A New Orleans Recovery Blog

Determination - The Beech Tree Dilemma

Sat, 4 Apr 2009 15:43:59 -0500

Instead of pontificating, debating, wasting time wondering what to do with this tree, or waiting for help, I decided I was going to take matters into my own hands. I went to Loews (hardware store) and purchased a handsaw for about $10.00 and got to work on this monster tree. My neighbor Anita convinced me to save the tree for shade. My dear apple tree was in this very same location prior to Hurricane Katrina.

I came home after about an 8 month hiatus from New Orleans, and wow, this monster tree grew out of no where, and it kept growing like crazy in such a short period of time.

It had never been pruned, so it looked like an unruly Afro that hadn’t been combed in weeks. Believe me, this whole tree cutting project looked like a mountain I had to climb - and I didn’t welcome the challenge, and in fact, ignored it. I didn’t know how on earth I would be able to tackle this dilemma. Was it possible for me to trim this tree alone? I could have hired someone to come and chop it down to nothing, but I didn’t. I felt this was one project I had to handle on my own. I wanted to work on my yard as much as I could without outside intervention. This yard had always been my domain, besides, workers these days don’t know the different between a rose garden and a banana tree. The other option was to hire a tree specialist to come and do this job- not! I would have ended up paying for his children’s college fund.

Problems in our lives are just like this tree. We ignore them, thinking they will go away, or we just post pone dealing with the issue at hand thinking that some miracle would happen, or someone would just wave a magic wand and it will just go away. We get so caught up in the cares of this world not knowing that we are slowly sinking in quick sand. Ignoring a problem makes it worst, procrastination makes it worst.

I knew I had to return and get started on the recovery process for once and for all in a big way. I left so much in the hands of others for so long. Let me tell you, when it came to getting the momentum moving forward, I knew I had to be the one starting the process.

When it comes to recovery, it is a choice we have to make, regardless of our goals. I had always been a self starter, always was full of determination and grand ideas. When I thought up something, I usually did it. What happened? Where did all of my drive go?

There was no better feeling than coming back home and cutting my own grass after so many years away from home. It gave me such a wonderful feeling. Seeing something grow besides the mole in my house was really a blessing. The birds came back to my yard, the lizards, the earth worms, the grass (after being brown for so long) slowly began to turn green. I heard nature returning to our area. The blue jays were back, the doves, the quakers ....

Once I got started , I couldn’t stop. Branches were falling down like hair at the barber shop - maybe I am exaggerating a little. My arms were killing me, it didn’t stop me. Someone came to the yard and commented on how “we” made so much progress. I told that person, it wasn’t “we” it was “me, ” feeling completely empowered.

The Monster Beech Tree that grew in 3 years

The pruned Monster Beech Tree I cut

My Banana Tree Story By Cara

Fri, 3 Apr 2009 21:40:50 -0500

Once about a time in the spring of 2001 I ventured off on my bike for a nice spring ride in my neighborhood in New Orleans. I noticed a stump of some kind just trashed in the front of a house I passed near the curve . I did a double take, and turned my bike around to take a closer look. I was a little curious because during that time I was interested in finding something new to plant in my barren yard. I was especially interested in bamboo plants, elephant ears and banana trees. These things grow so wild in this semitropical climate. Many folks dug up these trees in a vain attempts to control nature.

Looks like I hit the jack pot, I thought to myself. Upon closer inspection I was able to verify that it was a banana tree of some sort. There are so many different varieties grown in New Orleans. Heck, it could have been a plantain tree, I wouldn't know until it bore fruit.

The stump of this banana tree was huge. I wondered, how in the world am I going to get this thing on the back of my bike. I was determined and wasn't going to leave that place until that stump was on my bike or in my position in some form or fashion.

Someone neatly placed this tree on the curve. I finally commandeered a way to attach it on the back of my bike. As I rode home, I prayed that this big stump wouldn't fall off. It was a challenge, keeping the bike balanced, but I did it.

I was so happy when I made it home with this wonderful prize. I have always seen these lovely Crescent City Banana trees gracefully adoring the yards of many people through out the city.

