victim of foreign terror (unintelligible), I refuse to be - you just can't kick me in my behind (unintelligible).
Tavis: Have you seen much of that? Have you seen a number of students and others around the country making their way -
Rahim: (Unintelligible) had over 12,000.
Tavis: There were 12,000 people?
Rahim: Yeah, to come to Common Ground.
Tavis: Wow.
Rahim: I was at the point that I was ready to leave this country forever. (Unintelligible) they moved to Tanzania.
Tavis: I know (unintelligible).
Rahim: Yeah.
Tavis: We have the same birthday.
Rahim: Oh, (unintelligible).
Tavis: Geronimo Pratt.
Rahim: Pratt, yeah.
Tavis: (Unintelligible.)
(Crosstalk)
Tavis: Geronimo both have the same - September 13th (unintelligible).
Rahim: We have an old comrade that's over here in Tanzania.
Tavis: Tanzania, that's where he is.
Rahim: And that's where Geronimo lives, and that's where I was ready to go, because I didn't see any hope. But these young people restored that hope in me.
Tavis: Thank you all for coming down, for what you're doing. So powerful.
West: (Unintelligible.) Blessing to see you all.
Tavis: Next, we stopped by the home of Herreast Harrison, widow of former Mardi Gras Indian chief Donald Harrison, Sr. We found Mrs. Harrison in the trailer behind her damaged home, and we were also surprised to find her grandson, Grammy-nominated jazz trumpeter Christian Scott.
(Crosstalk.)
Tavis: What part of town did you grow up in? This is your house, right?
Herreast Harrison: I lived all these years to meet you (unintelligible). (Laughter) Oh, my God.
Male One: Oh, you too.
West: We blessed to meet you. We are blessed to meet you, (unintelligible) there.
(Crosstalk)
Harrison: (Unintelligible) oh.
Tavis: How long you been here in the Lower Ninth. (Laughter)
Harrison: Oh, for 40-something years.
Tavis: Forty-something years, you been living there.
West: Forty-some years, lord, lord have mercy.
Tavis: That is amazing.
West: Good God almighty.
Harrison: Yeah. But this has been a tremendous struggle.
West: Oh, the lord been blessing, though, huh?
Harrison: Yes.
Tavis: So you decided to stay, you didn't wanna leave the Lower Ninth, huh?
Harrison: Right. Too much history and for me, I wanted to carry that particular legacy of having it documented. I had been collecting things from the tradition that my husband had participated in all those years.
Tavis: And lost all that stuff.
Harrison: Yeah, I lost a lot of it.
Tavis: See, that's the stuff - I have cried on this six or seven trips I've taken down here when I talk to people who share that particular hurt.
Harrison: Right.
Tavis: Because that - even when they come in and repair your house and you can build a new house, but those memories particularly - you hold on to your memories, but those collectibles -
Harrison: Those collectibles -
Tavis: You can't replace that.
Harrison: It was because through my readings for years, and we're a reading family, we read.
West: Read, oh -
(Crosstalk)
Tavis: It's like the West family, yeah.
(Crosstalk)
West: Absolutely.
Harrison: And we have so many of his books. And it's always the thing that African Americans do not have, oral, written, or artifacts, or objects.
Male One: You are so right about that.
Tavis: Hold on to all of that.
Harrison: So I was holding these things so tightly, because not me, it's not gonna happen to me, I'm gonna have these things. So it was that hurt. Of course, I have tremendous empathy for people - families that lost their family members. There's one family that lost five members.
West: Lord have mercy.
Harrison: There's no comparison to that -
West: Lord have mercy.
Harrison: - with my objects. But my objects happen to have been my wealth. Then I had a beautiful dog here during the storm. I left it in one of her rental units, and we haven't gotten it back, and my heart is broken. And I had an electrician here yesterday, and he worked on the electrical aspect of everything, and I'm so happy about that because my contractor - I thought that he would have been finished. His contract started in September; he said he would be finished by December. I gave him two-thirds of the money - he hasn't been here since March.
Tavis: So if he doesn't show up, what's the option?
Harrison: I started moving around him, all of these (unintelligible).
Tavis: Coming together.
Harrison: Yeah, it's coming together.
Tavis: Coming together.
