setembro 30, 2005

NISSAN / Pour en finir avec les marches arrière

Où s'arrêteront les constructeur automobiles japonais? Nissan vient de faire sensation en présentant à Tokyo son dernier concept-car, le «Pivo». Une voiture électrique, équipée d'une batterie en lithium et capable d'atteindre les 80 km/h. Jusqu'ici, rien de révolutionnaire. Mais l'engin repose sur un concept étonnant: une cabine en forme d'œuf, qui peut pivoter de 360 degrés sur une plate-forme équipée de roues afin de faciliter les manœuvres. Plus besoin de faire marche arrière: le «Pivo» peut rouler indifféremment dans un sens comme dans l'autre, selon la position de la cabine. Il peut se garer dans des créneaux serrés et fonctionne selon un système expérimental de conduite par commande électronique. «Grâce à une technologie filaire de Nissan, nous avons supprimé le contact mécanique entre la cabine et le châssis», a expliqué Hidetoshi Kadota, un des directeurs de la division d'ingénierie avancée du constructeur. A l'extérieur du véhicule, quatre caméras vidéo éliminent les angles morts. On pourra observer l'engin du 22 octobre au 6 novembre, au salon Tokyo Motor Show. (Libération.fr)

setembro 29, 2005

HURACANES / Las cosas de Tim

A los huracanes, los especialistas los bautizan, alternadamente, con un nombre de hombre y mujer. Pues, a mi amigo Tim Chapman, el fotógrafo del Miami Herald, se le ha ocurrido que es una tremenda injusticia hacerlo así. En su opinión sólo los deben bautizar con nombres de mujeres. Cuando le pregunté por qué, su respuesta fue diáfana.

“Son impredecibles y nos cuestan mucha plata”. [RF]

setembro 28, 2005

RSF / El colega terrorista

Publicamos este comentario del amigo Alfonso Rojo por un elementar deber de honestidad hacia la verdad. Alfonso, uno de los corresponsales de guerra de El Mundo más temerarios que he conocido, despedido injustamente por Pedrojota, es una voz que hay que escuchar obligatoriamente. [RF]


Por ALFONSO ROJO

Lo que más me irrita es lo de Taysir Alony. Sin duda, porque ha actuado desde hace mucho camuflado tras el cómodo y a menudo invulnerable disfraz de periodista.

Cada uno interpreta un papel en la vida y el de Reporteros sin Fronteras (RSF) es ir a la contra; pero salir a toda prisa con un comunicado insinuando que se ha cometido una injusticia, no es de recibo.

Tras subrayar que Alony padece problemas cardiacos -dolencias que nunca le impidieron ir a buscar a Osama bin Laden a las montañas de Afganistán o llevar miles de dólares a los criminales chechenos- esas almas cándidas y tan poco imparciales que son los de RSF han pedido a las autoridades españolas que adopten «todas las medidas necesarias» para que la detención del reportero-terrorista de Al Yasira no agrave su estado de salud.

Si por «medidas necesarias» entienden que se le mande a casa, porque el encierro en la celda no le sienta bien, no deberían preocuparse. La Justicia española acostumbra tener razones que la razón -o el sentido común- desconocen y no tardaremos en ver a Alony en la calle, libre como un pajarillo y tan campante.

Cuesta entender que sólo le caigan siete años de cárcel a un sujeto que actuaba como auxiliador necesario en la comisión de delitos tan graves, como los que perpetran facinerosos del jaez de los independentistas chechenos y que a otro que metía la mano en la cartera ajena le endosen veinte años de prisión -caso de Mario Conde-, pero las sentencias judiciales son así. Queda la esperanza de que el Tribunal Supremo enderece un poco las cosas y esta panda se lleve lo que se merece, pero cabe también la posibilidad de que recurran y todavía salgan mejor librados.

Durante el juicio, Taysir Alony reconoció tener «una íntima relación con Al Qaida». Eso no ha impedido que proliferen en esta profesión quienes proclaman a los cuatros vientos su inocencia. Ayer mismo, en alguna cadena de radio, había quien se quejaba de que se tratara así a un «colega».

No se puede esgrimir a favor de esos mendrugos proclives al colegueo ni la eximente de ignorancia. Basta repasar el sumario, para darse cuenta de que Alony no es trigo limpio. Antes de hacer de periodista, ya estaba en sintonía con los malos.

El hombre de Al Yasira, que comenzó su carrera periodística haciendo traducciones, es un producto típico de la nueva generación de terroristas islámicos. Quizá sea un simple colaborador o un ambicioso seducido por el afán de notoriedad, pero encarna valores y actitudes que caracterizan la última hornada de fanáticos. Vive aquí, se ha casado con una de aquí, se beneficia de la Seguridad Social y de todo lo que hay aquí, pero odia, desprecia y disfruta haciendo daño a los de aquí. [ABC]

VENEZUELA / A los matones de Chávez no les gustan las fotos

Borraron el material de un fotógrafo que les retrató agrediendo a simpatizantes del presidente

Al advertir el flash de la cámara, los militares apuntaron con sus fusiles hacia la ventana del departamento de fotografía de la Cadena Carriles, donde son editados los diarios "El Mundo" y "Últimas Noticias". Los agresores ingresaron al edificio con la intención de llevarse detenido al fotógrafo. Pero ante la mediación del director fotográfico, Esso Álvarez, desistieron a cambio de ver las imágenes y borrarlas...

Así describe el IFEX lo acontecido el pasado 19 de septiembre en Venezuela, cuando miembros de seguridad del presidente Hugo Chávez forzaron al fotógrafo César Palacios, de la Cadena Carriles, a borrar las imágenes que les había tomado desde la ventana del edificio de la Cadena, próxima al lugar en que ellos se encontraban.

Y es que las fotografías, bastante comprometedoras, mostraban a los guardaespaldas de Chávez agrediendo a un grupo de simpatizantes del jefe de Estado que cruzó el cerco de seguridad para acercarse más al mandatario. Los hechos ocurrieron en Caracas durante la visita de Chávez al Panteón Nacional, lugar donde reposan los restos de los héroes de la independencia.

Ante semejantes hechos, el IFEX recomienda apelar al Ministerio de la Defensa solicitando "que se tomen medidas para evitar este tipo de actos y se establezcan condiciones plenas para el libre ejercicio del periodismo en aquellos lugares y actividades donde laboren las fuerzas de seguridad del Estado". [Elena de Regoyos / Periodista Digital]

AP / ¿Un editor liberal o un traductor de La Coruña?

Bush advierte de pico de violencia en Irak previo a elecciones

WASHINGTON, Set 28 -- (AFP) -- El presidente estadounidense George W. Bush advirtió este miércoles de un pico en la violencia en Irak pues los "terroristas'' buscan perturbar la votación sobre la nueva constitución y un nuevo gobierno para el país.

"Al aproximarse estos mojones, podemos esperar que aumente la violencia de los terroristas'', dijo Bush en una declaración en el Rosedal de la Casa Blanca.

"No pueden soportar las elecciones. Pensar en la gente votando es un anatema para ellos'', dijo el mandatario tras una reunión con el jefe del Comando Central estadounidense, general John Abizaid, y el comandante de las fuerzas de EEUU en Irak, George Casey.

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EEUU-Irak
AFP

setembro 27, 2005

PAGOS / Imagínense si fuera una funeraria

Una empresa licorera colombiana que está en quiebra y no tiene dinero en caja decidió pagar con ron a sus pensionados.

La Empresa Licorera del Departamento de Bolívar, con sede en Cartagena, la principal ciudad turista de Colombia en el Caribe, debe 9.000 millones de pesos (3,9 millones de dólares) a sus pensionados.

La fórmula de comprar ron con cargo a sus pensiones, vino de los propios pensionados, dijo Nicolás Arrázola, gerente liquidador de la licorera al canal Caracol de televisión el martes.

"Eso ayuda a una mayor comercialización del ron'', agregó Arrazola pues la empresa todavía tiene buenas cantidades de licor para vender y así pagar sus pasivos.

La fórmula que permite a los pensionados comprar el ron contra su deuda con la licorera ha sido la tabla de salvación para los ancianos que no tienen ingresos.

"Con la venta del ron estoy comiendo yo, están comiendo mis hijos y mis nietos'', dijo Carmen Mendoza, quien recibió 40 cajas de ron de 30 botellas cada una. Ha vendido centenares de botellas a 3.000 pesos (1,30 dólares) la unidad con lo cual esta recuperando parte de la deuda de pensión que data de 2003.

"Está sabroso'', dijo Carmen mientras apuraba una copa de ron ante las cámaras de televisión para promover su venta.

"Cartageneros: hay que meterle el diente a este ron para que nos puedan pagar, pues nos estamos muriendo de hambre'', agregó Carmen.

Como ella hay otros 46 pensionados que recibieron ron por valor de 127 millones de pesos (55,2 millones de dólares) con cargo a sus pensiones atrasadas, dijo Arrázola.

La empresa Licorera es propiedad del Departamento de Bolívar. En Colombia la producción de licores es un monopolio de los departamentos, pero algunas de estas empresas oficiales han sucumbido en medio de denuncias de corrupción.

setembro 25, 2005

IRAK / Galopante corrupción

Dos historias recientes de Irak dejan entrever que la preparación de la fuerza policial y del ejército para que asuman el control de la seguridad de manos de fuerzas estadounidenses y británicas no está avanzando bien. Estos incidentes hacen surgir preocupantes interrogantes con respecto a cuándo precisamente estarán regresando a casa las tropas de Estados Unidos y Gran Bretaña:

• A principios de semana en Basora, dos integrantes de los Servicios Especiales de la Fuerza Aérea (SAS) de Gran Bretaña fueron capturados por la policía iraquí. Resulta confuso lo que sucedió en las horas siguientes, pero con el tiempo los británicos recurrieron a la fuerza para rescatar a los hombres. Las autoridades iraquíes presentaron objeciones, pero los británicos adujeron que habían actuado debido a que la fuerza policial de Irak ha sido infiltrada por insurgentes. Y los británicos temían por la seguridad de sus hombres.

