Since turbid floodwaters drove Debbie Leach from her residence near Vicksburg, Miss., she has struggled to find a place to call home, even a temporary one, as she waits for the Mississippi River to recede and expose what may be left of her personal belongings.
Leach left her mobile home on Eagle Lake, an oxbow on the river that sits right on the Mississippi-Louisiana border, last month when the water level started to rise. Since then, she has bounced from staying with family to a Red Cross shelter.
"It's been a tremendous turmoil, wondering about my home and how much water is in it," she told NPR by phone.
The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers estimates that 10,000 people from Illinois to the Louisiana bayou have been displaced by the floodwaters so far — many of them in smaller towns that are harder to reach and where relief supplies aren't as easy to come by. No one is certain how long it will take to recover from this year's flood, which is shaping up to be nearly as bad as one in 1973 that left 30,000 homeless.
For now, people are finding temporary shelter and help wherever they can, relying on the generosity of strangers. Until federal and state agencies can fully mobilize, it's the private and religious charities and churches that bear much of the load.
Leach, 57, initially moved in with her youngest daughter, but the arrangement lasted only a short while. Her efforts to get government aid didn't work out.
"I went to get some financial help to get an apartment or motel or something. We tried to get funds, but the funds are all gone," she said.
Now she's at a Red Cross shelter at a church in Vicksburg, where the Mississippi was expected to crest Thursday nearly a foot above the record set in 1927. About 20 people of the more than 2,000 displaced in the city have found refuge at the Hawkins United Methodist Church, an unassuming red and white brick structure that advertises "Open hearts, Open minds, Open doors."
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