The next morning, we paid a visit to Pastor Melvin Jones, a former homeless drug addict who turned his own life around so that he can now help others. Pastor Mel, as he is called, runs a drug and alcohol treatment program that provides housing, counseling, and job training for dozens of men in need. When we arrived, Pastor Mel had just begun his morning meeting, which is how each day starts at Bethel Colony South.
Pastor Melvin Jones: Morning, gentlemen.
Tavis: What I don't wanna do is interrupt whatever you were doing, so you just - we just wanna observe. So whatever you do, go ahead and just do what you do.
Jones: Amen, amen. Any other questions before we - we're just gonna do a short lesson, because normally we're walking out about this time, going to our different work assignments, and that's something about this ministry, I would guess. The bible says the man who don't work don't eat, all right? And these brothers love to eat. (Laughter)
So we all work. Every one of us here works. Some brothers work over at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, some brothers work at John Curtis Christian School. We've got a construction crew where brothers go out in the community and we help people and we make money in that way. We've got Brother Chris as a mechanic; he's got some brothers working with him.
We've got a grass-cutting crew - by the way, brothers, just yesterday a guy called and he wants to give us 100 lawns to cut - amen. (Applause) So we're gonna be beefing up what we do. Brother Roger back here owns a demolition company, and we've got a couple of guys that work for him. And this whole ministry is self-supporting. And I say self-supporting, under God.
God gives us everything that we need to go on. The government doesn't support us. We have some churches that send us money every now and then. But this whole thing is a God thing. Three years ago, started with nothing, absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'd finished seminary, I had gone to a place called Bethel Colony in North Carolina.
God said it was time to open up the ministry now, to help other men like you. Mom and Dad loaned me - well, they gave me; I didn't know it at the time, but they loaned me $5,000. I was working for Mom and Dad. We put the money together and we got a building around the corner. Then we grew from three men to six men to 12 men to 15 men to 35 men before the storm.
And after the storm, we thought this whole thing was over. I had prayed, I told my wife, I said, "Sweetheart, I really love what I do, but this is hard work." I said, "God, there's nothing left in New Orleans. I would really - I'm a seminary graduate, I'm competent to preach and teach and to run a church. God, it would really be nice if you gave me a church somewhere in Atlanta. They got people who need a good pastor somewhere."
God would not let me leave New Orleans. My wife, when I asked her to marry me - because we got married right after the storm. She said, "Melvin, I don't know if I'm coming back to New Orleans." I said, "Well you know, sweetheart, that I'm moving towards marriage with you." I said, "And if you can't come back to New Orleans, I can't marry you."
I love this woman, and ya'll heard me. Ya'll hear how I exclaim my love for that woman. But I was not going to give up my relationship with God for no woman. Amen. And my wife respects me for that. So when you gotta make those hard decisions, you gotta make them, brother. And you gotta walk forward, no matter what the cost.
Because without God, you ain't got nothing. You ain't got a wife, you ain't got children, you ain't got nothing. Amen. Any other questions, brothers? Anybody else (unintelligible) biblical (unintelligible)?
Male Two: Yeah, brother, (unintelligible) a man with confidence in himself gain the confidence of others.
Jones: Amen. But the confidence in ourself is our confidence in God. Because see, confidence in self - see, you got a lot of people with positive thinking. Positive thinking. Positive thinking is only faith in self. And you know what? I know I'm imperfect. Amen.
Male Two: So I should rephrase that (unintelligible) confidence in God is a confident man.
Jones: Amen.
Male Two: Just flip it.
Jones: Amen, amen. The confidence is in God. Amen. So any other questions? Brother Gavin?
Male Three: I just wanted to say that I never can say enough to the brothers. When I met you 14 years ago -
Jones: When I was homeless.
Brother Gavin: And you and I walking the streets of New Orleans, 5:00 in the morning, homeless, both of us, you spoke of - every day, you talked about Gav, someday I wanna have a place for hurting brothers like us, that they can come and have a place to drink coffee and get a meal and a place to sleep. And I thought you were nuts. I'm thinking, this dude is homeless, (laughter) (unintelligible).
But brother, I see now - you have increased my faith in God because you stuck with it, with your vision, your passion, and it's become a reality now. As a matter of fact, I'm in here thanking God for you every day because when I was in need, you were there for me to call.
Male Three: Amen. Amen, praise God.
Jones: God has given us some (unintelligible) visionaries to be able to do that. And if you don't base your life on something, you're gonna fall for anything. Amen.