Al principio, los iraquíes negaron dicha infiltración, pero un día después admitieron que tienen un gran problema con insurgentes que se hacen pasar por agentes policiales. Hasta que se pueda acabar de raíz con esos insurgentes, lo cual requerirá de cierto tiempo, la fuerza de policía iraquí seguirá siendo un socio no confiable. Sobre todo, un socio incapaz de asumir el control de los deberes de seguridad que actualmente desempeñan las tropas extranjeras. En Gran Bretaña surgió de inmediato la pregunta: ¿qué significa esto para una estrategia de salida? Nada bueno.

• Una historia que se ha reproducido considerablemente en el mundo árabe y en Gran Bretaña, aunque muy poco en Estados Unidos, involucra un escándalo en el Ministerio de Defensa de Irak. Poco después que la Autoridad Provisional de la Coalición cedió el control a los iraquíes -- pero al tiempo que cada ministerio seguía rebosante de asesores estadounidenses y estaba controlado por directores nombrados por Estados Unidos -- más de $1,000 millones fueron robados del Ministerio de Defensa. Funcionarios a cargo de adquisiciones supuestamente compraron nuevas ametralladoras de fabricación estadounidense por $3,500 cada una, pero en realidad compraron copias egipcias cuyo valor individual es de $200. Los nuevos helicópteros comprados a Polonia resultaron ser máquinas soviéticas usadas, con 28 años de servicio. Además, los vehículos para la transportación de personal que supuestamente fueron comprados a elevados precios en dólares muestran un blindaje tan ligero que son inútiles. Y la lista sigue y sigue a este mismo tenor.

En un artículo publicado en el diario británico Independent, Patrick Cockburn dijo: ``El Consejo Iraquí de Suprema Auditoría indica en un informe dirigido al gobierno iraquí que oficiales en el ministerio de la Defensa, nombrados por Estados Unidos, presuntamente habían presidido sobre estas dudosas transacciones''.

Cockburn prosigue, diciendo que los oficiales iraquíes no pueden comprender ``cómo pudo pasar inadvertida la desaparición de casi la totalidad del presupuesto de adquisiciones entre militares estadounidenses en Bagdad y asesores civiles que trabajan en el Ministerio de la Defensa''.

Cockburn informa que más de $500 millones desaparecieron de otros ministerios durante el mismo período. Agrega: ''La suma faltante a lo largo de un período de ocho meses, entre el 2004 y el 2005, equivale a los $1,800 millones que Saddam Hussein presuntamente recibió en sobornos bajo el programa de Naciones Unidas de petróleo por alimentos'' en cinco años. Las fuerzas armadas de Estados Unidos, nota, estaban ``en una posición mucho mejor que Naciones Unidas para vigilar casos de corrupción''.

Lo anterior da la impresión de ser un escándalo al cual las autoridades estadounidenses deberían aplicar un rigor investigativo por lo menos igual al que aplicaron al problema de corrupción en el programa de petróleo por alimentos de Naciones Unidas. Sin embargo, el punto de mayor importancia es que eso ha dejado al incipiente ejército iraquí muy mal pertrechado, demorando el anhelado día cuando dicha fuerza esté lista para asumir el control de manos de estadounidenses y británicas.

¿Cuándo regresarán a casa finalmente las fuerzas estadounidenses? Debido a la presencia de insurgentes en la policía iraquí y de oficiales corruptos que se benefician con los fondos de adquisiciones del ejército iraquí, será mucho más tarde de lo que debiera ser.

EDITORIAL
Minneapolis Star Tribune

ALLENDE / El final

Según un libro basado en el testimonio de dos ex agentes secretos cubanos, Salvador Allende fue asesinado por instrucción de La Habana.

Salvador Allende no se suicidó, ni murió bajo las balas de militares golpistas el 11 de septiembre de 1973. Durante el asalto al Palacio de La Moneda, el presidente de Chile fue cobardemente asesinado por uno de los agentes cubanos encargados de su protección. En medio de los bombardeos de la aviación militar, el pánico se apoderó de sus colaboradores y el Presidente, en vista de la desesperada situación, pidió y obtuvo breves ceses de fuego. Al final, estaba decidido a cesar toda resistencia. Allende, muerto de miedo, corría por los pasillos del segundo piso del palacio gritando "¡Hay que rendirse!", asegura un testigo de los hechos.

Pero antes de que pudiera hacerlo, Patricio de la Guardia, el agente de Fidel Castro encargado de la seguridad del mandatario, esperó a que regresara a su escritorio y le disparó una ráfaga de ametralladora. Enseguida, puso sobre el cuerpo de Allende un fusil para hacer creer que había sido ultimado por los atacantes y regresó al primer piso del edificio en llamas donde lo esperaban los otros cubanos. El grupo abandonó La Moneda y se refugió en la Embajada de Cuba, a poca distancia de allí.

Esta historia del fin dramático de Allende, que a su vez contradice las dos versiones encontradas que han hecho carrera –la heroica muerte en combate y el suicidio–, surge de dos ex agentes de organismos secretos de Cuba, muy bien informados sobre el sangriento episodio y hoy exiliados en Europa.

En un libro recién publicado en París, Cuba Nostra, les secrets d’Etat de Fidel Castro (Nuestra Cuba, los secretos de Estado de Fidel Castro) por Ediciones Plon, el periodista Alain Ammar, especialista en América Latina, analiza y confronta las declaraciones que le dieran Juan Vives y Daniel Alarcón Ramírez, dos ex funcionarios de inteligencia cubanos.

Exilado desde 1979, Vives cuenta que en noviembre de 1973, en un bar del hotel Habana Libre, donde miembros de los organismos de seguridad solían reunirse los sábados para beber cerveza e intercambiar informaciones de todo tipo, escuchó esa escalofriante confesión del mismo Patricio de la Guardia, jefe de las tropas especiales cubanas presentes en La Moneda ese fatídico 11 de septiembre.

Durante años, Vives guardó silencio porque –dice– "era peligroso hacerlo" y porque no había otro responsable cubano en el exilio que pudiera confirmar la versión. Sin embargo, cuando supo que Alarcón Ramírez, alias Benigno, uno de los tres sobrevivientes de la guerrilla del Ché Guevara en Bolivia, también estaba exilado en Europa, la idea de dar a conocer los graves hechos cobró fuerza. Benigno confirma la narración de Vives. Los dos conocieron a Allende y a su familia, los dos vivieron en Chile durante su gobierno, los dos escucharon, en momentos diferentes, la confesión de De la Guardia a su regreso en La Habana.

En el libro se describen con precisión los últimos meses del gobierno de la Unidad Popular y, sobre todo, el avanzado grado de control que Castro había logrado –mediante espías del servicio cubano de inteligencia, operadores y agentes–, sobre Allende, sus ministros y hasta sus amigos y colaboradores más íntimos. De hecho, la llamada "vía chilena al socialismo" había sido desviada por el castrismo hasta el punto de que en el Gobierno algunos criticaban la injerencia cubana.

Allende no era el hombre que La Habana quería tener en el poder en Santiago. A espaldas suyas, Castro y Piñeiro –su brazo derecho en operaciones de espionaje en Latinoamérica– preparaban para el relevo a Miguel Henríquez, principal dirigente del MIR; Pascal Allende, número dos del MIR, y Beatriz Allende, la hija mayor del Presidente, también del MIR, quien en 1974 moriría en Cuba.

El control sobre Allende se había agudizado tras el primer intento de golpe militar, el 29 de junio de 1973, más conocido como El Tancazo. Cuando Castro supo que los chilenos que rodeaban al mandatario chileno estaban asustados, le hizo saber a Allende que no podía ni rendirse ni pedir asilo. "Si él debía morir, debía morir como un héroe –recuerda Vives–. Cualquier otra actitud, cobarde y poco valiente, tendría repercusiones graves para la lucha en América Latina". Por eso Castro dio la orden a De la Guardia de "eliminar a Allende si a último momento éste cedía ante el miedo".

Poco después de los primeros ataques a La Moneda, Allende le dijo a De la Guardia que había que pedir el asilo político ante la embajada de Suecia, y para hacerlo designó a Augusto Olivares, El Perro, su consejero de prensa. Olivares fue ultimado por los cubanos antes de enfilar baterías contra el Presidente. Según Vives, "reclutado por la DGI cubana, Olivares transmitía hasta los pensamientos más mínimos de Allende a Piñeiro, quien a su vez informaba a Fidel".

Y según Benigno, un guardaespaldas chileno, un tal Agustín, fue también fusilado por los cubanos. Semanas después del golpe, De la Guardia le reveló el fin de Agustín, hermano de un amigo suyo que vive aún en Cuba, y le dio un importante detalle adicional sobre esa trágica mañana: antes de ametrallarlo, el agente cubano agarró con fuerza a Allende que quería salir del palacio, lo sentó en el sillón presidencial y le gritó: "¡Un presidente muere en su sitio!".

Esta versión del asesinato se había dado a conocer un día después la muerte de Allende. Varias agencias, entre ellas la AFP, resumieron en cuatro líneas el hecho, y el 13 Le Monde publicó el cable: "Según fuentes de la derecha chilena, el presidente Allende fue matado por su guardia personal en momentos en que pedía cinco minutos de cese al fuego para rendirse a los militares que estaban a punto de entrar al Palacio de La Moneda". Según Ammar, esa hipótesis "fue enterrada de inmediato" porque no convenía "ni a los colaboradores de Allende, ni a la izquierda chilena, ni a sus amigos en el extranjero, ni a los militares ni, sobre todo, a Fidel Castro...".

La confirmación que esa hipótesis acaba de recibir de Vives y Alarcón podría ser reforzada en el futuro por testimonios de otros funcionarios cubanos que hasta ahora han guardado silencio y por documentos que reposan fuera de Cuba. Las revelaciones del libro son interesantes, no sólo para los historiadores del fracaso de la aventura de la Unidad Popular en Chile, sino para los nuevos amigos latinoamericanos de Fidel Castro, sobre todo para el presidente Hugo Chávez de Venezuela. Chávez y los otros, por más confiables que puedan ser hoy para La Habana, podrían estar siendo objeto de idénticos y siniestros movimientos de control por parte de los mismos servicios que obraron tan bestialmente contra el presidente de Chile.

