Turns out, some things don’t change.
When the muddy waters of the Tar River coursed through eastern North Carolina on Sept. 16, 1999, it was Princeville that bore the brunt of the flooding. All told, the rising waters killed six people; destroyed or damaged 1,183 homes; and, according to NASA’s Earth Observatory, “all but erased the town.”
Sadly, Princeville isn’t an isolated case. Worldwide, the most vulnerable communities are the ones hit hardest by natural hazards like droughts, floods, and storms— threats that are becoming more frequent and severe, owing to climate change.
This summer, Oxfam commissioned Susan L. Cutter and Christopher T. Emrich of the University of South Carolina’s Hazards and Vulnerability Research Institute to map social vulnerability in the southeastern US—site of the country’s most persistent poverty. Cutter and Emrich identified counties in 13 states that reveal a high level of vulnerability to floods, hurricane-force winds, sea level rise, drought, or a combination of these hazards.
What makes a community vulnerable? A mix of physical factors and social characteristics, including demographic, economic, and housing conditions. In Miami-Dade County, FL, for example, over 50 percent of the land lies within a flood zone and 100 percent within a hurricane wind hazard zone. So, faced with a major hurricane, people in socially vulnerable neighborhoods in the county—like Miami’s Little Haiti, home to many poor immigrant families—are at greatest risk of property loss, injury, and death. And it is these families that have the fewest resources to respond to or recover from a disaster.
As a next step, the institute will share its Social Vulnerability Index with policy makers, emergency management officials, and community leaders. The institute and Oxfam hope these findings will inform smarter disaster preparation plans for the nation’s most disadvantaged areas.
As for Princeville, in late 1999 town leaders voted against a federal buyout that would require residents to relocate, opting instead to rebuild with stronger buildings. That recovery process continues 10 years later.
“[At first] I said there is no way I’m going back, I was so devastated,” one Princeville resident told The New York Times shortly after the floods. “But then I thought about it, and I said, ‘Why should I give up what my ancestors worked so hard to leave us?’”
At the national level, we need to:
Click here to learn more and see the full set of social vulnerability maps.
]]>Much has been written about the relationship between African-Americans and Latinos and the tensions that arose when they were forced to compete for the same limited resources in a post-Katrina New Orleans. But little is known about what the two groups have in common—and how those shared experiences, attitudes, and goals could bring them together to help rebuild their community.
In late 2008, Oxfam America commissioned Bright Moments, who subcontracted with Dr. Silas Lee & Associates, to conduct a survey of the racial attitudes of African-Americans and Latinos living in New Orleans. "Building Common Ground" is a summary of those findings. The purpose of the survey was to measure how African-Americans and Latinos rated the quality of their lives, race relations with each other, experiences with discrimination, perceptions of each other, support for an African-American and Latino alliance, and effective strategies for such alliances.
The results reveal that the majority of African-Americans and Latinos agreed that they face similar issues of discrimination3 and agreed that it's important for their two groups to put aside their differences and work on overcoming those issues. It is on this common ground that we seek to build.
This publication is available in English and Spanish.
]]>The new study, Building Common Ground, reveals vast similarities in the post-Katrina experiences of two groups often considered separately in discussions on hurricane recovery and rebuilding. While the study revealed many of the tensions and misconceptions that existed between the two groups, it demonstrated that there is very fertile ground upon which African Americans and Latinos can forge new relationships to combat some of the challenges they face together.
The results of the study will be presented Tuesday at 6 pm at Xavier University and will be followed by a panel discussion. Lydia Camarillo, Vice President of Southwest Voter Registration Education Project will deliver a keynote address following opening remarks from Xavier University president Dr. Norman Francis. Members of the panel include:
In one key finding, 83 percent of African Americans and 86 percent of Latinos said building alliances are important to achieving social and economic equity in New Orleans.
"Too often we talk about tensions between African-Americans and Latinos," said Ilana Scherl, Gulf Coast Field Representative for Oxfam America. "This study demonstrates that African Americans and Latinos face common challenges which limit their opportunities to succeed in society."
The study's results were driven from a survey conducted in late 2008 by Dr. Silas Lee & Associates of African Americans and Latinos living in New Orleans. Hundreds of residents were interviewed and participated in focus groups to gauge the issues and concerns affecting these communities.