Tavis: Later that day, we stopped by a true cultural institution in the Ninth Ward - the Mother-In-Law Lounge. Legendary R&B artist Ernie K-Doe performed there for years before he passed away in 2001 but the lounge and its music live on, thanks to the tireless work of his wife, Antoinette K-Doe.
Demme: Unreal.
Tavis: Let's go inside and meet Antoinette K-Doe.
Demme: Okay.
Antoinette K-Doe: Hello (unintelligible). How you doing? Welcome back to the Lounge. How you doing? Love you so much.
Tavis: In the Lounge.
K-Doe: (Laughs) (Unintelligible.)
Tavis: I'm Tavis, how are you?
K-Doe: I'm just fine.
Tavis: It's a pleasure to meet you.
K-Doe: It's a pleasure having you in the Lounge.
Tavis: I'm so glad you still around and back up and running.
K-Doe: Oh, I am, too. Thank (unintelligible).
Tavis: Dr. Cornel West.
West: How are you?
K-Doe: Dr. Cornel, how you doing? Antoinette K-Doe.
West: (Unintelligible.)
(Crosstalk)
K-Doe: Oh, it's so good to have ya'll here today. This is New York (unintelligible) and we raised money for the musician (unintelligible).
Tavis: Mm-hmm.
K-Doe: And that's his statue.
West: There it is. (Unintelligible) come on in here (unintelligible) (laughs).
Tavis: All done up in Lounge (unintelligible).
K-Doe: Look at that.
Tavis: Amazing.
K-Doe: And that's (unintelligible) receive that (unintelligible). It's his mother's picture.
West: This is his mother?
K-Doe: Mm-hmm.
Tavis: Well, that's your mother-in-law.
K-Doe: That's my mother-in-law.
West: That's your mother-in-law. Ooh, lord.
K-Doe: Yeah, that was on the Mardi Gras float.
West: Oh, that was on the float?
Male Four: It was on the float, yeah.
K-Doe: Mm-hmm. Because one year they had a float made light the bar, and all the characters was dressed like Ernie. And this was on the front of the float.
Male Four: And they (unintelligible).
K-Doe: Yeah.
Tavis: Tell me about your neighborhood. How's your neighborhood coming back?
K-Doe: The neighborhood is coming back real good. The stores, the neighbors are coming back. Not all of my neighbors. The supermarkets are not back. But we're doing okay, and we don't have no crime in this area. We have a trailer park in the area, we don't have any problems. We can sit outside at night - no problems.
Tavis: Why is this neighborhood, you think, safe and crimeless, because what we keep hearing about in the national media is that the crime problem in New Orleans is out of control again. Why this area?
K-Doe: Well for one thing, this is an historic area here, and a lot of the older people stay in the area. And some of them are deceased now, but they children are in this area. And we have a lot of music in this area, we do a lot of culture and stuff, and we involve ourselves with each other. So we (unintelligible) like take our neighborhood back. Yeah. And we won't accept crime.
Tavis: It's important to you, obviously, to keep the legacy of Ernie K-Doe alive.
K-Doe: Oh, yes, yes, it is.
Tavis: I get the sense that you live for that.
K-Doe: Yes, yes, I does. I live, eat, and breathe it. Well, my kids doesn't understand. I have 27 foster kids.
Tavis: You have what?
K-Doe: Twenty-seven -
Tavis: Twenty-seven foster kids.
K-Doe: Yes. Well -
West: Twenty-seven (unintelligible) -
K-Doe: Well, 26 live, and I lost one to drugs. But my kids doesn't understand it because they think I should be the grandmother home with the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren. And I'm saying no, I'm supposed to be here running this legacy that he left us with. His legacy's too big to sweep it under the bed somewhere.
Tavis: Yeah.
West: That's right, that's right.
K-Doe: So, and I hate to say it but this is one of the things that he told me when he passed. He said, "I will be bigger dead than alive." And I do believe that.
Tavis: We wrapped up our visit to the Lower Ninth Ward with a stop to see a remarkable woman named Carolyn Parker. Mrs. Parker gained national attention following the storm when she defiantly protected her damaged home from the threat of being destroyed. She now lives in a FEMA trailer on her property, and despite all the bureaucratic red tape and setbacks remains hopeful of returning to the house she calls home.
