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In
the wake of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, one woman - one of many people
who had the misfortune of trying to manage the torrent of strange donations
flowing into New York City – simultaneously received a truckload
of 4,000 used teddy bears and a truckload of women’s underwear.
“But
what am I going to do with this stuff?” she lamented.
Put
up a sign, I suggested: Want a teddy - or a teddy?
I’m
a disaster reporter. I’ve written a lot about crushed houses and
traumatized people. But not so much about well-meant donations that simply
get out of hand: hundred-foot mountains of used clothing, incomplete sets
of false teeth, and - in one rural North Carolina town - enough shoes
for every man, woman, and child to get six pairs.
The
fact is, after a disaster, they arrive, unstoppable as a tsunami, and
sometimes they have the larger-than-life feeling of the disaster itself.
Many
people were desperate post-Sept. 11 but the people desperate about donations
tended to keep quiet about it. Another woman I talked to off the record
– she worked for a local humane society – said she wanted
to put out a call for monetary donations and use them to print bumper
stickers that said “STOP THE BOOTIES” in bright capital letters.
“Uh,
what?” I said, lacking a Chris Matthews-style comeback.
Turns
out the woman had done an interview with a tiny local radio station –
a few dozen listeners at the most. When the host asked what donations
were needed, she innocently said, “Well, we really could use a few
booties for the search-and-rescue dogs.”
Some
local wire services picked up the interview. And then – as the press
starved for new information after running repeat words and footage for
days – by national wire services.
Some
30,000 pairs of dog booties arrived at the scene within a week. “I
just want it to stop,” she moaned. “I want bumper stickers
that say ‘STOP THE BOOTIES’ and I want everyone in America
to have one. I want it to be like that ‘South of the Border’
tourist trap where everyone gets one whether they want it or not.”
No
wonder disaster responders tend to refer to the influx of inappropriate
donations as “the second disaster.” And if there’s a
most common inappropriate donation, it’s used clothing, whether
for dogs or humans. After Hurricane Andrew, scores of truckloads of used
clothing that found their way to South Florida had to be burned because
nobody could sort them, nobody could use them, and they mildewed.
Some
charity organizations have started sending out - via press release or
public service announcement - the simple message: don’t send clothes,
ever.
But
it’s not so simple. How would you ever tell that to the elderly
man who, after a tornado that killed five people, walked into an impromptu
disaster relief warehouse at a civic center in rural Mississippi with
a bag of clothes that stank? “Here’s what I got to give,”
he said, “some of what’s clean and some of what’s dirty.”
The
two women who were at the warehouse sorting a growing mountain of used
clothes – it eventually grew higher than 100 feet – didn’t
tell him to never bring clothes. They were wearing polyester pants that
weren’t in the best shape themselves, and they’d been up half
the night tending to their own tornado-damaged homes.
And
I was wearing clothes I’d slept in the night before, and taking
photos of people bringing donations. He was a perfect shot but he refused
to have his picture taken. And everybody there realized something - at
that moment this man was a vulnerable human being. If his donation had
been turned down, what would the psychological impact have been? And,
in a town where everyone knows everyone else, what would have happened
if he’d gone home and told his family – they refused what
I had to give? And how would the town feel if his family told everybody
else?
In
a rural North Carolina town, in the wake of Hurricane Floyd in 1999, a
quartet of elderly women – themselves wearing very sensible shoes
– spent weeks sorting donated shoes. The shoes were lined up by
row, by size, until the floor of the relief warehouse resembled a manicured
cornfield. With less than 400 people in the town, there were enough shoes
for every person in the town to have six pairs.
Where
did all those shoes come from? From the same place most other inappropriate
donations come from – well-meaning people who want to do something
besides write a check.
Are
donors just a pain when it comes to disasters? No, they’re vulnerable,
too, in their own way.
When
renowned sociologist and author Dennis Mileti spoke to disaster responders
from faith-based groups at a forum in March, he said: “People are
not the problem in disasters. People are a resource. Organizations are
the problem.”
Organizations
– and perhaps communications? How can we communicate what’s
needed after a disaster in a way that doesn’t cause further harm?
Something to ponder. In the meantime, until further notice: STOP THE BOOTIES.
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