The study found striking similarities, including:
The report also identified some of the obstacles and opportunities for working together on the issues both groups experience:
Most importantly, both groups recognized the importance of working together on common issues, with one focus group participant saying "We have to be here, and we have to get along. How can we start the dialogue?"
"This survey goes a long way to deconstructing some of the myths that have sprung up after Katrina," said Dr. Silas Lee. "Contrary to popular belief, significant percentages of both African Americans and Latinos not only believe that the two groups can and should work together, but are willing to take steps to continue to the process of recovery together now."
"Building Common Ground: How shared attitudes and concerns can create alliances between African Americans and Latinos in a post-Katrina New Orleans," was published by Oxfam America. Read the full text of the report and detailed results of the survey.
]]>They were featured speakers on a week-long Oxfam America tour, which passed through five US cities on its way from New Mexico to Missouri. Inspired by Oxfam's Sisters on the Planet initiative—and supported by groups like CARE and the League of Women Voters—the tour focused on the human face of climate change here and abroad, with an emphasis the ways the US can help vulnerable communities survive the crisis.
"Pollution, greenhouse gases, they don't respect boundaries," said Voré Gana Seck, the speaker from Senegal. "This is a global problem that needs global solutions."
Sharon Hanshaw, executive director of Coastal Women for Change and one of Oxfam's Sisters on the Planet, spoke about her personal losses from Hurricane Katrina, as well as the storm's lasting effects on her home town of Biloxi, Mississippi.
Speaking at the Kansas City, Missouri, public library, Hanshaw explained that it's not just past hurricanes that concern her community, but the ones ahead, which are predicted to intensify. "This year we've had four hurricanes in the last six months," she said. "Gustav was called a dud, but it still flooded our houses."
In Biloxi, she said, hurricanes not only wreak physical damage, but also add to the burdens of people already among America's poorest.
"Times were hard pre-Katrina, and now it's even worse; prices have gone up," said Hanshaw. "We still have people living in trailers, no healthcare, no childcare, no public library. We don't need a handout from the government. We need infrastructure to help our community live again."
Seck, Executive Director of Green Senegal and president of the international NGO coalition CONGAD, highlighted the common ground between Senegal and the Gulf Coast. In both places, she said, the poorest families are the ones to bear the burden.
At an event at the Omaha, Nebraska, public library, Seck compared the effects of climate change to those of a war: "You can't produce enough food, you can't harvest. You don't have enough money. You can't send your kids to school."
For local farming families, she said, a decrease in rainfall means that staple crops like rice, millet, and vegetables often fail to reach maturity, leaving families with less food to eat and fewer extra crops to sell. To earn a better living, some of these farmers migrate to already-crowded cities like Dakar, where floods and poor sanitation are leading to an increase in water-borne diseases like cholera.
Others join the ranks of the "climate refugees": teens and young adults who leave their villages for Spain or the Canary Islands, looking to earn money to send to their families back home. Hundreds of these young people have died while attempting ocean crossings in small, fragile boats.
"In Algeciras, Spain, there is a burial ground called the "Cemetery of the Unknown People," said Seck. "These are our environmental refugees. They are the unknown."
Despite these hardships, both speakers' organizations are leading efforts to help their communities survive the crisis.
"The first thing we have to do is be resilient," said Hanshaw, whose group distributes hurricane preparedness kits—containing fresh water, food, insurance papers, and flashlights—to Biloxi seniors and families. They're also offering affordable child care options to help women in the community return to work.
Hanshaw's organization also trains local women to go to Washington, DC, and "tell the stories that are not being told." Their message to legislators: "We're still here. We're going to be here. And climate change affects all of us."
Seck's group teaches Senegalese farmers new techniques that help crops grow in a drier climate, like drip irrigation systems and faster-maturing seeds. Seck showed photos of the successful projects in action: first a riot of green seedlings, then tall plants in orderly rows, flourishing beneath a wide blue sky.
So far, she said, these innovative methods are only in place in a few villages. But with the support of wealthier countries like the US, projects like these could help farmers throughout the region.
Many audience members at these events signed up for Oxfam's online climate change action team, which provides ways to directly influence US legislators on the issue.
For some, the speakers' words brought a change in perspective. "I came here expecting to hear about Africa, but I didn't expect to hear Sharon's story, right in our backyard," said Lillian Pardo, a retired physician who attended the Kansas City speaking event. "You don't see this on the news."