Let me tell you a quick story. One day my mother and I drove to the post office near city hall. I went out of the car for some reason and in front of me were the most beautifully ripped bananas just ready to be picked. As I recall this little story which took place in my youth so many yeas ago, I can almost picture the entire scene in slow motion. There I was reaching slowly for a nice ripe banana, and from a distance, I heard my mother screaming "Cara, noooooooo," and my hands froze in time just before I touched those beauties- and the story ended. I have no recollection of what happened next. I have never seen those banana threes at city hall since those days.

Well now I finally had my own banana three, compliments of some unknown neighbor in the 7th Ward.

I planted the tree stump hoping it would take root and grow. I had no idea what to expect. It would have been wonderful to have a beautiful graceful tropical tree in my yard. I don't know how long it took for that huge stump to take root, but once it did, there was no stopping it. This tree grew like crazy. To date I have never seen a banana tree as tall as this one. In fact , let me make a correction. This tree happened to be
something like a plantain and a banana mix.

Taken August 7, 2004 Photograph taken March 29, 2009 (see banana tree in background)

The tree became my pride and joy. It bore so many countless bananas. It fed many birds and people. As one grew, a younger one was ready to take its place in my yard. I positioned this beautiful tree in different locations in my yard. In the front, back, side of the house.

Right before I left New Orleans my wonderful tree was loaded with about 50 bananas or more. I cut the branch, and sat the entire stalk on my kitchen counter top. I don't know why I did this. It was the last time I saw this tree alive. After Katrina all my banana trees died. I prayed that they would return to their glorious state one day after the earth settled, and was cleansed after the toxic stew left by Hurricane Katrina.

Year one, no banana trees in site, year two, no banana trees, year three none.

The irony of this story is that when I came home on one of my numerous visits recently four years after Hurricane Katrina, I noticed a banana tree growing in my neighbors yard. Some how one of my banana tree had made its way through its root system in the neighbor's yard. I asked myself many questions as I look at MY BANANA tree. I was a little ticked off. The darn thing even had the nerve to position itself in between the fence and the neighbor’s unfinished garage in clear sight for me to see, but not them.

Upon close inspection I noticed one of my red banana trees had come up. After four years. This was the one given to me by a dear neighbor who had left the area after Hurricane Katrina and sold her home.

I had already planted new banana trees given to me by my neighbor Anita.
I walked around the corner and helped Anita dig up about four red banana trees. I placed these trees in the same spot my other ones had grown.

Post note:

I just located these old pictures and this lovely story I wrote many years ago. I updated it a little as I remembered. I added the story about my mother and I. I thought I had lost these photos with the storm. By chance I had them stored in an old computer.

My yard was like a part of my soul. It was my refuge.

Cafe Du Monde still kicking after 100 years and Katrina- The Vietnamese connection

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 23:11:55 -0500

Café du Monde is the oldest continuously running coffee shops (I know of) in America. It is a New Orleans cafe located on Decatur Street in the French Quarter, best known for its café au lait and its French-style beignets and cafe au lait. Cafe au lait is a french styled New Orleans coffee, blended with the root of a chicory plant. Some friends have said that cafe au lait reminds them of the coffee found in South India.

As a child, I can remember my mother taking me there for beignets "to go." We often waited in lines along with other natives. This historic place is one of my main stops when visiting the city. When I have guest, I almost always take them to this lovely place. If anything, it is one of the best places to "people watch."

You will see people from all over the world past there, from every hue and style. From the very conservative, to punk Rocker. While sipping on your coffee in Cafe du Monde expect to see people walking their dogs, riding a bike, taking pictures..... There is always a local band or traveling musician close by - trying to make a few bucks. Lets not mention the pigeons.

The pigeons are another form of entertainment. These fat birds jump on the tables as soon as a patrons leaves. On my last trip I saw them pecking away at the powder sugar! I am surprised they don't have diabetes. I never knew they liked sugar so much. I guess a bird has to eat, this is how they survive.

Through out the years the workers have changed. I always remembered natives working at Cafe du Monde with a sprinkle of immigrants. In the recent trip I noticed a another change, nearly all of the workers were Vietnamese - even the cook (person making the beignets). New Orleans has one of the largest Vietnamese American populations in the nation. I believe we were #3 prior to Hurricane Katrina. The Vietnamese were some of the first residents to return to the area. I never expected a Vietnamese invasion. Thats the beauty of this city. Eclectic people flock to this city like autumn leaves slowing, patiently falling on the ground. They come from all places, sizes and colors.

