From the Worldwide Faith News archives www.wfn.org
Relief Efforts in El Nino-Hammered California
From
PCUSA.NEWS@pcusa.org
Date
04 Apr 1998 16:35:10
25-March-1998
98103
Relief Efforts in El Nino-Hammered California
Slowed by Lack of Urgency
by Alexa Smith
LOUISVILLE, Ky.-Church-based disaster experts throughout California say
just about the same thing these days: Getting an interfaith group organized
to respond to El Nino is just about impossible.
The reason why? Even though mud is glugging its way through houses that
have slipped from hillside perches and pushing rocks heavy enough to stop
traffic onto coastal highways, and even though local authorities are
slapping yellow-and-red evacuation stickers on buildings, El Nino just
doesn't seem like a disaster by California standards.
It's nothing like the fires that swept through Malibu in 1996 - or even
like the earthquake that rocked Los Angeles in 1994. Though more
widespread, El Nino's overall impact has been much smaller scale - one or
two cliffside homes destroyed up north in Trinidad, four in West Hills,
another two in Studio City. Malibu was much harder hit, but Californians
admit (though no one wants to be quoted) that it's harder to muster up
sympathy for houses built - as the biblical parable warns against - on
sand. Sympathy comes even harder when those houses are built by the
supposed ultrarich, who most assume can afford to build again.
Further, the rain is temporary. As one pastor put it: "The weather is
more short term around here. You kind of forget about it a week later ...
when the sky is bright blue and it's 70 or 80 degrees."
But for those who have to live in a house hit by El Nino's mud or
rains, life is much more complicated - even in tony Malibu.
"This is a very strange, odd disaster. It is so spread out," said
Kimberly Schuler Hall, the southern California disaster coordinator for
Church World Service, the relief arm of the National Council of Churches,
one of the outlets for Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) assistance. "A
localized interfaith response is almost impossible. Most people don't see
eight damaged homes as a disaster.
"But it's a disaster if one of them is your home," said Hall, who
points out that it is not possible to insure a home against mud slides - a
reality that keeps suits between homeowners and insurance companies tied up
in the courts for years after a season like this one.
There are places where El Nino's effects are obvious. Families fled
about 140 homes near Rio Nido in north-coastal California because of sludge
and water. More than 100 houses are still under water in nearby Clear
Lake. In southern California's Laguna Beach, 13 homes slipped down the
slopes of two canyons nearly a month ago, displacing about 40 - mostly
lower income Hispanic renters - and killing two others.
In Laguna Beach and Clear Lake ecumenical response teams have been
organized or are in the works.
But those seem to be the exceptions - which is why less than $3,000 in
One Great Hour of Sharing monies have been funneled into California so far
for El Nino recovery. When the number of affected persons is relatively
small, few bodies organize to do relief work. As PC(USA) disaster relief
consultant Les Sauer in the Sierra Mission Partnership says, "Communities
that have not organized have not asked for the money. If they don't ask, it
doesn't get sent."
More often than not, El Nino's impact is seen only as a crumbled home
here, a gunked-up highway there, or a waterlogged beach house that can be
scrubbed out in a week or more. When it doesn't look like a disaster - at
least, the kinds of disasters Californians have seen before - it is much
harder to organize an interfaith response unless, of course, that disaster
hits smack inside the boundaries of a particular parish.
But because of the sheer expanse of California's coastline, that
doesn't always happen. For instance, there isn't a Presbyterian church in
Rio Nido or in neighboring Guerneville. "If local involvement isn't there,"
explained Stan Hankins of Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA) in
Louisville, "it makes it extra difficult for us to respond from the
Presbyterian Center." Hankins said one or two churches can take the lead
for Presbyterian dollars to be sent into an area via a presbytery.
An interfaith coalition, however, is what PDA volunteers strive to put
into place in harder hit areas. Coalitions multiply resources and enable a
network to remain in place for long-term disaster recovery.
"It is just the spread-outness of things. People just don't feel
immediately impacted if it's not next door," said Sauer, who works out of
Sacramento and covers northern California. "Because of the dispersal of
events, the amount of destruction and the places, there's just not enough
there to pull an interfaith together and organize around.
"These are small pockets of disaster," said Sauer.
Couple that with what some Californians call a weak history of
ecumenical cooperation and little organizing gets done beyond immediate
relief, such as finding daytime shelter for homeless people - since many
shelters allow only overnight stays -- or helping to find temporary housing
for displaced property owners. Committing to much more could easily
overwhelm individual churches.
"This isn't like the '64 flood, where everybody was knee-deep in water
and the only way into Arcata ... was by airlift," said the Rev. Phil Nesset
of Trinidad, along the northern California coast. His parish includes one
family with a front yard that now drops about 50 feet straight down to the
ocean below, where the waves continue to pound the sandy bluff that is the
foundation for their retirement home. "People recognize there's a problem.
It's just not their problem. ...
"We talk about community," he said, "but when things like this happen,
it ain't necessarily here," adding that many offer condolences, but few
offer to help families begin the hard work of rebuilding or relocating.
