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With disaster tours, eastern N.C. locals share stories, propose flooding solutions

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Tuesday, March 7, 2023

This story was written as part of Southerly’s Community Reporting Fellowship.  It’s been more than five years since Robeson County, the largest in North Carolina, was devastated by two 1,000 year floods. Hurricanes Matthew in 2016, and Florence, in 2018, caused more than $21.8 billion dollars in total damage, destroying hundreds of homes. Despite $2.8 billion in state and federal funding allocated for disaster relief, many homes are abandoned and residents have either moved away or are still waiting for more to be rebuilt.  One of the groups combating what they see as the neglect of Robeson County is Robeson County Cooperative for Sustainable Development (RCCSD). Since 2019, the nonprofit has done advocacy and community organizing, and hosted “Disaster Survival Tours” that take residents, elected officials, and other groups on a journey through the aftermath of the storms. They hope politicians might better understand the need for sustained aid, and that locals can see how they can help their neighbors return home. Robeson County is home to a unique socio-political landscape. The homelands of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina are within its borders and the demographic makeup is diverse; it’s 44% Native American, 23% Black, and 29% white. As storm response drags on, some longtime residents worry that the Lumbee tribe and Tuscarora Nation, as well as Black residents—the most affected by the storms—will be displaced.  People living in impacted neighborhoods are concerned about the future: will neighbors return, or will they continue to look at empty houses and abandoned streets? Will the next storm leave their house vacant, too?  The push for new infrastructure In December, RCCSD took me on a disaster tour of landmarks that bear the scars of the storms’ damage. The first stop was the intersection of VFW Road and Crystal Road in Lumberton, the county seat, in a neighborhood of predominantly Black and Indigenous residents. It sits at the corner of Luther Britt Park and Interstate 95, and during Matthew, this area was completely underwater, with nearby railroad tracks submerged and I-95 impassable. The highway became part of the Lumber River—also called the Lumbee River or Drowning Creek—which is the main body of water that runs through Robeson and surrounding counties. The intersection of VFW Road and Crystal Road by the I-95 overpass. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar The river runs parallel to the interstate and crosses under I-95 just north of the intersection. In the 1970s, the Army Corps of Engineers built an earthen levee to protect West and South Lumberton, the historically Native and African American parts of town, from flooding.  “If you look at the demographics of Lumberton, low wealth and racially marginalized communities predominantly live on [the low] side of the river,” said Dr. Ryan Emanuel, a Lumbee hydrologist and environmental activist. “That’s the same pattern repeated in a lot of cities in eastern North Carolina, where the older, whiter and wealthier neighborhoods are on the high side of the river.”   The levee worked for about 50 years, until Hurricane Matthew hit. On October 8, 2016, the river was already cresting when the storm brought more than a foot of rain. Water rushed over the levee, flooding churches, schools, and neighborhoods. Then, in 2018, Hurricane Florence dropped 23 inches of rain in the same area, leaving homes, schools, and businesses inundated.  The railroad track runs under I-95, which is part of the levee, making a gap in the levee. If water gets high enough, it can flow through—which is what happened during Matthew and Florence. FEMA was aware of the potential for catastrophic flooding through the railroad tunnel before the hurricanes but inaction by the rail owners, CSX, led to delays in addressing the problem. Since 2018, the city of Lumberton has been trying to move forward a plan to mitigate flooding and plug that gap by installing a moveable gate over the railroad track.  The new floodgate would close when the river rose, effectively sealing the hole. The project currently has about $5 million in funding from the N.C. Golden Leaf Foundation, federal grants and local matches, but the final cost is still unclear. Robert Armstrong, Lumberton’s director of public works, said the floodgate would enhance the existing levee system and keep water from reaching West and South Lumberton neighborhoods. “What we experienced in Hurricane Matthew was much more extreme flooding [than when the levee was built in the 1970s] to where it was about six to eight feet higher than the railroad track,” Armstrong said, “and again in hurricane Florence it even went higher.”  But the floodgate stalled when the state transportation department announced a $430 million project to widen and elevate I-95 and lengthen the bridges over the Lumber River. The bridges will be about 10 feet higher and the road will rise by around one to 10 feet, allowing interstate travel to continue even if the river swells.  Michael Parker, resident engineer for the North Carolina Department of Transportation said I-95 is a “vital corridor in our state, and also a hurricane evacuation route.”  “Our department has adopted a policy to improve our procedures, road planning and maintenance with an eye toward making our infrastructure more resilient to changing weather patterns,” Parker said. “Reconstructing I-95 with resiliency in mind and to better withstand future flooding has increased our construction costs for this project by 11%.” With this plan taking precedent—scheduled to be completed in summer 2026—work on the gate for Lumberton residents is on pause.  We need to be open minded to the different avenues toward living in harmony with the floodplain. What’s always been done might not always be the best way. We have to be adaptable and more collaborative with nature.Hannah Jeffries, rccsd community organizer Parker said it’s a necessary process. “I’ve lived in Lumberton my whole life. Hurricane Matthew and Hurricane Florence were truly horrific events to live through in southeast North Carolina,” he said. “We’ve never seen anything like that before, and I hope I never do again.” He added that they are “improving everything. We’re raising the bridges, widening the road and we’re improving the drainage to hopefully minimize any issues in the past.” But Brandon Love, Deputy City Manager of Lumberton, says even with new infrastructure in place,“it’s going to keep raining, and we are going to keep flooding.”  Emanuel said that no project, however well considered, can change the reality of the floodplain.   “People have studied this phenomenon for decades, by raising levees, strengthening flood walls, and hardening all of this flood infrastructure,” he said. “We know time and time again that it can increase the vulnerability of people in that whole area, because more and more people come to rely on that flood protection infrastructure for their safety during times of flood.”  Historically, Indigenous communities in this area would only camp in floodplains temporarily during dry seasons. Today homes stay rooted in one place, making it more difficult to live in harmony with the floodplain. “[Indigenous] culture teaches us that it should not be a competition in the first place,” he said. “We have to figure out a way to respect nature by living responsibly alongside it, instead of setting up this competition between people and nature.” But he acknowledges that it’s complicated. “We can’t force everybody out of the homes that they built over the past 50 years, but we do have to address the problem, and we need to do it equitably.”  Elected officials, concerned citizens, and ancestral occupants are searching for balance between keeping historical communities intact while also prioritizing safety.  Matthew and Florence have influenced a recovery plan that seeks to determine changes in the floodplain, how to live in harmony with the floodways, and a holistic recovery and resilience strategy to minimize flood impact. This project seeks to identify the most vulnerable areas in the floodplain so people can decide whether to move or rebuild. But that would mean multiple municipalities and county governments would have to come together to look at the floodplain holistically.  “We need to be open minded to the different avenues toward living in harmony with the floodplain. What’s always been done might not always be the best way,” said Hannah Jeffries, a community organizer with RCCSD. “We have to be adaptable and more collaborative with nature.”  ‘What will we have left?’  Mac Legerton, RCCSD co-director, drives just a few minutes to the second stop on the tour: the abandoned West Lumberton Elementary School. Hurricane Matthew pummeled the school, and the damage, combined with a major population drop after the storm, led the Robeson County school board to close it permanently in 2018 despite parents’ objections.  The abandoned West Lumberton Elementary School. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar “[The students] lost their friends, their schools, and their churches,” said Sallie McLean, co-director of RCCSD. “A lot of them internalize it and don’t understand it.”  Jeffries is interested in addressing the emotional and physical impacts of the storms. “What this school shows me is the loss of innocence, and the loss of us being able to prepare for the next generations after us,” she said. “As an Indigenous person, we believe in the teaching of the Seven Generations: all of our actions will influence the next seven generations after us.”  Most of the students at West Lumberton were Black and Native American. For Jeffries, the school bears a generational curse that must be broken by rebuilding a sustainable and thriving community.  Storm infrastructure projects and aid for rebuilding community assets, like schools, may help in that goal. But the storms caused a housing crisis, too—a major reason the school’s population dropped in the first place. To demonstrate, the guides lead me to a South Lumberton neighborhood with several abandoned houses. Carol Richardson, an RCCSD member who helps lead the tours, remembers her childhood as she stands in front of one of them. Her aunt and uncle once lived there. During Matthew, they evacuated by boat. As she checks out the empty street, she describes her childhood spent with cousins. The block was full and joyous before the hurricane.  “My aunt’s home and neighborhood was thriving with children playing,” she said.  The Sparkling ICE sensory park was built in a vacant green space acquired by the state.  In 2022, a new sensory park opened nearby, but Richardson said it goes largely unused.  “It’s an ugly situation and heartbreaking, because you grew up in that community,” McClean said. “All your children, and your grandchildren were there, and now your legacy is gone.”  While immediate disaster relief programs from FEMA have long expired, some Lumberton homeowners impacted by the storm still have two options for aid: reconstruction through elevation or acquisition by the state. State acquisition is a voluntary program that allows home loss victims within designated buyout zones to choose to sell their homes to the state at current appraised market value. Once the home is sold, it is demolished and managed as green space.  According to RCCSD’s 2020 West and South Lumberton Census data analysis, 31% of homes in Lumberton, a town of about 18,700 people, are unoccupied. Martin Luther King Drive splits West and South Lumberton on the two Census tracts. East of MLK Drive, 35% of homes are dilapidated, and West of MLK Drive the vacancy rate is 28%. Carol Richardson in front of her aunt and uncle’s abandoned home in South Lumberton nestled near Luther Britt Park. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar Some of those homes were already abandoned and dilapidated before the storms, but data suggests that Hurricanes Matthew and Florence exacerbated the housing problem in the area.   Some Robeson County residents are concerned about community preservation and encourage their neighbors to rehabilitate and elevate homes. The ReBuild NC Homeowner Recovery program is supposed to assist homeowners in reconstructing their properties to better withstand future disasters. However, as NC Policy Watch extensively reported, ReBuild NC, formally known as the NC Office of Recovery and Resiliency, is plagued with problems: some homes already built are falling apart, and many applicants are still waiting due to troubled contractors and construction delays. For instance, in Robeson County, hundreds of families are waiting to return home while ReBuild is taking credit for the county’s local program, according to the investigation.  Not everyone will have a choice about how to proceed with their property. Federal and state policies impose restrictions: No new construction is allowed on flood-prone land and property owners for whom the cost of rebuilding a damaged home exceeds 50% of the structure’s value may not receive permits. That can send people seeking new housing somewhere else entirely.     RCCSD is now working to figure out where people are in this process and where disaster survivors are going. Legerton hopes that will help them better understand what the community needs.  “Something needs to be done to address these homes from either being torn down and being unable to rebuild,” Hannah Jeffries added. She’s concerned about the future of home ownership for young adult residents like her. “We’re coming of age. We want a new home, something that’s going to be ours. If they keep tearing down a lot of these homes, then what will we have left?”  Some homes have been repaired, whether using FEMA grants, or through city initiatives and nonprofits’ assistance. But with thousands of structures affected between the two storms, the majority of homes remain on the backlog.   Neighbors helping neighbors  The next stop on the tour is in a less affected part of town between South and West Lumberton, where homes are still neatly maintained and occupied. RCCSD has street leaders, which are neighborhood residents willing to be a resource to their communities.  Monique Sessoms, a street leader, in front of her home in South Lumberton. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar “Being a street leader, I have noticed my home was not impacted as much,” said resident Monique Sessoms. She had to evacuate during Hurricane Matthew, but returned to relatively mild damage. She’s working to care for the neighbors that remain and to make a safe return possible for those that left, too.  Sessoms goes from door to door to assess needs. She collects contact information and follows up when there are deadlines for FEMA or other forms of assistance. She calls neighbors to encourage them to attend community meetings, and passes out disaster preparedness materials, educating people about the need to fill medical prescriptions, top off gas tanks, and take cash out of the bank when a storm looms.  “The reason we wanted to start this initiative is that we are forming closer communities,” Jeffries said.  Emergency management becomes more efficient, she added. “There is someone who has a contact list so we can double check homes. So many people were displaced with Matthew, there was no system in place to figure out who is still in the home, what medical conditions they have, or if they are disabled,” she said. “This is a way to combat displacement and loss of life during the storms.” An abandoned home sits between two elevated houses. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar The tour wraps up near McCormick Chapel AME located in South Lumberton, a historically Black church that’s hosted some of RCCSD’s community meetings, which bring out dozens of people to share their needs and ideas for hurricane preparedness.  “I hope this work encourages more young people to get involved and to understand the system as it is now, the pitfalls of that system, and how to create new ideas to improve it,” Jeffries said. “True systematic change is what we are trying to achieve, and that is only going to happen with people of all ages and backgrounds contributing their knowledge and life experiences.”  That kind of change takes time. Meanwhile, hurricane season is less than four months away.   The post With disaster tours, eastern N.C. locals share stories, propose flooding solutions appeared first on Southerly.

