Guest blog: A post-BP oil disaster journey along the Gulf Coast

By Joanna Pollock, a 1Sky Regional Coordinator in Arkansas. -- Luis

Checking into the India House hostel in New Orleans at 3 AM seemed tame enough. If you didn’t know about the massive 37,500 gallon per day (an average of the two estimates we’ve been given of 5,000 from BP and 70,000 from magic volumetric formula guy) oil volcano on the Gulf floor, one may not have noticed the ominous foreboding that hung heavy in the air. Pictures of stale, polluted water lapping at the hostel steps hung on the walls…memories of Katrina, far from faded, forever etched in NOLA consciousness. It was 3am so I restrained myself from asking the clerk at the hostel his sincere thoughts and feelings on the oil spill.

The next day my friend Ira and I ventured to the French quarter where there appeared to be merriment and a carefree vibe permeating the morning. Out in the French market I began to ask questions. What was everyone thinking about the oil spill? I asked a gentleman we’ll call Dave, who drove a mule drawn carriage for tourists. Dave told me that he was a Vietnam Veteran who had been a successful businessman, but lost everything in Katrina. After losing his home and business, he had moved away to try to make ends meet again. When I asked him about the oil disaster, he said that he had finally moved back home two days before the oil spill. The grief he felt for his community was palpable.

Dave is of the human stock that has a determination to survive, but he was obviously rattled by this unfathomable injustice. If he had known this was going to happen he might have put his return off a little longer. What more can the Louisiana coast take?

I spoke with another mule drawn carriage driver who said vehemently:

The last administration removed all the regulations on the oil boys. They should never have been allowed to drill that deep. Don’t even get me started. Huh…I’m angry…that’s where I’m coming from. This threatens our whole way of life, our food source, our income source, from here to Florida. And don’t tell me the marine life isn’t dying…we’ve never seen anything like what’s coming.

Before leaving NOLA I spoke with two shop owners, a lady of the 9th ward commuting by ferry across Lake Ponchetrain and the two clerks at the hostel. There was a theme in all of their thoughts and feelings. It was a silent grief of a strong people. They were trying to brace themselves psychologically, but weren't sure what to prepare for logistically. Disaster is coming and we know her well, but we have yet to see the dark, greasy costume she’ll be donning this time.

From New Orleans we went to the Mississippi shrimping and oyster hunting community of Pearlington. Pearlington is no stranger to poverty and was devastated by Katrina. In Pearlington we talked with the convenience store clerk, an unemployed gentleman, a waitress and two men who -- surprise, surprise -- worked for the oil industry as "drillers." The convenience store clerk told us that “the ban was coming,” and everyone was just trying to bring in as many shrimp, oysters and crayfish as they could before the ban. She said just down the road “the ban” had already started and she heard Pearlington’s would start tomorrow.

I asked her who set the ban and she said the government would soon tell them they can’t shrimp or hunt for oysters or anything else…"you name it we can find it out here and it’s what we do. Our whole economy is based on it…then we’ll have to just stop,” With wide brown eyes, shaking her head: “It’s awful…and they’re saying we might have to stop for as long as 15 years, we just don’t know how long. There won’t be anyway to live here anymore.” When asked what they thought of the spill, one of the drillers stated as the other one nodded in agreement, “I’m just glad it wasn’t me who caused this. Somebody wasn’t watching or responding to the pressure and it blew.”

We found our way to Pensacola that night where we landed at 11 PM so off to bed. The next morning entering Santa Rosa Island of Pensacola beach, the otherworldly pristine beauty of turquoise water and pearl white beaches greeted me. I remembered in years past swimming with schools of stingrays in transparent waters and my heart felt especially heavy.

That morning, May 13th, I asked for an oyster Po Boy at a restaurant on Pensacola beach and was told, “We don’t have oysters and we don’t know when we will.” I asked why and she simply said “Because of the oil.” I asked her if she was worried about the oil spill coming to the beach here and with a furrowed, desperate brow she said “Oh yeah, we’re all worried. We keep hoping it won’t come here, but we know it will eventually.” She said she had been there for 20 years and if she lost her job she didn’t know what she would do.

In fact, everyone I spoke with in Pensacola from the waitress, to the pier guard, to the fishermen, to the ice cream stand owner, to the seafood cook, they were all bracing themselves to be without work. Everyone believed they would eventually lose their jobs because of the affect of the spill on tourism and marine life. Susan at the ice cream stand told me that the state had provided 60,000 feet of boom to the community, but someone had stolen it. The most poignant statement was made by the seafood cook, Sam, who told us "You girls better enjoy this while its still here. We all had better because when that oil gets here all of this will be gone, gone." He had worked as a seafood cook all his life.

I find it difficult to adequately describe what I saw on the Gulf. I did not see oil, but I felt I was witnessing what was at the very least tremendous hardship to many people who the day before the oil spill had full and hopeful lives. At worse we were witnessing the beginning of the end of the Gulf way of life. Entire cultures of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida may soon be lost as this ecological disaster unfolds and chokes the Gulf economy in the oil of the Deepwater Horizon.

BP is reportedly paying the states some advance restitution for the economic losses already experienced in the tourism industry. However, the economic and ecological effects of this oil gusher disaster are likely to be long-term. No one knows how long-term, but there is something insidious about unknown volumes of oil and chemical dispersant permeating mysterious, fragile ecosystems. This could be the end for some species and one species depends on another for survival. There is always a chain reaction in nature because systems are intricately interdependent.

We easily forget that we too are interdependent with our natural world and when we harm it, we harm ourselves. An assault of this magnitude is an assault on our well being economically and emotionally. Mothers I know are trying to keep this disaster from their young children because they know how upsetting it will be to them. There is no way for BP to adequately repay all the damage being caused because it is incalculable, but the root of the problem is not BP's irresponsible decision making. The root cause is our culture's continued dependence, whether foreign or domestic, on fossil fuels. Our continued reliance on fossil fuels is the cause of wars and climate change, as well as, unreasonable and unjust actions the world over.

Let us truly begin our cultural rehabilitation from this addiction and begin anew a culture that wants less stuff and more quality of life. We can start by calling our senators and not only telling them we don't want domestic offshore drilling, but also telling them we want a switch to a clean energy economy. Clean energy is moral energy.