Aug 01, 2010
BP's "Missing Oil" coats wetlands and beaches along the
waterways near St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana, where no one is booming,
cleaning, skimming, or watching.
I am traveling the Gulf Coast writing a new book on the Gulf oil disaster.
The good news is that the cap is holding. The bad news is that, with
the well no longer gushing, the oil is out of sight and out of mind and
BP is pulling up boom and pulling back workers, skimmers, cleaners, and
the rest of the clean-up apparatus all across the Gulf. Even without
new oil, the 40,000 barrels a day that spewed from the Macondo well for
nearly 100 days continue to wash up on shores, including ones which no
one is protecting or cleaning.
There is no shortage of people desperate to do this work. On Wednesday, July 28, Mayor Ron Davis of Prichard, Alabama took
me to visit a packed Hazardous Waste Operations and Emergency Response
(HAZWOPER) training class required for anyone involved in BP clean-up
efforts. The city offers these classes for free. With unemployment at
over 14% and poverty reaching 40%, the students who filled this, the
tenth class, were effusive with gratitude. Although there is a waiting
list over two months long to get in, as the the cleanup jobs shrivel
away, this is the last class the city will offer.
The next night I attended a BP community forum in St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana with representatives from BP, the U.S. Coast Guard, and other agencies available to talk to the public.
Here I met fishermen desperate to be put to work as part of BP's
Vessels Of Opportunity (VOO) program, using their boats to fish for oil
instead of seafood by laying boom and absorbents and skimming. When the
Parish President announced that St. Mary's Parish did not, does not,
and would not have oil, he was immediately surrounded by local
fishermen, one of whom said loudly, "then why does Kermit have oil in
his bag right now?" At which point the President turned off the mike
and, in Kermit's words, "all hell broke lose."
Kermit Duck's (yes, that's his real name) grandfather, great
grandfather, and so on, have been fishers in St. Mary's Parish since
Morgan City was founded. Kermit had spent that day looking for oil. He
found a lot of it and brought some to the meeting in a ziplock bag to
prove that it is out there. He is not a part of the VOO program,
although he has spent two months on a waiting list trying to get hired.
Instead, thanks to BP, he is four months unemployed and desperate to see
a real clean-up effort take place so that one day he might be able to
fish again.
On Friday Kermit took me out on a boat to show me the oil.
We spent five hours on the water traveling between Oyster Bayou and
Taylor's Bayou. We saw a lot of oil. With the exception of a small
amount of boom outside of the Mouth of East Bay Junop, we saw no boom,
skimmers, absorbents, or clean-up crews. The Juno boom was coated with
oil, as was the area behind it.
We saw plenty of freshly oil-soaked grass and beach. The strong harsh
smell of crude filled the air as we neared. The oil had washed up in
waves, covering a large patch of grass here, leaving a clean patch
beside it there. Fields of oil glistened as the sun picked up the oil's
sheen.
We walked along a shell beach on the south end of Oyster Bayou
speckled throughout with fresh tar balls that reached from the reeds to
inside the water's edge. Kermit's friend Buddy used an oar to dig below
the beach surface, revealing more oil beneath.
Over the last months I have traveled the coasts of every state
affected by the spill. Until this trip, every time I walked an area with
oil, clean-up crews were never far behind. The oil would wash up, the
crews would clean it, and the oil would wash up again. It was a sad
dance to watch.
This is far more disturbing. BP's oil continues to coat the Gulf
Coast. The oil I saw yesterday was washing up into Louisiana's vital
wetlands, the last barrier of protection from hurricanes. If the grass
remains unprotected and unclean, the oil can enter the root system,
killing the grass forever. The oil was also at the mouth of Oyster
Bayou, at the heart of St. Mary's Parish's way of life.
Before I left, Kermit assured me that his Parish President would now
act and hold BP accountable to clean up the oil. Hopefully, he will not
be alone in his efforts.
Join Us: News for people demanding a better world
Common Dreams is powered by optimists who believe in the power of informed and engaged citizens to ignite and enact change to make the world a better place. We're hundreds of thousands strong, but every single supporter makes the difference. Your contribution supports this bold media model—free, independent, and dedicated to reporting the facts every day. Stand with us in the fight for economic equality, social justice, human rights, and a more sustainable future. As a people-powered nonprofit news outlet, we cover the issues the corporate media never will. Join with us today! |
Our work is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). Feel free to republish and share widely.
