Miriam Paine holds a photograph of her sister, Wendy Wakeford, at the New Life Christian Center 9/11 Memorial in San Antonio. Photo by Kin Man Hui.
By Brian Chasnoff
September 2011
A decade ago today, on a morning that four passenger planes plunged into the Pentagon, the towers of the World Trade Center and a patch of Pennsylvania farmland, Miriam Paine watched history unfold on a small, black-and-white television screen in San Antonio.
For her, the terror was vivid nonetheless.
Dr. John. Photo by Nicole Fruge.
By Brian Chasnoff
February 2008
NEW ORLEANS — In the shadow of condemned public housing, a triumphant Carnival day dawned in this city’s Treme neighborhood, where homegrown Mardi Gras culture emerged at sunrise and marched irrepressibly on as it’s done for decades.
By Brian Chasnoff
February 2008
NEW ORLEANS — Mention Mardi Gras, and Arthur Brocato’s cheeks start to glow. For the Mid-City vendor of Italian desserts, Carnival this year finally is reason to celebrate.
Endymion, the krewe that stages the biggest and most spectacular parade of the ongoing 12-day festival, once again rolled past his shop Saturday afternoon after a two-year detour caused by Hurricane Katrina, marking both a symbolic and very profitable milestone for this once-devastated section of the city.
“It’s a big deal for the morale of the area,” Brocato said, his cheeks flushed. “It’s a sign that things are getting back to normal and this is a viable area to live.”
New Orleans refugees Lashondra and Lamaar Fefie. Photo by Lisa Krantz.
By Brian Chasnoff
September 2005
NEW ORLEANS — Thousands of hurricane victims, some injured and all suffering, had been trapped for days Friday without food, water or medical supplies at the downtown convention center.
The streets outside were littered with garbage, feces and debris. A sea of angry and desperate people waited for rescue in the heat outside the sprawling complex.
“You’ve got women, babies, old folks,” screamed Louis Martin from east New Orleans. “We all are stuck here with no police protection.”
With no electricity or running water, the inside of the complex had become a fetid dump filled with human waste.
Tears streaming down his face, Lamar Fefie thrust out his swollen, rotting hand and bandaged wrist. He had ripped open his wrist on a broken window while escaping from the hurricane, he said.
“My hand’s dead,” he cried. “I can’t even move my fingers. I ask police to take me to the hospital, but all they do is pull guns on me.”
Refugees are rescued from St. Bernard Parish. Photo by Lisa Krantz.
By Brian Chasnoff
September 2005
NEW ORLEANS — Hundreds of exhausted refugees from the parish just east of this city staggered to dry land here Wednesday after being ferried by state and local vessels across the Mississippi River.
Thousands of residents still may be stranded in the region, awaiting someone to find them perched on levees and rooftops, officials from St. Bernard Parish said.
“Everybody lost everything they own,” Desaraye Michel, 30, said after stepping from the docked ferry that plucked her from a levee.
Many who kept their lives had other parish residents to thank, numerous refugees said.
“There were no police, no official help,” said Greg Dising, 39, who rescued others while riding on a shrimping boat. “It was just neighbors helping one another, that was it.”