Residents and activists Robeson County are drawing attention to those still struggling to recover from Hurricanes Matthew and Florence. The post With disaster tours, eastern N.C. locals share stories, propose flooding solutions appeared first on Southerly.

This story was written as part of Southerly’s Community Reporting Fellowship

It’s been more than five years since Robeson County, the largest in North Carolina, was devastated by two 1,000 year floods. Hurricanes Matthew in 2016, and Florence, in 2018, caused more than $21.8 billion dollars in total damage, destroying hundreds of homes. Despite $2.8 billion in state and federal funding allocated for disaster relief, many homes are abandoned and residents have either moved away or are still waiting for more to be rebuilt. 

One of the groups combating what they see as the neglect of Robeson County is Robeson County Cooperative for Sustainable Development (RCCSD). Since 2019, the nonprofit has done advocacy and community organizing, and hosted “Disaster Survival Tours” that take residents, elected officials, and other groups on a journey through the aftermath of the storms. They hope politicians might better understand the need for sustained aid, and that locals can see how they can help their neighbors return home.

Robeson County is home to a unique socio-political landscape. The homelands of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina are within its borders and the demographic makeup is diverse; it’s 44% Native American, 23% Black, and 29% white. As storm response drags on, some longtime residents worry that the Lumbee tribe and Tuscarora Nation, as well as Black residents—the most affected by the storms—will be displaced. 

People living in impacted neighborhoods are concerned about the future: will neighbors return, or will they continue to look at empty houses and abandoned streets? Will the next storm leave their house vacant, too? 

The push for new infrastructure

In December, RCCSD took me on a disaster tour of landmarks that bear the scars of the storms’ damage. The first stop was the intersection of VFW Road and Crystal Road in Lumberton, the county seat, in a neighborhood of predominantly Black and Indigenous residents. It sits at the corner of Luther Britt Park and Interstate 95, and during Matthew, this area was completely underwater, with nearby railroad tracks submerged and I-95 impassable.

The highway became part of the Lumber River—also called the Lumbee River or Drowning Creek—which is the main body of water that runs through Robeson and surrounding counties.

The intersection of VFW Road and Crystal Road by the I-95 overpass. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar

The river runs parallel to the interstate and crosses under I-95 just north of the intersection. In the 1970s, the Army Corps of Engineers built an earthen levee to protect West and South Lumberton, the historically Native and African American parts of town, from flooding. 

“If you look at the demographics of Lumberton, low wealth and racially marginalized communities predominantly live on [the low] side of the river,” said Dr. Ryan Emanuel, a Lumbee hydrologist and environmental activist. “That’s the same pattern repeated in a lot of cities in eastern North Carolina, where the older, whiter and wealthier neighborhoods are on the high side of the river.”  

The levee worked for about 50 years, until Hurricane Matthew hit. On October 8, 2016, the river was already cresting when the storm brought more than a foot of rain. Water rushed over the levee, flooding churches, schools, and neighborhoods. Then, in 2018, Hurricane Florence dropped 23 inches of rain in the same area, leaving homes, schools, and businesses inundated. 

The railroad track runs under I-95, which is part of the levee, making a gap in the levee. If water gets high enough, it can flow through—which is what happened during Matthew and Florence. FEMA was aware of the potential for catastrophic flooding through the railroad tunnel before the hurricanes but inaction by the rail owners, CSX, led to delays in addressing the problem. Since 2018, the city of Lumberton has been trying to move forward a plan to mitigate flooding and plug that gap by installing a moveable gate over the railroad track. 

The new floodgate would close when the river rose, effectively sealing the hole. The project currently has about $5 million in funding from the N.C. Golden Leaf Foundation, federal grants and local matches, but the final cost is still unclear.

Robert Armstrong, Lumberton’s director of public works, said the floodgate would enhance the existing levee system and keep water from reaching West and South Lumberton neighborhoods. “What we experienced in Hurricane Matthew was much more extreme flooding [than when the levee was built in the 1970s] to where it was about six to eight feet higher than the railroad track,” Armstrong said, “and again in hurricane Florence it even went higher.” 

But the floodgate stalled when the state transportation department announced a $430 million project to widen and elevate I-95 and lengthen the bridges over the Lumber River. The bridges will be about 10 feet higher and the road will rise by around one to 10 feet, allowing interstate travel to continue even if the river swells. 

Michael Parker, resident engineer for the North Carolina Department of Transportation said I-95 is a “vital corridor in our state, and also a hurricane evacuation route.” 