En el libro de Alain Ammar, los dos ex agentes cubanos que sostiene la versión de que Salvador Allende fue asesinado por instrucción de Fidel Castro, dicen que en un banco de Panamá estaría la prueba reina.

De la Guardia, condenado a 30 años de cárcel durante el proceso contra el general Arnaldo Ochoa Sánchez, y hoy en residencia vigilada, habría depositado en un banco panameño un documento en el que describe, entre otras cosas, el asesinato de Allende por orden de Castro, documento que debería ser revelado tras su muerte. Castro habría tomado en serio esta amenaza y por eso De la Guardia se salvó de ser fusilado, a diferencia de su hermano Tony, quien junto con el general Ochoa y dos otros funcionarios del ministerio del Interior, fue pasado por las armas el 13 de julio de 1989. (Revista CAMBIO)

setembro 21, 2005

RITA / Os irredutiveis de Key West

E depois de Katrina veio Rita, e como com o primeiro apanharam todos um valente susto, desataram a fugir. Em menos de 24 horas, mais de 90 por cento dos habitantes de Key West – são uns 100 mil em total – lançaram-se à unica estrada que liga a ilha com terra firme deixando atrás um grupo de irredutiveis que jurou, pelo menos até à última gota de cerveja, que de ali nenhum furacão os arrancava.

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“Isto é apenas um brisinha, são todos uns cagarolas e foram-se embora”, disse Michael Webston, com um copo de cerveja na mão, completamente molhado, no meio da rua Duval – coração da cidade mais ao sul dos Estados Unidos – em frente do Sloppy’s Joe, o bar preferido de Ernest Hemingway nos anos 30, antes de emigrar mais a sul, para Cuba.

Michael é um dos “irresponsáveis”, como lhes chama o presidente da Câmara de Key West, Jim Weekley, que lançou à rua todos os policias que conseguiu, com ordens estrictas de os obrigar a recolherem a suas casas.

Mas se Key West é uma cidade de tradições, como a festa anual dos sócias de Hemingway ou o melhor bolo de limão de todo o sul dos Estados Unidos, outra menos conhecida é a dos irredutiveis que enfrentam todos os furacões.

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(Fotos Rui Ferreira)

Com as ordens de recolher ou evaquação obrigatórias, supõem-se que ninguém fique para trás, porque Key West e as ilhas que a rodeiam, são extremamente frágeis. Com a forma de um quadrado de 2 kilómetros por tres, as casas são quase todas de madeira, rodeadas de milhares de árvores e centenas de postes de electricidade, o mais comum é que quando um furacão passa, fica tudo no chão. Por isso as autoridades insistem sempre em que toda a gente deve abandonar a ilha.

No entanto, há sempre os que ficam. E com o passar dos tempos, em relação a esses ergueu-se um muro de tolerancia que leva os policias a não prestar-lhes muita atenção e deixarem-nos em paz.

Os que ficam dividem-se em varios grupos: são os sem abrigo ou os solitários, os brincalhões ou os adeptos de emoções fortes. Mas todos tem uma coisa em comum: quando os ventos aumentam e se viram insuportáveis, recolhem aos bares mais próximos e por ali se deixam estar até que a tempestade passe.

Na noite de terça para quarta-feira havia um bom grupo no “Papagaio Zarolho”, um pequeno bar todo pintado de amarelo, construido de madeira – dizem que de velhos barcos de piratas, mas não foi possivel confirmar – encaixado à volta de quatro ou cinco grandes árvores, numa rua perpendicular à costa norte da ilha.

“São sempre os mesmos. Começam a aparecer a pouco e pouco, vão-se sentando nos cantos, parecem que já têm as suas mesas preferidas, eu já os conheço a todos, e começam a beber, a cantar, às vezes zangam-se, mas não há problemas. Somos uma familia, uma especie de confradia”, disse Dolores Windmill, uma velha californiana, que chegou a Key West há 11 anos e aqui asentou arraiais. Dizem que atrás de um amor impossivel, mas também não foi possivel confirmá-lo. Ela fechou-se em copas.

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Entre canções, o fumo impenetrável de centenas de cigarros fumados pausadamente, o grupo de irredutiveis vai passando a tempestade. Esta noite há campeonato de caricas. Parece que as caricas são um hábito mundial neste tipo de mundo, e é ve-los de barriga no chão, homens e mulheres, gordos e gordinhas, de peles curtidas pelo Sol do Golfo do México, a gritarem como crianças cada vez que uma das chapinhas se desliza suavemente pelo chão de madeira pulida por anos de uso. “Batota, batota, isso saiu do risco”, grita alguém. Nisso ouve-se o estrondo de uma árvore que caiu lá fora. Mas ninguém faz caso. O furacão Rita ainda vai pelo principio e faltam horas para que tudo termine.

É uma noite interessante, porque é também uma espécie de homenagem à cultura da bebida. Os donos do “Papagaio Zarolho”, tratam de ter do bom e do melhor para que o pessoal não se queixe. Desde a imbebível Budweiser até à Guiness. Passando por toneladas de gelo, porque o facto de que a luz seja cortada é apenas um pequeno pormenor, subsanado rapidamente com o gelo e muitas lanternas, e a condição básica para que o bom humor seja mantido é que a cerveja esteja sempre gelada. O resto é paisagem.

Um dos parroquianos é o Pai Natal. Não diz o seu nome, apenas se identifica como o Pai Natal. De barba branca, aparenta à volta de 60 anos, tem um barrete vermelho e fala pausadamente sobre as suas aventuras em furacões anteriores. “Já perdi a conta, tou aqui há 23 anos”, afirma. Não diz de onde veio e porque decidiu ficar pela cidade. Vive de ser um dos personagens mais famosos de Key West onde normalmente há mais turistas que habitantes. Mas é um contador de histórias.

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“Um dia, depois da passagem dum furacão apareceu um iate no meio da rua Duval. Foi prá aí há uns 15 anos. Apareceram uns tipos com um camião, puseram aquilo lá em cima e foram embora. O problema é que estava toda a gente bébeda e ninguém preguntou nada e ninguém os conhecia”. Resultado: o iate foi roubado, literalmente, nas barbas do Pai Natal.

De manhã, quando os ventos foram embora, começam a sair a pouco e pouco da toca, amparados uns aos outros, com uma onda de bom-humor contagiante e a experiencia de mais um furacão, passado no melhor refúgio de todos, um dos 3 bares da cidade que enfrentam os furacões com as portas abertas.

E há medida que o sol foi subindo no céu e enquanto esperam pelo regresso dos que optaram pela fuga, continuam a festejar nas ruas. E aparece todo o tipo de personagens. Desde um “guerreiro” viking numa lambreta até uma troupe de teatro amador que quase faz um stripe-tease em frente das cámaras de televisão.

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Ou isto não fosse Key West, uma ilha que nos anos 70 proclamou a separação dos Estados Unidos, instituiu bandeira própria, nomeou governo, criou um exército de voluntários, imprimiu passaportes e estava a ponto de lançar uma moeda nova – a Concha – quando apareceram os camiões da Guarda Nacional enviados pelo governador da Florida e ao cabo de “intensas” negociações, acabaram todos no Sloppy’s Joe a celebrar a “capitulação” separatista diante de uma boa cerveja. O presidente da Câmara deixou de ser “presidente” da República da Concha, mas a bandeira, de côr azul marinho com um búzio desenhado a branco, continua a ser um dos souvenires mais cotizados da cidade.
RUI FERREIRA, em Key West
O INDEPENDENTE

setembro 15, 2005

KATRINA / Uma versão moderna do terremoto de 1755

"Para alguns [Katrina] é uma versão actualizada do terremoto de 1755 em Lisboa, quando possivelmente umas 60,000 pessoas duvidaram da existencia ou pelo menos da benevolencia de um Deus que quiz ou permitiu essa miséria”, escreveu, poucos dias depois da passagem do furacão, o columnista conservador George F. Will na revista Newsweek.

Will referia-se a pessoas como Mercedez Silva, uma hondurenha que acaba de chegar a Miami depois que em menos de 10 minutos perdeu a sua casa em Nova Orleãns. “Sucedeu tudo tão depressa, mas tão depressa que não sei como é que consegui sobreviver. Se o furacão não tivesse sido tão injusto diria que foi milagre mesmo”, disse Mercedes, olhando para a porta da Ermita de la Caridad, a principal igreja da comunidade exilada cubana que a acolheu.

Mas não é um olhar qualquer. Reflecte uma profunda tristeza mas também uma inocultável dúvida. Pregunto-lhe se “continua” a acreditar em Deus – mais de 90 por cento dos hondurenhos são católicos – e ele responde-me directamente, olhos nos olhos, que “não”.

“Tenho serias dúvidas”, afirma. E conta. Em 1998, Mercedes vivia en Amerillo, uma pequena aldeia a uns 20 minutos de Tegucigalpa, a capital das Honduras, quando chegou o furacão Mitch. Em menos de 12 horas morreram 50 mil pessoas, metade de Tegucigalpa desapareceu do mapa e todas as aldeias à sua volta simplesmente deixaram de existir. Viviendo num dos países mais pobres da América Latina, Mercedez não teve dúvidas em quanto ao seu destino: decidiu emigrar para os Estados Unidos com o marido e a filha. “Perdemos tudo, tudo o que herdamos, tudo o que tinhamos construido. A forma mais rápida de recuperar tudo, era emigrar”, afirma.

Primeiro instalou-se no Texas e mais tarde mudou-se para Nova Orleãns. Diz que nunca gostou muito da cidade, mas arranjou um melhor trabalho, como empregada de limpeza num hotel. O que nunca ninguém lhe disse é que os furacões também costumam aparecer no Luisiana. E furacões tão fortes como o Mitch que a obrigou a deixar o seu país.

E agora surgiu o Katrina. “Perdemos tudo, de novo. Por isso, achas que eu devo continuar a acreditar em Deus?”.

A crise de fé de Mercedez não é unica. É um problema que está a alastrar e tem practicamente todas as religiões nos Estados Unidos preocupadas. Em Miami, os padres católicos dizem que não têm tido muitos problemas, mas que os seus colegas do Mississippi e do Luisiana não tem braços para tantas crises.

