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New Orleans after Katrina: Back to Stone Age
NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana -- The 21st century was swept away here. The winds and the floods and the disasters that followed took it.
"Say goodbye to the Jetsons," Aaron Broussard, president of next-door Jefferson Parish, told residents on the all-night radio station and news lifeline. "We're back to the Flintstones." Life is hand-to-mouth, if it continues at all. On Rampart Street on the edge of the French Quarter, a wooden handcart became a funeral bier. An elderly man's dead body was left atop it, wrapped in a shroud made from a child's bedsheet and tied with twine. Still, many survive, emerging from their homes determined to find ways to stay alive. A shopping cart is a wonderful tool -- mobile, lightweight, the basket high enough to stay above the foul-smelling puddles. A woman used one to move her family's belongings to a ramshackle sidewalk camp. Then her children turned it into a jungle gym. On the edge of the very poor Ninth Ward along the Intracoastal Waterway, a man and women wade stomach-deep, pushing a rowboat to a higher, drier stretch of grass. They scavenge for whatever might be useful -- a bucket that won't leak, a solid piece of wood, tools. A block or two away, where the water drops to knee-deep, to puddles, and then to dry land, the scene recalls a movie set of a war zone. Abandoned buses line a larger avenue, one every few blocks. A building burned to the ground smolders. A charred car, its front doors gone, sits in an intersection. "We've all got guns," said Katha Fields, who lives down the street. Weeks ago, when this city was a place of tourists and jazz and jambalaya, she was a tour guide. Now, she and her neighbors gather at dusk, weapons at hand, and keep watch. They're all getting a lesson in how to live without.
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