Grieve for victims, but offer help

By Joseph Baskerville

Just one week ago, New Orleans, Mississippi and Alabama felt the wrath of Hurricane Katrina.

Since then, America has watched the aftermath of this storm in sadness as people fought for their lives waiting days for aid from the federal government.

This tragedy has made many students appreciate our safety and well-being. The devastation and horrid conditions many survivors endured are extremely depressing and hard to cope with. I dealt with this disaster in the five stages of grief.

Hopefully this personal account spreads awareness and gets people to aid the victims of Katrina.

The first stage is denial.

During the first week of school, I had a problem paying attention to the story. I read the Northern Star and other media outlets and kept up with events on the Internet, but it wasn’t until Labor Day weekend that I saw actual footage of the chaos in New Orleans.

It was then I realized just how terrible a situation this hurricane had caused.

After reading a Reuters article by John Whitesides, my anger, the second stage of grief, arose.

In the article, Rep. Elijah Cummings (D-Md.) was quoted saying, “We cannot allow it to be said by history that the difference between those who lived and those who died in this great storm and flood of 2005 was nothing more than poverty, age or skin color.”

This statement by Cummings, the former head of the Congressional Black Caucus, set off a chain of events that infuriated me to no end. It took the world’s only superpower days just to send food, water and toiletries for victims.

Many poor black victims were already dead or dangerously close by the time these basic needs were met.

I was ashamed to be an aspiring journalist, as many members of the media called blacks “looters” and “refugees,” when most of these taxpaying Americans were trying to do what any of us would do under dire situations – survive.

Bargaining, the third stage of grief, was a short-lived experience.

It was too late to ask a higher power to reverse the travesties of this horrible storm.

I only begged that Hurricane Katrina would send some kind of message to our government about the Iraq war, unveil the racism that still exists in this country or reveal the simple fact that we picked the wrong candidate this past election.

Maybe this great storm will expose some important statistics about Mississippi and Louisiana that are rarely reported.

According to the 2000 census, Mississippi ranks dead-last in per capita income and 49th in median household income. Louisiana is ranked 47th in both statistical categories. Alabama is ranked 38th and 42nd, respectively.

On “Real Time with Bill Maher,” climatologist Stephan Schneider said global warming probably had something to do with the strength of Hurricane Katrina. His hypothesis probably holds more weight than my selfish and biased thinking.

In a newsvoa.com report, U.S. Health and Human Services Secretary Michael Leavitt said the aftermath of Katrina may have caused the deaths of thousands.

This melancholy statement leads me into the fourth stage, depression.

Many of us have probably been depressed after watching Hurricane Katrina news coverage. What hurts most is that after several black leaders expressed their resentment of the word, ‘refugees’ is still being used by the media.

Reuters still uses the word in its reports. It’s no wonder most people feel hopeless and helpless while watching the news. Nevertheless, the people of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama still have hope. And we are not helpless in this situation.

Today through Friday, the Northern Star, various Greek organizations and NIU are having fundraisers to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

Acceptance, the final step of grief, has driven me to take part in this relief fundraiser, knowing I can help those in need.

I can only hope that doing our part will help the victims who are coping with the aftermath of the worst American tragedy since 9/11.

Columns reflect the opinion of the author and not necessarily that of the Northern Star