“As pessoas ficaram tão desamparadas que até certo ponto estas crises são entendivéis, mais a mais com Katrina que foi um furacão que excedeu todas as expectativas”, conta o padre Jaime Celestino, que exerce na Ermita de la Caridad e por estes días anda a dar conselhos espirituais à Mercedez e a tentar que ela recupere um pouco da sua fé.

Uma fé que também toca à porta dos padres. “À dias preguntaram-me se eu próprio não tinha dúvidas depois que perdemos umas 12 igrejas no Mississippi e no Luisiana”, recorda ao Independente o padre Jackson Williamson, que também foi evacuado. E o que é respondeu? “Eu não perdi a minha fé, pelo contrario acho que tudo isto aconteceu como uma mensagem de Deus para fortalecermos a nossa fé”, afirmou.

No entanto, admite, nem todos têm a sua fortaleza religiosa. “Muita gente pregunta-me se realmente Deus existe. Eu explico que Deus existe dentro de cada um de nós. Mas também não trato de ser mais profundo. Eu acho que estamos num momento em que é preciso lidar primeiro com as consecuencias psicológicas deste desastre e uma vez enfrentado esse problema acredito que a fé regressará de modo natural”, afirmou Williamson.

“Pregunto-me como um cristão tipico pode reconciliar a sua fé num Deus todo poderoso e bom com as imagens de devastação que nos chegam do Luisiana e o Mississippi. Onde estava o Deus deles? Esse Deus omnipotente, suspeitosamente ausente quando os diques rebentaram”, perguntou Annie Laurie Gaylor, vicepresidente da Freedom from Religion Foundation.

Katrina foi um furacão que desde o inicio teve uma leitura mistica. Um jornalista acabado de chegar de Nova Orelãns recordava a O Independente que no meio da destruição total do jardim da Igreja de São Luis, na Royal Street sobreviveu uma estátua de pedra de Jesus Cristo, mas ficou com dois dedos partidos, o miminho e o indice. Se bem que nas 12 horas que antecederam a chegada a terra o furacão apontava directamente para Nova Orleñas, nas últimas duas horas desviou-se para a direita e fez impacte em Biloxi. Há quem diga que os dedos que faltam na estátua estavam a apontar na direcção em que o Katrina se desviou.

Segundo David S. Dockery, o presidente da Union University de Jackson, no estado do Tennessee em momentos como este as pessoas têm uma tendencia natural em virarem-se para Deus, seja a favor ou em contra. “Em momentos como este, muitas respostas parecem ôcas, estreitas e superficiais. A unica resposta que não soa assim é a que Deus dá. Em vez de razões Deus ofrece-se a si próprio, de certo modo no meio de tanta desgraça esta resposta é o conforto de Deus sobre todos nós”, afirmou.

Mas também há quem tenha leituras menos místicas para a passagem de Katrina por Nova Orleñas apesar de tambem encontrarem as explicações que procuram em Deus. Gente como Michael Marcavage para quem Katrina se abateu sobre a cidade porque a cidade é a moradia do pecado.

“A perda de vidas humanas é lamentável, muito lamentável, mas a cidade foi destruida por um acto de Deus”, disse Marcavage, director de Repent America, um website de Filadélfia em cujas páginas se critica as paradas do Orgulho Gay, as festas do Mardi Grass e todo o tipo de expressões de desinibimento. “Nova Orleãns era uma cidade que tinha as portas abertas à celebração pública do pecado”, explicou.

Mercedes não está de acordo. Apesar de que nunca gostou muito de Nova Oreleãns, acha que a cidade é “normal”. “As pessoas lá divertem-se muito, mas também vão muito à missa”, afirma.

E agora, acredita, possivelmente vão ir mais. Mas ela não. “Eu já passei por isto duas vezes. Não vou passar uma terceira. A mi que Dios me perdone, pero tengo ganas de mandarlo al carajo y a su maldito huracán”, acrescentou.
RUI FERREIRA, em Miami
O Independente

KATRINA / Ex-FEMA Chief Tells of Frustration and Chaos

DAVID D. KIRKPATRICK/SCOTT SHANE The New York Times

WASHINGTON - Hours after Hurricane Katrina passed New Orleans on Aug. 29, as the scale of the catastrophe became clear, Michael D. Brown recalls, he placed frantic calls to his boss, Michael Chertoff, the secretary of homeland security, and to the office of the White House chief of staff, Andrew H. Card Jr.

Mr. Brown, then director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, said he told the officials in Washington that the Louisiana governor, Kathleen Babineaux Blanco, and her staff were proving incapable of organizing a coherent state effort and that his field officers in the city were reporting an "out of control" situation.

"I am having a horrible time," Mr. Brown said he told Mr. Chertoff and a White House official - either Mr. Card or his deputy, Joe Hagin - in a status report that evening. "I can't get a unified command established."

By the time of that call, he added, "I was beginning to realize things were going to hell in a handbasket" in Louisiana. A day later, Mr. Brown said, he asked the White House to take over the response effort.

He said he felt the subsequent appointment of Lt. Gen. Russel L. Honoré of the Army as the Pentagon's commander of active-duty forces began to turn the situation around.

In his first extensive interview since resigning as FEMA director on Monday under intense criticism, Mr. Brown declined to blame President Bush or the White House for his removal or for the flawed response.

"I truly believed the White House was not at fault here," he said.

He focused much of his criticism on Governor Blanco, contrasting what he described as her confused response with far more agile mobilizations in Mississippi and Alabama, as well as in Florida during last year's hurricanes.

But Mr. Brown's account, in which he described making "a blur of calls" all week to Mr. Chertoff, Mr. Card and Mr. Hagin, suggested that Mr. Bush, or at least his top aides, were informed early and repeatedly by the top federal official at the scene that state and local authorities were overwhelmed and that the overall response was going badly.

A senior administration official said Wednesday night that White House officials recalled the conversations with Mr. Brown but did not believe they had the urgency or desperation he described in the interview.

"There's a general recollection of him saying, 'They're going to need more help,' " said the official, who insisted on anonymity because of the delicacy of internal White House discussions.

Mr. Brown's version of events raises questions about whether the White House and Mr. Chertoff acted aggressively enough in the response. New Orleans convulsed in looting and violence after the hurricane, and troops did not arrive in force to restore order until five days later.

The account also suggests that responsibility for the failure may go well beyond Mr. Brown, who has been widely pilloried as an inexperienced manager who previously oversaw horse show judges.

Mr. Brown was removed by Mr. Chertoff last week from directing the relief effort. A 50-year-old lawyer and Republican activist who joined FEMA as general counsel in 2001, Mr. Brown said he had been hobbled by limitations on the power of the agency to command resources.

With only 2,600 employees nationwide, he said, FEMA must rely on state workers, the National Guard, private contractors and other federal agencies to supply manpower and equipment.

He said his biggest mistake was in waiting until the end of the day on Aug. 30 to ask the White House explicitly to take over the response from FEMA and state officials.

Of his resignation, Mr. Brown said: "I said I was leaving because I don't want to be a distraction. I want to focus on what happened here and the issues that this raises."

Governor Blanco said Wednesday that she took responsibility for failures and missteps in the immediate response to the hurricane and pledged a united effort to rebuild areas ravaged by the storm, adding, "at the state level, we must take a careful look at what went wrong and make sure it never happens again." A spokesman for Ms. Blanco denied Mr. Brown's description of disarray in Louisiana's emergency response operation. "That is just totally inaccurate," said Bob Mann, the governor's communications director. "Everything that Mr. Brown needed in terms of resources or information from the state, he had those available to him."

In Washington, Mr. Chertoff's spokesman, Russ Knocke, said there had been no delay in the federal response. "We pushed absolutely everything we could," Mr. Knocke said, "every employee, every asset, every effort, to save and sustain lives."

As Mr. Brown recounted it, the weekend before New Orleans's levees burst, FEMA sent an emergency response team of 10 or 20 people to Louisiana to review evacuation plans with local officials.

By Saturday afternoon, many residents were leaving. But as the hurricane approached early on Sunday, Mr. Brown said he grew so frustrated with the failure of local authorities to make the evacuation mandatory that he asked Mr. Bush for help.

"Would you please call the mayor and tell him to ask people to evacuate?" Mr. Brown said he asked Mr. Bush in a phone call.

"Mike, you want me to call the mayor?" the president responded in surprise, Mr. Brown said. Moments later, apparently on his own, the mayor, C. Ray Nagin, held a news conference to announce a mandatory evacuation, but it was too late, Mr. Brown said. Plans said it would take at least 72 hours to get everyone out.

When he arrived in Baton Rouge on Sunday evening, Mr. Brown said, he was concerned about the lack of coordinated response from Governor Blanco and Maj. Gen. Bennett C. Landreneau, the adjutant general of the Louisiana National Guard.

"What do you need? Help me help you," Mr. Brown said he asked them. "The response was like, 'Let us find out,' and then I never received specific requests for specific things that needed doing."

The most responsive person he could find, Mr. Brown said, was Governor Blanco's husband, Raymond. "He would try to go find stuff out for me," Mr. Brown said.

Governor Blanco's communications director, Mr. Mann, said that she was frustrated that Mr. Brown and others at FEMA wanted itemized requests before acting. "It was like walking into an emergency room bleeding profusely and being expected to instruct the doctors how to treat you," he said.

On Monday night, Mr. Brown said, he reported his growing worries to Mr. Chertoff and the White House. He said he did not ask for federal active-duty troops to be deployed because he assumed his superiors in Washington were doing all they could. Instead, he said, he repeated a dozen times, "I cannot get a unified command established."

The next morning, Mr. Brown said, he and Governor Blanco decided to take a helicopter into New Orleans to see the mayor and assess the situation. But before the helicopter took off, his field coordinating officer, or F.C.O., called from the city on a satellite phone. "It is getting out of control down here; the levee has broken," the staff member told him, he said.

The crowd in the Superdome, the city's shelter of last resort, was already larger than expected. But Mr. Brown said he was relieved to see that the mayor had a detailed list of priorities, starting with help to evacuate the Superdome.

