Volunteer work

[HoustonLX]

Stolen from another site.

This is from a guy here in Houston that went to volunteer his time to
help the hurricane victims. It is pretty sad and disappointing to think
people could be so ungrateful.

SO I VOLUNTEERED..........
I thought I might inform the few friends I have on my recent traumatic
experience. I am going to tell it straight, blunt, raw, and I don't give
a damn. Long read, I know but please do read!!!
I went to volunteer on Saturday at the George R. Brown convention for
two reasons.
A: I wanted to help people to get a warm fuzzy.
B: Curiosity.
I've been watching the news lately and have seen scenes that have made
me want to vomit. And no it wasn't dead bodies, the city under water, or
the sludge everywhere. It was PEOPLE"S BEHAVIOR. The people on T.V. (99%
being Black) where DEMANDING help. They were not asking nicely but
demanding as if society owed these people something. Well the honest
truth is WE DON'T. Help should be asked for in a kind manner and then
appreciated. This is not what the press (FOX in particular) was showing,
what I was seeing was a group of people who are yelling, demanding,
looting, killing, raping, and SHOOTING back at the demanded help!!!!! So
I'm thinking this can't possibly be true can it???? So I decide to
submit to the DEMAND for help out of SHOCK. I couldn't believe this to
be true of the majority of the people who are the weakest of society. So
I went to volunteer and help folks out and see the truth. So I will tell
the following story and you decide:
I arrived at the astrodome only to find out that there are too many
volunteers and that volunteers where needed at the George R. Brown
Convention Center. As I was walking up to the Convention Center I
noticed a line of cars that wrapped around blocks filled with donations.
These where ordinary Houstonians coming with truckloads and trunks full
of water, diapers, clothes, blankets, food, all types of good stuff. And
lots of it was NEW. I felt that warm fuzzy while helping unload these
vehicles of these wonderful human beings. I then went inside the
building and noticed approximately 100,000 sq. ft. of clothes, shoes,
jackets, toys and all types of goodies all organized and ready for the
people in need. I signed up, received a name badge and was on my merry
way excited to be useful.
I toured the place to get familiar with my surrounding; the entire place
is probably around 2 million sq. ft. I noticed rows as far as the eye
can see of mattresses, not cots, BLOW UP MATTRESSES!!! All of which had
nice pillows and plenty of blankets. 2 to 3 bottles of water lay on
every bed. These full size to queen size beds by the way where
comfortable, I laid in one to see for myself. I went to look at the
medical area. I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing!!! A makeshift
hospital created in 24 hours!!! It was unbelievable, they even had a
pharmacy. I also noticed that they created showers, which would also
have hot water. I went upstairs to the third floor to find a HUGE
cafeteria created in under 24 hours! Rows of tables, chairs and food
everywhere - enough to feed an army! I'm not talking about crap food
either. They had jason's deli food, apples, oranges, coke, diet coke,
lemonade, orange juice, cookies, all types of chips and sandwiches. All
the beverages by the way was put on ice and chilled!!!! In a matter of
about 24 hours or less an entire mini-city was erected by volunteers for
the poor evacuees. This was not your rundown crap shelter, it was BUM
HEAVEN.
So that was the layout: great food, comfy beds, clean showers, free
medical help, by the way there was a library, and a theatre room I
forgot to mention. Great stuff right????
Well here is what happened on my journey -
I started by handing out COLD water bottles to evacuees as they got off
the bus. Many would take them and only 20% or less said thank you. Lots
of them would shake their heads and ask for sodas! So this went on for
about 20-30 minutes until I was sick of being an unappreciated servant.
I figured certainly these folks would appreciate some food!!! So I went
upstairs to serve these beloved evacuees some GOOD food that I wish I
could have at the moment!
***The following statements are graphic, truthful, and discuss
UNRATIONAL behavior***
Evacuees come slowly to receive this mountain of food that is worth
serving to a king! I tell them that we have 2 types of great deli
