Judy Polumbaum: providing China news and notes since June 2008

Sunday at the houseboat (now a dustboat) was hugely productive; six friends helped clear the heaviest ruined stuff and we loaded up the curb. By Monday, Iowa City loaders, crunchers and dump trucks were hauling away “general debris,” one of the four types of piles we are supposed to make and by far the largest, along with yard waste; and Tuesday, the EPA trucks arrived to take away the “white goods,” appliances, plus poisons such as paint cans. So the huge mound that grew at the end of my driveway has vanished, and most new refuse gets taken away quickly.

Milestones Tuesday included getting going on drywall (now wetwall) and insulation extraction, from floor up to four feet; arrival of electrician saviors to secure the box and then put in temporary outlets in the garage, that with city approval may get some juice for powering power tools and fans by Wednesday; and a visit from a FEMA inspector, who almost didn’t come because he was running late, but i persuaded him that his next appointment would understand how busy he was.

I had started Tuesday in a different head space altogether–with a radio interview about my book CHINA INK, and Chinese journalism generally, with Madison, Wisconsin, listener-supported station WORT-FM. The station archives programs for 60 days, and you can look up mine in the 8 am slot for Tuesday, June 24. My lovely host was Stan Woodard, who handles the “8 o’clock Buzz” program every Tuesday. He and his wife spent six weeks teaching at a teachers college in Hefei, Anhui Province, in 2005, so he knows a bit about the “real” China. Lovely guy, said he’d call me back for another on-air interview after the Olympics. I was nervous as heck before the station’s phone call came to hook me in, but during the actual conversation, I found the experience of talking to a live audience a state away while sitting on my friends’ couch in my nightgown quite pleasant. Wisconsin’s had its own flooding catastrophes, so first we commiserated about emergency woes.

My notion of emergencies has shifted somewhat in the process of living within one. When everything is an emergency, it turns out most things aren’t–and the only way to deal with the disruptions is to be exceedingly patient and calm.

Two friends accompanied me back down to the house Friday and we flung open windows, took up carpet and linoleum, knocked holes in drywall, lifted and dragged and tossed and piled. The neighborhood still is a “mandatory evacuation” zone, but recovery is beginning and the few city reps and utility company employees making it down there to inspect water, sewer, power, etc., turn a blind eye to our presence.

I’ve posted photos from the cleanup effort on my Facebook site, here…

You need an account to see it, but accounts are free and fun and you can sign up and “friend” me and follow the progress of our cleanup and reconstruction.

We have a neighborhood meeting at the Iowa City public library today and shall see what information that brings. Beforehand I have an appointment with the FEMA inspector who’s come to town–I’m to look for him in his green van in the Perkins’ parking lot in Coralville!

It’s Wednesday morning, going on a week since the Iowa floods forced evacuation of our Iowa City neighborhood, and I’m about to drive an hour west to Grinnell to work on a China-related feature article for the Grinnell College alumni magazine. The assignment arrived in an e-mail offer the other day–a describe-the-universe kind of story drawing on Grinellian sources to answer questions like: “Is there a coherent view of China that lies behind the front page stories? Where is China heading, and what does it mean for the world?” Seemed like a great distraction, preferable to twiddling my thumbs while I wait for the waters to subside.

Tuesday was a flood-centered day: In the morning, I spent half an hour on the phone with a lovely FEMA gentleman in DC, who took down information for my disaster assistance registration — and expressed amazement that in the space of two days i was the second caller with the same birthday as him ! (July 29) Then I drove a circuitous route to the high ground above my neighborhood, parked the car and walked down as close as I could get to my block without starting to wade.

For awhile I stood right down the street from my house, separated only by a stretch of brownish waters. A rescue boat with about six uniformed people and a TV camera came halfway up my block and I shouted to them: “Hey, can you take me to my house?” A guy responded: “You’re supposed to evacuate!” I replied: “I already did!” He said: “You’re not supposed to be here!” I thought they’d come further and check me out — who was I? was I a looter? did I have a problem? But no–they turned around and putt-putted the other way!

A young fellow came down from the hill to survey the waterscape — turned out to be an engineering student who was just coming to take a look. We had a nice chat, and then he left. I continued to gaze wisfully at my house, not quite having the gumption to begin wading.

Then another young guy with cameras and long lenses, followed by a gal with the same, emerged from behind some bushes. They were wading, and gave me fortitude. “Hey,” I said, “wanna visit my house?” Of course they did — they were photographers for Iowa papers, one a regular with the Cedar Rapids Gazette and the other borrowed from the Cincinnatti Enquirer to snap for the Des Moines Register, and I’d be giving them exclusive access to the inside of a flooded homestead!

So we felt for the sidewalk, hitting about butt-deep water at the deepest, and got to my front door, which I unlocked, and I gave them and myself a tour. The water had sunk from what was probably its highest of about three feet on my ground floor to about 18 inches. A few stray shoes floated by. The fridge door had swung open and a pickle jar, a ketchup bottle and a few other things were bobbing around. Underfoot we could feel the linoleum coming up, and in the living room the carpet already was billowing — at least it will not be difficult to pull up.

How did I feel? That’s what reporters for the papers asked me afterwards. Not sad, not upset, just weirded out. It’s strange to be on the other side of a news story–we’re used to seeing those affected by calamity, whether man-made or natural disaster or combinations, which no doubt this flooding is, from a distance. Now my story is the one being mediated. I feel somehow removed from myself even as I know I’m in the middle of it.