“Our department has adopted a policy to improve our procedures, road planning and maintenance with an eye toward making our infrastructure more resilient to changing weather patterns,” Parker said. “Reconstructing I-95 with resiliency in mind and to better withstand future flooding has increased our construction costs for this project by 11%.”

With this plan taking precedent—scheduled to be completed in summer 2026—work on the gate for Lumberton residents is on pause. 

We need to be open minded to the different avenues toward living in harmony with the floodplain. What’s always been done might not always be the best way. We have to be adaptable and more collaborative with nature.

Hannah Jeffries, rccsd community organizer

Parker said it’s a necessary process. “I’ve lived in Lumberton my whole life. Hurricane Matthew and Hurricane Florence were truly horrific events to live through in southeast North Carolina,” he said. “We’ve never seen anything like that before, and I hope I never do again.”

He added that they are “improving everything. We’re raising the bridges, widening the road and we’re improving the drainage to hopefully minimize any issues in the past.”

But Brandon Love, Deputy City Manager of Lumberton, says even with new infrastructure in place,“it’s going to keep raining, and we are going to keep flooding.” 

Emanuel said that no project, however well considered, can change the reality of the floodplain.  

“People have studied this phenomenon for decades, by raising levees, strengthening flood walls, and hardening all of this flood infrastructure,” he said. “We know time and time again that it can increase the vulnerability of people in that whole area, because more and more people come to rely on that flood protection infrastructure for their safety during times of flood.” 

Historically, Indigenous communities in this area would only camp in floodplains temporarily during dry seasons. Today homes stay rooted in one place, making it more difficult to live in harmony with the floodplain. “[Indigenous] culture teaches us that it should not be a competition in the first place,” he said. “We have to figure out a way to respect nature by living responsibly alongside it, instead of setting up this competition between people and nature.”

But he acknowledges that it’s complicated. “We can’t force everybody out of the homes that they built over the past 50 years, but we do have to address the problem, and we need to do it equitably.” 

Elected officials, concerned citizens, and ancestral occupants are searching for balance between keeping historical communities intact while also prioritizing safety.  Matthew and Florence have influenced a recovery plan that seeks to determine changes in the floodplain, how to live in harmony with the floodways, and a holistic recovery and resilience strategy to minimize flood impact. This project seeks to identify the most vulnerable areas in the floodplain so people can decide whether to move or rebuild. But that would mean multiple municipalities and county governments would have to come together to look at the floodplain holistically. 

“We need to be open minded to the different avenues toward living in harmony with the floodplain. What’s always been done might not always be the best way,” said Hannah Jeffries, a community organizer with RCCSD. “We have to be adaptable and more collaborative with nature.” 

‘What will we have left?’ 

Mac Legerton, RCCSD co-director, drives just a few minutes to the second stop on the tour: the abandoned West Lumberton Elementary School. Hurricane Matthew pummeled the school, and the damage, combined with a major population drop after the storm, led the Robeson County school board to close it permanently in 2018 despite parents’ objections. 

The abandoned West Lumberton Elementary School. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar

“[The students] lost their friends, their schools, and their churches,” said Sallie McLean, co-director of RCCSD. “A lot of them internalize it and don’t understand it.” 

Jeffries is interested in addressing the emotional and physical impacts of the storms. “What this school shows me is the loss of innocence, and the loss of us being able to prepare for the next generations after us,” she said. “As an Indigenous person, we believe in the teaching of the Seven Generations: all of our actions will influence the next seven generations after us.” 

Most of the students at West Lumberton were Black and Native American. For Jeffries, the school bears a generational curse that must be broken by rebuilding a sustainable and thriving community. 

Storm infrastructure projects and aid for rebuilding community assets, like schools, may help in that goal. But the storms caused a housing crisis, too—a major reason the school’s population dropped in the first place.

To demonstrate, the guides lead me to a South Lumberton neighborhood with several abandoned houses. Carol Richardson, an RCCSD member who helps lead the tours, remembers her childhood as she stands in front of one of them. Her aunt and uncle once lived there. During Matthew, they evacuated by boat. As she checks out the empty street, she describes her childhood spent with cousins. The block was full and joyous before the hurricane. 

“My aunt’s home and neighborhood was thriving with children playing,” she said. 

The Sparkling ICE sensory park was built in a vacant green space acquired by the state. 

In 2022, a new sensory park opened nearby, but Richardson said it goes largely unused. 

“It’s an ugly situation and heartbreaking, because you grew up in that community,” McClean said. “All your children, and your grandchildren were there, and now your legacy is gone.” 

While immediate disaster relief programs from FEMA have long expired, some Lumberton homeowners impacted by the storm still have two options for aid: reconstruction through elevation or acquisition by the state. State acquisition is a voluntary program that allows home loss victims within designated buyout zones to choose to sell their homes to the state at current appraised market value. Once the home is sold, it is demolished and managed as green space. 

According to RCCSD’s 2020 West and South Lumberton Census data analysis, 31% of homes in Lumberton, a town of about 18,700 people, are unoccupied. Martin Luther King Drive splits West and South Lumberton on the two Census tracts. East of MLK Drive, 35% of homes are dilapidated, and West of MLK Drive the vacancy rate is 28%.

Carol Richardson in front of her aunt and uncle’s abandoned home in South Lumberton nestled near Luther Britt Park. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar

Some of those homes were already abandoned and dilapidated before the storms, but data suggests that Hurricanes Matthew and Florence exacerbated the housing problem in the area.  

