Ike victims clamor for supplies

Published: Tuesday, Sept. 16 2008 12:11 a.m. MDT

Monday in downtown Galveston, Texas, Steven Frasier breaks apart a wooden floor that was warped and damaged by flooding during Hurricane Ike.

Matt Slocum, Associated Press

Enlarge photo»

HOUSTON — Thousands of victims of Hurricane Ike settled in at shelters for what could be weeks, and others waited wearily in line for food, water, ice and gasoline Monday as it became increasingly clear the disaster along the Texas coast would be measured not by its death toll but by the misery it spread.

Almost three days after the storm steamrolled the coast, the extent of the damage was still coming into focus, with rescue teams finally reaching some of the hardest-hit and most inaccessible places, including Bolivar Peninsula, a resort on Galveston Bay where entire neighborhoods were obliterated. Homes were wiped from foundations and stilts jutted up from the sand — but their occupants were living, buoying the spirits of rescue crews.

While the number of confirmed deaths was still remarkably low — most of the 39 deaths blamed on Ike were outside of Texas — the distress was considerable.

Nearly 37,000 people were in shelters, and there was no word on when those living in the most devastated towns, such as Galveston, might return. An estimated 2.2 million people in Texas alone remained without power. Many service stations had no gasoline, or no electricity to pump it. With no running water, some residents were dumping toilet waste directly into the sewers. Major highways were still under water.

Victims grew irritable as they waited for food and water. Some relief stations ran out of supplies, leaving thousands hungry and panicked.

Lines of cars stretched two hours or longer at Texas Southern University for packages of bottled water and bags of ice, the only supplies on hand until three 18-wheelers showed up around noon. Cheers broke out when it was announced there were boxes with chili, a small bag of Frito chips and a cookie.

"Why didn't they call for volunteers when they knew this was going to hit?" grumbled Irene Makris, who waited in line but was told to drive to a station in another part of Houston, closer to her neighborhood. "This is bull."

Snapshots of damage were emerging everywhere: In Galveston, oil coated the water and beaches with a sheen, and residents were ordered off the beach. Dozens of burial vaults popped up out of the soggy ground, many disgorging their coffins. Several came to rest against a chain-link fence choked with garbage and trinkets left behind by mourners.

Get The Deseret News Everywhere

Subscribe

Mobile

RSS