Get up, get out and flee Hurrican Katrina

Hurricane Katrina, born in the Bahamas Aug. 23, 2005 and nurtured by the warm gulf waters, became a 175-mph monster.
I’ve heard for decades the media call New Orleans “The Atlantis of America,” and considered it the most vulnerable U.S. city to a devastating hurricane.
Katrina, a Category 5 hurricane made these predictions a reality.
Hundreds of thousands of people, including my family, fled for our lives. We chose not to ride out the storm in our homes. Having the financial means, we could flee the death kneel of Katrina.
Many followed a Louisiana tradition of riding out the storm. Several of my cousins and two of my uncles chose to stay in the city. I fled to Texas where I found refuge with at least 25 of my immediate family members.
There were many without the financial means to leave the region and they were trapped in the city. They did not have money, cars, nor set destinations. They were the jobless, poor – the working poor of the city – the elderly, the sick and the future of the city (our children).
The Louisiana Superdome, a last minute “safe harbor” was offered to the citizens.
Katrina barreled through Barataria Bay, at the foot of the state, on Aug. 29, around sunrise with 145-mph winds and pushing more than a 20-foot surge of water over the region. Like a flash, the entire region was under water. Flood walls failed and the bowl known as New Orleans started to fill. People were trapped in attics, stranded on roofs and drowning in the streets of New Orleans and surrounding areas. The Superdome, that so called “safe harbor,” became a den of horror and a living hell for all evacuees, consuming devastation all around. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness enveloped us who fled the storm as we watched the devastation unfold before our eyes.
My cousin who chose to stay behind in the 9th Ward found himself evacuating his home through his roof. He and several other evacuees rowed a boat to the Superdome only to find more mayhem.
“There were dead bodies, children getting raped and other scenes from hell,” he said.
Days later, when help finally arrived, he made his way to a shelter and someone picked him up to reunite him with the rest of the family.
As a current resident of Baton Rouge and a college student, I did not see it necessary to evacuate, but I am happy I did.
Searching the Internet and watching TV, I see that thousands of people do not know where their family is. One member of my family was unaccounted for and everyone was in shambles. It is saddening to know that if I hadn’t gotten up off of my a** I would probably be looking for mine too.
Several members of the Pinkins family contributed to this editorial.