Accounts from the Field

Oklahoma

Camp Gruber Report from a Tulsa Peace Fellowship Member Hello Friends and Family: Just wanted to share a bit about Camp Gruber. Dennis and I, as Red Cross Disaster Action Team Volunteers, worked there from 1:00 p.m. Saturday through 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning. Those sixteen hours were an eye opener.

Thirty-nine buses of evacuees started arriving around 10:00 p.m., about 2,000 people of every age and walk of life. First they were triaged by doctors and nurses, with some going to area hospitals. I heard that there were a few deaths before the buses reached us, but I haven't confirmed that. The ones that needed minor treatment or could wait until the next day were registered and assigned to a dorm, a former army barracks.

Dennis headed up a men's dorm where he eventually helped about 240 men find a place to stay. I headed the women with special needs dorm, elderly women, women with mobility problems, and other health issues. Our mission was to reassure them, get them fed, showered, in clean clothes, and in bed. What our actual major mission turned out to be was to listen, cry, and hug.

In my own experience, I and my helpers welcomed each woman to our dorm, helped her shower, got her some clean clothes and a plate of hot lasagna, and let her pick out which bed she wanted. As we brought each woman into the room they were just amazed that these metal army beds with clean white sheets were for their use. They had a difficult time realizing that we asked nothing of them but to let us get them some fresh clothing and something to eat. Most would not sit down on the bed until they had a shower, and several were reluctant to exit that warm shower. You see, some of these people had been on that bus for several days, and none had bathed since last Monday or Tuesday. They had waded and swam through that contaminated water up to their necks, cut holes in roofs to escape their homes (60 and 70 year old women), slept out of doors on top of bridges, inside and outside of the Super Dome, and had generally survived in conditions that we can't even imagine, and seen things that I don't care to repeat.

They wanted to talk. We listened. And listened. And cried. They stories they told were horrendous, and I will never forget their words and faces. I sit crying as I type these words. But almost to the last one, they had tales of courage, and hope, of people helping each other, or of funny things they encountered. These strangers to each other chose beds next to new friends and shared what they had left of their lives. The fortunate ones had a garbage bag with a few pieces of soiled clothing. Some had only the small toiletry bag issued to them when they arrived. Each thing was so precious to them and they expressed so much gratitude for what we, as Oklahoman's were doing. They were so thankful to be in a safe, secure place, until they can figure out what to do now. They were concerned for us and telling us that we looked tired and needed to rest.

Some of these people will only be there a few days, just needing to be in one location long enough to notify friends and relatives were they are so that they can be taken in. Others might take longer. Most not only lost all of their possessions, and sometimes family, they no longer have jobs to go to since the city will not be functioning in the foreseeable future. They must find work to be able to support their families again.

These buses had been turned away from several locations on their way to us. The Tulsa Red Cross had a little over a day to mobilize and find a place for these displaced people. A couple of ladies told me that they didn't like Texas (actually that is an understatement) and that the people were mean to them and wouldn't let them stay. And then one lady told of a man outside of Dallas that saw the buses and bought a breakfast for each and every one of them.

They could not stop talking. It was 6:30 a.m. Sunday morning before the last one finally went to bed. You didn't need to say much, just listen, pat a shoulder, hold a hand, or give a hug. One woman was kind of quiet and I went over to sit on her bed, during a not-so-busy moment, and tried to get her to talk to me. She started telling me that she hadn't spoken with her 8 year old grandson since Monday. She said that he knew her cell phone number and that all of the family had been coordinating with a sister in another state, but that no one had heard from this little boy, and then she broke down in tears. As we stood there with arms around each other crying, I tried to give her what reassurances that I could, telling her that one of the things the Red Cross does best is reuniting family members. I only hope I have told her the truth.

I watched people, old, young, families, and a few pets, standing in line for clean, new, and used clothing for hours, finally coming away with new flip-flops, a t-shirt or two and some shorts or pants. As I walked by this block long line while picking up some things for my women, I tried to take a moment to smile and say a few kinds words to many. This was their first impression of our state and they kept commenting on how nice and friendly we were. I told them that they were now honorary Oklahomans so they had better get used to it.

Dennis's experiences were similar to mine but with many more people, and some angry over all that they had endured. I think that he handled things in an expert way, diffusing volatile situations with kind words that they hadn't heard from anyone in many days. He said that when he spoke softly and kindly to them he could see the anger and despair drain from their faces. He listened to many of their tragic stories and empathized as much as he could. We bought some baseballs on the way to Braggs and when he would see someone starting to get upset he would throw them a baseball or football to them and their faces would light up that someone was giving them something to do and entrusting them with a possession for that dorm to share.

Thanks for listening to me.

Rae Weese