Camp
Fire survivors staying at the WalMart in Chico have to find new place
to go
Camp
Fire Evacuees At Makeshift Camp Given Deadline To Leave
CBS,
15
November, 2018
CHICO,
Butte County (KPIX 5) — The days are numbered at a makeshift camp
in a Walmart parking lot in Chico, where dozens of evacuees from the
Camp Fire have been told it’s time to leave.
Co-organizer
Luigi Balsamo says the Red Cross has told them to shut everything
down by 1 p.m. Sunday, when the donation bins will be removed as well
as the portable bathrooms. “We need a clear exit strategy,” said
Balsamo.
It’s
a call that has evacuee Carol Whiteburn in a panic. “They’re
taking everything on Sunday, the bathrooms, the lights, everything. I
don’t know what we are going to do.”
It’s
a crisis shared by more than 100 people here. Emergency officials say
they’re aware of it, but federal assistance isn’t available yet.
The
Federal Emergency Management Agency disaster recovery center won’t
even be open until tomorrow, and even then, temporary housing options
aren’t in place.
“What
do you tell people who are sleeping in a parking lot and still have
to wait 5-7 days to even get an answer from FEMA?”
“I
would tell them that our heart goes out to them,” said FEMA
External Affairs Officer Brad Pierce. “We understand the situation.
We are working around the clock to try and help them.”
FEMA
says in the meantime, shelters are supposed to fill the gap.
However,
four of the shelters housing Camp Fire evacuees currently have
norovirus outbreaks, and are getting worse every day. “I’d rather
breathe the smoke,” said Whiteburn.
So
while this spot has stopped accepting donations and told everyone
their deadline, what happens to these people after it, is a looming
uncertainty.
“We
have weather coming. It’s going to rain. What happens when it rains
on all this stuff, or the flood zone where these people there tents
are camped out over here?” said Balsamo. “We’re going to have a
major crisis on our hands for the community here of Chico if these
people have to go hit the streets.”
There
are people who are in their 80s in the camp sleeping in their cars.
There was woman with a three-year-old and a three-week-old sleeping
in a tent in the cold.
City
officials have said they are not going to be aggressive in the
enforcement process, but the people here are in limbo with the hard
deadline.
A
FEMA disaster recover center is set to open Friday in an old Sears
store in the Chico mall. FEMA says workers will be there through the
night to get it up and running by 9:00 a.m. People will initially
only be able to register there; help with housing is still days away.
California's
Camp Fire has destroyed about 9,000 homes, creating climate refugees
inside the state.
Don
Hardin burrowed between blankets in his SUV, and switched on the
heater whenever the shivers returned.
Even
during the day Thursday, the 81-year-old Camp fire evacuee, who has
arthritis, struggled to stay warm. When temperatures dropped near
freezing Wednesday night, Hardin popped a sleeping pill.
Nearby,
a woman bear-hugged her grandson for body heat and, inside a small
green tent, a man had nightmares of his escape from flames — he
flashed back to the car he watched drive into the fire, wondering if
he could have saved the people inside.
It
had been one week since the Camp fire destroyed everything they owned
and respite still seemed out of sight. In a region that was facing a
housing shortage even before the fire, some survivors were forced to
seek refuge in a tent city outside a Walmart in Chico. For others,
evacuation centers established outside the burn zone have become
breeding grounds for disease. On Thursday, Butte County health
authorities warned that an outbreak of norovirus was spreading with
alarming speed, and appeared to have sickened survivors in at least
four shelters.
In
the days since sheets of flames sprinted through Paradise, killing at
least 63 people and decimating the entire town in minutes, evacuees
have endured hardship and sorrow in a surreal state of limbo. Some
sleep in their trucks to keep warm and swallow tears as they imagine
the shells of their homes. Others pray that unanswered texts to
missing friends don’t mean what they think they mean, and they
feign normalcy for the sake of their children.
“Rain
is coming and these people need a shelter over their heads,” said
Debby Barbero, a volunteer who has been coordinating donations at the
tent settlement.
As
a group, the volunteers decided that Sunday at 1 p.m., they would
need to shut down the makeshift donation center and tent city and try
to help people find shelter in the meantime.
“This
is unsustainable right now,” she said, adding that it has been
difficult to find shelter space for evacuees.
Matters
weren’t much better for those who had managed to find space in the
evacuation centers.
By
Thursday, an outbreak of the highly contagious norovirus had spread
to several shelters. At the evacuation locations, 145 people had come
down with vomiting or diarrhea, said Lisa Almaguer, the public
information officer for the Butte County Department of Public Health.
Twenty-five people had been hospitalized, she said.
“The
number of sick people is increasing every day,” Almaguer said.
Outside
Walmart on Wednesday, volunteers weaved through tents, handing out
homemade muffins and warm towels, which people used to clean their
faces. A man who had just spent $30 inside the store offered
toiletries and kept his eyes peeled for the perfect family.
