Next month marks the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina — a catastrophic event that seems like yesterday to me. Hurricane Katrina was the most deadly hurricane the United States has had since 1928, it killed 1,833 victims, and caused $108 billion in property damage.
I remember it being the first week of middle school. I was in the sixth grade, and I was excited I had an extra week to do my drama class project. Living in New Orleans, Louisiana, you become jaded when you hear about hurricanes, and as a young girl I was always happy I had time off from school. I thought evacuating was synonymous with mini-vacations.
I grew up with my grandmother and she was in charge of everything. She describes our decision to evacuate as “last minute.”
My father did not want to evacuate because he didn’t see the point. He was jaded like the rest of us; I had to cry and beg him to leave with me to Houston, Texas. My grandmother also had to convince my two great grandparents, who were in their 80's, to evacuate as well, because they usually stayed in their home.
Evacuating was probably one of the worst experiences in my life. My family had a hard time figuring out how to get there. We had two cars but my great grandfather couldn’t drive that far. My dad was in charge of driving seven people in a small car. Inside the car was my great grandfather, great grandmother, grandmother, dad, two of my aunts, and me.
I sat on my grandmothers’ lap for about 15 hours, and one of my aunts sat on my great grandmothers’ lap; needless to say, we were all very miserable. Fifteen hours of pure misery is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The drive to Houston is typically five hours, so we did not anticipate that many hours on the road.
We were all in physical pain because of the heat. My grandmother's and great grandmother's thighs were hurting as well under the weight of my aunt and I. And my aunt and I were in extreme discomfort sitting on their laps, too.
Once we arrived in Houston we were extremely exhausted. The following days we closely watched the news, and were devastated when we found out we couldn’t go back. We were only supposed to be gone for two or three days. Our city was in a state of crisis and there was nothing for us to come back to.
My life changed that day. It was all a blur to me, from saying goodbye to my father who decided to go back to Louisiana, to having a major news channel interview my grandma within the hour of us arriving in Los Angeles.
It was hard adjusting at first, and I even moved back to Louisiana during eighth grade. But sadly, it wasn’t the same, and I moved back to California, permanently.
Evacuating was a horrible experience for my family, but many people who lived in poverty were not able to leave because they didn’t have access to cars. About 10,000 people had to find shelter in the Superdome, and those people had to endure the storm in its entirety. They didn’t have the best living conditions, and suffered trauma while enduring the infamous hurricane. We were lucky to leave when we did.
I now am a senior Journalism major at California State University Long Beach. I visit Louisiana at least one month out of the year, and it’s been great to see my beautiful hometown slowly but surely get back to where it used to be.