sandwiches to choose from - ham and turkey. Many look at the food in
disgust and DEMAND burgers, pizza, and even McDonalds!!!! Jason's deli
is better than McDonalds!!!! Only 1 out of ten people who took something
would say "thank you" the rest took items as if it was their God give
right to be served without a shred of appreciation!!! They would ask for
Beer and liquor. They complained that we didn't have good enough food.
They refused food and laughed at us. They treated us volunteers as if we
where SLAVES. No not all of them of course...but 70% did!!!!!! 20% where
appreciative, 10% took the food without any comment and the other 70%
had some disgusting comment to say. Some had the nerve to laugh at us.
And when I snapped back at them for being mean, they would curse at
me!!! Needless to say I was in utter shock. They would eat their food
and leave their mess on the table... some would pick up their stuff many
would leave it for the volunteers to pick up. I left that real quick to
go down and help set up some more beds. I saw many young ladies carrying
mattresses and I helped for a while. Then I realized something...their
where hundreds of able bodied young men who could help!! I asked a group
of young evacuees in their teens and early twenties to help. I got
cursed at for asking them to help!!! One said "We just lost our ****ing
homes and you want us to work!!" The next said "Ya Cracker, you got a
home we don't" I looked at them in disbelief. Here are women walking by
carrying THEIR ****ING BEDS and they can't lift a finger and help
themselves!!
WHY THE **** SHOULD I HELP PEOPLE WHO DON'T WANT TO HELP THEMESELVES!!!!
I waved them off and turned away and was laughed at and more "white boy
jokes" where made at me. I felt no need to waste my breath on a bunch of
pitiful losers. I went to a nearby restroom where I noticed a man
shaving. I used the restroom, washed my hands and saw this man throw his
razor towards the trash can...he missed... he walked out leaving his
disgusting razor on the floor for some other "cracker" to pick up. Even
the little kids where demanding. I saw only ONE white family and only
TWO Hispanic families. The rest where blacks...sorry 20% to 30% decent
blacks... and 70% LOSERS!!!!!
I would call them ******S, but the actual definition of a ****** is one
who is ignorant, these people were not ignorant......they where ARROGANT
*******S. The majority of which are thugs and lifetime lazy ass welfare
recipients. We are inviting the lowest of the low to Houston. And like
idiots we are serving the people who will soon steal our cars, rape,
murder, and destroy our city while stealing from our pockets on a daily
basis through the welfare checks they take. We will fund our own
destruction.
By "US" I don't mean a specific race, I mean the people who work hard,
work smart, have values and morals. Only people who want to help
themselves should be helped, the others should be allowed to destroy
themselves. I do not want to work hard, give the government close to
half the money I earn so they can in turn give it to a bunch of losers.
I don't believe in being poor for life. My family immigrated here, we
came here poor, and now thank God, and due to HARD WORK we are doing
fine. If immigrants, who come here, don't know the language can work and
become successful... WHY THE **** CAN'T THE MAJORITY OF THE HOMEGROWN DO
IT!!! If we continue to reward these losers then we will soon destroy
our great country. I just witnessed selfish, arrogant, unappreciative
behavior by the very people who need help the most. Now these same
people who cursed me, refused my cities generosity, who refuse to help
themselves are DEMANDING handouts on their own terms!!!!!!! They prance
around as if they are owed something, and when they do receive a
handout, they say it's not good enough! Well you know what......these
types of people can go to hell for all I care!
.................................................. ............. ALL OUR
DONATIONS GOES TO THE MISSISSIPPI GULF COAST WHERE PEOPLE WILL GET DOWN
AND KISS YOUR FOOT FOR THE HELP THEY ARE TRYING TO GET...PLEASE PASS
THIS ON SO EVERYONE WILL KNOW WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE IN N.O. ARE BEING
RAISING THESE DAYS...I WOULD NOT CROSS THE STREET TO PICK ONE UP BECAUSE
I MIGHT GET KILLED BECAUSE I DID NOT DO IT THE RIGHT WAY...THAT IS HOW I
FEEL AND I AM A CHRISTIAN PERSON....LORD HAVE MERCY ON US...