BP's "Missing Oil" coats wetlands and beaches along the
waterways near St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana, where no one is booming,
cleaning, skimming, or watching.
I am traveling the Gulf Coast writing a new book on the Gulf oil disaster.
The good news is that the cap is holding. The bad news is that, with
the well no longer gushing, the oil is out of sight and out of mind and
BP is pulling up boom and pulling back workers, skimmers, cleaners, and
the rest of the clean-up apparatus all across the Gulf. Even without
new oil, the 40,000 barrels a day that spewed from the Macondo well for
nearly 100 days continue to wash up on shores, including ones which no
one is protecting or cleaning.
There is no shortage of people desperate to do this work. On Wednesday, July 28, Mayor Ron Davis of Prichard, Alabama took
me to visit a packed Hazardous Waste Operations and Emergency Response
(HAZWOPER) training class required for anyone involved in BP clean-up
efforts. The city offers these classes for free. With unemployment at
over 14% and poverty reaching 40%, the students who filled this, the
tenth class, were effusive with gratitude. Although there is a waiting
list over two months long to get in, as the the cleanup jobs shrivel
away, this is the last class the city will offer.
The next night I attended a BP community forum in St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana with representatives from BP, the U.S. Coast Guard, and other agencies available to talk to the public.
Here I met fishermen desperate to be put to work as part of BP's
Vessels Of Opportunity (VOO) program, using their boats to fish for oil
instead of seafood by laying boom and absorbents and skimming. When the
Parish President announced that St. Mary's Parish did not, does not,
and would not have oil, he was immediately surrounded by local
fishermen, one of whom said loudly, "then why does Kermit have oil in
his bag right now?" At which point the President turned off the mike
and, in Kermit's words, "all hell broke lose."
Kermit Duck's (yes, that's his real name) grandfather, great
grandfather, and so on, have been fishers in St. Mary's Parish since
Morgan City was founded. Kermit had spent that day looking for oil. He
found a lot of it and brought some to the meeting in a ziplock bag to
prove that it is out there. He is not a part of the VOO program,
although he has spent two months on a waiting list trying to get hired.
Instead, thanks to BP, he is four months unemployed and desperate to see
a real clean-up effort take place so that one day he might be able to
fish again.
On Friday Kermit took me out on a boat to show me the oil.
We spent five hours on the water traveling between Oyster Bayou and
Taylor's Bayou. We saw a lot of oil. With the exception of a small
amount of boom outside of the Mouth of East Bay Junop, we saw no boom,
skimmers, absorbents, or clean-up crews. The Juno boom was coated with
oil, as was the area behind it.
We saw plenty of freshly oil-soaked grass and beach. The strong harsh
smell of crude filled the air as we neared. The oil had washed up in
waves, covering a large patch of grass here, leaving a clean patch
beside it there. Fields of oil glistened as the sun picked up the oil's
sheen.
We walked along a shell beach on the south end of Oyster Bayou
speckled throughout with fresh tar balls that reached from the reeds to
inside the water's edge. Kermit's friend Buddy used an oar to dig below
the beach surface, revealing more oil beneath.
Over the last months I have traveled the coasts of every state
affected by the spill. Until this trip, every time I walked an area with
oil, clean-up crews were never far behind. The oil would wash up, the
crews would clean it, and the oil would wash up again. It was a sad
dance to watch.
This is far more disturbing. BP's oil continues to coat the Gulf
Coast. The oil I saw yesterday was washing up into Louisiana's vital
wetlands, the last barrier of protection from hurricanes. If the grass
remains unprotected and unclean, the oil can enter the root system,
killing the grass forever. The oil was also at the mouth of Oyster
Bayou, at the heart of St. Mary's Parish's way of life.
Before I left, Kermit assured me that his Parish President would now
act and hold BP accountable to clean up the oil. Hopefully, he will not
be alone in his efforts.
BP's "Missing Oil" coats wetlands and beaches along the
waterways near St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana, where no one is booming,
cleaning, skimming, or watching.