Andrew Jameton, a professor at the University of Nebraska Medical Center, was the last to speak in a question and answer session in Omaha. "I want to fight this, and a lot of people feel the same way, but it will be a tough century," he said, adding that, because of the speakers' words, "I'm not optimistic—but I'm hopeful."
]]>Its danger—splashed across satellite images in spirals of angry red and yellow—could not be discounted. But still. They had all just returned from one grueling evacuation. Could they turn around and leave home again?
That's the question that haunts so many of the preparedness meetings Whitney attends in her role as a community organizer and executive assistant for one of Oxfam America's local partners, Bayou Interfaith Shared Community Organizing, Inc., or BISCO. And it's the question for which there is no real answer.
"A lot of people took the money they use to pay bills and used it for evacuation costs," said Whitney. "Now they're back home and their bills are due and they don't know what to do and they hear they have to leave again? Not in this life time."
It's hard to say which worry is worse for Louisiana residents: the possibility of a second storm or the evacuation that may precede it. Evacuations are costly, exhausting, and disruptive on many levels.
With Gustav, Whitney was lucky. She and her teen-aged son, who has Down syndrome, got an early start—to avoid getting stuck on the highway—and found a welcome refuge in the home of Whitney's sister in Tallahassee, Florida. They stayed about a week, avoiding the hotel bills that many other families have to swallow.
On average, what does it cost a family of four to evacuate?
"$250 a day, easy," said Whitney. "They're going to burn at least one tank of gas to get there and one to get back—so about $120 for fuel. And $125 to $130 a day for a hotel. Plus three meals a day. That's about $100 dollars. And those are the bare necessities."
Add it all up, and you've taken a big bite out of any family's budget. Factor in the disruptions—the missed days of school, the lost income from work—and the dread of multiple evacuations becomes clear.
"People don't have the wherewithal—financial, emotional—to get out," said Whitney. "Back-to-back storms, people say ugh. They're not going to leave. It's too hard."
Convincing some people to join even the first evacuation of the season can be a challenge, said Whitney. And that's particularly true for old-timers who have weathered other storms, even severe ones such as Hurricane Betsy in 1965. That storm, with gusts reported up to 160 miles per hour, left 75 people in the US dead.
But Whitney pointed out that some of the natural defenses that once helped to keep people safe—the coastal islands and marshlands that absorbed some of the energy from earlier storms—have eroded. And waterways built by oil companies in recent decades now funnel dangerous amounts of water inland during violent storms.
"The elderly don't realize those things," said Whitney, adding that it took the graphic details from a study on storm surge to convince her own mother about the wisdom of evacuating in advance of Gustav. Public awareness programs that BISCO is promoting feature work done by the Louisiana State University Agriculture Center and the LA Sea Grant Program. It shows what could have happened to Thibodaux if Hurricane Rita, which struck three years ago, had hit just a little west of where Gustav did. Despite being the highest part of Lafourche parish, a large portion of the city would have been under water, some of it five or six feet deep, Whitney said. Lafourche Parish would have had extensive flooding and most of neighboring Terrebonne Parish would also have been flooded. BISCO has been working hard to educate the public about the danger of storm surges—and to pay attention to more than just the wind speed of top-category storms.
What's the solution to all of this?
Improving the safety of communities would help, said Whitney, and that way perhaps fewer evacuations would be necessary. Healthy marshes along the coastline are one of keys to that safety, she added.
"Man has destroyed that protection and now we're forced to get out to survive," Whitney said. "Before, people could prepare. They could board up, stock up on supplies. They knew how to protect themselves from the furor of nature because nature itself provided protection."
Restoring the marshland would restore some of that security, said Whitney.
"The technology is there, but the political will is not," she said. And that's where BISCO comes in. Grounded by generations of families who have made southern Louisiana their home, the organization is determined to change the political landscape.
"Our goal is to work with communities and networks across the country to help build the will to save the coastline," said Whitney.
]]>"At least a third of the houses we've seen have sustained wind damage," says Oxfam's Kenny Rae, who has visited many of the towns south of Thibodaux, Louisiana.
If Hurricane Gustav visited our home towns, most of us would consider it a major disaster, but in coastal Louisiana, Katrina set the bar of dread so high that this level of destruction is a huge relief.
Yet, when it comes to questions of poverty and vulnerability, Gustav picked up where Katrina left off. An Oxfam assessment team touring the most troubled areas is finding that solid homes held up relatively well in this storm, and that the worst destruction was visited on trailers and more vulnerable houses.