[Chad82GT]

Uhg, that's disgusting! Hope they all get what they "deserve"

[illfated]

this was emailed to me by my dad. it was writen by a couple that was on vacation in LA from Nevada. might shed a little light on some of the peoples reasoning for thier behavior (although it is waaaaaay uncalled for).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreen's
store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets remained locked. The dairy
display case was clearly visible through the widows. It was now 48 hours
without electricity, running water, plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses
were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat. The owners and managers had
locked up the food, water, pampers, and prescriptions and fled the City.
Outside Walgreen's windows, residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty
and hungry.

The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized and
the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was an
alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and distributed the nuts, fruit
juices, and bottle water in an organized and systematic manner. But
they did not. Instead they spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily
chasing away the looters.

We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and arrived
home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the TV coverage or look
at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no video images or
front-page pictures of European or affluent white tourists looting the
Walgreen's in the French Quarter.

We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" images
of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling to help the
"victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but what we witnessed,were the
real heroes and she-roes of the hurricane relief effort: the working class of
New Orleans. Regular everyday folks going out of their way to help others.

The maintenance workers who used a fork lift to carry the sick
and disabled. The engineers, who rigged, nurtured and kept the generators
running. The electricians who improvised thick extension cords stretching
over blocks to share the little electricity we had in order to free a few cars
stuck on rooftop parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical
ventilators and spent many hours on end manually forcing air into the
lungs of unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks
stuck in elevators.

Refinery workers who broke into boat yards, "stealing" boats to rescue
their family members and neighbors clinging to their roofs in flood waters. Mechanics who helped "hot-wire" any car that could be found (and would run) to ferry people out of the City.
And the food service workers who scoured the commercial kitchens of businesses improvising
make-shift communal meals for hundreds of those stranded and hungry.

Most of these workers had lost their homes, and had not heard from members of their own families, yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20% of New Orleans that was not under water.

On Day 2, there were approximately 500 of us left in various hotels in the
French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees
like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for safety and
shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with family and friends
outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly told that all sorts of
resources including the National Guard. We were told by our friends and families about the scores of buses that were shown on television pouring in to the City. The buses and the other resources must have been invisible because none of us had seen them.

We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came up
with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the City. Those who
did not have the requisite $45.00 for a ticket were subsidized by those who
did have extra money. We waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the
last 12 hours standing outside, sharing the limited water, food, and clothes we
had. We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly, children and
babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent" arrival of the
buses we had scheduled and pre-paid for on several of our credit cards.
The buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute they arrived
to the City limits, they were commandeered by the military.

By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was
dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased, street
crime was coming into our hotel and the danger was building
as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us out and
locked their doors, telling us that the "officials" told us to report to the
convention center to wait for more buses. As we entered the center of
the City, we finally encountered the National Guard. The Guards told us we
would not be allowed into the Superdome as the City's primary shelter had
descended into a humanitarian and health hellhole.

The guards further told us that the City's only other shelter, the
Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and squalor and that
the police were not allowing anyone else in. Quite naturally, we asked, "If
we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the City, what was our alternative?"
We were all tourists and visitors to this city and we were stranded. The
guards told us that that was our problem, and no they did not have
extra water to give to us. This would be the start of our numerous encounters
with callous and hostile "law enforcement".

We walked to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street and
were told the same thing, that we were on our own, and no they did not have
water to give us. We now numbered several hundred because as we walked, other
people were joining our group begging for our help. We held a mass meeting to
decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the police command
post. We would be plainly visible to the media and would constitute a
highly visible embarrassment to the City officials. The police told us that we
could not stay.

Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In
short order, the police commander came across the street to address our
group. He told us he had a solution: We should walk to the Pontchartrain
Expressway and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge where the police had buses
lined up to get the tourists out of the City quickly.

The crowed cheered and began to move. We called everyone back and
explained to the commander that there had been lots of misinformation and wrong
information and was he absolutley sure that there were buses waiting for us. The
commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you
that the buses are there."

We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with
great excitement and finally some hope. As we marched pasted the convention center, many
locals saw our determined and optimistic group and asked where we were headed.
We told them about the great news. Families immediately grabbed their few
belongings and quickly our numbers doubled and then doubled again.
Babies in strollers now joined us, people using crutches, elderly clasping
walkers and others people in wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles to the freeway
and up the steep incline to the Bridge. It now began to pour down rain, but it
did not dampen our enthusiasm. Finally we were gonna leave this awful place.

[illfated]

continued from above...

As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line across
the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak, they began
firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing in various
directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched
forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation. We
told them of our conversation with the police commander and of the
commander's assurances. The sheriffs informed us there were definatley no buses waiting.
The commander had lied to us only to get us to move from his location.

We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as
there was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West
Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in
their City. These were code words for if you are poor and black, you
are not crossing the Mississippi River and you were not getting out of New
Orleans. But, we were not poor and black, we were professional people of all races,
visitors to this city, and we were treated in the same manner.


Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from the
rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the end decided to
build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain Expressway on the center
divide, between the O'Keefe and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we
would be visible to everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated
freeway and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be
seen buses.

All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the
same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to be
turned away. Some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no, others to
be verbally berated and humiliated. Thousands of New Orleaners were
prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the City on foot.

Meanwhile, the only two City shelters sank further into squalor and
disrepair. The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw
workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could
be hotwired. All were packed with people trying to escape the misery New
Orleans had become.

Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water delivery
truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! A mile or so down
the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-rations on a tight
turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in broken shopping carts. We
were desperate but surviving.

Now secure with the two necessities, food and water; cooperation,
community, and creativity flowered. We organized a clean up and hung garbage bags
from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We
designated a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids built an elaborate enclosure
for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas, and other scraps. We even
organized a food recycling system where individuals could swap out
parts of C-rations (applesauce for babies and candies for kids!).

This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. When
individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out
for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to find water for your
kids or food for your parents. When these basic needs were met, people began to
look out for each other, working together and constructing a community.

If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and water
in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration and the
ugliness would not have set in.

Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing
families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our encampment grew
to 80 or 90 people.

From a woman with a battery powered radio we learned that the media was
talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and news
organization saw us on their way into the City. Officials were being
asked what they were going to do about all those families living up on the
freeway? The officials responded they were going to take care of us.
Some of us got a sinking feeling. "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to
it.

Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was
correct. Just as dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of
his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get off the
fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its blades to
blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the sheriff loaded up his
truck with OUR food and water.

Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law
enforcement agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or
congealed into groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they saw
"mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay together" was
impossible because the agencies would force us into small atomized
groups.

In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we
scattered once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the dark, we
sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway on Cilo Street. We
were hiding from possible criminal elements but equally and definitely, we
were hiding from the police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and
shoot-to-kill policies.

The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact with
New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out by an urban
search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the airport and managed to
catch a ride with the National Guard. The two young guardsmen apologized for
the limited response of the Louisiana guards. They explained that a large
section of their unit was in Iraq and that meant they were shorthanded
and were unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned.

We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. The
airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a press of
humanity as flights were delayed for several hours longer while George Bush
landed briefly at the airport for a "publicity photo op". After being evacuated on a coast
guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.

There the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief effort
continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where we
were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses did not have
air-conditioners. In the dark, hundreds if us were forced to share two
filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with
any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) we were
subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches.

Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been
confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal detectors. Yet, no
food had been provided to the men, women, children, elderly, disabled as
they sat for hours waiting to be "medically screened" to make sure we were not
carrying any communicable diseases.