Some Robeson County residents are concerned about community preservation and encourage their neighbors to rehabilitate and elevate homes. The ReBuild NC Homeowner Recovery program is supposed to assist homeowners in reconstructing their properties to better withstand future disasters. However, as NC Policy Watch extensively reported, ReBuild NC, formally known as the NC Office of Recovery and Resiliency, is plagued with problems: some homes already built are falling apart, and many applicants are still waiting due to troubled contractors and construction delays. For instance, in Robeson County, hundreds of families are waiting to return home while ReBuild is taking credit for the county’s local program, according to the investigation

Not everyone will have a choice about how to proceed with their property. Federal and state policies impose restrictions: No new construction is allowed on flood-prone land and property owners for whom the cost of rebuilding a damaged home exceeds 50% of the structure’s value may not receive permits. That can send people seeking new housing somewhere else entirely.    

RCCSD is now working to figure out where people are in this process and where disaster survivors are going. Legerton hopes that will help them better understand what the community needs. 

“Something needs to be done to address these homes from either being torn down and being unable to rebuild,” Hannah Jeffries added. She’s concerned about the future of home ownership for young adult residents like her. “We’re coming of age. We want a new home, something that’s going to be ours. If they keep tearing down a lot of these homes, then what will we have left?” 

Some homes have been repaired, whether using FEMA grants, or through city initiatives and nonprofits’ assistance. But with thousands of structures affected between the two storms, the majority of homes remain on the backlog.  

Neighbors helping neighbors 

The next stop on the tour is in a less affected part of town between South and West Lumberton, where homes are still neatly maintained and occupied. RCCSD has street leaders, which are neighborhood residents willing to be a resource to their communities. 

Monique Sessoms, a street leader, in front of her home in South Lumberton. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar

“Being a street leader, I have noticed my home was not impacted as much,” said resident Monique Sessoms. She had to evacuate during Hurricane Matthew, but returned to relatively mild damage. She’s working to care for the neighbors that remain and to make a safe return possible for those that left, too. 

Sessoms goes from door to door to assess needs. She collects contact information and follows up when there are deadlines for FEMA or other forms of assistance. She calls neighbors to encourage them to attend community meetings, and passes out disaster preparedness materials, educating people about the need to fill medical prescriptions, top off gas tanks, and take cash out of the bank when a storm looms. 

“The reason we wanted to start this initiative is that we are forming closer communities,” Jeffries said. 

Emergency management becomes more efficient, she added. “There is someone who has a contact list so we can double check homes. So many people were displaced with Matthew, there was no system in place to figure out who is still in the home, what medical conditions they have, or if they are disabled,” she said. “This is a way to combat displacement and loss of life during the storms.”

An abandoned home sits between two elevated houses. Photo by Aminah Ghaffar

The tour wraps up near McCormick Chapel AME located in South Lumberton, a historically Black church that’s hosted some of RCCSD’s community meetings, which bring out dozens of people to share their needs and ideas for hurricane preparedness. 

“I hope this work encourages more young people to get involved and to understand the system as it is now, the pitfalls of that system, and how to create new ideas to improve it,” Jeffries said. “True systematic change is what we are trying to achieve, and that is only going to happen with people of all ages and backgrounds contributing their knowledge and life experiences.” 

That kind of change takes time. Meanwhile, hurricane season is less than four months away.  

The post With disaster tours, eastern N.C. locals share stories, propose flooding solutions appeared first on Southerly.

Read the full story here.
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Apple has an AirPod repair problem