Mr. Brown passed the list on to the state emergency operations center in Baton Rouge, but when he returned that evening he was surprised to find that nothing had been done.

"I am just screaming at my F.C.O., 'Where are the helicopters?' " he recalled. " 'Where is the National Guard? Where is all the stuff that the mayor wanted?' "

FEMA, he said, had no helicopters and only a few communications trucks. The agency typically depends on state resources, a system he said worked well in the other Gulf Coast states and in Florida last year.

Meanwhile, "unbeknownst to me," Mr. Brown said, at some point on Monday or Tuesday the hotels started directing their remaining guests to the convention center - something neither FEMA nor local officials had planned.

At the same time, the Superdome was degenerating into "gunfire and anarchy," and on Tuesday the FEMA staff and medical team in New Orleans called to say they were leaving for their own safety.

That night, Mr. Brown said, he called Mr. Chertoff and the White House again in desperation. "Guys, this is bigger than what we can handle," he told them, he said. "This is bigger than what FEMA can do. I am asking for help."

"Maybe I should have screamed 12 hours earlier," Mr. Brown said in the interview. "But that is hindsight. We were still trying to make things work."

By Wednesday morning, Mr. Brown said, he learned that General Honoré was on his way. While the general did not have responsibility for the entire relief effort and the Guard, his commanding manner helped mobilize the state's efforts.

"Honoré shows up and he and I have a phone conversation," Mr. Brown said. "He gets the message, and, boom, it starts happening."

Mr. Brown said that in one much-publicized gaffe - his repeated statement on live television on Thursday night, Sept. 1, that he had just learned that day of thousands of people at New Orleans's convention center without food or water - "I just absolutely misspoke." In fact, he said, he learned about the evacuees there from the first media reports more than 24 hours earlier, but the reports conflicted with information from local authorities and he had no staff on the site until Thursday.

There were also conflicts with the Congressional delegations that wanted resources for their offices and districts, FEMA officials said. Senator Trent Lott of Mississippi said he "resisted aggressively" a decision by Mr. Brown to dispatch a Navy medical ship to Louisiana instead of his home state.

Mr. Brown acknowledged that he had been criticized for not ordering a complete evacuation or calling in federal troops sooner. But he said the storm made it hard to communicate and assess the situation.

"Until you have been there," he said, "you don't realize it is the middle of a hurricane."

ONU / ¿Una pausa para el baño?

La Asamblea General de la ONU ha tenido también espacio para la anécdota. Un cámara de la agencia Reuters fotografió en la sesión de ayer al presidente Bush escribiendo una nota a la secretaria de Estado, Condoleezza Rice. Podría haber sido un mensaje sobre la evolución de las negociaciones o una apostilla al discurso que estuviera dictándose desde la tribuna. Pero la realidad era mucho más prosaica: "Creo que necesito una pausa para ir al cuarto de baño. ¿Es posible?".
Foto: REUTERS/Rick Wilking

IRAK / The Shepherds

An International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) soldier from Portugal (L) patrols as an Afghan shepherd herds his flock along a street in Kabul, 15 September 2005, ahead of the upcoming parliamentary elections. Afghans go to landmark polls 18 September, to vote for a parliament for the first time in more than 30 years, another step in the rebuilding process for a nation ravaged by decades of war. AFP PHOTO/ Shah MARAI

setembro 13, 2005

ECUADOR / Todos los nombres...

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KATRINA / As bodies recovered, reporters are told 'no photos, no stories'

Cecilia M. Vega San Francisco Chronicle

New Orleans - A long caravan of white vans led by an Army humvee rolled Monday through New Orleans' Bywater district, a poor, mostly black neighborhood, northeast of the French Quarter.

Recovery team members wearing white protective suits and black boots stopped at houses with spray painted markings on the doors designating there were dead bodies inside.

Outside one house on Kentucky Street, a member of the Army 82nd Airborne Division summoned a reporter and photographer standing nearby and told them that if they took pictures or wrote a story about the body recovery process, he would take away their press credentials and kick them out of the state.

"No photos. No stories," said the man, wearing camouflage fatigues and a red beret.

On Saturday, after being challenged in court by CNN, the Bush administration agreed not to prevent the news media from following the effort to recover the bodies of Hurricane Katrina victims.

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But on Monday, in the Bywater district, that assurance wasn't being followed. The 82nd Airborne soldier told reporters the Army had a policy that requires media to be 300 meters -- more than three football fields in length -- away from the scene of body recoveries in New Orleans. If reporters wrote stories or took pictures of body recoveries, they would be reported and face consequences, he said, including a loss of access for up-close coverage of certain military operations.

Dean Nugent, of the Louisiana State Coroner's Department, who accompanied the soldier, added that it wasn't safe to be in Bywater. "They'll kill you out here," he said, referring to the few residents who have continued to defy mandatory evacuation orders and remain in their homes."

"The cockroaches come out at night," he said of the residents. "This is one of the worst places in the country. You should not be here. Especially you," he told a female reporter.

Nugent, who is white, acknowledged he wasn't personally familiar with the poor, black neighborhood, saying he only knew of it by reputation.

Later Monday, the recovery team collected a body from a green house on St. Anthony Street in nearby Seventh Ward. The dead man, who was slipped into a black body bag and carried out to one of the white vans, had been lying alone on the living room floor for nearly two weeks, neighbors said.

"I told them weeks ago he was in there," said Barry Dominguez, 39, who lives across the street and has refused to leave the neighborhood he grew up in.

After the recovery team took away the St. Anthony Street body, two workers urinated on the side of a neighbor's house.

The CNN suit was in response to comments Friday at a news conference in which officials from the Federal Emergency Management Agency said members of the news media would not be allowed to witness the recovery of hurricane victims' bodies.

Terry Ebbert, New Orleans' homeland security director, had said Friday that the recovery effort would be done with dignity, "meaning that there would be no press allowed." Army Lt. Gen. Russell Honore later said there would be zero access to the recovery operation.

During a hearing Saturday morning in U.S. District Court in Houston, a lawyer who represented the government said FEMA had revised its previous plans to limit coverage.

Government agencies may still refuse requests from members of the media to ride along, or be "embedded," on recovery boats as crews gather the dead. "But, to the extent the press can go out to the locations, they're free to do that," said Keith Wyatt, an assistant U.S. attorney, according to a transcript of the hearing. "They're free to take whatever pictures they can take."

Army Lt. Col. Richard Steele said the government's position as explained in court Saturday didn't represent a change in policy. Reporters can watch recovery efforts they come upon, but they won't be embedded with search teams.

"We're not going to bar, impede or prevent" the media from telling the story, he said. "We're just not going to give the media a ride."

setembro 12, 2005

KATRINA / The joke of the day


#22297 BULLETINS APNEWSALERT BULLETIN APD0566 NEWS LIVE 9/12 15:05 .83
BC-NA-GEN--APNewsAlert

WASHINGTON -- (AP) -- Mike Brown says he has resigned as director of the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency.

AP-ES-09-12-05 1506EDT

setembro 11, 2005

KATRINA / More polls

9.11 / Four years ago

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KATRINA / "THIS COULD BE THE ONE"

The Steady Buildup to a City's Chaos * Confusion Reigned At Every Level Of Government

Walter Maestri had dreaded this call for a decade, ever since he took over emergency management for Jefferson Parish, a marshy collection of suburbs around New Orleans. It was Friday night, Aug. 26, and his friend Max Mayfield was on the line. Mayfield is the head of the National Hurricane Center, and he wasn't calling to chat.

"Walter," Mayfield said, "get ready."

"What do you mean?" Maestri asked, though he already knew the answer.

Hurricane Katrina had barreled into the Gulf of Mexico, and Mayfield's latest forecast had it smashing into New Orleans as a Category 4 or 5 storm Monday morning. Maestri already had 10,000 body bags in his parish, in case he ever got a call like this.

"This could be the one," Mayfield told him.

Maestri heard himself gasp: "Oh, my God."

In July 2004, Maestri had participated in an exercise called Hurricane Pam, a simulation of a Category 3 storm drowning New Orleans. Emergency planners had concluded that a real Pam would create a flood of unimaginable proportions, killing tens of thousands of people, wiping out hundreds of thousands of homes, shutting down southeast Louisiana for months.

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The practice run for a New Orleans apocalypse had been commissioned by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the federal government's designated disaster shop. But the funding ran out and the doomsday scenario became just another prescient -- but buried -- government report. Now, practice was over.

And Pam's lessons had not been learned.

As the floodwaters recede and the dead are counted, what went wrong during a terrible week that would render a modern American metropolis of nearly half a million people uninhabitable and set off the largest exodus of people since the Civil War, is starting to become clear. Federal, state and local officials failed to heed forecasts of disaster from hurricane experts. Evacuation plans, never practical, were scrapped entirely for New Orleans's poorest and least able. And once floodwaters rose, as had been long predicted, the rescue teams, medical personnel and emergency power necessary to fight back were nowhere to be found.

Compounding the natural catastrophe was a man-made one: the inability of the federal, state and local governments to work together in the face of a disaster long foretold.

In many cases, resources that were available were not used, whether Amtrak trains that could have taken evacuees to safety before the storm or the U.S. military's 82nd Airborne division, which spent days on standby waiting for orders that never came. Communications were so impossible the Army Corps of Engineers was unable to inform the rest of the government for crucial hours that levees in New Orleans had been breached.

The massive rescue effort that resulted was a fugue of improvisation, by fleets of small boats that set sail off highway underpasses and angry airport directors and daredevil helicopter pilots. Tens of thousands were saved as the city swamped; they were plucked from rooftops and bused, eventually, out of the disaster zone.

But it was an infuriating time of challenge when government seemed unable to meet its basic compact with its citizens. After the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, an entirely new Department of Homeland Security had been created, charged with doing better the next time, whether the crisis was another terrorist attack or not. Its new plan for safeguarding the nation, unveiled just this year, clearly spelled out the need to take charge in assisting state and local governments sure to be "overwhelmed" by a cataclysmic event.