This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart-felt
reception given to us by the ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker
give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered
us money and toiletries with words of welcome. Throughout, the official
relief effort was callous, inept, and racist. There was more suffering than
need be. Lives were lost that did not need to be lost. I'm just glad to be back in
Nevada.

[Chad82GT]

Why didn't they cut their convention short when they learned a hurricane was about to hit a city that is built mostly below sea level?

[illfated]

::shrugs:: tourists... :nuts:

[Guffinator]

On Channel 2 news tonight they had some store managers from the Galleria that were talking about refugees coming in with the Red Cross debit cards and buying extravagant stuff such as $250 bracelets.

One of the ladies was really pissed saying 'I donated money, that's MY money they're spending on jewelry!'

[gt350mustang]

guff, my wife said the same thing about people going to walmart. they were buying play stations and games along with large t.v.'s .

[browzin]

This is just the last section of a long story submitted to the Lone Star Military Vehicle Preservation Association by a US veteran who 'volunteered' for five days and to the tune of 5k... I highly recommend reading the full post at http://lonestar-mvpa.org/events/2005/05_Katrina.htm

"It's almost midnight and I've just crossed the border into Texas. One more odd thing happened on the way home. A Ford Crown Victoria was tailgating me on the Interstate. After a couple of minutes he pulled up next to me and hailed me on the loudspeaker. The only two words I could make out were "left tire". Arm out my window, wave thanks, took the exit not 50 yards away. At the top of the ramp, there was a well-lighted gas station. I went in to ask the owner if he minded me changing my tire under his lights. He had no problem with that, would I like a fresh pot of coffee? Yes sir, I would.

Because I was back in Texas, I had placed my weapon and holster in the glove box of the truck. I had also locked the passenger door so that no one could steal the weapon while I was in the gas station. I went to the back of the truck to get the many tools required to change my flat tire.

As I was dragging the tools out, I heard voices next to the truck. I looked down the drivers' side towards the front. There stood three 'gangsta's'. All 3 were black and naked from the waist up. They were very heavily tattooed, all kinds of symbols and stylized block writing. They were young and wiry muscular and very fit looking. Their pants hung very low and several inches of underpants were showing. My gun was beyond reach, I had a ¾ inch ratchet in my hands, but I thought this is it John, you are dead meat.

The tallest oldest one looked at me and smiled. "Sir", he said, "we know what you done been doing". I didn't know what he meant. He told me he meant he knew I had come from New Orleans. How did he know? "You stink like the dead, man". Ahhh, I hadn't noticed. He wanted to shake my hand and thank me. Of course, grabbing a man's hand is the perfect set-up for punching him in the head. I had no choice. I grasped my 18" Craftsman tighter, and then I shook his hand. They asked what was I doing here. Flat tire. He asked why was I moving so bent over. I told him, I'm in a lot of pain.

He swore at me, then told his two brothers to get my tools off of the truck. I asked him what the hell was he doing? "We is changing your tire, old man, you go sit over there and watch. My Ol' Daddy would whup us all upside the head if he saw us watch an old man change a tire without helping".

What they lacked in experience, they sure made up with enthusiasm. All three were dripping with sweat within a couple of minutes, swinging that six foot cheater bar. T hirty minutes later they are almost finished, the spare is being hoisted back up the winch. The oldest one turned to me, "Sir", he said, "I know that you will now offer us money, but my Ol' Daddy would whup us all if we took it from you". I turned and walked back in to the gas station. I came out with another cup of coffee and three tall cold beers. I can't drink these beers. I'll just have to set them down here. They sat with me. I shook their hands and thanked them. "No sir", said the oldest, "we thank you".

Several hours later, I am back at my house. It takes 15 minutes for me to get down from the truck. Another five minutes to get in the house. I sit down and take a double dose of painkillers. What is wrong with my eyes?

I'm crying. I just can't stop crying..

I could have done so much more."