Paige Vickers / Vox California’s new Right to Repair Act can’t magically make Apple’s popular earbuds good for the environment. On September 12, California’s State Assembly approved the Right to Repair Act. Once it’s signed into law by Gov. Gavin Newsom, makers of consumer electronics will be required to provide independent shops in the state with tools, spare parts, and manuals needed to fix the gadgets that they sell. Advocates of Right to Repair, which included dozens of repair stores across the state, local officials, and environmental groups, hailed the move as a victory, the culmination of a years-long battle to force tech companies to allow regular people to easily repair their own devices. Even Apple, which had opposed the legislation for years, had a change of heart and officially supported Right to Repair in California at the end of August. The world’s richest maker of consumer electronics would finally be forced to make repair materials available for every shiny phone, tablet, laptop, and smartwatch it sells. But some activists had a question: What does this mean for AirPods? “If products have batteries, they should be easy to swap or easy to remove so that consumers and recyclers can separate them,” said Kyle Wiens, the CEO of product repair blog and parts retailer iFixit. “You just don’t see that with AirPod design.” For years, Apple has made its commitment to the environment part of its powerful marketing machine. It has shown off robots capable of disassembling over a million iPhones in a year, and increasingly uses recycled materials to build most of its flagship devices. It claims that its spaceship-like Cupertino headquarters, whose gigantic circular roof is covered with hundreds of solar panels, is powered by renewable energy, and is spending millions to save mangroves and savannas in India and Kenya. At its September 12 event, where it launched a $1,200 titanium phone and a watch that isn’t too different from last year’s model beyond a brand-new “carbon neutral” logo on its plastic-free packaging, Apple reiterated its plans to go entirely carbon neutral by 2030 in a deeply polarizing skit starring Octavia Spencer as “Mother Nature.” And yet, Apple sells tens of millions of AirPods each year, a product that critics have long pointed out is harmful for the environment. Every single sleek earbud is a dense bundle of rare earth metals glued together in a hard plastic shell. Each one also contains a tiny lithium-ion battery that degrades over time like all batteries do, which means that eventually, all AirPods stop holding enough charge to be usable, sometimes in as little as 18 months. That’s where the problem lies: Unlike iPhones, iPads, Apple Watches, and MacBooks, which can be opened up and have failing batteries swapped relatively easily, AirPods aren’t really designed up be cracked apart by you, repair shops, or recycling companies without destroying their shells in the process, or shedding blood trying to cut them open. “It’s in the ‘insanely difficult’ category,” Wiens told Vox, “which is why you don’t have too many repair shops in the US trying to do this.”This lack of repairability of AirPods raises an important issue: What does the Right to Repair law mean for a product that isn’t designed to be repaired?“AirPods are too difficult to fix — that is clear,” said Jenn Engstrom, state director at CALPIRG, a California consumer rights nonprofit that has been pushing the state to implement Right to Repair legislation for years. “Right to Repair reforms ensure that you can’t make repairs proprietary. But for some devices, the design gets in the way even if you can access parts and manuals. We believe Right to Repair sets a basic expectation that a product should be fixable. But yeah, we can only repair what is repairable.”Apple did not respond to multiple requests for comment.In 2022, Apple launched its own Self Service Repair program. For a chunk of change and a whole lot of trouble, the company provides manuals, sells parts, and rents out official equipment to let people repair iPhones, Macs, and Apple displays. But when Right to Repair becomes law in California, the company will be required to provide it for all products it sells. The problem is that AirPods aren’t designed to be repaired at all. “AirPods are an environmental catastrophe,” Wiens said. “They’re a product that I don’t think should exist in their current state. They’re almost impossible to recycle economically.” Hollie Adams / Bloomberg via Getty Images Due to their lithium-ion batteries, AirPods can stop working after just 18 months, and there’s no easy way to fix them. Apple released AirPods in 2016, the same year it removed the headphone jack on iPhones, spawning an entire industry of truly wireless earbuds with tiny charging cases. At first, AirPods were the butt of jokes. Some people thought wearing a pair in public was a flex. The Guardian said that AirPods were “like a tampon without a string.” Then, they were everywhere. As a feat of engineering, AirPods are, indeed, impressive. Each one packs in a sophisticated processor, microphones, drivers, optical sensors, and a motion accelerometer to detect when it’s in or out of your ear in a space less than 2 inches long. All these tiny components are jammed together and sealed inside sleek plastic casing designed to look smooth and seamless, making AirPods damn near impossible to open. But a key reason that makes AirPods disposable is what powers them. Thanks to chemical reactions that take place when you charge and discharge them, the lithium-ion batteries that power AirPods and other modern electronics hold less and less charge over time. The ones in AirPods are also tiny, which means that while a new one might run for up to six hours on a single charge when new, they might last for less than 60 minutes after a couple of years of heavy use. Apple didn’t provide a way to recycle a pair of AirPods when they were first released. Eventually, the company let people swap out a dying AirPod for a new one — for $49 a piece — if they were out of warranty, and then sent the old AirPods to one of the handful of recyclers it partners with. Apple also lets you mail in a pair of AirPods to recycle responsibly instead of tossing them into the trash. In 2019, however, after a viral, 4,000-word Vice essay called the wireless earbuds a “tragedy,” the notoriously secretive Apple pulled back the curtain on the AirPods recycling process. Wistron GreenTech, a Texas-based subsidiary of Taiwanese manufacturing giant Wistron that Apple hired to recycle AirPods, later told tech publication OneZero that AirPods couldn’t be opened by any kind of automated system. Instead, each device had to be manually pried apart by a worker with pliers and jigs. And because it cost more to open up a pair of AirPods than the value of the material extracted from it, Apple paid Wistron — and, presumably, its other recycling partners — a fee to cover the difference. “It is not easy to fully repair broken AirPods, but we are able to reuse components for other units,” Rob Greening, a spokesperson for Decluttr, an online platform that lets people trade in old devices for cash or gift cards, told Vox. When AirPods launched, iFixit gave them a repairability score of zero out of 10, noting that accessing any component was impossible without destroying the AirPods’ outer casing. At iFixit, Wiens said he bans employees from using AirPods at work. The company also has a workplace perk, he said, where it buys employees any headphones they want as long as they meet iFixit’s repairability criteria — which AirPods don’t. Because Apple claims to “replace your AirPods battery for a service fee,” Wiens thinks that AirPods should be subject to California’s Right to Repair law, too. But because the earphones are not designed to be opened up, it’s unclear how.“I’d sure like to see Apple’s recommended process for doing it,” Wiens said. “There is some possibility that Apple is smarter than everyone and has some secret way to do it, but we haven’t figured it out yet.” David Paul Morris / Bloomberg via Getty Images With much fanfare, Apple announced its first carbon-neutral product, the latest Apple Watch, at an event on September 12. AirPods are likely just a fraction of the 6.9 million tons of e-waste that the US generates each year. But they are symbolic of the larger environmental problems that products of their category cause. In a 2022 paper called “AirPods and the Earth,” Sy Taffel, a lecturer at New Zealand’s Massey University whose research focuses on digital technology and the environment, argued that any right to repair legislation should prohibit the production of irreparable digital devices such as AirPods, as the right to repair an irreparable device is effectively meaningless.“You can’t pop in a new battery in an old AirPod the same way you can pop in a new battery into an old iPhone,” Taffel told Vox. “So even getting a replacement from Apple doesn’t really ameliorate any of the environmental harms these things cause. It just means that as a consumer, you end up paying a bit less money than if you were going to buy a completely new set.”Earlier this year, the European Parliament approved new rules that mandate consumer devices such as smartphones, tablets, and cameras to have batteries that users must be able to remove and replace easily. Taffel said that he would like lawmakers to lay down similar rules for wireless earphones including AirPods. “There’s a reason the sustainability mantra is repair, reuse, reduce, recycle,” he said. “Recycling always comes last because recycling stuff takes a lot of energy. It’s not always feasible.”Just over a decade ago, the primary battery-powered devices most people had were smartphones, tablets, and laptops. Today, we have smart watches, wireless headphones, smart speakers, e-readers, and VR headsets. Next year, Apple will release its own pair of high-end VR glasses called the Vision Pro. “The market capitalization of tech companies is partly based on the idea that they will continue to create new categories of digital devices that will be considered popular and will be widely sold,” Taffel said.Unlike a pair of wired headphones that you could potentially use for decades, the pair of AirPods you buy today will run out of steam sometime in the next couple of years. At that rate, you will have bought half a dozen pairs of AirPods, tossing your old ones in the drawer, or in the trash. Or maybe you’ll have sent them in for recycling, forcing recycling companies to expend even more energy in the process. “From an environmental perspective, we need to be doing less and less and less,” Taffel said. “But tech’s model is one of constant growth. There’s always more and more and more. Both these things are completely incompatible.”All of this is the opposite of Apple’s increased emphasis on being environmentally responsible. Hanging on to your existing devices for as long as possible is one of the most effective ways to reduce your carbon footprint. But it’s also bad for Apple’s bottom line. Already, the company’s latest iPhones, which went on sale today, are backordered.In Apple’s controversial skit, CEO Tim Cook promises “Mother Nature” that all Apple devices will have “a net zero climate impact” by 2030. “All of them?” she asks. “All of them,” Cook says. “They better.”“They will.” The two stare at each other for a long moment. And when the tension reaches a crescendo, Mother Nature breaks it with a cheerful “Okay! Good! See you next year.” Not once does anyone mention AirPods.