We are lucky to have that second story where we moved a lot of things. STUFF. The only possessions I’m truly sorry to see damaged are our old upright piano and a new wood floor laid in a big back room two summers ago. The house itself, of course, will be the biggest challenge — ripping up floor coverings, cutting out soggy drywall and insulation, trying to get everything drained and dried and disinfected before reconstruction can begin will take who knows how long?

Meanwhile — we’re trying to reach as many of the scattered residents of our neighborhood as possible to convene at a meeting this Saturday, June 21, 3-6 PM in the Iowa City Public Library meeting room A, to form a neighborhood association that will have a collective legal voice in recovery work and the aftermath. Wish us luck.

Our commander-in-chief stumbled over his tongue Tuesday morning in addressing our situation here:

“I’ve just assembled my — many people on my domestic policy team to discuss the current flooding in the Midwest.  Of course, our hearts and thoughts go to those who lost life.  And of course, we’re concerned about those whose — who lost their homes or lost their businesses. I’ve been briefed by Secretary Chertoff and Secretary Schafer and Director Paulison about the response.  First task at hand is to deal with the flood waters, to anticipate where the flooding may next occur, and to work with the state and local authorities to deal with the response. For example, in the case of Iowa, one of the issues was the need for fresh drinking water or drinking water, and so Director Paulison informed me that we’ve provided about 2 million liters of drinking water.  When I was overseas I spoke to the Governor, and he said, listen, I — the federal — we need federal help on drinking water.  So I sent the word to David and he responded well… I fully understand people are upset when they lose their home.  A person’s home is their most valued possession.  And we want to work with state and local folks to have a clear strategy to help people find — get back into a place that — where they can live…”

Does not that instill us with great confidence?

An update soon: I had an adventure sneaking back into my house! I also had a nice phone conversation with a FEMA rep in DC who took my registration information. We’ll see if they do any better in Iowa than they did in New Orleans. This is much less severe and involves far fewer numbers, but if they can find a way to screw it up I’m sure they will.

The new twist for travelers setting out from Iowa City is that, due to closings of roads, bridges and now highways from the flooding in Eastern Iowa, you cannot get to the Cedar Rapids airport  without going in a huge loop, way west to Des Moines and then north and back east. That means what is ordinarily a straight-shot 20-mile drive will stretch to more than 400 miles. Pretty silly.

Three of us were destined to take off on international trips this Monday. I canceled mine — a ten-day academic fellowship in Israel, which I was so looking forward to as a break from the usual focus on, yes, China. Giving up this opportunity was a real disappointment, but making the decision to stay in Iowa City and face the high tide and then deal with cleaning up the wreckage was a relief.

My younger son was scheduled to go to Israel as well — on a different trip entirely, but leaving the same day. And his dad, the Chinese author Gao Yuan, was going back to Beijing after a month here. I spent a morning on the phone changing their departure point from Cedar Rapids to Des Moines, so we only have to drive about 135 miles to get them to their planes, and they’ll get airborne Monday morning after all. Then I’ll come back to the farm and let this craziness start to sink in.

The Buddhist idea (which I’m going to grossly oversimplify) that the begging bowl will never be empty now rings quite true to me. I’ve abandoned the burdens of most worldly possessions to the advancing waters, and instead am relying on the goodness of friends. I’ve had so many offers of places to stay that, at last count, I could lay my head in a different place every night for a week and not have to start over for another few days. Right now I’m sitting in the living room of a friend’s farmhouse — with wireless Internet! — and feeling more peaceful than I have since all this madness commenced late last week. Otis, my beagle, is welcome at this farm, so he’ll be hanging out here with two big labs and a little lab puppy.

Everyone in our neighborhood finally was told to clear out this morning, because the streets were becoming waterways and escape routes were closing fast. Having driven out, we’re not supposed to go back, although I sneaked back once already, down a hill through the woods, with a family member who was bound and determined to clean out the refrigerator of perfectly good food. The power was out and the scene was eerily quiet. The birds and squirrels and rabbits were having a fine time in the soggy yard. We got a good haul of food, enough to cook big meals for our friends for several days. The sandbag dike is sitting there partly built, far short of the anticipated water level.

Cedar Rapids got drowned today, so the worst is over there, and it was very bad. No way of telling what will happen in Iowa City, except that it also is going to be bad. Floodwaters are supposed to crest here next week, so we’re just waiting things out. I’m even getting evicted from my University of Iowa office–as a “precautionary” measure, our building must be evacuated by Saturday afternoon. About all I can plan for meanwhile is my reading at Prairie Lights Bookstore in downtown Iowa City — high ground — on Friday evening. I’m hoping for a good sympathy turnout. And I get to think and talk about China for awhile!

The costs of this devastation will be tallied for months and years to come–not only homes and properties destroyed, but in some cases livelihoods lost, and undoubtedly many psychic repercussions. So far, though, it doesn’t even remotely approach the toll of the tornado in Western Iowa that took the lives of four boy scouts and injured 40. My world these days may be surreal, but it’s not tragic. Life and limb around here are sound.

The floodwaters have crept up behind my house and the sandbagging crew worked three hours on that part of the line last night. Crazy. The reservoir is supposed to top the emergency spillway today (Tuesday) for the second time in 50 years, and then things will get worse. Crazier.

My younger son (turns 22 next week) says this is the start of the global warming era — that we foolish elders have bequeathed to his generation.

Today we’ll continue sandbagging and praying to the Buddha. We did see a beautiful double rainbow as we worked yesterday evening, but then it poured again in the middle of the night.

This is nothing, though, in comparison to real tragedies and disasters. As far as I know, no people have been seriously hurt or killed to date in these floods in Iowa.