As a write this my mouth is drooling for some beignets. Unfortunately I am in Houston. There is a place called "Beignet City." This place has photos of the places I have recently visited. Most of the workers here are Mexicans. The beignets aren't bad, but there is nothing like the real thing, in a real city.

Cara

Thank God Starbucks don’t dominate here

Sat, 28 Mar 2009 23:49:05 -0500

I am back in New Orleans again only after 2 weeks. After sending some friends off to Houston and not really ready to turn in I visited a popular coffee spot in the city called CC’s which stands for Community Coffee. Community Coffee has a manufacturing plant here and imports its famous coffee that is probably well over 100 years old.

This joint is located on Esplanade St. in the By-Water area, a part of the city I really like. It was opened when I arrived and I had cappuccino and a biscotti (with pistachios). Read a paper checked my messages on the blackberry and enjoyed the place throughly.

I overhead an African American lady talking about show biz in LA, the ins and outs. Yes I was listening. She was so loud the entire place could hear her. I think she was interviewing someone for a camera position. She might be a producer, wasn’t sure. When I saw the DV camera neatly placed on the table, as if to tell everyone walking by ” look at me I am important.” I decided two could play that game so I went to the car and got my camera. Not to show off, but to go through the shots of the day to delete the ones that I didn’t like so I wouldn’t waste time doing it later.

I wanted so badly to take a photograph indoors, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. This place has an interesting shape. It is like a shotgun house in an odd shape that seems to get smaller towards the back of the coffee shop.

This is a really hot spot for all sorts of people from the police the the previous mayor. It is usually crowded on the outside, but it had been extremely windy that day. I didn’t have a tripod, but decided to take a photograph from outside. A fisheye / wide angle lens would have been so great at that moment. I just couldn’t get angle I needed.

CC’s is located in a historical part of the city. Very close to the first American French Impressionist Degas’s house. You will find the same style of homes found Uptown. You won’t find Starbucks on this block or the next one.

Missing New Orleans on a Monday

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 23:12:30 -0500

My emotions are catching up to me. I have this deep feeling to come home to New Orleans, but I am asked about the possible of another hurricane, as if New Orleans is as disposable as a piece of toilet paper- so I counter, by asking them, “how about another earth quake in California” or “a tornado in Kansas, or another Hurricane Ike in Houston?” I don’t see anyone telling folks in California to leave because of “the big one” (earthquake) coming in the future, nor do they tell people in Houston, or the majority of the large American cities that are in the flood zones to leave. These same people complain about the government helping New Orleans (what a joke), as if we are some 3rd world nation inconveniently located in the middle of America. Do they complain when the oil fields in Louisiana sends their state oil in the winter?

If you are not from New Orleans, then I know you can’t possible comprehend the magnetic force that pulls us New Orleanians back. We are like no other people in the United States you have encountered. Our culture is different, even our people to some extent look and sound different. Our culture has touched many places. I have even seen Tabasco hot sauce in Chennai, India. Houston calls it’s self the bayou city - um I will leave that one alone. I see cajun restaurants all over this city. There is even a beignet restaurant. Where do you think Jazz came from, or even Gumbo and Praline? We certainly have our own issues, such as political corruption, crime, education and high poverty rates, never-the-less, there is no denying that New Orleans is an enigma.

I have this tremendous urge to be around people from New Orleans, share with them, tell them my story,hear their stories, tell them how much I miss New Orleans, how much I miss my neighbor, Mrs. Mc Conduit’s muddy Mississippi Community Coffee (just like the kind my mother used to make), how much I miss her oranges, and those Chinese Plums (Loquats or Askadinya) she used to raise in her yard. Those bags of grapefruits in their own season, her stories, her sassy advice, her good old southern cooking, her strength her pride. (she is now 80 years old)

I watched the film about the Faubourg Treme’. And I am glad I watched it alone before I invited others . It was very personal, and touching indeed. It was like having a conversation with an old timer in your neighbor who has been around for a long time. This film made me proud to be a part of the New Orleans African American legacy.