Libya’s Unnatural Disaster

What a deluged town reveals about a broken country

Footage and eyewitness accounts have conveyed harrowing scenes from the storm-struck Libyan town of Derna: overflowing morgues and mass burials, rescuers digging through mud with their bare hands to recover bodies, a corpse hanging from a streetlight, the cries of trapped children. Two aging dams to Derna’s south collapsed under the pressure of Storm Daniel, sending an estimated 30 million cubic meters of water down a river valley that runs through the city’s center and erasing entire neighborhoods. Some 11,300 people are currently believed dead—a number that could double in the days ahead. An estimated 38,000 residents have been displaced.      Libya has seen no shortage of suffering and misery since the 2011 revolution that toppled its longtime dictator, Muammar Qaddafi. Yet Storm Daniel promises to be a singular event. Already, Libyan commentators inside the country and out are pointing to the apocalyptic loss of life in Derna as the product not simply of a natural disaster, but of Libya’s divided and ineffectual governance. The west of the country is run by the internationally recognized Government of National Unity; the east, including Derna, falls under the rule of the renegade strongman Khalifa Haftar.   [Read: Photos from Libya’s devastating floods]Derna has become an emblem of ills that afflict many of Libya’s 7 million inhabitants: infrastructural decay, economic neglect, unpreparedness for global warming. But to understand the scale of its destruction requires seeing the city in its particularity—as a stronghold of opposition to Haftar’s violent consolidation of power in eastern Libya, and before that, a hub of intellectualism and dissent. Derna’s suffering is not entirely an accident. Though for that matter, neither is Libya’s.Founded on the ruins of the Greek city of Darnis, Derna has always been a place apart in Libya, distinguished by its cosmopolitanism, creative ferment, and fierce independence. It sits along the Mediterranean coast, at the base of the aptly named Jabal Akhdar, or Green Mountains, which constitute Libya’s wettest region and account for anywhere from 50 to 75 percent of its plant species. A port city of 100,000, Derna is famous for its gardens, river-fed canals, night-flowering jasmine, and delicious bananas and pomegranates.Muslim Andalusians fleeing persecution in Spain helped build the city in the 16th century, leaving their imprint on the designs of mosques and ornamental doors in its old quarter. Waves of other settlers would make their way there across the Mediterranean. By the early 20th century, Derna had become a font of literary output and nationalist agitation. Poets and playwrights gathered in a weekly cultural salon called the Omar Mukhtar Association to rail against colonial rule across the region, and after 1951, against the Libyan monarchy.An officers’ coup ousted that monarchy in 1969, and the country’s new ruler—Colonel Muammar Qaddafi—naturally took a wary view of the coastal city’s troublemaking potential. By the 1980s, he had made Derna a place of despair, its arts scene eviscerated, its prosperous traders dispossessed, its youth crushed by unemployment. Many of Derna’s young men joined the Islamist insurgency against Qaddafi that spread through the Green Mountains in the 1990s. The dictator responded by shutting down the region’s water service and detaining, torturing, and executing oppositionists. By the mid-2000s, the city’s rage was channeled outward, as hundreds of young men flocked from Derna to Iraq to fight the American military occupation. The U.S. military captured documents attesting to the militancy of these recruits, also revealed in a U.S. diplomat’s 2006 cable titled “Die Hard in Derna.”[Read: How Qaddafi fooled Libya and the world]In the years after  Qaddafi’s fall in 2011, Derna became the site of violent infighting among Islamists, including a radical faction that sought to make the city an outpost of the Islamic State. Haftar, a Qaddafi-era general and defector, began his military campaign under the guise of eliminating jihadist militias and restoring security. But his sweep was actually a bid for national power, and Derna’s fighters were among its staunchest opponents. He was determined to subdue the city. With remorseless, siege-like tactics and substantial foreign assistance, including air strikes and special-operations forces from the United Arab Emirates, Egypt, and several Western countries, he did so in 2018, though at the cost of destroying swaths of the city and displacing thousands.In the years since, Haftar has kept Derna under a virtual military lockdown, ruled by an ineffective puppet municipality and deprived of reconstruction funds, human services, and, crucially, attention to its decaying infrastructure, including the two dams that collapsed during Storm Daniel. Studies and experts had long warned that the dams were in dire need of repair.Derna’s officials and Haftar’s military authority reportedly issued contradictory instructions as the storm approached: Some advised an evacuation and others ordered a curfew. The confusion suggests a lack of coordination within the eastern government, which, a Libyan climate scientist told me this week, habitually paid little attention to expertise. Haftar will exert tight control over relief and reconstruction efforts in the weeks ahead, funneling contracts to companies run by cronies and family members.Having obstructed Haftar’s ambitions, Derna has become a particular target for repression. But Haftar’s style of rule—kleptocratic, authoritarian, extractive—has made for poor stewardship of eastern Libya’s infrastructure and natural environment, leaving other communities vulnerable to climate-induced extreme weather events as well.Haftar’s militia controls a body called the Military Investment Authority, which is essentially a profit-making enterprise for the Haftar family. The authority has taken control of eastern Libya’s agriculture, energy, and construction, with dire consequences for the environment. Climate activists from the east have told me that under Haftar’s watch, the deforestation of the Green Mountains has accelerated. Elites and militias have cut down trees to build vacation residences and businesses, and to sell the wood as charcoal. Urban development and new settlements have expanded into once-forested areas to accommodate people displaced by war.The absence of tree cover, other human-induced transformations to the Green Mountains, and irregular patterns of rainfall caused by climate change are worsening the damage that floods can wreak. Those that hit the eastern city of Al-Bayda in late 2020 displaced thousands of people. And without the cooling effect of the mountains’ sizable forests, the average mean temperature in the area has risen, which in turn raises the risk of wildfires among the trees that remain. Already, soaring heat waves set forests aflame near the towns of Shahat and Al-Bayda, in 2013 and 2021 respectively.In most countries, civil society and other grassroots actors can help address such ecological concerns. But in Haftar-ruled east Libya, climate and environmental activists face an extremely repressive security machinery that either stifles their involvement or confines it to politically safe initiatives, such as tree planting.  “Young people are willing, but they are afraid,” an official from the region told me candidly in July. “There is no state support.” A member of a climate-volunteer group in the east told me this week by phone that Haftar’s government had blocked their group’s attempt to obtain weather-monitoring equipment from abroad, citing “security concerns.”I’ve heard variations on this theme time and time again during my research in Libya—an arid, oil-dependent country that is among the world’s most vulnerable to the shocks of climate change, including floods and rising sea levels, but also soaring temperatures, declining rainfall, extended droughts, and sandstorms of increasing frequency, duration, and intensity.  According to one reputable survey in which higher numbers correlate with greater climate vulnerability,  Libya ranks 126th out of 182 states, just after Iraq, in the lower-middle tier. Despite the recent inundation of Derna and the east, water scarcity poses the gravest climate-related risk to the majority of its inhabitants: Libya ranks among the top six most water-stressed countries in the world, with 80 percent of its potable-water supply drawn from non-replenishable fossil aquifers by means of a deteriorating network of pipes and reservoirs. And yet Libya has done little to address its climate vulnerabilities.[Read: We’re heading straight for a demi-Armageddon]The country’s political rivalries, corruption, and militia-ruled patronage system have stymied its response. The eastern and western camps engage in only modest exchanges of climate-related information and technology. Even within the internationally recognized government in Tripoli, the ministry of the environment and a climate authority within the prime minister’s office have been jockeying for control of the climate file. (They reached a modest modus vivendi in recent months, some insiders told me this summer.)Derna’s plight is so extreme that perhaps—so activists and commentators hope—it will not be ignored, as countless other Libyan calamities have been, but may instead lead to lasting and positive change. Derna holds a lesson for Libya’s elites, if they are listening, about the costs of division and self-aggrandizement. Momentum toward such recognition, however tragic its origins, would be in keeping with the city’s storied and sometimes controversial role as beacon of dissent.  “It’s a revolutionary city,” a climate scientist with family roots there told me this week.

