How Baton Rouge responds after the flood

I was living in Baton Rouge in 2005 when Hurricane Katrina hit and what seemed like half the population of New Orleans ended up in my neighborhood; and again, only a month later, when Rita — an even more powerful storm than Katrina — made landfall. Neither event was pretty, but only one dominated the news.

To this day, people on the Gulf Coast call Rita “the forgotten storm” because although it caused more than $ 12 billion worth of damage, prompted the largest evacuation in U. S. history and destroyed entire communities, Rita didn’t mess with New Orleans. It hurt, but we managed.

And manage across racial, socioeconomic and religious lines. Which is why when 9/ 11 happened, the people of Baton Rouge took turns to guard Muslim- owned businesses.

This summer, Baton Rouge has been in the news a lot, though. That’s because it was where police fatally shot Alton Sterling, a black man, prompting protests, then the slaying of three police officers by a former Marine. These events made the front page and 6- o’clock news from coast to coast, though the racially diverse funeral services weren’t covered.

Now that Baton Rouge and communities like it are under water, the resulting response hasn’t been an outpouring of love, money and concern that we saw in the Big Easy after Katrina, or a gasp of despair and sympathy after the shootings. It’s merely a big shrug.

I now live in New Jersey, far from the scene of the misery. But here’s some firsthand testimony from my friends in Baton Rouge.

Becky Moppert: “I saw the ... reporting of the situation, but it barely scratches the surface of what’s really going on. The flooding is really unbelievable. ... My nephew Kyler has a fishing boat and has spent the past two days rescuing people.”

Allan Lenhardt: “Water everywhere. ... We’re praying there are not windstorms as the ground is so supersaturated that the trees will start falling. The national media seem to have forgotten we exist — since black and white people are working together to help one another I guess there’s no story here.” Is that true? Is the face of this disaster so badly at odds with the national narrative that we don’t know what to do with it?

Blacks, whites, Latinos, Catholics, Baptists, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Republicans, Democrats and the family pet are all working together to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, rescue the endangered, and comfort the bereaved. The mainly white volunteers of the “Cajun Navy” are also at it, rescuing citizens of all shades. Everyone whose own home, spiritual or individual, is still intact is doing what they can to help.

Thirty thousand have been rescued. At least 13 have died. More than 60,000 homes have been destroyed or damaged. The federal government has declared Louisiana to be a disaster zone, and both Louisiana and Mississippi are in a state of emergency.

The levees are bursting. And America yawns.

Jennifer Anne Moses is the author of four books, including Bagels and Grits: A Jew on the Bayou.