I spoke to a few of my neighbors on my last visit, like always. “Hey ya’ll,” (New Orleans dialect) they want us all to come back home. We can share together, build together and start a new reconstruction era, a new black renaissance , a cultural and intellectual awakening. All we have to do is look back at our history , it wouldn’t be the first time.

Something is happening right under our very feet. Others have another idea about New Orleans. The real estate developers are buying up New Orleans like crazy, while the residents struggle to find their way back home, or rebuild their homes even after 4 years. The poor were doomed from the start. The powers were salivating at the opportunity to finally tear down the St. Bernard Project. Even I had a different take on it at one time. I do realize a home is a home, no matter what part of the city a person comes from. What happened to the residents of St. Bernard Project was a crying shame.

This American nation has no idea what the country is loosing if they loose New Orleans to corporatism. Those big ideas are tearing neighborhoods a part, tearing away at the fabric of our culture, our identify. Once corporatism takes its ugly roots, our city will be another Starbuck cookie cutter city in the U.S.A . end of story. All we will have are salvaged photographs and jacked up videos we sent to that cousin in Chicago of the last Mardi Gras, or a second line on South Claiborne in the Treme’. Memories, that’s all, just memories.

I remember the days when my mom used to take me to Drydes St. where all of the Black businesses were located. There was a children’s clothing store called JoAnn’s. I am shocked that I actually remembered the name (with out even thinking). The lady that owned the place would always measure me with her eyes in some mystic way to determine my size. She didn’t get it right all of the time, but these old timers had an art for just looking at a person and knowing their size. The old timers at Krouse would get an old measuring tape, and at JoAnn’s the lady would come back with all sorts of clothes for me to try on. Maison Blanche wasn’t so old fashion in my day. I really didn’t like these shopping trips for clothes too much. Id’s rather be home playing with the kids on the streets in the 3rd ward- uptown near the Magnolia. ( if you are from this place I need no explanations), or around the corder at the snowball stand contributing to future cavities, and some rich kid’s education- because those darn showballs were sweeter than sugar cane in the French Market.

Back in the day a child was free, we didn’t worry about the things in today’s world. Even though times have changed in America, New Orleans was always a place that time forgot.

Those were the good old days.

Sincerely,

Just a redbone, uptown girl turned 7th ward girl.

Cara

Planting trees and starting the de-jungling process

Wed, 11 Mar 2009 11:34:43 -0500

This trip was extra special, I took a friend, met some friends from Houston who happened to be in New Orleans, I watched a great film about the Hurricane called “Hurricane on the Bayou” at the Imax theater, and I planted trees in my yard.

Coming to New Orleans and actually being able to work in my yard made me feel a tremendous overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. It had been 4 years since any real developments took place on my home since the gutting out stage. It seemed like I had been fighting mother nature for so long with the battle with the weeds, trees that started growing from no-where, and the out of control forestation. Isn’t it amazing how quick a land will go back to its original state when left along? From time to time I reflected on how the yard use to look. My friend Hanan hadn’t seen the yard since prior to Katrina and she was just shocked.

We looked back and she commented on how sweat the Chinese Plums (Loquats) were, and how we use toeat them right from the tree. All I could think about was planting those trees I drove to my house all the way from Houston, Texas. I planted a special plant - one of my mother’s favorite plants, a bird’s of paradise. I thought to myself as I began to remove the plant from the pot, “Where would those guys on HGTV tell me to place my plant?” But then I thought, this is about me right now, and what I wanted. So many ideas raced through my mind, but I finally decided to put a few in the ground, and the other one in a pot. (see picture, they look like banana trees). I planted the bird’s of paradise in the same location of the previous loquats. I am trying to start something new,rather than attempt to reclaim my past.

One of my plans was to plant something on each trip. It gave me such pleasure to just smell the fresh soil as I dug in deep in the ground. I began to realize how blessed I was. So many people have nothing to return to in New Orleans, not even a home to call their own. Many homes in the 9th Ward were washed away. Others have only empty lots and steps which serves as personal landmarks. Lets not forget the residents who were not home owners, and refused entry into their homes. It doesn’t matter what part of the city a person from from, or if they even owned a house at all, what really mattered was that place they called home.