Activists protest at huge oil and gas conference in Cape Town

“Gas and oil and nuclear don’t need to be in our energy mix”The post Activists protest at huge oil and gas conference in Cape Town appeared first on SAPeople - Worldwide South African News.

Activists protested against oil and gas development outside the Cape Town International Convention Centre (CTICC) on Wednesday, as the Southern African Oil and Gas Conference got underway.The protesters included members of Southern African Faith Communities Environment Institute (SAFCEI), the Climate Justice Charter Movement, Feed the Future for Life and Extinction Rebellion.About 80 protesters sang and danced outside the centre. Some wore chicken masks and held placards which read “Fossil fuels: Your chickens have come home to roost”.SAFCEI’s Lydia Petersen said they were protesting against the push by the South African government for the extraction of more oil and gas from the ocean. “Our stance as SAFCEI is that there are other options available which we should explore. Gas and oil and nuclear don’t need to be in our energy mix,” said Petersen.Jacqui Tooke, from Extinction Rebellion Cape Town, said: “We are saying to those decision-makers in the CTICC from the Southern Africa Oil and Gas Conference, that their decisions have consequences.”“Scientists are very clear that when we burn fossil fuels it releases carbon emissions which causes this climate change that gives us this extreme weather. We want to amplify the scientists’ alarm. We can’t keep carrying on with the obsession with oil and gas.”“So we are standing in solidarity with communities who are calling for our government to stop investing in fossil fuels, and to invest in socially-owned renewables so that we can transition away from oil and gas,” said Tooke.In their memorandum, the organisations demanded: a halt to new investments in oil, gas, nuclear and coal; that all governments withdraw subsidies from fossil fuel industries and redirect the money to socially-owned renewable energy transitions; that the United Nations establish an “End Fossil Fuel Treaty” to make sure fossil fuel corporations pay a carbon debt for the harm they have caused; that poor countries be compensated for a problem they did not create; and that the oil, coal and gas industries be shut down in the next ten years or sooner.One of the younger protesters, a Grade 11 learner from Mfuleni Technical Academy, Anelisa Maquba, said with the help of the Environmental Monitoring Group learners had been going around their communities to raise awareness about a cleaner and greener environment.ALSO READ: Companies are Rushing to Explore Offshore Oil and Gas on South Africa’s Coast“We do regular clean-ups. We complained about the lack of bins at our school which causes littering, now we have them. We now practice recycling as well. Us being here also shows that we are taking a stand against waste, pollution, oil and gas,” said Maquba.Published originally on Groundup | Mary-Anne GontsanaThe post Activists protest at huge oil and gas conference in Cape Town appeared first on SAPeople - Worldwide South African News.

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