Extending a Hand, Uneasily

Here in the heart of Cajun country, where there’s been an outpouring of donations and sympathy for hurricane evacuees from New Orleans, there is also a palpable sense of unease.

Desperate strangers seem to be taking over small communities, some of which have doubled in size almost overnight. Officials estimate there are almost 50,000 evacuees in 131 shelters around the state. Television images of looting and rioting in New Orleans have tarnished the refugees, even though law enforcement officials here and elsewhere say there has been little increase in crime.

“Fear runs rampant really easily,” said Lt. Craig Stansbury, a spokesman for the Lafayette Parish Sheriff’s Office. “One story begins with a person shoplifting. By the time it is heard the third time, it is a major incident.”

Stansbury said that Lafayette had taken in thousands of evacuees this week and that the only bump in crime had been in shoplifting, although the law enforcement agency has chased erroneous reports of a robbery at a grocery store, a crowd breaking into a Wal-Mart to steal guns and looting at a sporting goods store.

“People have become unsettled,” Stansbury said. “That’s normal. People think that they [the evacuees] are taking over. People see what’s happening in New Orleans and worry that it will happen here. Everything is under control, but it is normal for people to be a bit upset.”

In the region that is home to Louisiana’s French-speaking Cajuns, the sense of insularity is palpable. The potential for a cultural clash is easy to understand.

Marlene Lee, a sociologist at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, who has studied poverty in Louisiana, said an unusual feature of New Orleans is that most of its residents have lived there all their lives.

“That’s very rare in the United States,” Lee said. “The attitude of people in some of the places outside New Orleans would be, ‘They are different from us.’ Because of the public image of New Orleans, added to these other public images people are now getting, it highlights the differences between the city and rest of the state.”

In some communities, residents are blurting out “them” to refer to the evacuees, unintentionally emphasizing the city’s perceived otherness. That doesn’t sit well with people who were forced to flee.

“People think we are so different being from New Orleans; they think it’s a low-life city,” said Channel Holt, a lifelong resident who fled with her family.

Holt, an oncology nurse, said it was obvious to her that many people in other parts of the state viewed residents of New Orleans with a mix of affection and unease. She said that when families from outside the city brought their children to the hospital for treatment, they stayed at a hotel close by and were loath to venture far afield.

“We are law-abiding. We work hard and want to protect our property,” she said. “We want our neighborhoods safe, just like everyone else. We don’t want hoodlums wandering the streets. Now we are going to be the scapegoats for every crime that happens in the state.”

Not every crime, but certainly some of it. At an office complex across from Cajundome, which is housing 6,000 evacuees on the campus of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, a woman who would not give her name explained the local view.

“New Orleans is a place we go to have fun, but we don’t want those people to come to our towns,” she said.

The crime wave hysteria, she said, ran through her office to such an extent that her supervisor sent an e-mail to all employees urging them to discount the rumors and assure them the workplace was as safe as ever.

Bernadette Lee, who hosts a news program on Lafayette radio station KPEL, said that on Tuesday, the vast majority of callers initially were seeking ways to help evacuees. But by about noon, things had turned negative. “It was all unsubstantiated rumor. Not one thing checked out,” she said.

Authorities in Baton Rouge have repeatedly addressed the evacuee rumors, calling news conferences to discount stories of home break-ins, carjackings and a supposed riot near the capitol. Police have complained that they’ve spent too much time chasing phantom crimes.

Barbara LaBauve of Baton Rouge said women were being told not to travel alone and to avoid parking lots. Officials at the hospital where she works have tightened the security rules and staff now must wear identification tags at all times.

There are other factors at play. The displaced are likely to be around for months, if not longer. The stress on the infrastructure and schools is already great.

In Alexandria, in north-central Louisiana, radio talk shows are flooded with concerned callers, anxious both for the welfare of the evacuees and fretting that the new arrivals might take work away from them.

“I’ll give them food, blankets and all that,” said one caller, “but they can’t have my job.”

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Katrina’s refugees

As many as 13 states and the District of Columbia are providing help or housing to victims, or have offered to:

Louisiana: 50,000 in Red Cross shelters; does not include those still in the Superdome or evacuated to Houston’s Astrodome.

Texas: About 24,000 in Red Cross shelters; does not include those in the Astrodome.

Florida: 13,500 in hotels and 1,100 in shelters.

Tennessee: 13,000 in shelters, with the number likely to double in a few days.

Mississippi: 12,500 in public shelters; does not include those in private homes or hotels.

Alabama: Working to set up housing for 10,000.

Arkansas: 2,000 to 4,000 in shelters; a total of 20,000 to be housed.

Georgia: 900 in 12 shelters.

Missouri: 500 in Red Cross shelters.

Illinois: 400 to 500; 35 enrolled in Illinois schools.

Washington, D.C.: 400 to be housed in an armory.

South Carolina: Only a few in Red Cross shelters, with a proposal to house 5,000 in large buildings in Columbia.

Oklahoma: A few hundred have contacted the Red Cross.

Maryland: Seven counties have been contacted by victims who want to enroll students.

Source: Associated Press

Los Angeles Times