Instead, confusion reigned at every level of officialdom, according to dozens of interviews with participants in Louisiana, Mississippi and Washington. "No one had access. . . . No one had communication. . . . Nobody knew where the people were," recalled Secretary of Health and Human Services Mike Leavitt, whose department did not declare the Gulf Coast a public health emergency until two days after the storm.

Despite pleas by Bush administration officials to refrain from "the blame game," mutual recriminations among officeholders began even before New Orleans's trapped residents had been rescued. The White House secretly debated federalizing authority in a city under the control of a Democratic mayor and governor, and critics in both parties assailed FEMA and raised questions about President Bush.

That Friday, as Maestri prepared for the Big One, he had known that his region's survival would depend on the federal response. After Hurricane Pam, FEMA officials had concluded that local authorities might be on their own for 48 or even 60 hours after a real storm, but they had assured Maestri that the cavalry would swoop in after that, and take care of the region's needs.

"Like a fool, I believed them," Maestri said last week.

Friday, Aug. 26

'Why aren't we treating this as a bigger emergency?'

At 5 a.m., Hurricane Katrina entered the Gulf of Mexico with the Louisiana coastline in its sights. In Elmwood, La., dozens of federal, state and local disaster officials were meeting to discuss storm response, but their topic was Tropical Storm Cindy, which had come ashore on July 5. While leaders of Louisiana's Office of Homeland Security and the National Guard tracked Katrina with a handheld device, local emergency managers learned how they could submit claims for Cindy's relatively modest damage.

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"Shouldn't we just apply for Katrina money now?" quipped Jim Baker, operations superintendent for the East Jefferson Levee District.

As the storm track hooked toward New Orleans, the disaster officials began passing the handheld device around the room. It was becoming clear that Katrina was no joking matter. But it was already getting late to be getting serious.

After the Hurricane Pam drill, disaster planners had concluded that evacuating New Orleans could take as long as 72 hours before a storm's landfall. By midday Friday, it was 66 hours before Katrina would end up hitting, and the threat was just starting to sink in. "With this storm, people should have evacuated no later than Friday," said a senior official in a neighboring state. "Anything after that was very risky."

In Washington, the cumbersome machinery of catastrophe began to crank up.

At the Department of Homeland Security, the 180,000-employee bureaucracy created after the Sept. 11 attacks, that meant convening the Interagency Incident Management Group. About 20 federal agencies had seats at the table, from the State Department to the Veterans Affairs Department.

FEMA was still the lead disaster agency, as it had been since 1979, but was now just a piece of DHS. Instead of Cabinet-level status and a direct line to the president, its director -- Michael D. Brown, a lawyer and former Arabian horse association official -- was an undersecretary. Funding had been cut over the past four years for FEMA's disaster-relief mission, and experienced personnel had left in droves. While experts who closely tracked FEMA had publicly fretted about the agency's reduced status, their warnings had not received widespread public attention.

By Friday, FEMA's emergency headquarters for Katrina was already running; technically, the agency was at level one, its highest level of alert.

But as the headquarters staff came in, there was a strange sense of inaction, as if "nobody's turning the key to start the engine," said one team leader, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. For his group, Friday was a day to sit around wondering, "Why aren't we treating this as a bigger emergency? Why aren't we doing anything?"

That evening, shortly before Max Mayfield made his call to Walter Maestri, Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Babineaux Blanco (D) declared a state of emergency.

Saturday, Aug. 27

'This is not a test: This is the real deal.'

By morning, Katrina was already a Category 3 hurricane, and Mayfield was predicting it could make landfall near New Orleans as an even deadlier Category 4. On FEMA's daily noon videoconference, he looked around the U-shaped conference table in Washington and saw a lot of newcomers to the disaster world among the agency's political appointees. But he knew many of the professionals listening in from the Gulf states had been through his hurricane prep course. They knew this was no drill.

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"The emergency guys, they know what a Cat 4 is," Mayfield recalled. And this had the potential to be a Category 5, only the fourth in U.S. history. "This one is different," Mayfield told the videoconference. "It's strong, but it's also much, much larger."

When talk turned to New Orleans, Mayfield mentioned the possibility of water overwhelming the levees; his center soon forecast a storm surge as high as 25 feet, far above the 17-foot clearance for most of the city's storm protection. "Clearly on Saturday, we knew it was going to be the Big One," recalled Jack Colley, Texas's veteran disaster man. "We were very convinced this was going to be a very catastrophic event."

The challenge was to get people out of harm's way. All day long, Louisiana officials announced voluntary evacuations, and Blanco implemented a "contra-flow" traffic plan to help as coastal residents reach higher grounds. Maestri said there was no point in ordering mandatory evacuations, because there was no way to force people to abandon their homes. "I can't go door to door," he explained. In Mississippi, Gov. Haley Barbour (R) told his wife he was worried about hurricane fatigue; after a series of false alarms along the Gulf Coast, the evacuation routine was starting to get old.

But local officials got the word out that this was no ordinary storm, and residents took them seriously, streaming out of town in the contra-flow lanes. Hurricane Pam's leaders had predicted a 65 percent evacuation rate, but Maestri reported 70 percent in Jefferson Parish, thanks in part to a church buddy program that provided rides for as many as 25,000 residents, and St. Bernard Parish reported 90 percent. "We had some hard-headed sons of bitches who wouldn't leave, but we made sure everyone knew this was the one," said emergency manager Larry Ingargiola.

Nearly a month into his five-week vacation near Crawford, Tex., the president first mentioned the storm in a meeting with aides that afternoon. It's possible, he told senior adviser Dan Bartlett, that he would have to scrap a planned event the following Thursday to talk about identity theft, and would add a trip to the Gulf Coast instead. When Blanco asked Bush to declare a federal emergency in Louisiana that day, Bush readily agreed.

The president was told the evacuation was proceeding as planned for New Orleans, according to a senior White House official, and that 11,000 National Guard troops would end up in a position to respond. But Lt. Gen. H. Steven Blum, chief of the Guard, said there were only about 5,100 members on duty in Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama before landfall.

At 1:30 p.m. on Saturday, Mayor Ray Nagin and Blanco held a news conference to urge New Orleans residents to make arrangements to evacuate. "This is not a test," the mayor said. "This is the real deal."

Nagin said that by daybreak, he might have to order the first mandatory evacuation in New Orleans history, although his staff was still checking whether that would pose liability problems for the city. Nagin did not tell everyone to leave immediately, because the regional plan called for the suburbs to empty out first, but he did urge residents in particularly low-lying areas to "start moving -- right now, as a matter of fact." He said the Superdome would be open as a shelter of last resort, but essentially he told tourists stranded in the Big Easy that they were out of luck.

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"The only thing I can say to them is I hope they have a hotel room, and it's a least on the third floor and up," Nagin said. "Unfortunately, unless they can rent a car to get out of town, which I doubt they can at this point, they're probably in the position of riding the storm out."

In fact, while the last regularly scheduled train out of town had left a few hours earlier, Amtrak had decided to run a "dead-head" train that evening to move equipment out of the city. It was headed for high ground in Macomb, Miss., and it had room for several hundred passengers. "We offered the city the opportunity to take evacuees out of harm's way," said Amtrak spokesman Cliff Black. "The city declined."

So the ghost train left New Orleans at 8:30 p.m., with no passengers on board.

That night, Mayfield picked up his phone again, to make sure Govs. Blanco and Barbour understood the potential for disaster. "I wanted to be able to go to sleep that night," he said. He told Barbour that Katrina had the potential to be a "Camille-like storm," referring to the August 1969 hurricane with 200-mph winds, and warned Blanco that this one would be a "big, big deal." Blanco was still unsure that Nagin fully understood, and urged Mayfield to call him personally.

"I told him, 'This is going to be a defining moment for a lot of people,' " Mayfield recalled.

Sunday, Aug. 28

'We sat here for five days waiting. Nothing!'

"We're facing the storm most of us have feared," Nagin told an early-morning news conference, the governor at his side. Katrina was now a Category 5 hurricane, set to make landfall overnight.

Minutes earlier, Blanco had been pulled out to take a call from the president, pressed into service by FEMA's Brown to urge a mandatory evacuation. Blanco told him that's just what the mayor would order.

Nagin also announced that the city had set up 10 refuges of last resort, and promised that public buses would pick up stragglers in a dozen locations to take them to the Superdome and other shelters.

But he never mentioned the numbers that had haunted experts for years, the estimated 100,000 city residents without their own transportation. And he never mentioned that the state's comprehensive disaster plan, written in 2000 and posted on a state Web site, called for buses to take people out of the city once the governor declared a state of emergency.

In reality, Nagin's advisers never intended to follow that plan -- and knew many residents would stay behind. "We always knew we did not have the means to evacuate the city," said Terry Ebbert, the sharp-tongued city director of emergency management.

At 10 a.m., in case there were still any doubters, the National Weather Service issued a hurricane warning with apocalyptic predictions: "Most of the area will be uninhabitable for weeks, perhaps longer . . . At least one-half of well-constructed homes will have roof and wall failure. . . . Water shortages will make human suffering incredible by modern standards."

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Not long after that forecast, Bush joined the daily FEMA videoconference from his Texas ranch, as a series of briefers sketched out scenarios of destruction. "We were expecting something awful," recalled Maj. Gen. Don T. Riley of the Army Corps.

Many state officials on the call feared there simply wouldn't be enough help to go around once the storm cleared, and peppered FEMA with questions about resources. "We were concerned about making sure there were enough commodities to cover all three states, water, ice, MREs," recalled Bruce Baughman, Alabama's top emergency adviser.

At that point, FEMA had already stockpiled for immediate distribution 2.7 million liters of water, 1.3 million meals ready to eat and 17 million pounds of ice, a Department of Homeland Security official said. But Louisiana received a relatively small portion of the supplies; for example, Alabama got more than five times as much water for distribution. "It was what they would move for a normal hurricane -- business as usual versus a superstorm," concluded Mark Ghilarducci, a former FEMA official now working as a consultant for Blanco.

By late Sunday, as millions of people in the Gulf region sought a safe place to hunker down, hundreds of shelter beds upstate lay empty. "We could have taken a lot more," said Joe Becker, senior vice president for preparedness and response at the Red Cross. "The problem was transportation." The New Orleans plan for public buses that would take people upstate was never implemented, and while many residents did manage to get out of town -- about 80 percent, the mayor said -- tens of thousands did not.