The Native American community of Isle de Jean Charles, which is located in what may be the most exposed location in the hard-hit parish of Terrebonne, has experienced "terrible damage," according to Oxfam's Kenny Rae. "Houses have been ripped off their foundations. We saw one leaning on a levee."
Since the hurricanes of 2005, Oxfam America has been working with a network of local partners on the Gulf Coast, focusing on poor communities whose needs have fallen through the gaps in the government response. Hurricane Gustav is a new chapter in the same story.
"Oxfam will work with our partners in the area to ensure that these communities receive the federal funds they need to rebuild their homes and their communities," said Minor Sinclair, who directs Oxfam America's development programs in the United States.
"We'll work on ensuring that temporary housing assistance gets to those who need it most—and quickly. And that rebuilding dollars prioritize low-income communities."
But first, the short-term needs. Damaged roofs, for example, need to be covered quickly with tarps before rain destroys home interiors. And community aid providers have their own problems: many have to repair their offices immediately or find new ones. As partner organizations begin to gear up their work, Oxfam is standing by to support them for projects that can't wait.
"Thousands of Louisiana families are returning home today to find their homes damaged by Gustav," says Sinclair. "I hope that this country's generous spirit—whether through FEMA or through private donations—continues to stand with these families in their time of need."
]]>Although the force of the storms was an act of nature, what the American people have since witnessed—an uneven and often incompetent recovery effort—is the result of deliberate human acts. If we refuse to address this as a nation, it will go down in history not only as a failure of leadership, but also as a failure to hold our government accountable.
Two fundamental indicators, housing and jobs, provide stark proof of the stalled recovery. Full recovery is possible only when affordable homes are coupled with secure, decent jobs. Without quality jobs and affordable housing, low- and moderate income families are unable to return to their former lives. Decent wages allow people to return home and recreate vibrant communities by providing the necessary workforce to rebuild the region.
The situation grows increasingly critical, but despite challenges, there is a way forward. We face a historic election; the next president of the US must guarantee a just, equitable, and complete recovery. America must take immediate action to ensure that people struggling to rebuild their communities get the support that their hard work and innovation demand.
]]>This examination of three communities emblematic of longstanding poverty and exclusion— the urban neighborhoods of East Biloxi, Mississippi, and the rural communities of Vermilion and Plaquemines parishes in Louisiana—reveals that government neglect at all levels extends beyond the well-publicized failures in New Orleans to encompass an entire region in distress.
Access to opportunity remains unequal—and unfair. In Biloxi, government officials acted first to save the city’s battered casinos by convincing state lawmakers to allow gaming on land. Not ensuring that the low-income residents of East Biloxi shared in the economic benefits, however, has made them victims of an enormous land squeeze, forcing them out of their neighborhoods and homes.
False assurances undermine future visions—and current optimism. The self-reliant residents of Erath, a mostly Cajun community in rural Vermilion Parish, began rehabilitating their houses the moment they returned after Hurricane Rita’s flood waters receded. After confusing signals about new flood elevations, plans for the town’s future, and possible homeowner grants, their progress has slowed and in some cases has been reversed by the agencies meant to facilitate it. Institutional neglect leaves communities at risk of losing everything—even their way of life.
Few state or federal funds have assisted the recovery of independent commercial fishers, who for generations have made Plaquemines Parish the center of their trade. Their inability to continue is draining Louisiana’s usually robust commercial fisheries, normally second in the nation only to Alaska.
These communities, and many like them, teeter on the brink. They are being rendered invisible.
Left behind. Forgotten.
The pattern of inequity in receiving recovery assistance from the government has been well established by past disasters. Federal disaster assistance tends to favor people who have economic assets at risk—that is, the affluent. Though the pattern may be familiar, it need not be inevitable.
Making sure the billions designated for recovery benefit the region’s most vulnerable communities remains a matter of political will. Action can and must be taken immediately.
It is, after all, what the nation promised them. That they would be rendered whole. Get ahead. Thrive.
]]>But now Hanshaw, and a growing number of other women in the Gulf Coast community, have a new foundation from which to begin rebuilding part of their lives: Coastal Women for Change, or CWC, a fledgling group of newborn activists determined have a say in the recovery of their neighborhoods.
Whatever the 2006 hurricane season brings, CWC may serve as a buffer to additional hardship. It has taught many of the women that each of them has a voice, and those voices count—individually and collectively.
