| Sports |
by MARY
MILLIKEN
New Orleans bids to keep its black character
NEW ORLEANS: On Martin Luther King
Day last year, New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin famously said his city
will “be chocolate at the end of the day”, a remark meant to
encourage African Americans to return after Hurricane Katrina.
At the time, it drew accusations of racial divisiveness and a
barrage of jokes. T-shirts went on sale in the French Quarter
portraying Nagin as Willie Wonka and maps of the city were redrawn
with neighborhoods named Godiva, Hershey and M&Ms.
But a year later, it is no laughing matter. New Orleans, one of
the most culturally distinct African American cities, is
struggling to regain its black character.
“We need the chocolate back in the vanilla!” housing activist
Endesha Juakali shouted last month to protest the demolition of
public housing damaged by Katrina. But there were only about 20
black people listening, just a fraction of the whites who
supported the cause.
New Orleans was 67% African American before Katrina and 28% white.
Now, in a city with less than half the previous population, blacks
account for 47% and whites 43%.
“It will never be the same in my lifetime, we already know that,”
Juakali said. “The forces that control the redevelopment are going
to string this thing out for at least five years. And people can’t
wait that long.”
Signs of a sluggish recovery are everywhere, 16 months after
Katrina slammed the Gulf Coast, burst its protective levees and
flooded 80% of the city. Nowhere is it slower than in
predominantly black neighbourhoods like the Lower Ninth Ward,
where workers are still tearing down homes destroyed by water.
Gentilly, a middle class black area, is also barren.
Meanwhile, life in the mostly white Uptown district has returned
to normal and shows few signs of storm destruction.
But no one is ready to decree the demise of black New Orleans.
“It is way too early and no one can predict accurately,” pollster
Silas Lee said. “It is going to be dependent upon resources
available from the government, changes in the infrastructure, a
lot of factors that are beyond the control of the individual.”
Government is woefully behind schedule, sparking accusations it is
deliberately stalling to keep certain problem neighbourhoods from
coming back. Only 100 families out of 90,000 applicants have
received federal aid to rebuild homes hit by Katrina in the whole
of Louisiana.
The city redevelopment plan, said to be in its final stages, has
yet to be announced.
Poor blacks who did not own their homes have little affordable
rental accommodation to choose from, keeping them at bay in cities
like Houston. Meanwhile, local media report middle class black
evacuees, thriving in cities like Atlanta, are unlikely to return.
Sharon Jasper, 57, lived in public housing that is now closed, but
finally made the decision to come back a few months ago.
“Our young people need to come home where they belong,” Jasper, a
seemingly strong woman who breaks down when she talks about her
children scattered in several cities, said.
She said depression and tension were rife in the city, with two or
three families staying in a single home and kids attending
disfunctional schools.
Indeed, shooting deaths are daily occurrence, a pattern Nagin
called “black-on-black” crime.
Black New Orleans certainly had many of these problems – poverty,
crime, poor schools – before Katrina. But it also had a cultural
richness coveted by blacks and whites alike that made living in
New Orleans unique.
Where else, for example, can one see a “second line” – a black
brass band procession with jubilant dancing and extravagant
wardrobe? But for all the efforts and experience of the second
line organisers, many members of the “krewes,” or clubs, have not
returned and processions are few and far between.
On a sunny day last month, the Big Nine Pleasure Club held a rare
second line in the Lower Ninth Ward. Amid the mold-infested homes
and overgrown lawns, black people from the neighbourhood joined
the procession, smiling and dancing.
When they arrived at the monument honoring the victims of Katrina,
the band switched to the slow, mournful hymn of the world-famous
New Orleans jazz funeral, Just a Closer Walk with Thee.
There to say a prayer was Henry Irvin, who is rebuilding his home
in the Lower Ninth at the age of 70. “Tradition ain’t gonna die,”
he said. – Reuters
 
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