"Once a mandatory evacuation was ordered, those buses should have been leaving those parishes with those people on them," said Chip Johnson, chief of emergency operations in Avoyelles Parish, who helped put together the plan. In Avoyelles alone, there was room for at least 200 or 300 more on Sunday night before the storm, and more shelters could have opened if necessary. "I don't know why that didn't happen."

At the Superdome, city officials reckoned that 9,000 people had arrived by evening to ride out the storm. FEMA had sent seven trailers full of food and water -- enough, it estimated, to supply two days of food for as many as 22,000 people and three days of water for 30,000. Ebbert said he knew conditions in the Superdome would be "horrible," but Hurricane Pam had predicted a massive federal response within two days, and Ebbert said the city's plan was to "hang in there for 48 hours and wait for the cavalry."

Around midnight, at the last of the day's many conference calls, local officials ticked off their final requests for FEMA and the state. Maestri specifically asked for medical units, mortuary units, ice, water, power and National Guard troops.

"We laid it all out," he recalled. "And then we sat here for five days waiting. Nothing!"

Monday, Aug. 29

'We need everything you've got.'

Hurricane Katrina made landfall in Louisiana around 6 a.m. Central time, and within an hour, New Orleans Mayor Nagin was hearing reports of water breaking through his city's levees. At 8:14 a.m., the National Weather Service reported a levee breach along the Industrial Canal, and warned that the Ninth Ward was likely to experience extremely severe flooding. A protective floodwall along Lake Pontchartrain had given way as well, which meant that billions of gallons of water were draining into the city.

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This was the worst of the worst-case scenarios. New Orleans is a soup bowl of a city, most of it well below sea level; everyone knew a serious crevasse could fill it with 20 feet of water. Even the gloomy Hurricane Pam drill had optimistically assumed the levees would hold, but they were designed to withstand only a Category 3 storm, and Katrina created at least five breaches at three locations. Now the waters were rising.

And nobody in charge seemed to know it.

On Saturday, according to Army Corps homeland security chief Ed Hecker, the corps had warned FEMA that Katrina would probably send water over the levees, and quite possibly breach them. On Sunday, the Army Corps's Riley had told the FEMA videoconference that a plan was in place to repair levee damage once the storm passed.

But now the power was out, roads were unnavigable, and communication was practically nonexistent; even Nagin's aides had to "loot" an Office Depot for equipment to install Internet phone service. Maj. Gen. Bennett C. Landreneau, the top National Guard official in Louisiana, found his New Orleans barracks under 20 feet of water; vehicles were washed out, and troops had to take refuge upstairs.

The federal disaster response plan hinges on transportation and communication, but National Guard officials in Louisiana and Mississippi had no contingency plan if they were disrupted; they had only one satellite phone for the entire Mississippi coast, because the others were in Iraq. The New Orleans police managed to notify the corps that the 17th Street floodwall near Lake Pontchartrain had busted, and Col. Richard Wagenaar, the top corps official in New Orleans, tried to drive to the site to check it out. But he couldn't get through because of high water, trees and other obstacles on the road.

In St. Bernard Parish, a hardscrabble industrial zone just outside New Orleans, emergency manager Ingargiola realized that his entire community was marooned. He did not even have contact with his own emergency shelter, so he didn't know its roof had blown off. But local officials immediately launched rescue efforts with boats they had prepared in advance. They figured help was on the way.

At 11 a.m., ABC News reported that some New Orleans levees had been breached, and a few other outlets broadcast similarly sketchy reports that day. But most of the early coverage suggested that New Orleans had dodged a bullet as Katrina's strongest gusts had passed east of the city. Wagenaar finally confirmed the levee breaches during an overflight that evening, but his agency's first post-Katrina news release boasted about the performance of its infrastructure: "The fact that Katrina didn't cause more damage is a testament to the structural integrity of the hurricane levee protection system."

At the White House, one official recalled, "there was a general sigh of relief." On a trip to Arizona, the president shared a birthday cake with Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), who was turning 69. During a speech about the Medicare drug plan, Bush noted that he had just spoken to Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff -- about immigration.

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The federal interagency team seemed to recognize the urgency of the crisis at a meeting that morning, discussing the potential for six months of flooding in New Orleans, and a preliminary Department of Energy conclusion that as many as 2,000 of 6,500 oil and gas platforms in the Gulf could be affected. But before noon, FEMA's Brown sent a remarkably mild memo to Chertoff, politely requesting 1,000 employees to be ready to head south "within 48 hours." Brown's memo suggested that recruits bring mosquito repellent, sunscreen and cash, because "ATMs may not be working."

"Thank you for your consideration in helping us meet our responsibilities in this near catastrophic event," Brown concluded.

At the U.S. military's Northern Command, officers had been watching the storm since early in the week and had started sending Army brigade commanders and their staffs to the three affected Gulf states by Thursday. "We were all watching the evacuation," Maj. Gen. Richard Rowe, Northcom's top operations officer, recalled. "We knew that it would be among the worst storms ever to hit the United States." But on Monday, the only request the U.S. military received from FEMA was for a half-dozen helicopters.

As water poured into the city, as many as 20,000 more residents poured into the Superdome. "People started coming out of the woodwork," Ebbert said. The stadium was hot and fetid, and tempers were flaring. Ebbert said he told FEMA that night that the city would need buses to evacuate 30,000 people. "It just took a long time," he said.

State officials managed to get 60 boats to New Orleans for search-and-rescue operations by Monday night. By daybreak Tuesday, the state would have an additional 150 boats on the hunt. "We were very convinced that this thing was going to be a catastrophic event," said Bennett Landreneau, who was coordinating the state's rescue operations.

Around 6 p.m., as Governor Blanco was about to hold a news conference in Baton Rouge to discuss the damage, Blanco's communications director whispered that the president was on the line. The governor returned to a windowless office in her situation room and pleaded with the president for assistance.

"We need your help," she said. "We need everything you've got."

Tuesday, Aug. 30

'I've got a sewage problem that's going to be a medical disaster.'

Over the weekend, Texas emergency chief Jack Colley had continued to fret that the forecasts would turn out wrong and Katrina would pummel his state. "Don't worry," the hurricane center's Mayfield had assured him, "Texas is going to sit this one out." But now, it turned out, the storm was coming to Texas in another form. At 2:45 a.m., Louisiana's secretary of state for social services woke up Colley at home.

"Can you accept 25,000 people?" she asked.

Colley thought of his state's designated refuge: the Astrodome. Yes, he said. By 6 a.m., Colley's team was preparing to send Texas state troopers to escort the fleet of buses they had been assured would come soon. But they didn't know how many buses, or when, "and there were no answers that anyone could provide," said Steve McCraw, the homeland security adviser to Texas Gov. Rick Perry (R). Blanco ordered the Superdome evacuated, but Col. Jeff Smith, Louisiana's emergency preparedness chief, grew frustrated at FEMA's inability to send buses to move people out. "We'd call and say: 'Where are the buses?' " he recalled, shaking his head. "They have a tracking system and they'd say: 'We sent 349.' But we didn't see them."

By 5 a.m., Bush had already been briefed about New Orleans's rising waters, and decided that he would cut short his vacation the next day. Later that morning, the interagency group urgently commissioned new damage assessments, and local officials warned that the scale of the coastal damage could be "too extensive to calculate or summarize." Nagin declared that 80 percent of his city was underwater; after flying over New Orleans with FEMA's Brown and witnessing the widespread flooding, Blanco announced that "the devastation is greater than our worst fears."

But in public, Brown and Chertoff gave no such indication of the cataclysm, later saying they were not told until midday that the levee breaches were irreparable and would flood the city. William Lokey, FEMA's coordinator on the ground, declared that morning: "I don't want to alarm everybody that New Orleans is filling up like a bowl. That is just not happening."

That was exactly what was happening, and many state and local officials quickly concluded that the federal bureaucracy was spinning its wheels.

At the noon videoconference, several participants said, Louisiana's Smith heatedly demanded federal help. Where were the buses? At first, Smith recalled, he had asked for 450 buses, then 150 more, then an additional 500; by the end of the day, none had arrived. The first evacuees did not arrive at the Astrodome until 10 p.m. Wednesday -- on a school bus commandeered by a resourceful 20-year-old.

In Jefferson Parish, Maestri sent out an urgent call that morning for power packs in hopes of rescuing his county's faltering sewage system. "In Pam, they had said they'd have those ready on pallets so they could airlift them in, no problem," he later recalled. "It's 11 days later, and I still don't have them. I've got a sewage problem that's going to be a medical disaster like we've never seen in this country. Where's the cavalry?"

In the drowning city, chaos erupted. Looting was widespread, sometimes in full view of outnumbered police and often unarmed National Guard troops. Hundreds of New Orleans police officers quit. Others performed their duties courageously, and so did many state and federal personnel, but for now they focused on rescue and recovery. In general, the cavalry was nowhere to be seen, and everyone seemed to know it.

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"As systems either were not followed or broke down, people just went to what they believed they could handle. Every man for himself," said Ghilarducci, Blanco's adviser. "You don't use the system, you don't use resources effectively and it breaks down."

The U.S. military command charged with domestic safekeeping was watching wild images from New Orleans. On their own initiative, Rowe said, Northcom staff members broached the idea of sending active-duty ground troops. They wanted to take a force of 3,000 soldiers designated to respond to a nuclear, chemical or biological attack, strip out unneeded elements such as chemical decontamination teams and send them to the Gulf Coast.

At this point, Blanco believed she had long since asked for the maximum possible help from the federal government. But the military was not specifically asked for its assistance. Blum began moving National Guard forces into the area before he was asked, but they had trouble navigating through a modern-day Atlantis.

Army Corps officials were trying to close the gaps in the levees, but their hurried efforts to stem the flow were hampered by a lack of supplies. They could not find 10-ton sandbags or the slings they needed to drop the bags from helicopters; most of their personnel had evacuated, and so had their local contractors. "We didn't expect any breaches," Dan Hitchings of the agency's Mississippi Valley Division later explained. "We didn't think we were going to have a wall down." The corps tried to drop smaller sandbags into the 17th Street breach, but they simply floated away with the current.