Demme: We were coming along and we met a priest, a terrific guy - Father Joe from Carolyn's church. And he said oh - we explained what we were doing and he said, "Oh, have you all met Mrs. Parker yet?" "No." And he says, "Oh, Carolyn Parker, she's a trip, you should meet her." (Laughter) So I turned my camera on and as I came over, Carolyn appeared on the porch and she said, "Welcome, come in."
I never stopped filming. We went - come and see what it's like (unintelligible) this house.
Tavis: Just kept right on in.
Demme: And we just - (laughter) and that was it. I'm Carolyn Parker.
Tavis: She just invited you in her house.
Demme: Just invited in and opened up her life to us, and it's been like that for the past year. So we came in and she - everything was battery-powered in those days. She'll tell you about it. But you can see more improvements now, they've got electricity. There wasn't electricity till January of this year.
Tavis: Wow.
Demme: This was a bedroom; that was a bedroom. This has a two-sided kitchen situation. And there's another bathroom in there. And Tavis, it's moved forward. It's more organized. Here's the one side of the kitchen, and there's another kitchen in there.
Tavis: Oh, they put it (unintelligible) back.
Demme: Watch your back. Yeah, yeah.
Tavis: Wow. Because a lot of folk are doing that, Doctor. They're living in these trailers - they're on their property, but living in trailers until they (unintelligible) -
Demme: It's got to be.
Tavis: Yeah.
Demme: It's got to - and it's very close to the - they've got a - I think it's six feet from the house. Has to be.
Tavis: (Unintelligible.)
Demme: Yeah, for whatever reason.
Tavis: Wow.
Demme: And this is the temporary home of Carolyn Parker.
Tavis: But I like how this is set up, though. You walk right into -
West: It leads right into it.
Demme: Mrs. Parker?
Carolyn Parker: Yes?
Demme: Can we come in?
Parker: Yes.
Demme: I've got some friends I'd like to introduce you to. Hi.
Parker: Hi.
Demme: How are you?
Parker: Fine. How you?
Demme: I'm great.
Tavis: Hello, there.
Demme: This is Tavis Smiley.
Tavis: I'm Tavis Smiley.
Parker: Hi.
Tavis: Nice to meet you.
Parker: How you doing?
Tavis: How you doing?
Parker: I'm fine.
Demme: This is Dr. Cornel West.
Tavis: Dr. Cornel West.
West: How are you?
Parker: How you doing? Good.
West: (Unintelligible) to meet you.
Parker: Fine, just fine.
West: You're looking wonderful.
Tavis: How you holding up?
Parker: In spite of my new knees?
Tavis: You had new knee surgery. (Laughter) Both of them?
Parker: Both of them. I'm a bold woman.
Tavis: You did both at the same time?
Parker: Uh-huh. I'm bold like that.
Tavis: You are bold like that.
Demme: Carolyn, only you. You're struggling to rebuild your home and you're struggling to reclaim your church, and then you're living in a FEMA trailer - so you decide to get a knee replacement. (Laughter) Only you.
Parker: Yes. (Laughter) Well, because I was waiting for The Road Home to repair my house, so I have a new house, I have new knees, and I have a new attitude. (Laughter) (Unintelligible.)
Tavis: Nothing wrong with that.
Parker: Okay?
Tavis: How's the house project coming along?
Parker: To me, it's rather slow.
Tavis: Right.
Parker: Because I figured by this time, they should have had something done - especially for me and for the Lower Ninth Ward. Because we was the first persons to really apply - the first persons to really comply with all the rules that they had given us. And they said that we had to comply with the rules that they had for us. I don't understand how we get to be last when we were first. We had everything together.
Tavis: For you, why stay on the road to get back in this home when you could move, go someplace else in Louisiana, out of state, (unintelligible) Road Home program is all screwed up. Why stay on that same road to get back in this home?
Parker: This is where I live. This is where I came from. I was a single parent that worked very hard for this house. I've raised three children in this house that turned out to be very productive men and women. This is my home, and this is where I live, and I'm not moving for nobody.
Tavis: Carolyn Parker is the epitome of the unyielding spirit of we found throughout the Lower Ninth Ward and indeed throughout the entire Gulf Coast. Yet two years after the devastation of Katrina, she and thousands of others are constant reminders of the unkept promises of this nation. But as we also saw, in the face of continuing adversity comes uncommon courage.
It is up to all of us to see that these brave residents of New Orleans retain their right to the most fundamental American dream - a place to call home.
Back to August 28, 2007