‘Mama’ Leaves Her Beloved Biloxi Home

In her 35 years in a federally subsidized housing project here, Gladys Lewis reared five children, nine grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. She is such a familiar figure at Oakwood Village that just about everyone in the 100-unit complex calls her ‘Mama’ -- either that or the ‘hood grandma, a nickname she likes just as well.

Tucked off in a grim neighborhood that abuts a sewage treatment facility, the red brick project is no one’s idea of an oasis -- especially not now, with mountains of hurricane-damaged possessions heaped on the sidewalks. But Lewis calls it her island: the only place she ever wanted to live.

On Thursday, Lewis grasped a cane in one hand and a plaid plastic tote bag filled with clothes in the other as she abandoned her island, joining the migration of those whose lives have been upended by Hurricane Katrina. Lewis, along with everyone else at Oakwood Village, was ordered out by housing development authorities who declared the units too damaged -- and too filled with toxic mold -- to inhabit. Some residents left on their own, moving in with friends or relatives. Others vowed to fight an eviction process that could take weeks to enforce.

But Lewis and her husband Bobby, both 67, said they had no choice but to board a bus bound for Meridian, Miss., three hours away. “This ain’t right, making us move to someplace we never been before, where we don’t know nobody,” she said.

Lewis said she understood that from Alabama to New Orleans, thousands were being relocated. Although she had never been far from Biloxi, she acknowledged that she at least was remaining in her home state.

“This is going to be better than nothing,” she said. “I’m too old to be out on the street.”

Few of her neighbors shared her stoicism. Cassie Vinson, 32, said she would rather go to a local shelter with her four daughters than move to one of the four cities where Biloxi authorities were offering to transport them. Vinson worked as a hotel housekeeper before Katrina destroyed the hotel.

She spent seven years at the housing project, paying $72 a month for the three-bedroom unit where she and her daughters weathered the storm by crawling into the attic.

“We don’t even know what they’d be moving us to,” she said. “It might be worse than this.”

Charles Moore, 31, moved to the project when he was 3. When the first of their five children was born 13 years ago, he and his girlfriend settled into Oakwood Village together. He said he had decided to move his family to Georgia rather than one of the locations proposed by the city housing authority.

“Man, this is too weird,” he said as he stuffed what remained of his family’s belongings into a borrowed car. “It was bad enough that the storm came through and destroyed everything. But then the housing people waited 11, 12 days after the storm to tell us we had to get out. They just came in and told us we had to be out in five days, whether we took their bus or not.”

As he toured the property Thursday morning, Biloxi Housing Authority maintenance supervisor Anthony Polite said the small apartments had taken in 3 to 5 feet of water during Katrina.

Polite said no decision had been made about whether the complex would be repaired or torn down.

He insisted that no one was being forcibly evicted. “We can’t force people out unless we have a place for them to go,” he said.

An adjuster for Union National Insurance, Pail Densford, also inspected the apartments Thursday.

“Nothing is salvageable,” he said. “I’ve been through three hurricanes before, and they were babies compared to this big, bad mama.”

Clutching his leather coat and tote bag, Bobby Lewis scanned the street, watching for the bus that would take him from the only city he has ever lived in.

“I know this is a disaster,” he said. “But I don’t see how the government can be giving all that money overseas when we’re in such trouble here. It makes it seem like our country is coming in second.”

The bus rolled up. Kenyatta Smith, a service coordinator for the housing authority, promised she would make the ride to Meridian with the Oakwood Village tenants.

“People are pretty upset,” she said. “We’re just trying to do the best we can for them.”

Before she could board, Gladys Lewis found herself surrounded by admirers, ranging from toddlers to young adults with children of their own.

“Don’t worry, babies,” she told them. “I’m going to just go, and with the help of the good Lord, I’ll be back.”