Biloxi Mayor: 'This Is Our Tsunami'

BILOXI, Miss., Aug. 30 -- As Al Maruri settled into his living room before Katrina raged at Mississippi's Gulf Coast, seven houses on Holley Street separated his place from the beach. When storm waters slipped away hours later, his was closest. The other seven simply vanished.

Front walks led to front steps -- which led to nothing. Climbing over piles of debris the morning after, he could not fathom the waters' power.

"I was in a bad dream just waiting to wake up," Maruri said. "But I didn't wake up."

Katrina's winds fled and the water receded, but Biloxi awakened to a hot, sunny day that brought no peace. Along miles of coastline, surging water has splintered restaurants, hollowed out hotels and pushed homes off their pilings. Furious winds knocked out power, telephones and the water supply.

City authorities estimated Tuesday that at least 40 people died, many trapped without an exit as the water rose.

Residents saw proof of a calamity far greater than the town's overmatched workforce can handle. "This is our tsunami," said Mayor A.J. Holloway. He cautioned residents that "help's coming, but it's going to take a little while to get here."

On Lameuse Street, hundreds of yards from the beach, storm waters climbed near the ceilings of one-story wooden homes, forcing occupants to climb atop furniture and attic ladders. When the tide went away almost as quickly as it came, it left sadness and frustration that residents and leaders alike expect will only grow.

"We need ice. We need water. We need food," said Martha Owens, 49. "They need to start sending somebody through here."

Dawn etched the silhouettes of small bands of people trudging away from waterlogged homes, carrying sleeping toddlers and little else. For those who lived within several blocks of the coast, driving was rarely an option because cars were flooded or penned in by fallen trees.

They had not left before the storm, many said, because they could not imagine the damage it could do.

For people who quit their houses before the wind and water came, Tuesday brought them back to see what Katrina had wrought. They zigzagged among the downed trees and electrical wires, past the hissing natural gas lines and broken water mains. Gisela Pagan started weeping as she stood on the top step of her front stoop and saw her home was nothing but rubble.

"Everything is gone. I can't believe this," said Pagan, who worked at one of Biloxi's storm-bashed casinos, now idled indefinitely. "I didn't think this was going to happen, ever. I loved this house. I just had the house refinanced, too. I did so good."