I am traveling the Gulf Coast writing a new book on the Gulf oil disaster.
The good news is that the cap is holding. The bad news is that, with
the well no longer gushing, the oil is out of sight and out of mind and
BP is pulling up boom and pulling back workers, skimmers, cleaners, and
the rest of the clean-up apparatus all across the Gulf. Even without
new oil, the 40,000 barrels a day that spewed from the Macondo well for
nearly 100 days continue to wash up on shores, including ones which no
one is protecting or cleaning.
There is no shortage of people desperate to do this work. On Wednesday, July 28, Mayor Ron Davis of Prichard, Alabama took
me to visit a packed Hazardous Waste Operations and Emergency Response
(HAZWOPER) training class required for anyone involved in BP clean-up
efforts. The city offers these classes for free. With unemployment at
over 14% and poverty reaching 40%, the students who filled this, the
tenth class, were effusive with gratitude. Although there is a waiting
list over two months long to get in, as the the cleanup jobs shrivel
away, this is the last class the city will offer.
The next night I attended a BP community forum in St. Mary's Parish, Louisiana with representatives from BP, the U.S. Coast Guard, and other agencies available to talk to the public.
Here I met fishermen desperate to be put to work as part of BP's
Vessels Of Opportunity (VOO) program, using their boats to fish for oil
instead of seafood by laying boom and absorbents and skimming. When the
Parish President announced that St. Mary's Parish did not, does not,
and would not have oil, he was immediately surrounded by local
fishermen, one of whom said loudly, "then why does Kermit have oil in
his bag right now?" At which point the President turned off the mike
and, in Kermit's words, "all hell broke lose."
Kermit Duck's (yes, that's his real name) grandfather, great
grandfather, and so on, have been fishers in St. Mary's Parish since
Morgan City was founded. Kermit had spent that day looking for oil. He
found a lot of it and brought some to the meeting in a ziplock bag to
prove that it is out there. He is not a part of the VOO program,
although he has spent two months on a waiting list trying to get hired.
Instead, thanks to BP, he is four months unemployed and desperate to see
a real clean-up effort take place so that one day he might be able to
fish again.
On Friday Kermit took me out on a boat to show me the oil.
We spent five hours on the water traveling between Oyster Bayou and
Taylor's Bayou. We saw a lot of oil. With the exception of a small
amount of boom outside of the Mouth of East Bay Junop, we saw no boom,
skimmers, absorbents, or clean-up crews. The Juno boom was coated with
oil, as was the area behind it.
We saw plenty of freshly oil-soaked grass and beach. The strong harsh
smell of crude filled the air as we neared. The oil had washed up in
waves, covering a large patch of grass here, leaving a clean patch
beside it there. Fields of oil glistened as the sun picked up the oil's
sheen.
We walked along a shell beach on the south end of Oyster Bayou
speckled throughout with fresh tar balls that reached from the reeds to
inside the water's edge. Kermit's friend Buddy used an oar to dig below
the beach surface, revealing more oil beneath.
Over the last months I have traveled the coasts of every state
affected by the spill. Until this trip, every time I walked an area with
oil, clean-up crews were never far behind. The oil would wash up, the
crews would clean it, and the oil would wash up again. It was a sad
dance to watch.
This is far more disturbing. BP's oil continues to coat the Gulf
Coast. The oil I saw yesterday was washing up into Louisiana's vital
wetlands, the last barrier of protection from hurricanes. If the grass
remains unprotected and unclean, the oil can enter the root system,
killing the grass forever. The oil was also at the mouth of Oyster
Bayou, at the heart of St. Mary's Parish's way of life.
Before I left, Kermit assured me that his Parish President would now
act and hold BP accountable to clean up the oil. Hopefully, he will not
be alone in his efforts.
We've had enough. The 1% own and operate the corporate media. They are doing everything they can to defend the status quo, squash dissent and protect the wealthy and the powerful. The Common Dreams media model is different. We cover the news that matters to the 99%. Our mission? To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. How? Nonprofit. Independent. Reader-supported. Free to read. Free to republish. Free to share. With no advertising. No paywalls. No selling of your data. Thousands of small donations fund our newsroom and allow us to continue publishing. Can you chip in? We can't do it without you. Thank you.