This all makes me think about the Palestinian people. For 60 years they have been trying to reclaim their land, their dignity, their right to return. Had they all given up and just moved away, they would never have even a hand full of soil to smell on their land. Surely the land would have been overtaken just like my yard was by the weeds and trees.

The people of New Orleans are fighting to even hold on to a history, a legacy, a culture that was uniquely New Orleans, uniquely Louisiana. No one is going to save us, no one is going to hold our hands the person that is going to make a difference is that person staring you right in the face in the mirror.

The right to return is our right, our battle we must rage. We don’t have to do it together. I realized while taking to the ladies at the Imax theater, after seeing the film “Hurricane on the Bayou,” that we are all still hurting, and holding so much inside. Our lives look my my back yard, chaotic, unpredictable, but at the same time full of hope.

Cara

The city sadly lagging in repairs

Wed, 11 Mar 2009 04:08:39 -0500

In the case of New Orleans, one could argue that it is like the tale to two cities- one for the residents, and one for the tourist.

I can go to certain parts of the city where there has been no change in the condition of the streets in over 15 years -including this Oak Park neighborhood. You might think I am talking about a poor area, quite contrary, this street is actually in a nice neighborhood. The city seems to always find enough funds to make repairs or make improvements in areas that are not even 1/2 as bad as this one.

Visiting the French Quarters would leave a typical tourist to believe that New Orleans is moving on quite nicely. All it would take to enlighten the public was a trip in the neighborhoods outside of the tourist hotspots to realize that many homes are still vacant, and the streets are in poor condition through out the city. Note, this is not to be blamed completely on Hurricane Katrina. This particular street pictured has been in decrepit condition for over 15 years. I can attest to the patience and perseverance of the people in the Oak Park Neighborhood.

In the city’s defense, I could say that they have quite a job on their hands, however I could also say that they have allowed real estate developers the opportunity to go on a buying frenzy. Certainly these purchases only serve corporate interest who only care about making big profits, and don’t really have a vested interest in the well being of our historic city.

I am also hearing very negative things about the City Council from friends. They are complaining about laws and city ordinances that don’t really encourage the right of return of the citizens of New Orleans. They believe that the ordinances serve as obstacles, and thorns in the sides of New Orleanians who only want to rebuild, and return to the city.

I heard of laws that fines homeowners for tall grass, bans on trailers within city limits, in addition to excess fees on Sewerage and Water board bills, higher energy cost.
I hope that the city leaders realize who they are in office to serve. Special interest or corporate interest is short term, serving the interest of the people benefits the city, and the nation in preserving one of American’s hidden treasures, the culturally unique city of New Orleans.

Rebuilding in New Orleans after 4 years

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 05:26:58 -0600

After a 4 year hiatus from New Orleans looks like the time has finally come for me to rebuild.

I weighed my first options. Should I stay in Houston, or should I return to New Orleans and rebuild. Rent in Houston has increased. I am playing about 30% more than I paid when I first moved into my complex in South West West Houston. I thought that moving to New Orleans would prove to be more practical and economical-WRONG. I was shocked to find out that the rent in New Orleans had doubled since 2005.

This phenomenon started right after the storm, but I didn’t pay close attention. At the time my life was settling down in Houston. “Why should I return to New Orleans now?” I thought to myself.

Well hurricane Ike, and the increasingly tsunami like economy changed everything. I closed my office and decided to move in another direction. I thought downsizing was the safest route to take in uncertain times. Finances were low and I didn’t have a quick fix.

During the years I had been so out of touch with New Orleans. My brains just couldn’t take me there. But you know something? It is human nature to feel the need to return from wince you came from.

Doesn’t every New Orleans resident have the right to return? It doesn’t seem like the local officials agree, otherwise they would try their best to encourage previous residents to return. I have seen a nickel and dimming of home owners like never seen before. For Democrats the answer to every ill seems to be to taxed people up to their eyeballs compounded by many rules. New rules for un kept lawns, new rules for trailers, and higher everything whether you are using the services or not.

New Orleans had become the new frontier for greedy real estate investors just thirsty for homes and profits. What will come of all of those people who want to return, but can no longer afford to stay in the city. After 4 years most people would have found a new job and new life outside of New Orleans.

