MUST READ: Dahr Jamail reporting from the Gulf: "The scene is apocalyptic."

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Tue Aug-24-10 12:01 PM
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MUST READ: Dahr Jamail reporting from the Gulf: "The scene is apocalyptic."

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http://www.truth-out.org/how-has-it-come-this62558

How Has It Come to This?
by: Dahr Jamail and Erika Blumenfeld, t r u t h o u t | Report and Photo Essay

-The scene is apocalyptic.
-It is one of the more disgusting, vile scenes I’ve ever seen.
-I look over to see Erika taking photos, tears running down her cheeks.
-All of us are devastated.
-Throughout the day, the question “what have we done” drifts into my consciousness.
-What have we done? How has it come to this? Where do we go from here?
-Rage at BP melds into a broader anger at all of us for having let it come to this.
-What did Jamail and his crew see that caused these deep feelings of sorrow?

Casse-tete Isle, Lafourche Parish, Louisiana:

-Oil-soaked marsh abounds, and the island smells like a gas station.
-Piles of oiled oysters rest on the tide line.
-Everywhere I step near the water, sheen bubbles up out of the soil.
-Inland, we find tide pools filled with brown oil and sheen.

Timbalier Isle, Louisiana:

-Huge mats of fresh tar.
-The farther inland we travel, the worse things become.
-It’s as though the entire island is a sponge filled with sheen and oil.
-Several inland pools… are literally oil pits.
-In one of the pools, brown liquid oil floats atop areas where the sand underneath is literally black with crude oil.
-Sorbent booms blackened and browned with oil lay chaotically in the lagoon.
-“This is some of the worst I’ve seen,” says Jonathan, who has been out investigating the results of the BP oil disaster every week since it started in April.

ON SHRIMPING:
Just after leaving the boat launch, we pass a shrimper coming back in.

"How did you do out there?" Craig asks him. "Nothing. Nothing at all," the despondent fisherman replies. "How much do you usually catch?" Craig asks. "Hundreds of pounds, sometimes a thousand pounds," comes the reply.

Craig looks at me and says, "That’s not good."

Minutes later another shrimper passes us, returning to port. "How’d you do?" Craig asks. "We caught 12 shrimp," he replies, "That’s one-two shrimp."

A brief reminder of the toxicity of the dispersants BP is using in the Gulf: "According to the EPA’s latest analysis of dispersant toxicity released in the document Comparative Toxicity of Eight Oil Dispersant Products on Two Gulf of Mexico Aquatic Test Species, Corexit 9500, at a concentration of 42 parts per million, killed 50% of mysid shrimp tested." Most of the remaining shrimp died shortly thereafter.

ON COVERT COREXIT SPRAYING
Out in Devil's Bay we encounter a boat pulling a closed-off harbor skimmer: equipment used to skim up oil slicks. The boat is accompanied by an unmarked Carolina Skiff, driven by a man wearing desert camouflage pants and a tan shirt. Our captain will not let us get close enough to the boat pulling the skimmer to talk to its captain, nor will the boat's captain even look at us.

"These boats don't even have their Louisiana numbers," Craig says, annoyed. "Somebody brought these boats down here and threw them in the water, and they are not even from this state. It's another part of the scam."

I've written recently about how private contractors are being brought in from out of state to use these boats to spray dispersant on oil located by fisherman working in the VOO program in the four most heavily affected states.

ON THE TOTALITY OF IT

The scene is apocalyptic. Sorbent booms blackened and browned with oil lay chaotically in the lagoon. It is one of the more disgusting, vile scenes I've ever seen. All of us fall silent. All we can do is take photos. The stench is overpowering. I gag. My eyes water from the burning chemicals in the air, but also from sadness. My throat is sore, my voice instantaneously hoarse, and I feel dizzy. I look over to see Erika taking photos, tears running down her cheeks.

All of us are devastated. "This is some of the worst I've seen," says Jonathan, who has been out investigating the results of the BP oil disaster every week since it started in April. He continues to take samples. I hear him gagging and look over as he coughs the stench from his lungs before bending down again to take another sample.

Shortly thereafter he finishes taking samples, and we are off, all of us hobbled and shaken by what we've just seen, along with the exposure to such a vast amount of chemicals.

During the ten-minute walk back to the boat, we hardly speak. I look out at the Gulf, the oil rigs and platforms in the distance, then down at the sheen oozing out of the sand at the water's edge as I walk alongside another tide pool.

Craig picks us up in the boat, and we begin the trip back to Fourchon. I climb up atop the "crow's nest," a small seat overlooking Craig's boat. I write in my notepad about what we've just seen, but mostly, I just look out at the Gulf. I've long since surrendered trying to get my head around the enormity and longevity of this disaster. The government cover-ups and its complicity with BP. The profiteering happening from this disaster, not dissimilar to the rampant war profiteering I've seen in Iraq.

The cost of this? The Gulf of Mexico, the ninth largest body of water on the planet, befouled with oil and toxic dispersants.

About halfway back to port we come upon a thick sheen layer that is covered in emulsified, white foam … the same kind I've seen in videos taken by VOO workers, in which dispersants have been used atop oil.

We stop so Jonathan can take more water samples. As we do so, the stench burns my eyes.

We carry on, only to pass more slicks like this. The entire day we've been in sheen, and we've traveled more than 40 nautical miles, much of it in open Gulf waters. All the water we've boated across and all the islands we've explored are entirely covered in sheen or oil.

From back atop my platform, I'm amazed at the myriad rigs and platforms we pass, sometimes thick enough in number to resemble floating cities.

Throughout the day, the question "what have we done" drifts into my consciousness. What have we done? How has it come to this?

Thousands of lives along the Gulf Coast are being devastated by this disaster. This is merely the beginning of yet another toxic epoch for the Gulf of Mexico, all the humans that live along the coast, and all the marine life and wildlife that make their homes here.

What have we done? How has it come to this? Where do we go from here?

Photo by Erika Blumenfeld © 2010

From back atop my platform, I'm amazed at the myriad rigs and platforms we pass, sometimes thick enough in number to resemble floating cities.

Throughout the day, the question "what have we done" drifts into my consciousness. What have we done? How has it come to this?

Thousands of lives along the Gulf Coast are being devastated by this disaster. This is merely the beginning of yet another toxic epoch for the Gulf of Mexico, all the humans that live along the coast, and all the marine life and wildlife that make their homes here.

What have we done? How has it come to this? Where do we go from here?