06 April 2008
Nashville Skyline
11/04/08 15:32
When we got back out, rain was coming down in thick lashing ropes. A constant spray rose from the sides of the car as if we were a modern Moses parting the waters of the urban sea. Visibility was down to a few meters, and even though the wipers were working overtime, they only allowed for occasional moments of clarity. We tried to put on the radio to relieve some of the stress of driving, but unfortunately the traffic report was on. The host was in the middle of reading out a long list of weather-related accidents and injuries from all over Nashville. Word by word his machine gun voice slowed down our car until it came to a complete standstill. The road seemed liquid with rain. For a moment it felt as if we were going to be swept away. That is when we opted for the relative safety of the parking lot.
We spent
last night with the anarchist couchsurfer host Nate
and his girlfriend. They are part of the group that
runs the city's "food not bombs" programme. They pick
up the food from dumpsters around town, and cook it
for the homeless people. Unfortunately they have just
been evicted from the house where they had their
kitchen, so it is a bit uncertain what is going to
happen now. But considering their high level of
involvement, we are sure that they will come up with
something. Their next project is a big public event
putting focus on squatters in empty houses around
town. We cross our fingers, and wish them the best of
luck. As to ourselves, we are off to hook up with a
Chinese-American guy that is hosting us for the
weekend.
By
the way, the rain just stopped, and the sun is back
out. Thanks to whatever nearby hotel is delivering
the free wi-fi to our car. Stay tuned, and we will do
the same.
|
Shacked up in Mojo Land
09/04/08 16:46
We have set up shop in the Electric Blue Shack for a few days to digest the impressions from New Orleans, and write a portrait of The Big Easy. The move from a 4½ star hotel to a wood cabin with tin roof is quite a big one, but we are doing alright. Our basic needs are fully provided for, and as this upload goes to show we even have internet access. We spend our days sitting on the porch with a mug of coffee in one hand, and a few stray thoughts in the other - sometimes writing, sometimes just watching the trucks go by. And the only blue things about it are the house and the sky.
The area is by far the poorest we have visited so far. We found out this morning when we went into town to do a bit of shopping. We stopped by the local Save-A-Lot supermarket, and walked straight into a wall of canned everything. The vegetables looked about as fresh as corpses dragged out of the Mississippi River on a hot summer's day, and the favourite meat seemed to be salted pork fat. We bought white bread, yellow cheddar, and pinkish ham sliced at a quarter of an inch apiece.
On our way back we saw state prisoners working by the side of the road. Their overseer seemed to have gone off to lunch, and they were perfectly camouflaged in stripes of green and white. It was the perfect day for an escape, but nobody was going anywhere. Perhaps because they would not know where to run. It is all fields and swamps out here, and even our janitor carries a rifle across the back seat of his lawn mower. So don't worry. We'll be just fine.
Live footage from the Ninth Ward
06/04/08 10:42
The Ninth
Ward was one of the neighbourhoods most severely
affected by Hurricane Katrina back in 2005. When the
levee broke, the area was flooded with about 20 feet
of water. Cars and houses literally floated down the
streets, stranding people and furniture on roofs and
in tree tops. Two and a half years later, most of the
houses have either been demolished or abandoned in
various states of disrepair. Rebuilding is only
coming on slowly, caught up in the complex power
struggles between local and government initiatives.
We will soon be posting more on our experiences in the Ninth Ward, but for now we just want to share some of our live footage from the place with you. All the recordings are taken from the window of our car as we drive through the neighbourhood. We are guided around by Andy who is a volunteer in the Common Ground Collective, an anarchistic organization founded by the former Black Panthers member Malik Rahim to provide relief aid for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Andy has been with the organization ever since he gave up his home in Ohio and came to New Orleans to help out two years ago. If you turn up the volume, you can hear him giving out bits and pieces of information about the places we see.
The first recording is from our trip through the Upper Ninth Ward which was the least affected part of the neighbourhood. Look for the scrawlings on the side of the houses that still have not been repaired or rebuilt. An "X" indicates that a house has been searched by the National Guard, while the numerals disclose important information, such as the number of casualties found inside. However, Andy told us that more than half a year after the hurricane struck he would still find bodies inside houses that had been marked off as officially searched.
The second recording is from the Lower Ninth Ward which was almost completely wiped out by the hurricane. What appears to be overgrown plots of land is in fact the remains of a once crowded and lively neighbourhood. Look for the concrete foundations that indicate where the houses once stood. You will even see stone steps leading up to front doors that are no longer there.
The last recording is a view from the levee that separates the Lower Ninth Ward from a cedar plantation that was intentionally flooded by the government back in the 1960s. The salt water killed off the trees, leaving only deadened strumps behind. This is where the flood broke through in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. The old black guy is a New Orleansian known as Red. He was born and raised in the Lower Ninth Ward, and had lived there his entire life when the flooding occured. Today he looks back with wonder at the incompetence of the government in protecting the only home he ever had.
We will soon be posting more on our experiences in the Ninth Ward, but for now we just want to share some of our live footage from the place with you. All the recordings are taken from the window of our car as we drive through the neighbourhood. We are guided around by Andy who is a volunteer in the Common Ground Collective, an anarchistic organization founded by the former Black Panthers member Malik Rahim to provide relief aid for the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Andy has been with the organization ever since he gave up his home in Ohio and came to New Orleans to help out two years ago. If you turn up the volume, you can hear him giving out bits and pieces of information about the places we see.
The first recording is from our trip through the Upper Ninth Ward which was the least affected part of the neighbourhood. Look for the scrawlings on the side of the houses that still have not been repaired or rebuilt. An "X" indicates that a house has been searched by the National Guard, while the numerals disclose important information, such as the number of casualties found inside. However, Andy told us that more than half a year after the hurricane struck he would still find bodies inside houses that had been marked off as officially searched.
The second recording is from the Lower Ninth Ward which was almost completely wiped out by the hurricane. What appears to be overgrown plots of land is in fact the remains of a once crowded and lively neighbourhood. Look for the concrete foundations that indicate where the houses once stood. You will even see stone steps leading up to front doors that are no longer there.
The last recording is a view from the levee that separates the Lower Ninth Ward from a cedar plantation that was intentionally flooded by the government back in the 1960s. The salt water killed off the trees, leaving only deadened strumps behind. This is where the flood broke through in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. The old black guy is a New Orleansian known as Red. He was born and raised in the Lower Ninth Ward, and had lived there his entire life when the flooding occured. Today he looks back with wonder at the incompetence of the government in protecting the only home he ever had.