“Anybody
got a couple boys?” he asked, holding a pack of Hot Wheels toy
cars. “I’m hoping I can put a smile on your kids’ faces.”
Nearby,
DeAnn Miller propped herself up on her maroon walker. The cold
temperatures helping firefighters aggravated her arthritis, she said,
so it had been a long, familiar night.
Miller,
57, who goes by Dee, lived on the streets of Chico for a year and a
half until May, when her Uncle Joe gave her a 16-foot travel trailer,
which she parked in nearby Magalia. She hasn’t been able to get a
hold of her uncle or check on her trailer, Miller said, and she
evacuated so quickly that she took nothing with her, not even a
change of clothes.
“To
just get a home again and to lose it like this …” she said,
trailing off and assuming the worst. “I don’t want to be homeless
again.”
A
few feet away, Karen Kaksonen pulled out her cellphone and stared at
a picture of her 800-square-foot home reduced to ash. All that
remained was a brick chimney. The 33-year-old, who had lived in
Paradise for more than half of her life, thought back to the 2008
fire and how her home perched high on a mountain always seemed to
escape the flames. The firefighters, she remembered telling her
grandmother, would “never let the fire get this high.”
For
a few nights, Kaksonen and her boyfriend stayed at a hotel, but when
the reservation ended they searched for other spots. Everything was
sold out, so they headed to the Walmart in Chico and pitched a tent.
When it got really cold, Kaksonen, her boyfriend, her mother and her
mother’s fiance all crammed into one tent, relying on one another’s
body heat.
For
some, a semblance of routine offered solace in the face of loss.
Before
9 a.m. Thursday on the other side of town, the girls’ basketball
team from Paradise High School trickled into their rival’s gym in
Chico for their first practice since losing their hometown a week
earlier.
Out
of 15 girls and two coaches, only one had a home that was still
standing.
The
Bobcats’ varsity coach, Sheila Craft, locked eyes with her Chico
High counterpart, Gina Snider, and the two women hugged.
“We
don’t know what school’s going to look like,” said Craft, who
lost her home. “But we’re sure going to try to have a season.”
The
sound of the basketballs echoed in the gym as girls dribbled down the
shiny wooden court. Nets swished and the girls let out happy cries,
forgetting, at least for a moment, the swirling ash and
salmon-colored disc of a smoke-tinged sun outside.
Coach
Sheila Craft and the Paradise High School Bobcats cheer together at
the end of practice at the Chico High School gym on Thursday.
Coach
Sheila Craft and the Paradise High School Bobcats cheer together at
the end of practice at the Chico High School gym on Thursday. (Kent
Nishimura / Los Angeles Times)
Tessa
Lawrie, whose 15-year-old daughter sprinted up the court, explained
her family’s situation to her daughter’s junior varsity coach.
They’d lost their home in Paradise, Lawrie said, so they were
staying at a cousin’s home in Chico along with Lawrie’s mother
and stepfather, who also lost their home.
“One
big, happy family having a slumber party,” she said, adding that
they also had three cats, two dogs, a hamster and a rabbit in the
home. The fish tank, she said, didn’t make it out.
“We
have to keep smiling and going through the motions,” she said, for
the sake of her children. “They need some sort of normalcy right
now. Their whole world has been turned upside down.”
When
Paradise High athletic director Anne Stearns arrived, she spoke about
survivor’s guilt. Her home in Chico had survived, as had the home
of a volleyball player she knew. The girl still had a home, Stearns
said, and she felt terrible about it.
When
Craft, the varsity coach, called a team huddle, the girls sat on the
edge of the court, faces raised.
“We
will have a basketball team,” Craft assured them, explaining that
their first game would be up north in Susanville on the Tuesday after
Thanksgiving.
"We
will have games as long as everybody is wanting to stay and play.
Parents, don't worry about transportation. We have so many teachers
who don't have work. They'll drive you.”
She
talked about logistics, when practices would be held, how to get
information and transportation and clothes.
Every
game this season will be an away game. Even if it's supposed to be a
home game. Paradise High is still standing. But there's not much else
left in the town of 26,000 or so.
Still.
"The
season is not about winning anything, doing anything great,"
Craft said. "It's about us staying together. We can't lose a
whole season of learning."
She
teared up.
Rheann
Colwell, a 16-year-old junior, came to practice in black jeans, a
black T-shirt and sandals. Her home in Paradise is a pile of ash.
What clothes she could grab before evacuating were in Weaverville, at
her grandparents' house.
She
raised her hand at the end of the meeting. She needed shoes.
Craft
kicked off her black slip-ons. They were size 9.5, too big. Snider
handed over her red Chuck Taylor All Stars. Size 7.5, too small.
Kylee Weinbarger, 15, ran to her bag and returned with another pair
of well-worn Chucks.
These
were white — well, sort of white — size 8.5, a perfect fit.
Practice
began.
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