Church World Service's northern California consultant, Dick Eskes, said
that the depth of the need is precisely part of the church's problem in
responding to it. Even with maximum assistance consolidated ecumenically,
churches are usually unable to come up with the kind of cash that
homeowners need to start over - even after the Federal Emergency Management
Agency and Small Business Administration loans are dispensed. The "unmet
needs gap" - what insurance and other loans won't cover - is so huge one
disaster consultant sardonically calls it "the Grand Canyon."
"It is not likely that [some of these families] will be able to build
back on their land," he said. "They lose the land [in a mud slide] and they
lose the property on it too. As a religious community, there's not a lot
that we can do. ... The amount of cash they need is so huge - we just don't
have that ... money."
But neither do many of the property owners.
Hall insists that even in Malibu there are plenty of senior citizens
living on fixed incomes in homes they can't afford to rebuild. What's more,
they're unwilling to borrow money and saddle their children's inheritance
with debt even if they could contemplate paying new mortgages.
Then there are the maids and gardeners and cooks who often are housed
by Malibu landowners when they are employed: When the house is gone or the
owners are indefinitely tied up in a legal battle, so are the job and the
lodging.
The complications of that scenario are familiar to the Rev. David
Worth, pastor of the 335-member Malibu Presbyterian Church, which sits on a
bluff some distance from the beach. "In some of these areas that are
sliding now," he told the Presbyterian News Service, "homes have been
sitting on them for 40 years. [On other patches,] the land didn't move ...
but build a house on it and down the hill it goes."
Despite what he calls Malibu's "rich image," Worth said that one of
his parishioners - who is trying to crane-lift his fractured modular home
off a Malibu cliff - is a cop who sunk his life savings into that chunk of
ground. "The only thing that's of value in this town is land, much more
than a house. Once you lose the land, the house is useless.
"So our prayer," said Worth, "is that the earth quits moving."
No one knows what kinds of flooding will come when spring temperatures
begin melting snowcaps high up in the peaks. What's more, geologists are
saying that repeated torrential rains have already saturated California so
thoroughly that layers of sand and silt may be slipping for months to come,
whether there's more rain or not.
In areas that have been flooded before, that means not only dragging
out the sandbags, but dredging up all kinds of worry, denial or passive
resignation.
"There's lots of shoring up of levies in some of the more critical
areas [such as near Sacramento and Yuba City] ... and that's forestalled
the major flooding we saw in 1997," said Sauer. He figures that trying to
fill some of the unmet needs will fall to churches, since agencies such as
the Red Cross and FEMA left some of the less obvious disaster areas after
immediate needs were met. He said that mainline churches, often located in
middle-class neighborhoods, may not be as connected to the poorer
communities that are more vulnerable in any catastrophe.
"We'll begin to see folks who've fallen through the cracks on down the
line," he said. "More people will be affected if the rains come again and
if the snow melts quickly and the levies go."
The Rev. Bob Cordier's parish around First Presbyterian Church in
Marysville wasn't hit directly by massive springtime flooding but was, he
says, "disaster central" in the relief effort and is still deeply involved
in helping the community rebuild.
"But there are larger issues than putting walls up and roofs over
people's heads," said Cordier, insisting that the church ought to be most
involved in disasters that do not stay long in the public eye. Other
agencies leave after immediate needs are met.
"There are still lives to rebuild," he said, describing this year's
spate of troubles as much more localized than the widespread flooding seen
last year. "Even though half the counties in the state have been declared
state disaster areas ... there's a difference between a community disaster
and a personal disaster." He said that the church feels responsibility to
both.
Many Californians, self-admittedly, think of themselves as living in
"paradise." But last month the risk of living in a slide-prone area was
all too real for reserve fire captain John Luna Jr., who spent hours
searching for missing people as his three-person crew crept into Laguna
Canyon just after the hillside slipped. They pulled several people,
including one woman whose infant had just been washed out of her arms, out
of the thick debris. The infant was recovered by other rescue workers, but
the search for another missing adult proved futile.
"I get up in the morning, come upstairs, and I have a wonderful view of
the Pacific Ocean. It's beautiful. It's great," the deacon at Laguna
Beach Presbyterian Church told the Presbyterian News Service, reflecting on
the ambiguity. "But I also live on a hill. [People out here] don't like to
think of those things. People don't want to admit [the] problems."
Others recognize the potential hazards, but dismiss them.
"It's just pretty quick, in and out," said one pastor of the repeated
storms. "If you build on a beach, you know you're at risk. That's the
price you pay, and most people know that. There's a resilient attitude.
... Nobody likes to have all their valuables washed away. But that's the
price of living in California. You get earthquakes and massive
rainstorms."
He paused. "But 99.9 percent of the year, it's gorgeous out here."
------------
For more information contact Presbyterian News Service
phone 502-569-5504 fax 502-569-8073
E-mail PCUSA.NEWS@pcusa.org Web page: http://www.pcusa.org
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