"Our mission is to empower these women with knowledge of what they can do," said Hanshaw, the group's new director. "It's unlimited. You can build. You can go back to school. You can call your local officials. You can talk to them. They're there for us."
Now numbering about 25 regular members, with a core group of 10, CWC was launched with the help of Safiya Daniels, a community development specialist for Oxfam America, who has been working chiefly in Biloxi and Gulfport.
"One big difference that I saw between these two cities was the existence of organized community groups," said Daniels. "I realized that outside of the churches, Biloxi had none. I also noticed there was very little institutionalized female leadership in Biloxi."
Daniels also worried that there seemed to be few community gatherings in Biloxi to discuss what direction the city was taking as it began recovering from Katrina. Long-range community planning was not on anyone's neighborhood radar screen.
"This was a dangerous situation," said Daniels. "Everyone else was making a plan: casino developers, condo developers, and the city, but there was very little evidence of broad community participation."
She knew the concern was there—"in every community there are lots of concerned women who want a vibrant, healthy, and safe community for their families to live in"—but how to turn that interest into action was the missing piece. So, Daniels called a meeting.
"I brought a group of women together to talk about what was happening in their community, what issues and problems they faced, and how these could be addressed," said Daniels.
That first meeting grew into a series of sessions which blossomed into action, spawned weekly gatherings, attracted new members, and finally gave birth to an official group with a name and stated mission. Its goal is this: "to make a difference in our communities through securing and revitalizing our neighborhoods." Information sharing is the critical tool in achieving that end.
"I don't want people to be left out," said Hanshaw. "I want to give them knowledge. Knowledge is power."
Knowledge starts with asking questions, and one of the first events CWC sponsored was a Biloxi community forum to which it invited the mayor, city councilors, and members of the city planning department. Questions abounded—about flood elevations mapped out by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), about affordable housing, about displaced people. Nearly 200 residents showed up for the forum.
Attendees not only got some answers, some of them learned a deeper lesson as well.
"Democracy works only if people make it work," said Daniels. "And we do that by holding people accountable. There possibly has never been a time during the mayor's 13-year tenure that he found himself in such a position, being watched and held accountable by this particular community, and in such a public way."
Asking questions is the first step. Having a say in the answers is the next step. Right away, CWC members sought seats on a planning commission formed by Biloxi Mayor A.J. Holloway. Called Reviving the Renaissance Committee, it was given 90 days to come up with a plan for the city's recovery.
Five CWC members have been weighing in on matters of finance, education, land use, and affordable housing—the subcommittees for which they signed up. And people are beginning to listen to CWC's opinions.
"We are in the paper every week," said Hanshaw, adding that she gets the sense she is even making some of the powerbrokers nervous.
"They try to turn their heads when I come up," she said. "Especially the developers. They don't want to talk to me. They know where I stand."
For Cass Woods, working with CWC has given her a direct link to her community, and that link is allowing her to make things better all around.
"It makes me feel good to help someone," said Woods, who has been living in a government issue trailer—the size of a matchbox, she said—parked in her back yard for months. "That's what has helped me get through my loss."
With a $30,000 seed grant from the 21st Century Foundation, CWC will be able to pay Hanshaw a salary, purchase office supplies, and begin to look ahead at how to fund itself into the future.
Meanwhile, the organization is undertaking a new task: a survey of East Biloxi to find out the childcare needs of the community's residents. To renew its license, a local day care organization is being required to assess the need for its services in the area.
"This is our first project," said Hanshaw. "Another accomplishment under our belts."
And it's just the kind of project Daniels had a hunch a group like CWC could offer the community.
"The needs of the community will drive what CWC takes on," said Daniels. With those needs being constant—as they are in every community—Daniels expects the new organization to have a long and productive life.
"It's going to stand on its own. I am confident of that," she said. "I could see it truly growing into a coastwide organization."
]]>It was also a year in which the global community could no longer ignore poverty. The planet's poorest citizens—here in the US and around the world—suffered the most. When a storm hits, impoverished communities are the last to receive aid. When an earthquake strikes, they are the least prepared to withstand it. And when conflict is waged, they have the fewest resources with which to recover. According to the Red Cross, seven times as many people die per disaster in a poor country as in a rich one.
Throughout 2005, the Oxfam community responded—knowing that, as crises mount, our responsibility to act is heightened. For this, we thank you.
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