Terror in The Rockaways

Think things are better in the Rockaways? That was taken yesterday, November 3rd. 

Still, no power. No homes. Flooding. And now gang fights...

Things out there are bad, folks. There is looting all over the place. This person went to the Rockaways and volunteered. Here is her account of the absolute destruction that is still out there. The major point I'm seeing here is: how can most of Brooklyn be functioning normally, as if the hurricane had never happened, when there are people fending for their lives in freezing whether with what seems to be zero aide?

The following account was posted on a volunteer's blog that is working for the Occupy Sandy initiative that is based in Brooklyn. There is a list of shuttle opportunities to help out there as well as sites to drop off donations. There are places on here too that need new volunteers to go out and help distributing supplies. Now, the guy on the page says this account was emailed to him and that it's real. I can't confirm whether or not it's authentic because I don't know the guy that keeps this blog, but with everything going on right now, I wouldn't doubt it's real. The Rockaways are far out there, and it's difficult to get resources out there. You be the judge. Here's the site with the information:
How To Help The Rockaways

And here’s a letter from the Rockaways, it’s for real and it’s awful.

We went from block to block asking people if they needed anything. Some people took. Others declined and told us to give it to others in greater need. One person suggested we go further down “where things are REALLY bad.” Driving down Cross Bay Blvd some more, handing out more supplies to people we saw straggling along that road, we stopped in what looked like a makeshift staging area, replete with a FEMA truck, some fire trucks, an a PBA truck feeding some of the policemen in what looked like a town square.There were hundreds of people – Asians, Latinos, Whites, African Americans, Russians – seemingly encamped there, obviously stressed, some looking like they were in dire straights. The area looked like a war zone. All we saw again was just a docking station for people to charge their mobile phones. Where was the food? The water? Blankets? Coats? Ray, Paul and I were horrified.In the small park/’town square’ there was a small fold-up table with two guys there and meager supplies – they mentioned they were from a local church and that they had also been going from place to place doing what they possibly could. That was it.I ran over to what looked like the Captain within a group of policemen and asked if we could start passing out food and drinks in that spot. He assented. I ran back to the car and we opened up the trunk.Within seconds, people saw what we were doing and it was a mob scene. Hands reaching in panicked to get something… Within a very short time–maybe 20 minutes, almost all of our supplies were gone.

We left that square to go to a final destination on 91st street–a place where Ray’s friend lives. We got to that road and were horrified at the tragedy that happened there…  A woman named Sharon who told us a great many things about how people have no power, no internet, no gas (or cars destroyed), no food, no shelter, no blankets, but yet they are afraid to leave their shattered worlds because there is a gang war going on not too far East. We met a few men who had set up a fire in a very safe pit, were cooking some food, had set up supplies for their block. One of them told us how there were 13 gun fights the night before, they were counting. They could hear the shots and the cries. Terrifying. There are children living on that block. That block is cut off from the world.

They all asked us, each person we met: “Does anyone know what is happening here? Why hasn’t anyone come to help us yet?”

As dusk began to fall, I grew concerned that we had outstayed our visit there. One of the people told us that after 5pm things started to get rough, and by 6pm, “bad things are going to start happening here again.” The couple of men at the fire on 91st seemed to have that steely, confident reserve as block elders that whatever came, they were going to deal with it. They seemed to be the rocks of that particular community. Imagine that kind of thing going on all over Staten Island, the Rockaways, and beyond? There is hope in the strength of a community.Ray had purchased a few pounds of ham and bread for his friend, who actually wasn’t home–he was out doing relief work himself, despite the fact that his own home was destroyed with a large piece of boardwalk slicing it right through. We decided we’d bring our last bit of food and drink supplies back to that park we were at earlier.One of us noticed a woman hunched over with a baby in the park. People were overlooking her existence, as everyone seemed to be concerned with the coming of night and saving their own skins. I bent over and asked her if she needed anything. She said “I have four other children in the car. We don’t have a house anymore.” She had the smiling, reassuring face of a mom that was trying to make her little child feel things would be ok. Her eyes showed terror.I gave her the two pounds of ham and the bread, along with water, and I said to her “we are with you ma’am.” I thought of my own children, and spoke to her girl, maybe a 2-year-old, with fear and hurt in her eyes, definitely she was afraid of a stranger, I said “little girl, its going to be all right. I’m sorry this happened, but you’re going to be ok.”I don’t know that is true for a fact. But I want it to be.

As I walked away from that young mother and her child, I began to cry. That doesn’t happen too often.

We need to somehow make this all right for these people. I implore you all to find a way to do that, in your own ways…

-Joe Bachana