FEMA managed to deliver 65,000 meals to the Superdome, but by the end of the day, water was rising so fast that the agency was unable to unload five more truckloads of food and water. That evening, in a belated bow to televised reality, Chertoff declared the unfolding disaster an "incident of national significance," triggering the government's highest level of response for the first time since the new post-9/11 system had been designed. He did not publicly announce the move until the next day.

Wednesday, Aug. 31

'They didn't have a full sense of what they were dealing with.'

Dawn found a handful of buses outside the Superdome, and an estimated 23,000 people clamoring for a ride. FEMA had promised hundreds of buses, but they were arriving, Louisiana's Smith recalled, "in a trickle." And unbeknownst to FEMA, a new circle of hell was opening downtown, as the New Orleans convention center filled with an estimated 25,000 evacuees, many of them unable to get to the flooded area around the Superdome. There was no food, no water and no feds. A spree of robbery, looting and gunfire erupted inside as police dispatched to the center stayed almost exclusively on the perimeter, according to police and witnesses, outnumbered and unable to quell the mayhem.

New Orleans as a city had all but ceased to exist. Nagin spoke of "thousands" dead. Blanco publicly pleaded for 40,000 National Guard troops. In a conference call with Guard officials in the region, Blum asked if they had what they needed. They said no.

"They said that this is bigger than anything we've ever seen or imagined," Blum recalled. "This had touched them personally. Even at that time they didn't have a full sense of what they were dealing with." Blum immediately arranged a videoconference with every adjutant general around the country, and 3,000 Guard troops streamed into New Orleans over the next 24 hours, enough to replace the entire city police force. By Saturday, the Guard would have 30,000 troops in the region.

Bush, winging his way back from vacation, paused to swoop low over the prostrate city on Air Force One. Back in Washington, he convened a stunned Cabinet.

Bush came in with a "sense of urgency in his tone" after his aerial tour, recalled Mike Leavitt, the secretary of health and human services. "It was, 'Has anybody thought of that, who's doing this? I want you to do this and this and this.' " But the scale of the problem seemed inexplicably massive, and the plans they drew up that day would take agonizing days to carry out. Leavitt, for example, declared a federal health emergency throughout the Gulf Coast, calling for 2,500 additional hospital beds in the region by Friday, and another 2,500 in the 72 hours after that. "We had to scramble the jets," he said.

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At the interagency coordination meetings, gargantuan new proposals were being discussed, such as housing the estimated million-plus newly homeless in tent cities, mobile home parks and even federalized cruise ships. At Northcom, officials were still waiting for a call requesting active-duty troops. The Navy dispatched three aid ships from Norfolk; they were due to arrive Sept. 4.

But assistance that was available was often blocked. In the Gulf, not 100 miles away from New Orleans, sat the 844-foot USS Bataan, equipped with six operating rooms and beds for 600 patients. Starting Wednesday, Amtrak offered to run a twice-a-day shuttle for as many as 600 evacuees from a rail yard west of New Orleans to Lafayette, La. The first run was not organized until Saturday. Officials then told Amtrak they would not require any more trains.

Out of public view, the White House was considering an outright federal takeover of the emergency efforts, escalating a partisan feud with the Democratic governor as Bush aides questioned her ability to manage the crisis. Despite days of pleading, the White House argued that her plea for more troops had come in only at 7:21 that morning. Amid the reports of looting and general lawlessness, the White House instructed lawyers in the Justice Department and other agencies to investigate invoking the Insurrection Act, last used during the 1992 Los Angeles riots.

But a fierce debate erupted, said an administration official who participated in the meetings and who spoke on the condition of anonymity, centering on whether Bush could order a federal takeover of the relief effort with or without Blanco's approval. White House Chief of Staff Andrew H. Card Jr., recalled from his Maine vacation, broached the question with Blanco, a senior White House official said. Later, the president called from the Oval Office to press the same idea. Both times, Blanco balked.

But her aides said she had no reason to believe the federal government would start rising to the occasion. They also said that the president never asked her directly about federalizing the state's troops. "We wouldn't have turned down federal troops," one Blanco aide said. "We were asking for them."

Thursday, Sept. 1

'They didn't hear from me . . . and they didn't come to look.'

At 4 a.m., 550 tired, hungry, frightened evacuees from the Superdome filed into Houston's Astrodome. Soon there would be thousands. Now, Houston had to figure out how to absorb not 25,000 but as many as 250,000 Louisianans.

Within hours, it was clear that many of the evacuees required urgent medical care, including 50 children from a hospital and helicopters full of soaking-wet adults.

And while initial plans had called for sheltering the entire evacuation at the Astrodome, "we found out that while you could put 23,000 people in the Dome, you wouldn't want to," as Harris County Judge Robert Eckels recalled. By evening, buses were being sent elsewhere.

Meanwhile, St. Bernard Parish was still marooned. Out of 28,000 structures in the parish, only 52 were undamaged, and as many as 5,000 were simply gone. Every day since the storm, Ingargiola had waited for the federal government to bring food, water, electricity, anything. "They didn't hear from me for four days, and they didn't come to look for us," Ingargiola recalled. "Did they think we were okay?"

Anger was also rising at federal officials, who often seemed to be getting in the way. At Louis Armstrong International Airport, commercial airlines had been flying in supplies and taking out evacuees since Monday. But on Thursday, after FEMA took over the evacuation, aviation director Roy A. Williams complained that "we are packed with evacuees and the planes are not being loaded and there are gaps of two or three hours when no planes are arriving." Eventually, he started fielding "calls from airlines saying, 'Well, we are being told by FEMA that you don't need any planes.' And of course we need planes. I had thousands of people on the concourses."

At the convention center, thousands had gathered by Thursday without supplies. There were no buses and none on the way. Nagin, almost in tears, issued a "desperate SOS."

But official Washington seemed not to be watching the televised chaos. Bush was still insisting the storm and catastrophic flooding his own government had foretold was a surprise. "I don't think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees," he said.

Later, in another television interview, Brown insisted that everything was "under control." And though the crowds had started to flock to the convention center two days earlier, Brown said: "We learned about the convention center today."

In private, Bush had reached a "tipping point" Thursday, a senior aide said, when he watched images from the convention center. But the debate inside his administration still raged over whether to federalize the Guard and take overall control of New Orleans.

At Northcom, they were still awaiting orders. That day, Rowe said, the planners had come up with another military option -- a logistical force to back up the overtaxed relief effort on the ground. The idea was to send as many as 1,500 troops each to Louisiana and Mississippi. At Fort Bragg, N.C., the 82nd Airborne was on standby to deploy, so was the First Cavalry Division at Fort Hood, Tex., and Marine bases on both coasts.

Bush discussed the idea with Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld that day, but still held back on deciding. The cavalry would have to wait.

Friday, Sept. 2

'The results are not acceptable.'

At 7 a.m., Bush called his generals to the White House, along with Rumsfeld and Chertoff. They discussed final terms of Bush's plan -- by nightfall, he would demand that Blanco hand over control of National Guard troops. And they hashed out the idea of sending in the active-duty military, though troops from the 82nd Airborne and 1st Cavalry would not get their orders until the next day.

Then Bush left for the stricken region.

Before boarding his helicopter, the president had a terse comment about his government's performance. "The results are not acceptable." But shortly after they touched down in Alabama, the president's tone changed. He turned to Brown, the focus of much of the criticism from state and local officials, and declared: "Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job."

Later in the tour, Homeland Security Secretary Chertoff visited Jefferson Parish, and told Maestri he was doing a wonderful job. "Where are the resources?" Maestri asked.

"He said: 'It's coming, it's coming,' " Maestri recalled. "Yeah, well, Christmas is coming, too." [Susan B. Glasser and Michael Grunwald The Washington Post]

setembro 10, 2005

KATRINA / Red Cross needs 40,000 volunteers

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"We're not going to be able to fix this overnight"

The American Red Cross put out an urgent call Saturday for 40,000 new volunteers to help feed, house and comfort Hurricane Katrina victims.

"This is a disaster of such scope and such significance, it's not going to go away in a few weeks or a few months," Red Cross spokesman John Degnan said.

"We're putting out an appeal to people to step forward and volunteer so they can be trained."

It was the largest recruitment drive in the organization's 125-year history.

Degnan said such an extraordinary response is needed for "a disaster unprecedented in its impact and scope in the United States."

He added, "We're not going to be able to fix this overnight. We're going to need a long time and a lot of people."

The first shift of 10,000 recruits will be needed in two weeks to relieve 36,000 volunteers now deployed, he said.

More than 160,000 Hurricane Katrina survivors are staying at 675 shelters in 23 states, he said.

Also Saturday, the Federal Emergency Management Agency worked to get the word out to hurricane victims that a program offering them debit cards worth between $350 and $2,000 is quickly coming to an end.

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The cards were "in short supply," FEMA spokesman Tom Costello said Friday night.

FEMA said evacuees may instead receive $2,000 through direct deposits to their banks or through mailed checks. Families could apply online at www.fema.gov or over the phone at (800)-621-FEMA.

The debit card program was a pilot project designed to help evacuees get some money quickly, explained FEMA spokesman Michael Widomski in Washington. But for logistical reasons, direct deposits and checks were preferable, he said.

As of Saturday morning, FEMA had given out more than $650 million in expedited assistance, said Widomski. A little more than $13 million was via debit cards.

Debit cards will continue to be distributed to people at Texas' major evacuation shelters in Houston, Dallas and San Antonio.

People who have found accommodations are not eligible for them, however.

Electronic signs throughout the three cities urged people not to show up at the evacuation centers to get the debit cards.

Meanwhile, the Red Cross began distributing debit cards Saturday morning at the St. Agnes Church in Houston, instead of at the Reliant Center, said spokesman Gregory Smith.

FEMA has come under fire for its handling of Hurricane Katrina's aftermath under the leadership of Michael Brown. On Friday, Brown was sent back to Washington and Coast Guard Vice Adm. Thad Allen replaced him as the top official in charge of the federal relief effort.