In the frigid darkness of early Wednesday morning, Louisiana State Police troopers moved from tent to tent in an encampment under an overpass in downtown New Orleans. Police told residents they needed to pack up. A bus was waiting to take them to temporary accommodation.
Ronald Lewis listened to the officers' arguments. Three meals a day, a recreation area with a television, and 24-hour security in a cavernous warehouse isolated from everything he knows. He said he cycled in and out of prison for years. The options presented to him were too similar to the existence he wanted to leave behind.
Instead of taking the bus, he loaded all his belongings into a shopping cart and pushed it along. He wasn't sure where he was going. But as the Super Bowl came to town and he pitched his tent about a block from the Superdome, where the game would be played, he knew his life and routine were about to be turned upside down.
“I don't like it, man,” Mr. Lewis, 65, said, standing next to a cart overflowing with belongings. “You're forcing me out of my comfort zone.”
Lewis was faced with a choice this week as the state began a costly effort to relocate people living in camps in the city center. Officials had hoped to keep the game out of sight, as the game would be in February and the festivities leading up to Mardi Gras would flood New Orleans with tourists.
For months, state officials have been trying to move homeless people further and further away from the bustling city center, clashing with city leaders and homeless advocacy groups in the process. The encampment was forcibly cleared in October ahead of a Taylor Swift concert, and some of those displaced ended up in an area under a freeway overpass that was cleared on Wednesday.
But this week's new effort, led by Gov. Jeff Landry, comes after a man with a gun and explosives plowed his truck into a New Year's Day crowd on Bourbon Street, killing 14 people and injuring dozens more. It took place as New Orleans grappled with pain and fear. .
“As we begin to welcome the world to the city of New Orleans, it is in the best interest of the safety and security of all of our citizens to provide humane and safe shelter for those who are unhoused,” Landry, a Republican, said in a statement. said.
Mr. Landry sought to accomplish that by leveraging emergency orders issued after the attacks that required highways and bridges to be secured and roads and sidewalks to be kept clean and accessible.
Officials said the plan was to provide evacuees with hastily prepared warehouse space in an industrial area far from downtown. Officials billed the temporary facility as a resource hub, offering space for pets and shuttles to transport people to work and appointments. The plan will remain in effect until at least this year, after Mardi Gras ends on March 4.
Not all potential residents were impressed. Some city leaders and advocates who work with homeless people say the plan will further disrupt the lives of already precarious residents and require ongoing efforts to help people secure permanent housing. He claims that his efforts have been halted. The city is working on its own initiative with the goal of accommodating 1,500 people by the end of the year. 822 is already connected to the housing.
“I think this shows that we're willing to accept a lot of harm to unhoused people in exchange for not having unhoused people show up during these big events.” said Angela Ouchalek, part of a grassroots organization helping people. New Orleans Homeless and Houseless Advocacy, Research and Rights Monitoring, or the Homeless Experience, called NOHHARM.
The confusion and concern began this week around the same time state police began handing out flyers and posting signs detailing the relocation plan. The situation intensified when buses began transporting people to warehouses called transition centers.
Christopher Aylwen said he was talking with friends on the sidewalk around 5:30 a.m. when a plainclothes police officer approached him. A police officer told him he was “obstructing the sidewalk.” He said he was given an ultimatum: “Get on the bus or go to jail.” So he got in his car and drove to an unfamiliar area about 30 minutes away.
At the center, I was given donuts and coffee and asked to wait. “It was freezing cold,” he said. He took photographs that captured vast, sparsely equipped spaces that he considered more suitable for storing industrial equipment than for human habitation.
On Wednesday, some people taken to the center said they were told by center staff that they could not come and go freely and could only leave if they had work to do. There was a 9pm curfew.
State officials said Wednesday that the stay at the center was voluntary and there were no curfews or other travel restrictions. Officials said the heater was working, but the entrance door was left open while furniture and equipment was being moved, allowing cold air to enter. By the afternoon, more than 120 people had registered.
“From an operational standpoint, it appears to be going as well as we expected,” said Mike Steele, a spokesman for the Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness Agency. “I was doing it,” he added. ”
Still, some were skeptical of officials' promises and worried about what would happen next. “I thought about it a lot,” Raymond Lewis, 56, said of the setbacks that come with living on the streets. She said her shoes were stolen while she was sleeping and a stranger spat on her. Still, his distrust of the state outweighed that. “When those in power decide you're not important, you run into problems,” he said.
Erica and Timothy Dudley had to adapt to tough circumstances after being evicted from their apartment last year, but they've built up something they're proud of. “We always make things work,” says Dudley, 41. “My husband, he tried to make me as comfortable as possible.”
They were using one tent as a living area and the other as a bathroom. Friends who went to another location left them a tent, which they converted into a kitchen and storage room.
Now everything is packed. They were concerned that Mr Dudley was being kept away from doctors treating his mental health problems and that if they did not go, he would be arrested. But Dudley held out a glimmer of hope that maybe the chaos would lead to a positive outcome.
“I hope they do what they say they're going to do,” Dudley said. “I really need help.”