Some of my previous neighbors swear they will never return to New Orleans. A few have not returned at all. I have a change of heart, I really want to return. Solely because of my house, and my yearning to rediscover my city.

I miss my fruit trees, I miss gardening in my own yard. I miss waking up and going outside and reading the paper in my yard. I miss talking to my neighbors on the other side of the fence. I miss walking to the bayou or lake. I miss feeling free to ride my bike. ( Texas isn’t very pedestrian friendly) I miss going to a real bistro, a real neighborhood coffee shop. I miss cafe ole and beignets at Cafe Du Monde. I miss the French Market and old fruit stand. I miss the food, rich culture, the people and simple life. I don’t miss the politics, and backwardness this city seems to not be able to shake off.

My mind is spinning and I wonder what will be my next move. It is now time to start redesigning my house.

I have a ranch style home and I would like to convert it to an Italian neoclassical, revival or renaissance revival style. This means I would have to add a second floor.

This might just be pure fantasy on my part because I have no ideas how much renovations of this sort would cost. Nothing is reasonable these days. I believe the biggest hurdle is determining what you want and then the next is having the money to do so.

I want to go as green as I can. I am finding that going green means forking out the green dollar in many cases. I will explore these options in future blog post.

You can write to me at iqra.newspaepr@gmail.com (mention “The recovery blog”)

Papayas in my yard

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 23:49:44 -0600

Tell me what other city could you grow Papayas in February? Right after I return home for the first time right after Hurricane Katrina, I noticed many things growing in my yard. I have full grown trees to this day that I never planted!

Well this Papaya tree came up like Jack and the bean stalk. Wow. Yes I planted seeds and might have had some smaller plants growing, but to return home to this just recently was a true delight.

My neighbor had harvested the first bunch last year. This was my first time actually seeing the fruit on the papaya tree. I counted over 30 fruit! Isn’t it ironic that I had been trying to grow Papayas for years prior to Hurricane Katrina, and never was successful. Now that I am away, and doing absolutely nothing with them, they grow like crazy and produce a bonanza of a harvest. I am sure there is a hidden message in all of this if I took the time to think deeply about it.

The worst street in the world - in New Orleans, Louisiana

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 23:33:39 -0600

The most embarrassing thing happened to me. It was one of those, "roaches don't come until you have guest at your home" moments. Some colleagues of mine from Houston followed me to New Orleans in their car. I asked them if we could kindly stop at my house before making our final destination at the University of New Orleans. I slowly entered my street in the 7th Ward. I thought they would notice how slow I was going, and follow suit. They didn't. About the time I maneuvered my way through our pot hole ridden street, I heard a terrible noise “scrap !#!#%!%# bang, “ I turned around and saw my friends getting out of the car to look. Not a good sign.

They, like hundreds of other amateur pot hole drivers didn't make it 1/2 way through the block without the bottom of their car scraping against one of the sink holes in the street, which by the way, looked like an earth quake hit it - 10 years ago. This section of this street has put many cars out of commission. It is called the “build-in speed bump” by my neighbors.

This incident was a great embarrassment to me. I couldn't blame Hurricane Katrina, because the streets had been like this for over 15 years. Each year it got worst and worst. About every 5 or so years the city would do a little patch up job. Kind of like putting a band aid over the wounds of an open heart surgery patient.

I wondered how the city went about choosing which streets to repair. A few have been repaired in the area. If those streets were worst than mine, I wouldn't have a problem understanding that we would have to wait until our turn on my block. The truth is, the streets I have seen were nothing like my street. I wonder, did they pull straws or flip coins in the government to decide which streets to repair?

Oak Park is a pretty good area, with so much potential. We are a community that is near the bayou, near the lake and was greatly damaged by Hurricane Katrina. We are also in the fringes of Gentilly ( a historic area in New Orleans). For the life of me, I can’t understand why in the years I have lived in the area, my street has never been repaired.

Keith Oberman has the "Worst Persons in the World," on MSNBC. Well, we have "The Worst Street In the World," in New Orleans, Louisiana.

My solution:

Use some of the traffic light camera revenue Mr. Mayor and FIX THESE DARN STREETS