My fiance and I were living in Baton Rouge during the time that the Great Flood of 2016 took us.
It was a normal Saturday. Brandon, his father, our two roommates and I were relaxing at home. I was concerned with the amount of water that was overtaking my hometown of Denham Springs, but so far I was an onlooker - nothing more. Brandon and his father, Mel, went to take a ride through our neighborhood. Since we lived right behind the Amite River, they wanted to see if we had anything to worry about. It took them 10 minutes to return from that short ride, and it was then that I knew our lives were about to change.
"Get everything that's important to you. We have to leave NOW," is what they told me. Everything that's important to me? This is my home. I've worked hard to build it. How could I pick the things that were dearest to me? I never thought that I could make this kind of decision. The first thing I did was try to put everything as high as it could go. My shoes, my clothes, my books, the things I have collected over the years had to be saved. I could not let this flood take me down.
We were undecided on whether or not we should leave after that. Would the water get high enough to worry about? What would we do when we leave? Would we just go and stand outside in the rain with our valuables waiting for someone to rob us? Keep in mind, we also had to save a large dog and two cats, so we would be putting them under a great deal of stress to leave. By the time we realized that the water wasn't stopping, it was too late. We were trapped. I began calling all of the numbers that my Facebook friends were posting, with no prevail. All of the numbers were either busy, their voicemail boxes were full, or they were busy rescuing others. I even tried calling 911. They told me that I would be put on a list and they would try to get to me. They had other people with water up to their chest that needed saving. How could I argue with that? Meanwhile, the water was quickly making its way into our home. Within an hour, the water went from a distant field to knocking on our front door. The dispatcher told me that we needed to make our way up the attic with food, water, flashlights, batteries, and tools to beat through the roof, if it came to that. Mel sent our story into WAFB, and not long after waving down helicopters, the Cajun Navy came to our rescue.
We put our two cats in a carrier with towels and food, put our dog on a leash, held a small duffel bag with some clothes, and a backpack. Out of everything that was important to me, these things were essential.
We boated down our neighborhood and were horror struck at what we saw. Cars were completely submerged. We could barely see the tops of them. We had to take three different boats to finally get to the front of our neighborhood. We were dropped off at the local Family Dollar where we waited for someone to come to our rescue. After sitting in the rain for about two hours, and after seeing the National Guard dropping more people off at our location, they told us that they would begin bringing people to the YMCA down the road. We knew that there were elderly and sick people that had been waiting much longer than us, so we wanted them to get to safety first. The National Guard promised they would return to us, but they never came. Once we realized that no one was coming back for us, we took our lives in our own hands. We had to wade through about five feet of a mixture of diesel fuel and water with our cats, and supplies. Our poor dog had to swim for the first time in her life, and we began wondering if she would be able to make it the whole way. We knew we had to get a few miles down the road so that family could come and get us out of that storm. Thank God for two men in a black truck that asked us if we wanted a ride. We graciously accepted, and climbed in the bed.
We were all relieved to be out of that water, and scared of what was coming next.
As we passed the YMCA, we could see that it was no longer a safe zone. It was completely flooded with no National Guard in sight. When we finally got to the next road that was not yet flooded, we had to walk another half mile to get to our destination. We were all exhausted, but we could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. As we walked, we could see people taking photos of us with their phones. It was as if we were some sort of sad spectacle to be gawked at instead of people.
About 30 minutes later, our families came to get us. Our roommates left with their family, and Brandon, Mel, and I left with our own. Alec Gallia and Stormi Tigner saved our lives that night. We had warm blankets, food, water and a comfortable place to lay our heads. The following morning, Brandon's grandparents, Al and Bobbie Gallia, came to our rescue again. They took us and the cats and dog to Lafayette where they lived. They gave us a suite to stay in, with unlimited food, water and love. After staying in Lafayette for a period of time, I can't help but think the flood pushed us out of Baton Rouge for a reason. I believe that although this flood took our lives away from us, it began a new one.
When I returned to our Baton Rouge home, it was of course, devastating. We salvaged what we could, but I no longer felt attached anymore. Our family was not here. It was all material things that we have lost. This flood has humbled me beyond what I thought possible.
I pray that everyone that has lost their houses, cars, and belongings, find home again. I urge them to never give up hope that a rainbow will come from the storm. And to have faith in God, and that he will protect and provide for them as he has for us.
