Lack of preparation compounds a tragedy

It is reassuring to see my fellow classmates taking an active role in relief and reconstruction efforts in the Gulf States. I hope that through these efforts we will learn not only the importance of helping those struck by disaster but also the enormity of our government's lack of preparation. We cannot dictate the weather, but we can dictate our response to its effects.

The grisly scenes on the evening news of the dead, the dying and the displaced in the days following the disaster compelled me to volunteer in Baton Rouge, La. Louisiana State University had converted its assembly center and field house into a triage center and special needs facility. I learned that LSU students had been a major component of the volunteer effort at the site but were returning to class on Sept. 6, so I arranged to arrive in Baton Rouge on Tuesday and stay through Saturday.

Arriving in Louisiana, it was obvious that the outpouring of aid from all around the country and the world was tremendous; there were literally mountains of food, water, linens, toiletries, clothing, baby items and medical supplies. Physicians, EMTs and nurses from all over the country came to Baton Rouge to volunteer their services; local residents opened their homes to strangers; and schools offered to enroll students who had been evacuated.

However, I also witnessed a disturbing lack of coordination between the Federal Emergency Management Agency, national nonprofits and local government agencies. Much of the donated supplies could not get to the people who needed them, and the neediest often had no idea where to go to receive supplies. I was equipped with a computer, fax machine, telephone line and the help of a local resident, and even then I had trouble locating the information. What did they expect someone who has just fled from their home with simply the clothing on her back to do? The phone lines at FEMA and the Red Cross were always busy; I was never able to reach anyone there. Many of these doctors, nurses and EMTs who had traveled hundreds of miles to help had to wade through mounds of red tape.

At the LSU facility, we received dozens of walk-in patients that we had to turn away. FEMA directed these people to us even though we were not supplied to treat them. And while our facility did not have the supplies to treat these evacuees, there were field hospitals sitting empty within a few miles of us. For example, on my first night in Baton Rouge I worked in the "Kmart hospital" set up by a group of Iowa physicians and nurses in a building that once housed a Kmart along the city's main highway. The building sat virtually empty for the week.

Even worse was the lack of information available to us. The facility attempted to compose lists of shelters, food serveries, health clinics and supply distribution centers on its own for evacuees who were coming to us, begging for help. There was no registry that provided this information; a nurse and I manually created handouts using information we pieced together from websites and news broadcasts. We had a diabetic man sit down in front of us who had been looking for information on clinics that could provide him with a prescription for his diabetes medication — he had left his bottle in New Orleans. As we looked for the information, he began sweating and convulsing; he was rushed inside.

That same day, a young black lady asked me where she could find a wheelchair with head support; her daughter has cerebral palsy, and they fled New Orleans with very little. After speaking with a manager, I learned that we had no wheelchairs to give. Upon calling the FEMA group located in the downtown convention center and explaining to them that I was working at the special needs facility at LSU and needed a wheelchair for this woman's daughter, I was told they had no idea where she could go for help. They then offered to transfer me to the special needs facility at LSU. I wasn't exactly sure how transferring me to myself would help the situation but I declined their generous offer. These are a few examples of the problems which should never have arisen, and which contributed to the constant burnout of volunteers and workers. I am still awed by their level of dedication in the face of those frustrations.

I hope that as today's Princetonians become tomorrow's leaders, they take with them the lessons learned from this tragedy. Eugene Franco is a sophomore from Brooklyn, N.Y. He can be reached at efranco@princeton.edu.